A Grim Realization, Bonnie
Bonnie had never noticed just how annoyingly crowded the hallways were between classes before. Not for the first time he shoved someone out of his way, more than a little irritated. Of course, not all of his irritation came from the crowded hallways; he’d been thinking about it for ages now- constantly, even when he was sitting in his bedroom playing his guitar.
That stupid bruise and disoriented gaze was stuck in his head and it was making him mad.
How are we even supposed to do this? We have to but can we even manage it? They hate us. They have a very low opinion of us. How are we supposed to turn around the last few years of our lives? Ugh... how do we even start?
“So, when exactly are we doing this?” Goldie suddenly asked, his voice almost drowned out among the crowding, loud students milling about them.
“Not at lunch,” Bonnie immediately answered, as much to himself as to Goldie. “Putting them on the spot in front of half the student body would not be a good idea.”
Obviously.
“Yeah, it’d probably send Salvage into a panic attack,” Goldie sighed. Bonnie turned to look at him, his ears promptly smacking a passing human in the face. He ignored their indignant cry- you shouldn’t have been walkin’ so close to me, you ass- to watch the frowning bear. “Which would instantly earn the others’ hatred forever, I’m sure.”
Considering how close the five of them are, forever and then some.
“Probably, yeah,” Freddy agreed as he stepped around someone. Meanwhile, Bonnie pushed someone out of his way. “But we can’t try in math class, either, since Jeggs, Creol, and Walker are in there, too.”
Quite aware, thanks. Bad enough we see them everyday at lunch, but math too? And I thought I already hated math.
If there was one problem Bonnie had with being popular, it was being expected to spend time with them. Creol was the school’s self-proclaimed queen bee, even though everyone knew the Fazcrew had much more influence than she did. She was rich and pretty, but she was mean-spirited and had absolutely no loyalty to her friends. Jeggs was... just... ugh... and Walker- well, Walker wasn’t popular. Bonnie had no clue what Walker was but he wasn’t welcomed in either the popular, unpopular, or outcast groups.
Probably because he’s a teacher’s pet, a snitch and a troublemaker.
“We could just wait until tomorrow,” Foxy suggested, and no one responded as he had to shove someone out of his way, as they simply weren’t walking. “Y’know, when we have to talk to ‘em one-on-one anyway.”
“Or if ya want we could just wait until Monday,” Chica added in with a shrug, glancing around at all of them. “You guys could try in gym.” Bonnie frowned.
You ain’t getting out of it that easily, Chica.
“I don’t think approachin’ ‘em as a group- our group or their group or both- is a good idea, actually,” Goldie spoke up, frowning slightly. Freddy simply nodded in agreement. Bonnie said nothing, though he could definitely see the logic in it. Chica kept her silence as well.
“Why not?” Foxy questioned, and Bonnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could just imagine the disaster that would be.
“Well,” Goldie started, glancing over towards the fox, “they would probably react to us as a collective but we want ‘em to react as individuals, like they did in Dr. Schmidt’s class that very first day, right?”
“Right...” Foxy agreed slowly. It was a moment or two before realization registered in his eyes, and the fox glanced over at Freddy.
Bonnie pushed someone out of his way again, ignoring their complaints.
“So basically, we approach them one-on-one, not as groups,” Chica summarised and Bonnie nodded absently in agreement as Goldie confirmed it. “Seems a little... predatorial, doesn’t it? I mean, separate them from the pack...”
Putting it that way does sound like a dick move.
“It’s either that or let ‘em influence each others’ reactions,” Freddy explained, the group pausing as Freddy peeked into the classroom. “They’re already suspicious of us, they’ll be on alert even alone- if we approach ‘em as a group or all at the same time it might be seen as some kind of attack and put ‘em on even higher alert.”
“I feel like we’re making war plans,” Chica sighed, and Bonnie couldn’t help but agree. “This is ridiculous, they’re classmates the same age as us, we should be able to just approach them.”
