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The outside air was crisp, with falling autumn leaves dancing in the wind as it blew past. The sky was a murky ocean of gray, a premeditative warning to everyone below that it was going to rain soon.
Now Rocket typically liked this weather. But he absolutely hated being here today.
And it was all this guy’s fault.
Rocket leaned against the brick wall as Sword rambled on and on about training or whatever. Honestly, he wasn't paying attention, nor could he care less. Zuka had forced Rocket to go entertain this annoying dude as an effort to get him out of the house.
He had met Sword a while back. Zuka and Sword’s mentor had a meeting of some sort, which essentially forced them to hang out by default. Sword seemed to have taken a weird attachment to Rocket. He would always come over to hang out and talk. No matter how aloof Rocket was in response, Sword kept coming. Even if it were just to sit in Rocket’s room in silence. It was genuinely pathetic how Sword thought they were friends.
‘Friends,’ Rocket internally scoffed as he continued to tune out Sword. What absolute bullshit. Rocket didn’t need friends.
All the friends he made in the playground only kept him around for convenience's sake. Rocket was only an accessory to them; it was so goddamn annoying. They didn’t like him because he wasn’t an easy doormat to have.
Everyone wants something from you. And if you don't fulfill the role they give you?
Well, they’ll just throw you out.
And he was sure Zuka and Sword had the exact same intentions. So why the hell would he give them the time of day? They would leave him eventually anyways. Just like everyone else. Why not give them a piece of his mind before that?
Rocket was having a pretty bad day today too. He felt sick first thing in the morning and was hoping he could have a pleasant day of just rotting in bed, but NOO, Zuka had to force him outside for this stupid shit.
Rocket continued to zone out, trying to ignore the itchy burning of his arm under the sleeve. He had many unhealthy coping mechanisms he kept from his playground days, this being one of them. It worked, though. It helped him feel something other than emptiness, and Rocket had already abandoned the idea of preserving his body since losing his limbs. As long as no one else saw, he didn't care. But dealing with the stinging after every brush of fabric was only fueling his irritation.
Rocket wanted nothing more than to go home.
“Are you in there?” Sword asked, tapping Rocket on the shoulder. Immediately, he thwacked Sword’s hand away with a scoff.
“Ugh, sure. Yeah.’ Rocket grumbled. His answer was half-assed, but he didn’t need to spare this idiot any more words.
“Okay, what was I saying then?” Sword asked with a questioning look, catching Rocket off guard.
“Huh? Uh—” Rocket stammered for a second before remembering that he didn’t give a shit whether Sword felt hurt or not. Maybe this time he will actually get the hint that Rocket didn’t like him and leave him alone for good.
“To hell if I know. You talk too much.”
Rocket was expecting it to end there. With Sword going quiet for a moment and continuing apprehensively, like it always went. But this time, Sword’s brow furrowed, and he stood in front of Rocket, arms crossed.
“Seriously, what's with you?” He confronted Rocket with stern desperation. It was unlike the caricature Rocket had imposed on him up until now, which startled him a bit. But as usual, when Rocket was put in an uncomfortable spot, his first action was to defend himself.
“The fuck do you mean by that??” Rocket hissed back, his tail beginning to lash. “You got a problem with me?”
“Yes!” Sword huffed back, surprisingly standing his ground. Sword actually looked genuinely frustrated; Rocket never expected to see that out of the bubbly, loud bird.
“For weeks I've been just trying to be your acquaintance, and you have not once even given me the time of day!” Sword began to rant, much to Rocket's irritation. “I'm always checking in on you, making sure you have someone that will listen to whatever angsty stuff you have going on, but you are just so—ugh! Am I just that annoying? Is it genuinely that repulsive to you that I care about—”
“Don’t fucking ACT like you care about me!” Rocket snapped, cutting the swordsman off. Rocket almost wanted to laugh! Did Sword genuinely think he was stupid?
“Because why would you care?” Rocket asked with a snarl, stepping closer to Sword despite the other inphernal being taller. “Why would you spend so much time trying to befriend someone who clearly wants nothing to do with you? Every time I snap at you, you keep crawling back like a fucking parasite! You’re either stupid as hell, or you want something from me. And I don’t fuck with EITHER possibility!”
Upon receiving Rocket’s threatening stare, Sword stepped back but kept his firm look.
“What are you talking about?? Who made you think like that?” Sword said defensively, eyes narrowing. “Is it that hard of a concept to understand that MAYBE I ACTUALLY WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND? Because for so long, I've been cycling through all the possible reasons you don’t like me, and all of them just fall short. The problem is that you don’t want to give people a chance, not that people are out to get you or something!”
