[part one. tw: long post]
— The backyard was quiet, bathed in the afternoon sun. The soil had been turned over, the grass was a little uneven... and in the middle of it all, Asrael.
— He was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, holding a handful of grain in one hand. Around him were four chickens, each a different color, pecking enthusiastically.
“Easy, easy” — he said softly.
“There's enough for everyone”
— One of them had clumsily climbed onto his thigh. Another was so close that Asrael ended up wrapping an arm around it. He hugged it carefully, resting his cheek against its feathers.
“You're very cute” — he murmured, completely serious. “All of you are”
— He was ridiculously happy. Smiling without thinking, focused only on handing out food, petting small heads, and talking to them as if they understood everything.
— At that moment, the backyard door opened.
— Rippen froze. He silently observed the scene: Asrael sitting on the ground, one chicken in his arms, another eating from his hand, and the other two walking around as if they had officially adopted him.
— He blinked once.
“...What are you doing?”
— Asrael looked up, still smiling, without letting go of the chicken.
“Oh, hi” — he greeted naturally. “They came on their own. Well... almost on their own”
— Rippen looked down at the birds, then back at him.
“We have chickens now?”
“I guess so” — Asrael replied. “Look at this one, she's very affectionate”
— He gave it another small hug, and the chicken didn't complain at all.
— Rippen sighed, bringing a hand to his face.
“I don't understand how these things happen” — he muttered. “I leave for five minutes and when I come back... this”
— Asrael laughed, genuine and happy, and invited him over.
“Come on. I'm sure they like you”
— Rippen looked at him as if he had just suggested something completely absurd.
“No”
— One of the chickens approached his shoes and started pecking nearby. Rippen tensed up.
— Asrael watched him, amused.
“I think she wants you to pick her up”
— Rippen pressed his lips together, clearly losing the battle.
“If one of these gets into the house, it's your responsibility”
— Asrael smiled even wider, radiant, as he handed out the last handful of food.
“Thank you for sharing the yard with us” — he told the chickens.
— Rippen shook his head...
but he didn't leave.
— And he stayed there, watching him, thinking that he would never understand how someone could be so happy hugging a chicken.
— Nor why he liked that so much.
— Rippen was still standing there, arms crossed, watching Asrael hand out the last handful of grain. The chickens were no longer in a hurry; now they wandered around him as if the backyard had always belonged to them.
— One of them (the blue unibrowed one) stopped in front of Rippen, staring at him.
Far too intensely.
“...Why is she looking at me like that?” — he asked, uncomfortable.
— Asrael looked up.
“It seems like she's evaluating you” — he replied with complete seriousness.
— The chicken took a small step closer.
Rippen frowned.
“I don't like it”
— Rippen sighed.
“She looks grumpy”
— Asrael smiled.
“A little, yeah. She's like you”
— There was a brief silence.
“...Her name would be Bruma” — Rippen muttered, almost without realizing it.
— Asrael blinked.
“What?”
— Rippen tensed.
“Nothing. I didn't say anything”
— Asrael looked at him, then at the chicken, and then back at him with a huge smile.
“Bruma” — he repeated. “It's perfect”
“It's not perfect” — Rippen grumbled. “And it doesn't mean anything”
— Bruma let out a low sound and tilted her head slightly, satisfied.
“She liked it” — said Asrael. “That means a lot”
— Rippen looked away.
“We're not keeping the chickens”
— Asrael carefully got up from the ground, still holding one of them in his arms. He approached slowly.
“Not all of them” — he said. “Just one”
“No”
“Two, maximum”
“Asrael”
“Look how calm she is” — he insisted, holding the chicken out toward him. “She doesn't make noise, she doesn't bother anyone...”
— The chicken settled her head against Asrael's chest.
“...and they lays eggs” — he added.
— Rippen closed his eyes for a second.
“Don't use that as an argument”
— Asrael smiled, sweet and patient.
“I can build them something small” — he continued. “At the back of the yard. I'll take care of everything. You won't have to do anything”
“That's never true”
“I promise it is” — he said, lowering his voice. “Besides... you like Bruma”
— Rippen's eyes snapped open.
“No”
— Bruma walked over to his shoes again.
Silence.
“...Just her” — he finally conceded.
— Asrael stood still for a second... and then hugged him tightly with his free arm.
“Thank youu!!! You won't regret it” — he said happily.
— Rippen went rigid, completely surrounded by Asrael, a chicken, and the absurd feeling that he had been defeated.
“If this goes wrong” — he muttered,
“you'll be living in the chicken coop”
— Asrael laughed.
“Then we'll be very happy”
— Rippen shook his head.
But he didn't argue anymore.
— And Bruma, officially, had a home now.
