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It was easy to forget just how large Duckburg Park was.
Closer to the outskirts of town, it was an expansive tangle of greenery and hills that stretched for several acres, threaded with winding gravel paths. Usually on an autumn day like this, the shade from the sprawling trees was populated with runners, families, and couples alike. The rainfall from days prior had mostly died down, but it was still windy enough to deter most patrons, leaving Boyd to admire the swaying branches that stretched above him in relative solitude.
It must’ve been cold, because next to him Huey moved his hands up to adjust his scarf.
They liked walking here together. There was something peaceful about being able to appreciate nature with the younger duck, sometimes talking, sometimes not. On this occasion, Huey was not talkative at all. He had smiled as he approached, and they had exchanged the usual banter regarding school, recent movies, and other topics of interest. Even so, conversation had dissipated what felt like ages ago, leaving the two to leisurely stroll the winding paths in silence.
Boyd knew something was wrong.
The parrot had spent enough time with Huey to know when he was upset. He would wring his hands incessantly. He would look at the ground. He would speak using shorter sentences. Usually, it corresponded with a low test score or a disagreement with one of his brothers. Occasionally he would get in trouble with Donald, which would result in a drawn-out rant about how his uncle simply didn’t understand the situation. This time, however, something was clearly different. Huey was just silent.
Boyd didn’t want to prod. He was trying to be better about the interrogative behavior he was prone to. Next to him, however, the duck’s behavior seemed robotic in a way much closer to Boyd’s own mannerisms. He paced, walking with a slow and measured tread that was entirely undisturbed by the rushing wind pressing against his black raincoat. The vacant expression on his face almost made it seem like he didn’t notice the conditions in the first place.
The serene walk, only interrupted by their footsteps and the rustling of the leaves, started to feel a lot less peaceful. It was verging on uncomfortable. Boyd didn’t like it at all. Should he say something? He was never good with this stuff.
And so the two continued to walk.
Eventually, through the trees, a bench caught Boyd’s attention. The old fixture was just off the path, nestled under a tree with low-hanging branches that created a secluded scene. The roots pushing up against its base and giving it a slight tilt made it clear it had been there for a long time. Boyd was almost relieved to have a break in the scenery, or at least an excuse to say something.
“Should we sit down?” He flashed his usual, perfectly-programmed smile.
“Hmm? Oh, sure.”
Boyd began to reach for Huey’s hand to lead him towards the bench, then thought better of it. He walked side-by-side with the duck as they approached the old seat. The wood creaked under Boyd as he sat, most certainly not intended for guests as heavy as he was. Huey took off his jacket and spread it on the surface before placing himself on it, seemingly bothered by the idea of coming in direct contact with the old planks.
Some time passed, with Boyd going back and forth between attempting to enjoy the scenery and making subtle glances at the duck sitting next to him who was clearly lost in thought.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to say something.
“Huey, are… are you ok?”
Huey twitched, seemingly a little bit startled by the interruption. The duck met his gaze before quickly looking away again. He shifted his weight slightly, opened his beak, and then closed it.
Boyd immediately regretted asking the question. Tenderness wasn’t his strong suit. Aside from obvious mechanical shortcomings, it could be hard for him to read people. Gyro was extremely direct with those around him, not having the patience for conversations that didn’t get straight to the point. It was surprisingly efficient, but equally blunt, and Boyd would be lying if he said the behavior hadn’t rubbed off on him just slightly.
Before he could backpedal, Huey opened his beak again.
“I’m sorry, Boyd. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. Things have been, well, tough lately.” Huey was speaking very slowly, like he was carefully selecting each word before deciding to vocalize it.
Boyd looked back at him curiously, not saying anything.
“Well, I’m worried for Louie. He’s–” Huey took a deep breath. “I think there’s something wrong with him. It’s hard to put into words. He’s different now. More distant, I guess. Saying this now I feel crazy because he’s always been sort of distant, but not like this. I don’t know. I just hope he can get the help he needs.”
A stern look crossed his face. “He clearly seems to think I’m not that help.”
Boyd was taken aback. Was Louie unwell? What happened? Could he help? His mind raced as questions flooded his thoughts. He looked back at the duck sitting next to him, anticipating more explanation. Huey was anxiously toying with a loose thread on the jacket beneath him. The action silently communicated that he didn’t want to get into specifics.
Before Boyd could formulate a proper response Huey continued speaking. “I don’t know. I used to feel like all these adventures helped bring us closer together. These days, though, even in the face of danger he’s just so unbothered. It's like there’s a barrier between us beyond just moving walls in a temple or the panels of a bunk bed. This morning he blew up at me when I tried to bring it up. Maybe this is him now. Us now.”