Bonnie imagined how that would turn out. He almost laughed at the thought. Unfortunately, he mused unhappily, Chica had a point; by every right, they should have been able to just approach their classmates at any time.
We fucked that up years ago.
They headed into the classroom, which was occupied only by the teacher himself- just a human, so they weren’t concerned at being overheard or anything by him. They all settled down in their seats- or, Freddy, Goldie, and Foxy did, but Bonnie and Chica both sat separated from them, so Bonnie temporarily dropped into the desk next to Goldie and Chica sat down behind him. They all turned to Foxy, who had ended up being the center of their deformed circle, and each leaned in so their instructor and the people in the hallway couldn’t hear them.
“So not here and not lunch, but you’re determined to try today?” Foxy asked quietly as the bell began ringing the two-minute warning. “With the way they were actin’ yesterday they might not even come today,” he added, almost as a second thought.
“They’re here,” Freddy informed them quickly, and Bonnie frowned and glanced towards the ceiling. He could remember seeing them as they headed to their first class, but he had been somewhat... distracted with his own thoughts to notice anything. By the time it had registered with him that they were passing Rodriguez and Rodriguez’s friends, they had already been lost among the crowd. “I saw them this morning in the hall. They seem much more, ah... alive today.”
The fact that “alive” at all seemed like an improvement was almost depressing.
“We could try in art,” Chica put in after a few moments. “There’s not that many people in there.”
“Ashley Creol is,” Goldie immediately dismissed the notion, shaking his head, and Bonnie grit his teeth. Ashley Creol, the little blonde cheerleader, was more than slightly annoying and he only put up with her at lunch. “We approach them within her sight and the rumour mill will go wild. Plus, they stick together in that corner- and we definitely don’t want to approach them when they have their backs to a corner.”
The rabbit couldn’t help but snort at that, despite it not being even slightly funny. They all knew Goldie was one-hundred percent correct, and Bonnie remembered how Rodriguez had looked at him in science Monday- how trapped he had looked simply sitting there. How he became so... defensive.
“Yeah, we don’t want that,” Foxy agreed, giving voice to Bonnie’s thoughts. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”
“Excuse me.”
Eyes widening, Bonnie’s attention snapped to just a few feet in front of them- just to find Rodriguez and Rodriguez’s friends watching them, strange expressions on their faces.
Oh god did they hear any of that? How long have they been standing there? How’d they get in without me hearing them? Do they know we’re talking about them- fuck, what if they know we-
“You’re in my seat,” Fischbach cut his thoughts off, and Bonnie blinked owlishly, confused for a moment as the bear looked straight at him.
After a few awkward moments, he realized oh, I’m in Fischbach’s seat. “Oh- right.” He quickly slipped out of the desk, stepping over to his own. “Sorry.”
Chica slipped out of the other chicken’s seat and Bonnie sat down, watching as the group of friends gave them all strange looks. After a few seconds, though, they all began walking towards their seats, each one sitting down and falling into utter silence.
Other students filed in. Neither Bonnie nor his friends said a word.
Somewhere behind them, the whispering began.
Bonnie had never been very clumsy. In fact, he had really good balance and his hand-eye coordination was top-notch. He could count the number of times he had tripped on one hand, even. Being a rabbit, he always joked, came with its perks.
Therefore, the moment he felt his foot get caught on the leg of the desk, he wasn’t too concerned- I can catch myself, he reasoned, but then he found himself suddenly falling thanks to his heavy bag. Instinctively, he reached out to try and catch himself on the desk, but rather than catching him, his arm slammed hard onto the desk- ow ow ow okay stupid decision- and somehow- how, he didn’t know- the metal beneath the desk. In the end, he found himself lying, dazed, on the floor.
“Ow,” he muttered, pushing himself up and looking at his friends. Goldie looked somewhat amused.
“Karma,” the golden bear stated with a small grin, and Bonnie huffed as Freddy came over, offering a helping hand to him.
