Chapter Text
The sun sent burning waves that seared the skin, with no clouds lingering in the sky. Felis and Philomela were outside, walking along streets they knew like the back of their hands. It wasn't unusual to see the siblings together; those close to them knew they had a great bond, even though they sometimes fought over the stupidest things. Being siblings naturally brought that, of course.
Philomela suddenly paused, causing Felis to crash into her with a quiet "oof."
"Why'd you stop?" the older one whined rather childishly, but he fell silent upon seeing the distraught look on Philomela's face. He followed her gaze to where she was looking and smiled when he saw a black cat staring back at them from the alleyway. He had always loved cats; he knew he was a cat person for the longest time. He got along with them better than he did with dogs. Let's just say, he didn't have the best relationship with dogs...
Turning his head back towards Philomela, he teased, "Such a look on your face from seeing just a cat," poking her cheek lightly. "You gaze at it as if it's going to bite your head off." However, there was no snarky comeback from her, an unusual silence following the lighthearted teasing. "Philomela?" Again, Felis was only met with quietude.
"Philomela!" He called out to her louder this time, which earned a slight flinch from her. "Yeah?" She returned her gaze toward him. Felis rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance.
"Finally, I was starting to get irritated. You looked like you saw a ghost just now. What depths of hell are going on in your mind?" Philomela shook her head, as if trying to dispel whatever thoughts had been troubling her. "It's nothing. Just zoned out, that's all."
"Just zoned out? Even a toddler wouldn't believe that." Quite the exaggeration... But oh well, we're talking about the one and only Felis Vernel here.
"But I guess I'll let it slide for now, since I'm such a good brother," a smug smile played on his lips as he spoke. Without uttering a word, Philomela walked towards the cat, leaving Felis staring dumbfoundedly for a quick second. He went after her, "Hey! It's like you're leaving me on read!"
The cat sat up and walked towards the two of them. As they approached, it headbutted Philomela's leg, meowing as it looked up at the brunette girl. He watched the cat's movements, though he couldn't deny feeling the urge to pet it, just like any other cat he'd seen.
Except, that urge felt stronger, his mind nagging him to pet the cat.
He brushed it off. For now.
"You're acting really weird, Philomela." He heard nothing from the other end, which was getting a bit annoying. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little concerned. He let out a sigh.
He felt a little uneasy, honestly.
"Being ignored just because of this tiny—and somehow adorable—creature," he complained quietly, then knelt down towards the cat. When he extended his hand towards it, sharp teeth clasped his skin. He winced in pain and immediately withdrew his hand, looking at the now bleeding wound. Philomela snapped out of her trance— for the second time, mind you.
"That hurt," he grimaced in pain. The cat ran away just as quickly, disappearing to who knows where. Philomela looked around, forgetting why she had entered the alleyway in the first place. Then she turned her attention towards him, who was currently crouching on the ground.
"What are you doing?" she questioned, earning a strange look from Felis.
"What do you mean, what am I doing? You're the one who walked here first without even saying anything!" he retorted, her eyebrows raising up once her brain processed his words.
"I did?" Felis looked at her even more strangely once he heard her words.
"Yes. You did. Do you have dementia or something? I wouldn't doubt a goldfish has a better memory than you," he muttered the last sentence, standing back up and inspecting the bitten spot on his hand which kept bleeding. "Gosh, cats have really sharp teeth..."
Thinking back on it, something had compelled Felis to pet the cat, to embrace it somehow. A voice he couldn't help but obey. Weird.
All those feelings, that strange commanding voice, vanished the moment he was bitten by the cat. It was a bizarre moment—uncomfortable, yet oddly soothing—as if it had awakened something deep in the back of his mind, only to release it, allowing the thoughts to sink back into the depths like a fishing net let go in the deep sea.
Philomela glanced at Felis' bleeding hand. "We should get going before it gets worse, and infected, even." Felis huffed.
"Well, no shit, Sherlock." Philomela glared at him.
"Oh, I'm sorry I was trying to help!"
"Last time I checked, you don't need to be a medical student to know that. It's called 'common knowledge', clearly something you lack." That earned Felis a smack on the back of his head. "Ow! Not you too!"
"Deserved," she stated matter-of-factly.
Felis pouted, like a spoiled kid who didn't get what they wanted, at her retort. Not paying much attention to his childish pout, Philomela resumed walking. "Are you coming or not?"
"I am, I am," he said in exasperation. He followed after her, resting his hands back at his sides. The blood traveled between his fingers before dripping to the ground. He didn't bother to clean it; I mean, why would he? He didn't want to dirty his clothes with blood, and he certainly wasn't going to suck the blood, considering the possibility the cat might have been carrying a virus... He was being cautious, you know?
As they walked back home, Felis suddenly stopped and put a hand to his forehead. "I feel nauseous... Dizzy." Philomela halted as well, looking back at him concernedly.
"Maybe it's from the weather? We could go to the market and get some cold water for you," she suggested, but Felis shook his head in objection.