“Huey,” Boyd started, “I’m sure Louie is going to be ok. Your brother is one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I hope so. I’m just so tired, Boyd.” Huey’s words were stumbling over one another, clumsily strung together. “He’s always fighting with me these days. It feels like every time I try to connect with him, he just pushes me away. I want to understand how he feels and I just… can’t.”
He tugged at a loose feather on his arm. “Something bad happens and I do what? Panic? The Junior Woodchuck guidebook doesn’t tell you how to help someone in a crisis!” He began to raise his voice. “Why am I so useless to my family? It’s like I–”
Boyd put his hand on Huey’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. You don’t need to fix this. There are people you can talk to. Scrooge, for example”
Huey looked up to meet his gaze. “I know,” he sighed. His concerned expression indicated that he wasn’t convinced, though. “I’m just so scared, Boyd. I don’t know what to do. He may be Scrooge’s nephew, but he’s my brother.”
Something changed in Huey as he ended the sentence, his voice wavering just slightly. No longer detached from his surroundings, his composure almost seemed to be slowly crumbling.
He was trembling. He had never looked so small, body pressed against the corner of the bench and eyes trained on the ground. Seated just inches away from Boyd, he had to be enduring something the parrot couldn’t even imagine.
And then Huey did something Boyd had never seen him do.
He started to cry.
He shakily lifted his arms and cradled his face in his hands, attempting to hide his vulnerable state. His expression almost entirely obscured, tears slowly slid through the gaps in his fingers and fell to the ground below. Faint whimpers escaped his beak. It was a timid, choked sound that was so far removed from his normal voice. His stuttered breathing came in gasps as Huey sat there, fighting a battle with his emotions that he couldn’t win.
It was heartbreaking. Boyd didn’t know what to do.
It was only as Huey shivered that Boyd realized he must have been freezing without a coat. He did the only thing he could think to do, and wrapped his arms around the duck, sinking into his feathers. Huey froze for a moment before reciprocating the hug, trembling still as he rested his head on Boyd’s shoulder. Huey was now fully sobbing, hot tears streaming down his face and soaking Boyd’s shirt.
Boyd had never seen Huey like this. He always held himself in such a self-assured manner, confident and unfaltering, but now he was clutching Boyd like he had nothing else to hold onto. In his arms, Huey’s back rose and fell with his breathing.
“I’m so sorry, Boyd.” Huey hoarsely choked. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this dumb problem you can’t fix.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Boyd said steadily. “I’m here for you.”
He could feel Huey’s huffs against him. In, and out. In… and out.
Eventually, his breathing slowed. He lifted his head and pulled himself out of Boyd’s grasp, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands.
He looked completely disheveled. His face was red, feathers drenched in tears, and his eyes were still swimming. This Huey was a stark contrast to the one Boyd knew. Was this the real duck? Had he been hiding himself? It was almost frightening to see him like this, reduced to the wide-eyed bird that stared back at him.
Huey’s gaze fell.
“I haven’t done that in a long time.” He nervously wrung his hands. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. But, um, ...thanks.”
Boyd nodded.
Huey quietly let out a long exhale and shifted on the bench. The two continued to sit, brightly-colored leaves falling around them. It was an array of hues ranging from a dandelion yellow to a fiery red, illuminated in the fleeting afternoon light that cascaded through the trees. The scene was beautiful. Boyd hoped Huey was finding some comfort in it.
“Huey,” Boyd started, interrupting the silence, “you’re probably right. I don’t think I can fix this for you.”
Huey’s flashed a hint of expression, but it was impossible to decipher.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how you feel. I know I’m a real person, and everyone treats me like one, but inside I’ll always be different. I’m a mishmash of metal, wires, and circuitry that are a far cry from a heartbeat. I wasn’t made with ‘emotional intelligence’ in mind. My programming wasn’t optimized for ‘connecting with others.’ You pour your heart out to me, but I can do little more than feel the current. It’s a river versus a boulder. Water over stone.”
Huey shifted as if he was about to make a comment of protest, but Boyd continued. He could feel something not entirely mechanical moving inside of him. “In a way, though, these things don’t matter. Please know, Huey, that just because I don’t understand, it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I want to celebrate when you’re happy and I want to seethe when you’re angry. What I mean to say is, to Louie right now, sincerity will probably go a whole lot further than searching for answers that even he may not have. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I know what it’s like to feel disconnected from those you care about.”
He looked into Huey’s eyes for a brief moment before looking away again.
“Huh,” Huey said after a pause. “I guess I was hoping for a more concrete answer. Somehow you make it sound helpless.”
“Maybe it’s best to forget the guidebook for now. Louie isn’t looking for solutions. He might just be looking for empathy and a little space.”
“I hope you’re right. Space is hard.”
It was hard to say whether it was intentional, but he was just slightly closer to Boyd than before.