“Shut UP! You don't know me!” Rocket yelled, grabbing Sword roughly by the collar. The swordsman yelped and thrashed in his hold for a moment before he stared at Rocket with horror.
“I don’t NEED you! I'm not some kinda pathetic weak bitch that needs you to baby him! Why can’t you just—”
“Rocket…?”
“JUST STOP! I’m so sick and tired of—...” Rocket paused after noticing something odd. Sword didn’t look intimidated. He looked horrified, the kind of horror you would show when seeing something tragic.
“Rocket, what—... What happened to your arm?”
Rocket’s heart dropped, his grip on Sword faltering as he followed his gaze to his now rolled-up sleeve. The angry red slashes were uncovered when he was roughing Sword up; Rocket’s sleeve must've slid down.
“Rocke—”
“It's NOTHING.” Rocket hissed, letting go of the swordsman and yanking his sleeve down. He tried to look calmly irritated, back in control. But inside he was downright panicking. This was the last thing he wanted to happen today. Would Sword tell anyone? Who was Rocket kidding? Of course he would. Any inphernal would. Rocket could already feel himself slipping into a panicked spiral.
“Rocket, please…” Sword looked genuinely worried now. Why was he so worried? Why did he care so much? It had to be all fake. It was just a show of sympathy to make Rocket vulnerable. Rocket’s heart pounded in his ears as he took a few steps back.
“No wait, we NEED to talk about this—!”
Too late. Rocket had already whipped around and ran as far as his legs could possibly take him.
—
Rocket was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.
It had been a few days since he had locked himself in here. He didn’t want to leave. The idea of someone coming up to him and asking to see his arms absolutely sickened him. He was perfectly content just rotting away until he was sure Sword would never talk to him again. He had been ignoring all of Zuka’s requests to leave the room for any reason. He just wanted to be alone; can't he see that?
Of course, Zuka couldn’t just do that simple task.
“Rocket,” Zuka’s familiar voice called from behind the door. Rocket grumbled in response, just to let the veteran know he was alive.
To Rocket, Zuka was even more perplexing than Sword. He had no idea why Zuka was so adamant about him staying. No matter how badly Rocket acted out, how many of Zuka’s things he destroyed, and how crassly he referred to the elder inphernal, Zuka never told him to get out. This was a complicated case for Rocket, especially considering how eager Splintered Skies was to throw him out. The only thing Rocket could possibly reason behind Zuka’s asylum was pity, and he absolutely despised being pitied. The memory of Sword’s horrified concern flashed in Rocket’s memory; suddenly his eyes felt watery. Rocket bit back a sniffle, trying to keep it all contained. Why did it all have to hit him now? When Zuka was outside and listening?
“...Are you going to come out anytime soon?” Zuka asked, his voice as gruff as ever.
“No. Go away.” Rocket huffed back, covering himself with his blanket. He was trying to sound just as gruff back to Zuka, but it was clear his voice was wavering. This was so stupid. Why was he feeling so goddamn sensitive over this?
“I can hear you weeping’, kid.”
“I’m NOT. Shut the hell up!”
Zuka didn't respond for a moment, but Rocket could tell he was still there. Rocket could only whisper so many ‘go away’s under his breath, just for all of them to fall in vain.
“Your friend came to see you. He’s been worried sick.”
Just as this couldn't get any WORSE. Rocket wanted nothing more than to just sink into the mattress and die. Why would Sword come see him?! Why NOW?! Was that stupid bird so fucking dense to not see that Rocket wanted nothing to do with him? His eyes blurred with more tears as his gaze fell on his scarred arm. It was like Sword could sense every bloody tissue on his floor, every razor hidden away in the drawers, and all the rolls of gauze he had tucked under his bed. Every item was arranged in a twisted tapestry with Rocket nailed to the centre—for Sword to look at with sympathy.
Rocket only gripped the blanket tighter. He hated this stupid vulnerability he had with Sword now, and the only way he could deal with it was by avoiding it altogether.
“Tell him to go away,” Rocket commanded angrily. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“No kid, you’re going to talk to him.” Zuka responded calmly, but Rocket could pick up on the worry in his voice as well. “I dunno what you’re doing to yourself, but it needs to stop. I know I won't be able to get through to you the way another inphernal your age can.”
So Sword told Zuka.
Could Rocket just die on the spot already?
Rocket bit down hard on the blanket to prevent himself from bursting into tears. It tore in the process, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He didn’t respond; he had no words to say to that anyways.