“Oh yeah,” he started towards Goldie, “like you weren’t laughing, too.” Accepting the hand, Bonnie allowed the bear to pull him to his feet. Once he was steady on his feet, he lightly pushed the dislodged desk back into place.
“How the hell did you hit the doorframe, Foxy?” Chica asked, sounding a mix of amused and confused. Bonnie lightly rubbed at his aching arm before going to follow the others out the door.
“I was distracted,” was Foxy’s answer. He whined jokingly as he turned to Freddy, a pout on his face as he lightly poked his nose. “Is it broken?”
“Ya didn’t hit the wall that hard,” Freddy answered, amused at their friend, and lightly pat the fox’s shoulder. Bonnie grinned. “Don’t worry, your nose is still on straight.”
“And I thought you were on my side,” Foxy whined melodramatically, wearing the most betrayed expression Bonnie had ever seen. “Oh how you wound me!”
“You deserved it,” Bonnie stated matter-of-factly, smirking over at the fox. When Foxy looked over towards him, however, some of that humour drained from his eyes as he rose a brow, his eyes flicking to Bonnie’s arm. Bonnie realized he was still rubbing it- it still hurts.
“Oh please,” Foxy started, dodging around a classmate just standing there. “I deserve to go home.”
Without missing a beat, Bonnie and the others said, “Nah.”
“You don’t get out of your embarrassment that easily,” Chica tacked on with an amused snort.
“On the bright side, only Salvage and his friends saw you stupidly walk into a wall,” Goldie informed the fox, and Bonnie wasn’t quite sure that that was a good thing. “So it’s not like it’ll get all around school.”
They entered the English classroom and claimed the desks they’d had the Tuesday before, Bonnie sitting between Freddy and the wall in the second row. Foxy dropped down in front of Bonnie and Chica sat next to him, while Goldie was, as expected, on Freddy’s other side.
“Who all’s in this class?” Freddy asked, glancing around at all of them. “I didn’t really pay much attention Tuesday.” Undoubtedly, Bonnie knew, it was because he was focusing so hard on his thoughts. He knew that because he himself had been thinking, too.
“All I know is Rodriguez and the rest of them are in here,” Bonnie answered him, shrugging. “They came in late, remember?” he added. Freddy glanced at him, the most blatant no duh expression on his face, and Bonnie almost rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, we knew they were in here,” Chica snorted, unintentionally voicing what Freddy’s expression was telling Bonnie. “Even if we hadn’t been watching them we would have.”
Bonnie knew she was right. Before, it had been a source of annoyance- an opportunity for Bonnie and Foxy to bitch to each other about their classmates- but now it offered an opportunity for them to observe.
It also offered a perfect opportunity for Bonnie to feel like even more of an asshole as he realized more and more that they were just typical teenagers who just had an unfortunate situation and a bad rap.
Speaking of observation, I should really write down earlier’s interaction. They didn’t even insult us. Guess they really do just respond to us.
Next to him, Freddy and Goldie began talking, but before Bonnie could turn his attention to the brothers he felt a single, light tap on his shoulder. Confused, he turned around to face Rodriguez- That bruise stands out really badly against his fu, does this happen often?r- who he knew was sitting behind him- when did they get here, anyway? I didn’t even notice.
He didn’t get a chance to ask what the bored-looking rabbit wanted as the moment he turned around, Rodriguez said, “Henderson, you’re bleeding.” Bonnie blinked in confusion before looking at his arm and carefully touching the still-stinging area where his arm had hit the metal beams underneath the desk.
Bonnie pulled his fingers away to look at the tips, finding the fur there had turned slightly darker- reddish, even. Oh. I am bleeding. Fancy that. “Oh,” he muttered. “That’s why it still hurts.” I should have checked that after hitting the metal. I must have gotten cut by a loose screw or a sharp edge or something. He glanced back towards Rodriguez, who was simply watching him. Strangely enough, Bonnie noticed, there wasn’t a hint of amusement or annoyance in his eyes.
He just looked... bored. And, Bonnie knew, Bonito Rodriguez is never bored.
