Chapter Text
“I thought since you can’t eat solids, for what? Two months? That we could at least enjoy nature.” He nodded, the light snowfall blanketed Monument; the slight wind had the fur of his collar tickle his jaw. The Goober turned towards Jerry for a reply; in return, Jerry gave Goober an empathic look. He pulled his button lip down. The action showcased metal encasing his teeth; any lower, there would be metal bars on his actual jawbone. The Goober grimaced. He tugged Jerry closer to his side as the two strolled beneath the trees of one of Monument’s parks.
The wind began to push Jerry’s hair and the fur of his coat to brush against The Goober’s neck as well. Goober glanced at the coat, then at Jerry.
“You’re wearing a girl’s coat,” He pointed out. “Doesn’t help that your hair makes you look like a girl, too.” A sigh passed his lips. Jogging against the soft path told the two to make room for other people.
Nails pressed through three layers and into Jerry’s deltoid. He looked past his left shoulder to find the source, though he was unfruitful as there was a fistful to his eye instead. He attempted to draw back from the pain, but the arm on his shoulder prevented him from breaking free. Another punch landed square to his face. Hard bone to bone joined with his coat and hair tickling him, stung him, and was scratchy. Jerry felt a hand on the collar of his coat, pulling him away from the attack.
“Leave him alone!”
“Looks like we got a… fag-lover? That’s a guy?” The grasp on his collar left, and a thud to the path answered a premature question. He, himself, also got shoved to the ground. His hand went to cup his jaw as he tried to squirm back onto his feet. Once more, he was pushed onto his back. He heard The Goober cry out, but when he sought to see his friend, his cheekbone had been kicked, so he could not see the state of his only buddy. He wanted to groan from the exhaustion, but the crude metal stopped him.
One of his hands cupped his bottom jaw while the other cradled his head. He tried to curl into himself, but again, he was forced onto his back. Jerry shut his eyes as his defendant loomed over him. More metal was bashed into his face. It was cold and solid as its handle was continuously jammed against bone and muscle. Just as the fight, his face felt as if it were churned into mush. A clicking filled his ears, and he couldn’t even wail to his mother or the New Eve. He attempted to picture himself elsewhere.
Real grass brushed against his legs, the snow was gone, and the sun beamed gently. He danced around his pocket, the o-line actually blocked for him, he threw a pass to The Goober; over the forty-yard line. The leather skin was close to the grass, but he knew Goob was quick.
Whether the pass was incomplete or not did not matter. As he pounced onto the gun. It must’ve fumbled out of his defendant's hands as he aimed at Jerry. Now, he held the pistol, Jerry cocked it at the guy. He had to use two hands as he aimed, unlike the movies. Slowly, he stood up, and just slowly, he walked sideways over to The Goober. The guy who was beating on Goob sprinted away. Jerry assumed that only one had a weapon. He kept still, the muzzle pointing to his own defendant. He begged that the guy would run away too. The gun was heavy, cold, and not as liberating as he thought it would be. But, he had to larp it till he made it, so he tilted his chin downwards and his brows knitted together. He felt The Goober’s head drop onto his sneakers, but he couldn’t look down just yet. His index finger curled around the frame of the trigger, but he was too frightened to pull. His lips quivered, so he pulled his elbows closer. The guy finally fled as The Goober grabbed onto Jerry’s socks. His knees wobbled, but he couldn’t collapse since The Goober needed him.
Nonetheless, as The Goober crept up beside Jerry, he forced the firearm into Goob’s hands because he didn’t dare risk being seen drawing a gun. Just the same, Goober fumbled the pistol, the fake scowl left Jerry’s face, and was replaced with wide eyes.
“It isn’t even loaded.” The Goober cried as he inspected the firearm.