rabbits and breakdowns. as one does, y'know?
“So,” Kate asks, falling into step beside him, “what does the creepy yet beautiful woman want?”
“A rabbit.”
“Huh.” Kate sucks a breath through her teeth, tapping her nails on her arm. “What?”
“I’ve been assigned to go find the rabbit that Agatha used to have,” he explains dryly. “No clue why, don’t ask. She didn’t tell me. I don’t suppose you’ve seen it around?”
“A rabbit?” she asks incredulously, shaking her head. “Uh, no. I have not seen a rabbit around.”
“Shit,” he says mildly. “Right, in that case I suppose I’ll go check the basement again.”
“Wait, Tommy!” She catches his arm before he can dart away, ducking her head towards his. “Are you... sure we can trust her? She seems, uh.” The pointed silence she leaves says more than enough about how Rio “seems”.
“She knows Billy,” he tells her quietly. “She said she knows how to find him- er, how to help me find him or whatever.” He digs his teeth into his lip and adds, “I don’t think I have another choice. Really.”
Kate scans his face for what feels like forever before she sighs, nodding. “Okay, then we’ll trust her.”
“We?” he asks, and she offers him a grin.
“Yeah, we. I already told you, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. You should really stop checking, honestly.”
There’s a tight feeling in his chest, like he’s drowning again, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Why does she care so much?
And why does he want her to?
He pushes it away, bumping his shoulder against hers with an eye roll. “You’re a weirdo, Kate. I hope you’re aware. But I guess who am I to stop you?”
“You’re deflecting.”
“You’re going to let me.”
“True,” she relents. “Alright, fine. You go find the requested rabbit so we can get Ms. slasher-movie-killer out there to give us more information. I’m going to call Clint- I told him I would.”
He nods, bouncing on his heels. “I’m on it.”
Señor Scratchy, rabbit of the hour, is downstairs in the basement, sniffing around the half-burnt candles circling the weird plaque on the floor. Tommy skids to a stop beside him, crouching down.
“Hey, lil dude. Whatcha doin’ down here?”
Señor Scratchy, seeing as he’s a rabbit, does not grace him with a reply. Tommy rolls his eyes, reaching out to scoop the thing up-
“Hey!” he yelps, pulling his hand back. “Did you bite me?”
Señor Scratchy continues to ignore him as he pouts, pressing the scrape to his lips.
“Rude.”
When the rabbit still doesn’t acknolwdge him he groans, crossing his legs beneath him as he sits.
“Yeah, yeah, you like Billy better. I get it. Will you just let me take you to Ms. skulls-and-gloom upstairs? Not that I know why she needs you, but...”
Apparently Señor Scratchy will not let him, because he hops away from Tommy’s next attempt to pick him up. “Asshole,” he announces, which is both excessive and accurate, at least in his opinion. Shut up about it. It’s been a long day, he is most definitely allowed to curse out a rabbit. He died. It’s justified. Ugh.
Señor Scratchy, still uncaring for his immense inner turmoil, continues to do rabbit-y things. Like a rabbit. Which he is. Tommy squints at him, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees.
“If I bribe you, will you let me take you upstairs?”
Again, it’s a rabbit. No response.
Whatever.
There’s lettuce in the fridge when he runs upstairs- it’s the only thing in the fridge, actually. Along with the expired granola bars in the living room, it might be the only food in the house. What, did Agatha not eat or something? Is that not something witches are required to do?
Señor Scratchy remains in the same spot when he goes back down, now chewing on one of the candles.
“That can’t be good for you, buddy,” Tommy tells him, nudging him away from the candle with the toe of his shoe. Señor Scratchy lives up to his name, scratching at the offending converse. Tommy rolls his eyes, shaking the rabbit off. “Dude. Just don’t.” He bends, offering him a leaf of lettuce. “This better? You gonna stop attacking me now?”
Señor Scratchy clearly considers him for a long moment, nose twitching, before he hops forward, nibbling on the leaf.
“See?” Tommy tells him, moving quickly to scoop the rabbit up before he can change his mind. “Was that really so hard?”
Señor Scratchy squirms in his arms like the world’s most opinionated stuffed animal, but he doesn’t try too hard to be ornary and get out.
“Hm. I guess you’re not all that bad, you little monster,” Tommy murmurs, stroking the rabbit’s fluffy ears as he carries him upstairs. “I still don’t know why Billy liked you more than video games, though. You’re not that cute.” He laughs, depositing Señor Scratchy onto the couch in the living room. “Probably why you like him better, huh?”
Again, it’s still a rabbit. Still no response. Duh.
He glances around, but Kate’s still outside on call and Rio is who knows where. He’s pretty confident she’ll come back, though. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
“Right.” He sits in one of the chairs, tucking his hands beneath his legs. “Just you and me, then, Señor Scratchy.” He bites his lip, bouncing his leg quickly. “Just us. Mhm. I’m, uh. I’m doing fine. That’s why I’m talking to a rabbit. In my witch babysitter’s house. Waiting for Death to help me find my brother who resurrected me.” He blinks, feeling the sting of tears. “I... miss having a normal life. Even if it. Wasn’t actually normal.” He ducks his head, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. “I wish I could go home.”
He can’t. Home isn’t a thing that exists. It never did.
Excpet that’s not… quite true. Not really.
Home is Billy.
Home is out there.
Billy is out there.
He just needs to find him. He can find him.
Please, whoever is listening.
He needs to find his brother.
He needs to find Billy.
He needs to go home.