“Er...” There was no way he could let a chance to be, uh, friendly pass by, so he awkwardly added, “Thanks,” to the blue rabbit before turning to look at Freddy, pretending like he hadn’t noticed the flash of confused surprise in Rodriguez’s eyes. When Freddy turned to him, questioning brow raised, he said, “I’m gonna go to the nurse, if Mrs. Mittel asks.” He doubted she would. He’d just have to present her with the nurse’s note when he returned.
“Why?” Freddy asked, concerned, and Bonnie held his bloodstained fingers up for the bear to see. “Oh,” was all he could utter, and Bonnie slipped out of his seat just as the final warning bell rang. He went over to the door and took a left in the direction he knew the nurse’s room was.
It wasn’t a long walk, but as the late bell rang and teachers gave him looks (one even telling him to “get to class”) he kept having to pause and say, “I’m going to the nurse.” Most didn’t seem to believe him until he showed them his arm, and then they let him pass without problem, but it was still annoying.
However, as he reached the nurse, it occurred to him that he’d now have to explain to the nurse that he tripped over a desk and somehow managed to get his arm cut on a metal beam of some kind. Hopefully I won’t have to get a tetanus shot, he thought bitterly, lightly knocking on the nurse’s door. He wondered what sorts of details he was missing out on; they were sitting right behind him in English, whatever they were talking about was literally right there. Sure Bonnie knew that there was no way they were discussing very personal matters when they were that close to Bonnie and his friends, but still- innocent conversation could tell you a lot if you just paid attention.
The nurse opened the door, raising a brow at him, and he simply lifted his arm to show the otter his arm. He was quickly ushered inside, the nurse never saying a word, and sat down on the stool the nurse gestured to. Then they got to work on Bonnie’s arm and he grit his teeth.
I wonder if this is the kind of thing that lot deals with on a daily basis...
Bonnie saw it happening a moment before Foxy’s foot collided with the base of Chica’s easel, sending the backerboard, Chica’s work, and Foxy all falling to the floor...
And the ink in Foxy’s hand flying into the air.
He watched in thinly-veiled horror as the cup slammed into the ground, sending the ink nearly six feet into the air and forwards, right towards the group that they were supposed to be attempting to befriend.
To Bonnie, everything seemed to be in both slow motion and happening too fast; he watched as Rodriguez’s eyes widened and he darted out of the line of fire, watched as Blanc leapt for the counter behind them, watched as Kain dove behind Salvage, and finally watched as the ink splattered against both Salvage and Fischbach, who were standing right beside each other.
Spidery black lines seeped into their clothes, into Fischbach’s arm, into the fur on Salvage’s face (thankfully, he noted, the rabbit instinctively shut his eyes- that was good, he highly doubted the group would willingly become friends with someone who accidentally blinded their friend with ink)...
Freddy helped Foxy up, and Bonnie just barely caught the fox’s, “Oh, shit.”
To say the least! If they even look at us now I’ll be shocked, what the fuck?!
Ashley Creol and her “friends” laughed, but the sound didn’t really register in his mind. Instead, he watched as Salvage and Fischbach looked at each other.
Then Salvage smirked.
Just loud enough for the class to hear, the rabbit said, “Hey, Al, you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.” The bear simply smirked and tapped his own cheek, mirroring where the ink was drying in Salvage’s fur, and the rabbit’s eyes widened and quickly brought a hand up to his face.
He actually understood what Fischbach was saying.
Bonnie glanced over towards Freddy, noticing that all five of them- himself included, of course- had begun relaxing. Salvage and Fischbach both looked amused and Rodriguez was grinning from where he was standing. Blanc seemed to be trying to hide their own laughter and Kain was peering out of her hiding spot amusedly.
It seemed like the potential crisis was averted, and god was Bonnie grateful for that.
Of course that relief lasted only for a moment.
It wasn’t often that anyone got a chance to see Salvage or his friends like that, and Bonnie hated knowing that just a few days ago he and his friends- bar Freddy, of course- would have taken that opening.