"No need, we're almost home anyway." Philomela looked at him with uncertainty but decided to let it go for now.
Perchance she was gonna regret taking that decision.
She watched as he resumed walking, following after him. However, before she could react, Felis collapsed to the ground with a concerningly loud "thunk" sound.
When Felis opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of a bright white ceiling, almost too intense for his poor eyes. His sister's voice reached his ears.
"Finally woke up." He took a moment to observe the unnervingly bright room before meeting her gaze. She was sitting on a chair beside the hospital bed he was laying on.
"Why am I in a hospital?" She let out a deep exhale and sat up straighter before beginning to explain.
"You collapsed out of nowhere while we were walking. I called an ambulance, and now, here we are," she paused briefly. "The doctors checked your vitals but found nothing out of the ordinary, which was strange." Silence filled the room momentarily, only broken by the beeps of the heart monitor and the hum of the infusion pump.
For Felis, everything suddenly felt overwhelming. The brightness hurt his eyes more than usual, sounds seemed louder and clearer than before, and god, the smell... it was unusually heavy and unpleasant. Almost disgusting even.
His teeth were aching, making him want to grit them to the point of breaking. Was it his canines causing this hell of a toothache?
He ran his tongue over them, applying pressure on his canines one by one.
Yes, yes it definitely was.
Philomela's words brought him out of his thoughts.
"You had me concerned for a moment there," she admitted softly, averting her gaze from him as she expressed her worry.
The hush surrounded the two once more. Felis looked away from her, observing his right arm where the IV plug was inserted. "I seem to be fine now, don't you think?" he said, trying to lighten the mood, a comforting smile on his face.
Philomela glanced at Felis, studying his face as if searching for any hint of deceit that proved his words otherwise. When she found none, she responded simply, "Yeah."
When he was deemed okay to leave, both of them exited the hospital. Today had been a unique day for the siblings, and that was definitely not up for debate. As soon as they reached their rented home, Felis threw himself onto his bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep. As his head met the soft pillow, his body immediately shut down, consciousness drifting into the world of slumber...
It was around midnight.
The sun had gone down, and it was time for the moon to shine with the help of the sunlight. The moonlight bathed the room, filtering through the windows and casting its glow upon him.
A tug at his heart pulled him from his slumber. Felis sat up abruptly, clutching at his shirt, his breath heavy as if he had just awoken from a nightmare. His heart felt heavy, as if his ribs were suffocating it.
The string had come alive, a bond resurfacing itself. Consequences to actions, making up for wrongdoings, forgiving and accepting.
"Promise you'll never leave?"
"Pfoo! Curse these rodents!" a young gentleman jumped from his seat, flinching in pain, causing all of his homework sheets to fall on the ground. The culprit; our so-said rodent, quickly absconded, running for it's life, hiding in one of the many holes our young man, Mus Kreiburg, had in his filthy coffin of a room.
Oh, alas, what can he possibly do? Rent is expensive these days, and, being a college student, of course you don't get the pleasure to luxuriate in rooms of distinguished quality. Our unfortunate lad, Mus, was one of the many victims.
Checking the old clock sitting by a deteriorated lamp (which was serving as his daily dose of light), he took notice of the time: 11:32 PM.
"It's that late already? Seems like hours always fly when I get absorbed in writing... Well, writing what? Look at these lies, these..." he kept thinking to himself, pondering and rereading his argumentative essay over and over again. No, just take a look at this falsity! Our gentleman had to write about having friends and companions, and the ways in which he had helped them. No, he doesn't help people, nor does he have a lot of 'friends', and the thing is, he's perfectly satisfied with said-fact, (or so he believed). One of his most significant friends was probably Felis; nothing but a memory now though. College and life do cut the string of someone's friendship, whether it be wanted or not.
After a few moments of pensiveness had passed, our man decided to examine his wound and treat it.
"Deeper than I would've thought... Oh goodness, and what if this imp of a rodent just brought me an infectious disease? Another problem to deal with," Mus sighed frustrated. Well, Mus, it is what it is. He stood up and grabbed a sterile piece of cloth, sprayed alcohol on it, placed it on his wounded leg and called it a day.
Yet something, something seemed to speak to him; a peculiar feeling... It was as if some kind of deja vu had hit him in the head.
"That damned rat..."
He stood up once again, slowly making his way towards the moldy hole in his room, which the rodent chose as an escape route.
It was gone. No sign of it.
"I'm wasting my time," Mus shook it off as mere fatigue and buried himself in his shrieking bed, getting nicely warm and cozy, embraced by a fresh-smelling blanket. Ah, the mesmerizing smell of detergent...
However, closing his heavy eyes, he cannot help but ponder once again. This odd feeling kept laying uneasy on his mind. What was so special about it? No, perhaps he shouldn't give it much thought.
Sleep, that's what he should do; for our young man has to wake up early tomorrow, as always.
Mus turned off the lamp, and with the click of a button, the amber-light had vanished in an instant.
The end of a day; the start of a story.
"I promise to never leave. I could never imagine myself doing such a vile thing to you anyway."