“Rocket?” Called the familiar, apprehensive voice of Sword from behind the door. Rocket could hear Zuka walking away, presumably to give the two some privacy.
“What’s your fucking deal?” Rocket asked bitterly, getting to the point. He didn’t understand it. Why? After all the times Rocket had pushed him away, why did Sword keep coming back?
Rocket assumed that Sword would give up after learning how pathetic Rocket actually was. Rocket was never as strong as he presented himself to be. If it wasn't for his toughness, why did the swordsman keep coming back?
“Why do you still keep coming back to me?”
“You’re an asshole, Rocket.” Sword answered honestly. Rocket could hear the sound of Sword sliding to a sitting position against his door. “You’re a gigantic asshole. You're always stealing and breaking stuff, calling me names, and ignoring me whenever I try to talk to you.”
“What’s your point, idiot?” Rocket scoffed. He knew all the shit he was saying already.
“That’s exactly my point. I keep coming back because you clearly never had someone do that for you.” Sword replied. “I dunno what happened to you in the Playground, but I… I can tell it's a lot. You’re convinced I’m going to leave you, like the other inphernals in your life. Why would I prove you right?”
“...”
“I come back because I want to be your friend, Rocket.” Sword continued after Rocket’s silence. “No matter how much you push me away. I want to be there for you when you need someone to talk to. I want to be here to help you clean your room when you are too tired to do it yourself. I want to help you clean your wounds and tell you that it's okay to be hurting. I want to be someone that you can go to for help. Because everyone deserves someone like that. Even you.”
“......”
“You might not believe me. You’re allowed to be apprehensive. Hell, from what I can tell, you have every reason to be. But the truth remains the same. The only one driving people away is you. You’re not even giving people the chance to like you; how could you learn that it's even a possibility that way?”
“You don’t understand.” Rocket mumbled.
“You’re right, I don’t.” Sword sighed. “I lived a pretty isolated life; I have just as many social skills as a newspawn.”
“But I'm willing to understand. And I'll be forever willing, no matter how many times you push me away. I’ll still come back, Rocket. Because I care about you. So please, give me the chance? Can I show you that I do?”
Rocket hated this. He wanted to shrink away and disappear. He wanted to be angry, to yell and scream until Sword ran away and never spoke to him again. To grab the sharpest thing nearby and just let himself bleed out. He despised being vulnerable. This was the absolute worst.
But Sword was right.
Rocket was just waiting for him to leave, but he never did. No matter what Rocket had done, Sword never gave up on him. Same thing with the old vet. All these months of housing him, and he never once wanted something in return. The only thing that soured these interactions was Rocket himself. He was constantly waiting for them to get sick of him and just give up. To think that he was a lost cause and abandon him. But it just never happened.
They weren’t like any other inphernal. They actually looked at Rocket and saw someone meaningful. Not just a tool. Not just a criminal. Not just a pathetic little kid who’s just waiting to kick the bucket.
It was only Rocket stopping himself from seeing that too.
‘Get up, Rocket.’ He thought furiously to himself. He lifted himself from the mattress, even if it felt like his entire body was begging for him to fall back down. His arms stung as they brushed against the sheets. He winced but stood up.
‘You can pity yourself and rot away later.’
Hesitantly, he dragged his feet towards the door.
‘Even the sharpest blades in the world can’t make you feel better. You’re just surviving.’
He held the doorknob for a moment, exhaling.
‘How can you actually live if you won't even give life a chance?’
Rocket twisted the doorknob and let the door swing open. Light from the hallways spilled into his dark bedroom, causing him to squint for a moment.
Sword was initially sitting against the door, so he had to stop himself from falling backwards. Sword adjusted his helmet before looking up at Rocket with relief.
“You look like crap,” he joked as he stood up to face him properly. “… I’m glad you came out to say hi.”
Rocket wasn’t able to think of a witty response because his eyes started blurring again. It was stupid, but physically seeing Sword still by his side despite it all brought all his pathetic emotions back. Rocket suddenly staggered forward and pulled Sword into a tight hug.
“I’m sorry—I'm such an asshole…!” He sobbed. He could feel his tears drenching Sword’s cape as he wept, but he physically couldn’t hold himself back anymore no matter how hard he tried. Sword seemed absolutely baffled for a moment before he happily hugged Rocket back MUCH more tightly, wrapping his wings around him and everything.
“Yeah, it's okay though. I forgive you.” Sword smiled warmly.
“… You really shouldn’t…” Rocket sniffled back.
“And do you get to decide that for me?” Sword huffed. “Hell no. Let’s get your arm cleaned up.”