Boyd wondered what Huey was thinking about in that moment, scattered rays of late-afternoon sunshine peeking through the leaves and spreading golden beams across his face. His expression was impossible to interpret. It wasn’t until now that Boyd noticed the bags under Huey’s eyes, obscured by his feathers. He looked so tired. It was another sensation Boyd was foreign to.
As they took in the surroundings in silence, a question rose to Boyd’s mind. He knew it was a little bit tone-deaf, and once again thought of Gyro’s bluntness influencing his own behavior. It was probably best to ignore it. A few minutes later, though, The parrot had himself begun fidgeting, gently tugging at the edges of his striped shirt.
“Huey?”
Self-control was never Boyd’s strong suit.
Huey blinked a few times before facing Boyd, clearly having been lost in thought. For a moment, he wished he hadn't spoken. No. This was important.
“What does it feel like to cry?”
Huey’s face flushed visibly pink. Seemingly caught off guard by the question, he turned to face Boyd completely.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.” Boyd muttered.
“No, no, it’s ok. You deserve an answer.”
Huey’s gaze shifted up towards the treetops. He always looked up when he was thinking. The wind blew through his feathers, ruffling them gently as he contemplated. Boyd had always secretly been a little bit jealous of Huey’s feathers, though he would never admit it.
“It–” He paused for another moment. “It... sort of feels like the world is ending, but sometimes you need it, almost.”
Boyd blinked in acknowledgement.
“It's like letting go. Like accepting your situation, no matter how bad it is, because sometimes crying is all you can do." He let out a small sigh.
“You mean, it’s a good feeling?”
“No, not good exactly. More like resignation. Which sometimes is a good thing. Well, maybe.”
“Oh.”
Boyd laid back on the old bench, his weight pressed against the dark wood. He stared up at the clouds lazily shifting against the sky, gray plumes swirling silently above them. Huey laid back too, joining him in watching the dark shapes drift through the gaps in the tree branches. It was probably going to rain soon.
Crying always looked so uncomfortable. Boyd had only seen Gyro cry once. The rooster had just finished what must have been the hundredth attempt at building some new device, the use of which exactly Boyd wasn't privy to. Once it failed as spectacularly as all the previous renditions, Gyro lost his patience. Accompanied by angry shouting, he had kicked his lab equipment around forcefully before kneeling down and shamefully attempting to conceal the tears of frustration running down his face. It hurt Boyd to watch. Could crying really be a good thing? It didn’t seem like it could remedy the pain. Maybe it could help, though, just a little.
As a cold breeze moved across the two birds, Boyd coughed.
Seconds later, Huey turned his head. “Boyd, did you just cough?”
“Oh, um, I guess so.”
“Could you always do that?”
Boyd thought for a moment. “No, but I saw other people doing it so it seemed right. It’s a response to the cold, isn’t it?” He reminisced on all the passersby that would cough into their hands as the autumn months drew closer to winter. Boyd could never feel the cold, of course, but he liked feeling like a part of something bigger.
Huey chuckled at the matter-of-fact explanation. “You’re amazing, Boyd.”
Boyd felt more safe with Huey than anyone else. There was never any judgement between them, just life as it came in all its forms. When they first started hanging out, they used to look for exciting things to do together: adventures to go on, new places to discover, exhilarating things to try. As time passed, however, they found much more enjoyment in each other’s shared company. The fact that Huey was willing to be so vulnerable with him made him feel valued in a way that was indescribable. He just hoped that the duck was willing to be open going forward, too. He didn’t want Huey to hide himself from him.
A part of Boyd wished they could keep spending time there together, just enveloped in the hanging branches and ruffled by the breeze, but the evening was slowly creeping in, bringing with it a dark sky that no doubt meant it was time to go home. The large trees in the distance were soon reduced to silhouettes, abstract shapes just out of view. Huey, clearly sharing the same thought, eventually lifted his head and picked up his coat.
“I know you can probably stay here all night, but my family is waiting for me.” He reached out his hand. Boyd took it and Huey pulled him up, even though he didn’t really need the help.
The two stepped back onto the path and began the walk to the exit. Boyd repeatedly glanced at Huey. He still wasn’t saying much, and it was clear he was still upset, but the weight that had hung over him was proving to be just a little bit lessened as they watched the light slowly fade.
Before the two went their separate ways at the entrance to the park, Huey turned to face Boyd.
“Thanks again. Really.”
Boyd smiled and opened his beak before Huey pulled him into another hug, squeezing him tightly. The two pulled apart and smiled at each other before stepping backwards and parting in silence. Boyd turned one last time to see Huey disappear into the darkness.
His smile this time felt slightly less programmed. Maybe his feelings were a little more organic than he thought.