He remembered the first time he truly saw Rick.
He had known the man for almost two years by that point, and in all the times they had fought together, all the bloodshed in the name of freedom - he had never really seen Rick.
They had spent countless sleepless nights talking - were it not for the raw passion against injustice Rick wore like a second skin, BP would never have followed him - where they had shared pains and truths. They had held each other bleeding out in the heart of battle, they had placed the utmost trust in one another. They would be willing to die for the other.
Yet it was now, in a dark alley permeated with piss and the stink of alcohol, BP bore witness under that second skin. Like a scab peeled away and away until an ugly, sluggish flow of bloody tissue lay bare, the birdman saw his friend. A broken little thing in the darkness of a tucked away corner of a forgotten street.
"I just -" and Rick broke off in a coughing fit, voice torn through desperate and lost, which was something the man was never, "I just want them back." Soft and pleading, the words fell like harsh pellets of rain to the cracked ground. Rick was curled against the filthy wall, knees tucked close to his chest and arms gripping his shins, long hair messy over his shoulders.
BP stared at him for a moment, his face as monotonous as ever as he dared to inch closer until he was only a few steps from the human. In the low lighting most species would only be able to make out the shape of Rick's body and the few highlighted curves of light. But BP had avian enhanced vision, and he saw minute details oft missed in dim lights that became accentuated with the dilation of his pupils.
Stark cyan hair became a glowing pale white, muddy brown clothes bleeding into a hue of dark blues and purples while BP took in his distraught friend.
A beat, a breath of moment, and the birdman spoke, "Who do you miss, Rick?" He asked, tone level as always and he was not suited to displaying deeper acts of affection. Even in the face of his closest companion's apparent turmoil, he could only muster a sympathetic blink - still, his feet carried him a step closer.
Rick wiped at his mouth, eyelashes fluttering under the weight of tears as the man struggled to meet BP's stare. "She was so young - we were," another pause to choke back emotions the birdman was unaware Rick could display, "we were gonna go for ice cream."
BP paused to recall what ice cream was, and his mind drudged up the image of a pastel coloured slime that was cold to the touch and too sweet for his taste buds to pick up. To BP, it tasted of thick cream and ice. "Who was young?" Another blink with a step closer. Their toes were almost touching.
Rick didn't answer, instead wiped at his nose and shot a look heavy with emotion at BP. The birdman couldn't read all that lay in their depth, but he could practically feel the weight of loneliness caging him in, his chest bereft for a moment at the pure desperation etched in his friend's dark eyes. BP was without himself when he knelt down, not knowing what he could possibly offer but anything to help quell his friend's agony.
"Rick?" BP pressed, and Rick came alive with a fresh bout of tears, falling forward into the birdman with a wail that became lost in the sounds of the foreign city they were in.
BP stared down with eyes minutely widened at the mop of cyan hair, feeling the trembling frame of Rick so close had him unsure of the situation. Humans were big on physical comfort - and all forms of comfort, really, BP noted dully - and with that in mind the birdman wrapped his arms around the man until his tears would dry.
“I will stay with you, Rick.” He said, tone neutral and Rick’s body shivered against his, fingers digging into the feathers on BP’s shoulders and the birdman barely passed the twinge of pain a thought.
“Thank you.” Came a quiet, hoarse voice, and BP felt his heart tug - an unusual, foreign feeling for him, and he tightened his grip ever so slightly. He may not know what ailed his friend, but he knew now of the weight that pushed Rick into action, and despite his curiosity, that knowledge felt… precious.
have a drabble i did a bit ago + a quick doodle to go with it 8D
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
kaledo-art
