#just implied

Tubrat turned to his other side, closing his eyes resolutely. He had another concert to plan tomorrow, and there was an idea in the back of his mind concerning The Big Rat Who Makes All The Rules that needed proper fleshing out. He’d done his confession, he didn’t need to think about it anymore. He’d done the same on Rat Shelby’s behalf too, so she didn’t have to think about it anymore either.

He wondered if she was still hungry like he was. He wondered if she would ever forgive him.

Tubrat sat up, the thoughts rudely making home in his mind. Rat Shelby was his friend, his cupboard buddy, she would never abandon him after all they’d been through! He shuffled out of bed, dropping silently to the floor and letting out a soft sigh of relief to see Rat Shelby still lying in her rat bed. He watched her sleep, something he did fairly frequently in the cupboard. It was twofold, really. Check to see if she’s alive. Check to see if she’s dead. A rising and falling chest meant continued companionship. Stillnesss… well, it was a joy in its own right.

Rat Shelby was breathing.

Good.

Tubrat was hungry. It reared out of him like a snake about to strike. This deep, horrific hunger that took hold of every sinue in his ratty body, hot like fresh blood, dizzying him like a blow to the head.

Rat Shelby turned in her sleep, squeaking contently as she burrowed into a ball. She looked more relaxed here then she ever had in the cupboard. Tubrat backed away from her. Maybe he should go back to bed.

He turned around, and before him was the cupboard. A hulking pair of double doors, handles like eyes of a god watching him approach. The tile floor was cold against his rat feet. He blinked, hard, his vision swimming and stuttering. He didn’t remember walking down here. It was dark down here in the house, night muffling any sign of life. Everyone should be sleeping. He should be sleeping.

He turned to scamper away, trying to remember where the rat-sized stairs to the attic were, but ultimately turned back. How funny, he thought, dazed, that escaping the cupboard prison would only make him yearn to return. He stared up at those imposing doors, transfixed.

The food had gone pretty fast. Tubrat had determined that pretty quick, his stomach an aching hole as he had scoured every inch of the place. That is, besides the ratlings two shelves down, huddled together for warmpth, dying right along with them.

Tubrat never told Rat Shelby about the ratlings, just played along in modest suprise when he brought back those burgers for them both. Rat Shelby was too weak and hungry to question him. The ratlings had been pretty easy to snuff out. Even Tubrat, who was considerably smaller then Shelby Rat even when they were both starved, could end their lives with just a simple twist of his paws.

His paws twitched at his sides reflexively.

There was no bad in the cupboard, only survival. These other rats, from farms and city gutters, they didn’t know how good they had it. Acting so offended and shocked when Tubrat had made his confession to them, to and for Rat Shelby. Like they wouldn’t do the same thing if it came down to it. Tubrat had seen the looks on their ratty faces, the way they talked to him. Tubrat was full of ideas, good ones even, and yet the others kept their distance, their smiles fixed.

Tubrat just wished Rat Shelby had understood. She wouldn’t have minded if they were still in the cupboard, Tubrat was sure of it.

Everything had changed. Tubrat was looking in on what had once been his entire world, now knowing it was contained in something much bigger.