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Rocket jolted awake. Ears still ringing and breathing frantic. He dug his claws into the bedsheets as he took a shuddering breath. Just another nightmare, nothing new.
He flinched and bit his lip as a sharp jolt went down his missing arm, burning and tingling as it lingered. He took another shuddering breath. It's been years, he's fine.
Rocket glanced down to the shape of Sword next to him, still tucked under the blankets, sleeping peacefully, the soft glow of his horns and the sky outside beginning to lighten just slightly illuminating his face with shades of soft red and blue. Rocket smiled and as quietly as he could started to push himself to the edge of the bed.
“Mmph..” Sword whimpered and shifted, grabbing a pillow and rolling over with it. Rocket paused until he was sure he was still asleep, breath evening back out with that same familiar rhythm.
He pushed himself the rest of the way to the edge of the bed, shuffling with his prosthetics till they both clicked into place. The drawer at the bottom of his dresser rumbled and he threw an old black hoodie over his head, the smell of tobacco filling his nose as he did so.
As the door creaked his gaze landed on Sword once more, still fast asleep cuddling the pillow next to him.
Rocket made his way to the balcony, avoiding that one creaky step in the hallway as to not wake Zuka. Cold autumn air hit him as the door creaked open, morning wind biting at his skin.
He plopped himself down at the edge of the balcony. Letting his legs slide into the spaces of the railing and dangle over the side.
The distant noises of the city rung as he reached into his pocket.
Crossroads never slept, not really, the sky dimmed and lights came on, cafes, libraries, restaurants closed, but bars opened and convenience stores traded shifts. Traffic still held its distant hum, streetlights buzzed, and the stars hid themselves away along with them.
Playground was much the same in that way, less of a night life and more just life. The same constant bustle of inphernals with a place to be, the rumble of trains and subways filling the air.
Rocket pulled a cigarette out of the packet, fumbling with the lighter.
At the same time though, the two cities couldn't be more different. Crossroads lacked the constant taste of poorly managed streets and industrial machinery on the air. Crossroads architecture was stable, cared for, had thought and love put into it, Playgrounds buildings stretched into the skyline, cobbled together and leaning like they're ready to collapse. Crossroads lacked the constant shadow looming over the city, island high above a constant reminder for each and every inphernal in that Swords forsaken city of their place in this world.
The lighter finally clicked to life, warm and bright— much like a certain swirling mix of blue and orange, hot, bright, and all TOO LOUD—
Rocket took a shuddering breath, steadying himself, and shakily brought the lit cigarette to his lips, smoke escaped his mouth and filled the air, swirling upwards into the sky.
The sky of Crossroads was nothing like Playgrounds own, starless sky. Crossroads sky, despite the lack of stars was warm and inviting, a reminder of the bustling life below, clean and clear atmosphere aided by the constant salty taste of the ocean on the air. Playground on the other hand..? Was..dim, apathetic and uncaring, oppressive, smog and tobacco on every breath. The warmth wasn't comforting, it was suffocating, much like the need to always watch your back, always know where you are, whats around you— Who’s around you— distantly, a car alarm blared, and Rocket nearly jumped out of his skin, taking another drag of the cigarette to dwell the swirling panic in his gut. No doubt just some random inphernal trying to get into their own car and the old thing being temperamental.
Zuka’s truck did something similar, in a quite frankly untraceable pattern. Sometimes when you’d go to open the door, when his keys were a bit too far, the old beat up thing would start blaring, unceremoniously screeching at you for daring to try to use it for its swords damned intended purpose.
Rocket still didn't understand why Zuka brought him home that day. Why he bothered, what he saw in him. He just knew that from that point he'd promised himself he'd make that decision worth it, that he'd make him proud, proud of his choice that day, proud of him.
Rocket didn't know why his dad bothered with that scared, pathetic, violent kid. Didn't know why, when Playground authorities were trying to figure out what to do with him, Zuka stepped in. Why he bailed him out, drove him home from the hospital, gave him food to eat, and new clothes to wear and a bed to sleep in.
He still remembered the first time he'd shaved his horns. Staring at the mirror, horns far closer to antlers, with the way different pieces branched off. He still remembers the shaky job he did with the nail file and carving knife. Jagged and imperfect and far worse then he did them now. But, it was better then what they were before, and he still takes a strange amount of pride in how it always leads to people mistaking him and Zuka for actually being related.
He sighed and took another drag of the cigarette, staring at the sky which had begun slowly shifting itself from cool blues and grays into soft oranges and pinks.
Another jolt sent itself down his missing arm and leg, electrical shock buzzing and lingering— His cheek against the asphalt, something warm and wet and sticky soaked into it, seeping into his fur, his ears rung with such an intensity he couldn't hear the buzz of his own thoughts, his vision sat unfocused, unable to make out the orange glow in the distance. The world distant, unsteady, off-kilter—
Rocket grabbed at his shoulder, claws scratching at metal, he took a shuddering breath. He's fine. He stared at the tower in the distance as he took one last drag of the cigarette, as if trying to force his brain to actually keep track of where he was. He stamped it out against the fence, tossing it into the ashtray his dad kept on the balcony table. He probably wouldn't question it.
The sky was solidly a soft gradient of light blue and orange now, no way was he falling back asleep.
The door creaked behind him. “Rocket?”
Rocket twisted around, pulling his legs out of the gaps between the fence. Sword stood in the doorway, still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, feathers ruffled and blearily rubbing at his eyes.
“Oh, hey. What are you doing up?” When Rocket thought about it, this was probably a pretty normal time for Sword to be awake, oh well.
“It's not that early? It's only 7am.”
Rockets jaw dropped comically.
“What?! It's not!”
“You're insane.” Rocket pushed himself to his feet, and leaned against the railing.
Sword rolled his eyes and walked over to the railing. “No, you just have quite possibly the worst sleep schedule in the Inpherno.”
He leaned against the railing as well, only for his face to scrunch up. He looked at Rocket.”Were you..?”
Rocket blinked. “Whuh—? Oh. Yeah, couldn't fall back asleep.”
He let the reason why hang on the air. Subtle and unspoken, but thickening the atmosphere between the two of them either way.
“You could have said something you know.” Sword was staring right at him, and Rockets stomach twisted in a way he couldn't place.
“You were asleep. I didn't wanna wake you up.”
“I wouldn't have minded.”
Swords, why does he care so much?
“You barely sleep in as is, you deserve it.”
Sword looked at him in a way he couldn't place. Concern and a certain softness twisted itself into his expression.
Rockets stomach twisted harder.
“Welp, “ he started, stretching his arms out behind him. “I should take a shower, don't need a lecture from my dad about this again. “
Sword stayed silent, just watching him.
“I think the kettles clean if you wanna make yourself some tea, don't worry about coffee for me, I can do that when I get out of the shower.” Rocket stopped. Sword was still just staring, seemingly lost in thought. “Sword?”
Sword startled. “Huh? Oh yeah. I'll do that.”
“I think we have the stuff for pancakes if you wanna make those together when I get out?”
“Yeah.. That sounds nice hehe.” Sword laughed awkwardly. It sounded forced.
“Alright I'm gonna go take that shower now.” he opened the door, carefully avoiding letting it creak too loudly.
“Alright!” Sword straightened up and walked through. “Enjoy!”
“Yeah.. Thanks.”
He closed the door behind him with a soft click. Walking to his room to get a change of clothes. Tossing the hoodie back into it's place at the bottom of his dresser.
He felt a little bad for brushing Sword off like that, but he really didn't want to deal with emotional shit today. The sooner he can wash off the smell of tobacco, forget about his dream last night, and move on with his day? The better.