Without the Fazcrew there to take the opening, it was left to the cheerleader in the room.
“Well, Springtrap,” and Bonnie’s eyes glanced over at the human. She was leaning against her easel, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders in that way that had all of the football players going crazy. Personally, Bonnie thought that hair would be annoying as hell. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”
Bonnie’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the weak insult. Salvage simply glanced at his friends, his expression unreadable, as Rodriguez, Blanc, and Kain took their places at his and Fischbach’s side again, their eyes glaring sharply at Creol.
It looks like they’re more offended than Salvage is.
And that was being nice. Where Salvage looked at Creol with a general distaste, the other four looked absolutely pissed, as though Creol had just overstepped some invisible boundary that should have been obvious.
Dimly, Bonnie recognized those expressions. The first time the students had heard the name “Springtrap,” they had worn those exact same expressions... only a little less hateful and a little more disgusted.
“Yeah,” Rodriguez started, and Bonnie was immediately hit by a brick made of shock; they had never responded to insults before. At least, not directly. “But it would match so much better with your dead black heart.”
Ouch, Bonnie thought, almost amused at the insult.
“If she even has one,” Blanc scoffed, scowling over towards Creol.
Double ouch.
Never in the four years since Rodriguez and his friends noticed the Fazcrew’s hostility had they ever responded directly to them. In fact, Bonnie couldn’t remember a single moment in time where Rodriguez or his friends had addressed them in any way, just as the Fazcrew never addressed them. It had been like... an unspoken rule or something. You don’t speak to me, I don’t speak to you.
And, it had seemed, the rest of the school had followed. Until now, anyway.
Creol just broke the norm.
“True,” Rodriguez agreed, crossing his arms and staring the human down. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”
Triple ouch.
It seemed that Rodriguez and his friends were more observant than Bonnie thought; Rodriguez knew about Creol’s little reputation-destroying habit, and none of the others looked confused at his words.
“Damn,” he couldn’t help but mutter to himself. “He’s never said anything like that about us.” And it was very true; the worst thing he could remember Rodriguez calling any of them was “asshole.”
“Asshole” versus “empty husk” and “dead black heart.” Yeah. I feel like I should be offended by that. We’re not worth the good insults, apparently.
Even so, he tried not to grin as Creol’s face flushed a very unappealing shade of puce and she straightened up, her hazel eyes blazing in anger. “What did you just say you Mexican fuck?!”
Instantly, his partial-grin slid off his face and he let out a low growl. Next to him, Chica muttered, “Excuse me?” and the bear brothers shared matching scowls. Clearly they were as unhappy with Creol’s words as much as he and Chica were.
Alright then, Creol, we’ll keep this in mind.
“For the record,” Rodriguez drawled, his tone showing that he was clearly unimpressed, “I’m Spanish, not Mexican! Learn geography!”
Idiot.
“Whatever,” Creol scoffed, making a show of inspecting her nails with her nose in the air. She was the very definition of haughty and if Bonnie was a lesser rabbit he would totally claw that holier-than-thou racist face off. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”
“I beg to differ,” Chica hissed under her breath and Bonnie’s ears twitched. Apparently, Rodriguez agreed with Chica’s sentiment; with a snarl, he suddenly started towards Creol (Bonnie was somewhat satisfied to see the cheerleader flinch), but then Salvage quickly grabbed his shoulder, preventing him from moving any closer.
It was threatening, Bonnie realized. Rodriguez’s action right then was a threat.
“Oh please,” the rabbit scoffed, glaring towards Creol but not making any attempts to step closer, “at least Spanish makes sense, English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Rodriguez’s eyes then widened in mock horror and apology, his hand flying up to his mouth as if he had just said something terrible. “Oops, sorry,” he started, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”
Bonnie didn’t agree with Rodriguez’s summary about the English language, but he just loved the way Creol’s racist little face went even darker, her eyes sparking with fury. From the corner of his eye, Bonnie saw Mr. Smith, whose lips were pulled into a snarl of his own, start making his way towards them.
Angrily, Creol started, “I will-”
“That’s enough, you two!” Mr. Smith cut off, his face flushed red. Bonnie briefly wondered where he was when the argument first began- shouldn’t he have put a stop to this shouting match before it even began? “Act your age, all of you!” Excuse me but I think only Creol, Rodriguez, and Blanc were saying anything. Who’s this “all of you” you’re talking about?
“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Salvage quickly apologized, nervous as he pulled Rodriguez back into the group. “Won’t happen again.” Rodriguez muttered something that either went unheard or ignored by Salvage and Mr. Smith, and as Fischbach threw a short, reprimanding glare towards the rabbit Bonnie figured it was the latter.
“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith barked out, glaring around at all of them. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” The teacher’s eyes fell on Foxy and Bonnie almost winced at the spark in his eyes, feeling somewhat bad for his friend being on the receiving end of it. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”
“R-right, got it,” Foxy squeaked nervously, rubbing the back of his head. Mr. Smith’s eyes began scanning the silent students.
“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly,” he started, “and Ms. Creol, easels are not for leaning! You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; don’t.”
Bonnie, smartly, kept his mouth shut as the teacher gave out the orders, and he simply watched as Mr. Smith spun on his heel and marched back to the front of the room.
As they all turned back to their easels (Bonnie noticed neither Salvage nor Fischbach made to leave), Bonnie heard Chica mutter, “For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was born in Mexico.”
He only wished he could see the cheerleader’s expression. Instead, he looked across the still life over to Rodriguez who had just shared a look with the taller rabbit beside him. Rodriguez turned to study the still life and Bonnie really looked at that bruise on his face, wondering not for the first time just who might have given it to him. Then Rodriguez suddenly looked right over at Bonnie, and for a few brief seconds, crimson met emerald.
As Rodriguez held his gaze, a stubborn gleam in his eyes, Bonnie was sure he saw resolve slam through like a freight train.
A freight train with no conductor.
Then those eyes were back on the still life, and Bonnie suddenly felt much more determined than before. He glanced around at everyone else, noting how tense they were, and then continued his, um... attempt at drawing the still life.
I’ll figure it all out, he promised silently. And dammit, you’re gonna actually talk to me, Rodriguez.
Tomorrow. It’s the first chance we’ll have.
With that decided, he continued with his sketch. The room was eerily silent, nothing but the sound of pencils and paintbrushes gliding across the paper filling the empty air.
As soon as Bonnie got home, he dropped down on his bed and practically ripped the notebook from his bookbag. Flopping down onto the mattress, he flipped the notebook open to the list, quickly added the date, and began that day’s list.
- They all seemed much better off today. Still a bit weird, but better.
- Math class- they stayed in group until all of their seats were empty, and then split up. They were watching us warily, maybe they overheard us? (Doubt it; they would have avoided sitting behind us in English.) Made no comments to us.
- Speaking of English, Rodriguez informed me (very flatly and to the point) that I was bleeding. Important: he actually spoke directly to me. Never happened before. Ever. Outside of Monday, of course.
- I didn’t see them at lunch. Maybe they went out to the courtyard? It was a nice day. Blanc stares out the window a lot, maybe they like being outdoors?
- Art class fiasco; Ashley Creol succeeds in 1 minute what we could not accomplish in 5 years. She got a response out of them. Both sides pretty weak, but out of the two Rodriguez and Blanc completely owned her. She made racist comments, Rodriguez defended himself. (Rodriguez & Co. never start, only reciprocate; probably why they never responded to us, we never directly spoke to them. Give as good as they get.)
Bonnie paused, gnawing on his lower lip as he thought about what else to write. It was nothing spectacularly groundbreaking- not like what he had yesterday- but... it was something.
Slowly, he wrote out, 6. Rodriguez didn’t smile.
It didn’t seem like a big deal, honestly, but one thing everyone knew about Rodriguez was that he always smiled. Those last few days, though, Bonnie didn’t really see him smiling much.
At least, not an actual smile.
Bonnie tapped his pencil against the paper, trying to remember if there was anything he missed. He didn’t think there was.
Oh. Wait. Yes there is.
Quickly, he drew a star at the bottom of the list and drew an arrow from it up to number five.
*Rodriguez almost became hostile in response to Creol’s insults. Was stopped by Salvage.
That was important. He had never seen Salvage or any of them become hostile- well, that wasn’t completely true, he amended. There was that one time, he couldn’t remember if it was late middle or early high school...
The first (and last) time anyone ever tried to cop a feel on Kain, her friends had immediately lashed out at the guy- they hadn’t punched him like Bonnie would have, but Fischbach had “out of nowhere” (as the guy later claimed to students and teachers alike) just shoved the guy away from Kain while Rodriguez pulled her into the group and Blanc literally growled at the guy, teeth bared and all. Salvage, he remembered, had simply glared and stood between the guy- who had fallen straight on his ass- and Kain, towering over the “pathetic little pervert,” as Blanc had called him. That was all that was said, and the guy didn’t try to fight, realizing five against one- he didn’t have a chance. Especially with the audience he had.
That was the only time Bonnie could remember them becoming hostile towards anyone.
But that was understandable, he reasoned. That was harassment, and Kain looked absolutely horrified that it happened. If someone did that to Chica, lord knows I’d be sittin’ in the police station for puttin’ the son of a bitch in the hospital.
And the others would be right there with me. Chica too.
Sighing, he dropped the pencil onto his bed and stared at the notebook, unsure if there was anything else important that day. There had been no new bruises, no obvious injuries, no exhaustion, nothing. In fact, all of them had seemed more alive than they had all week, and that was honestly just sad, all things considered.
A few seconds of consideration went by before Bonnie suddenly reached into his bag and pulled his phone out of its “secret” pouch, lighting the screen up and staring at the picture there.
It was him, his mother, and his “pops” standing in the front hall. Bonnie was taller than both of them and his mother was pulling on his ears, trying to “make you shorter, you’re growing up too fast!” He couldn’t help but smile. Such an innocent moment between family...
Just to think barely a month later, he was dead.
His smile slipped away, and quickly, he unlocked his phone and brought his contacts up, removing the picture from his sight. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it...
What if it’s his parents?
That made Bonnie pause even as he pulled the desired questionnaire out of his bag. His parents? he repeated silently to himself. He couldn’t imagine it. No parent could do that. They couldn’t.
But Foxy’s did.
It was bad enough imagining someone hurting- well, anyone, really, but imagining someone towering over small, possibly-cowering Bonito Rodriguez? It seemed almost criminal.
Especially to consider it might even be his parents.
As he laid the sheet of paper on his comforter and began typing the number out on his phone, he couldn’t help but wonder. He titled the contact very simply, Advanced Science, not wanting anyone peeking over his shoulder at school to see exactly whose number was in his phone- at least, not until he “officially” had a right to put it in his contacts list. If he ever did.
He stared silently at the number before saving it and exiting out of the contacts, coming face to face with that painfully happy memory again. He couldn’t even begin imagining either of them hurting him.
Can parents who actually raise their kids really hate them that much?
Frowning, Bonnie dropped his phone onto his bed and turned over to stare towards the window. He had never seen, even less met, Rodriguez’s parents. He didn’t know anything about them- even less than he did about their son.
Briefly, Bonnie wondered what was happening with the younger rabbit right then- just what Rodriguez was going through and putting up with. What would he see when he went to school the next day? Would there be new bruises? More exhaustion? Any signs at all?
Salvage didn’t seem to want them to go home, he remembered, closing his eyes. He said something about them staying at his house the entire weekend.
Was it even possible for parents who had raised a child for nearly eighteen years- parents who had fed and clothed and taught and bathed a child, who had given him everything- to hate their own son?
God, I hope I’m wrong.