Short Story: Part 1
by fauxfawn“If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything. I could even learn how to love.”
Bertók sat with a pillow clutched in his paws tightly, covering his face to hide the bright eight o’clock sun from reaching his eyes. He had pulled an all nighter tending to his sickly infant brother in the only bedroom of their apartment. After their daily battle to get the pup to eat something, Bertók was finally able to get the kid to sleep, and catch some Zz’s himself. Last night’s routine was especially harder than for the older wolf, as little Bar was having a harder time breathing lately. His appetite was weak, and he cried a lot. Sometimes, the only thing Bar could do was just hold the puppy until he cried and wheezed himself to sleep.
It scared Bertók, how every little breath from his sleeping brother sounded like the dying wheezes of their late mother. It scared him so much that he couldn’t fall asleep himself unless he could hear the pup’s breathing to reassure him that Bar was okay. Right now wasn't any different, it seemed.
With a groan, Bertók tossed the pillow he had aside and crawled sleepily off his sofa bed to head to Bartók’s nursery. The pup’s room was the most furnished room in the house, and Bar smiled at the sight every time he entered. Colorful plush animals, toy blocks, and a shelf full of children's bedtime stories lined the wall across Bartók’s crib, and Ber beamed at the collection. He’d saved up for many months to get those things for his new brother. Everything was painted pastel shades of blue, green, and orange, which was starkly different from the drab brown and grey wooden furnitures the rest of the house had. After giving a long moment to dwell on how pleasing the room was to him, Bertók turned his attention to the crib.
He was stunned to see Bar awake, and staring back up at him with a patient, happy smile. The pup’s smile seemed to grow a little when the two made eye contact, and he reached his tiny paws up to the other wolf in a sort of greeting.
“What are you doing awake kiddo? You need sleep!” Bertók said in a mock scolding tone while he reached down to pick Bar up. The pup made a weary squeak in response, and Bertók laughed softly. He was too young to talk at this point, but Ber swore that Bartók was conversing back to him sometimes. He was a smart little guy. With the pup snuggled against his chest, Bertók climbed into the creaky old rocking chair next to the crib, and began rocking it.
“You knew I always come back here after you fall asleep, didn’t you? Is that why you’re up? Were you... waiting for me?” Bartók gurgled quietly, against Ber’s shoulder already half asleep now. “Heh, yeah, I’m tired too buddy. Good night.” And with that, Ber and his brother both finally went to sleep. It was some of the best sleep Bertók has had in a year, since the pair had been orphaned. The older brother could only hope the younger could feel this content in his life...
When I see the way you act, wondering when I'm coming back, I could do about anything,
I could even learn how to love like you.
Downtown was the busiest around noontime, and that’s why Bertók was keen to hit the streets when the sun was highest in the sky. There were loads of wolves, and it was easy to get away with stealing a few things from vendors, and wolves traversing to and from work during lunch hour while going unseen. Nobody noticed a grubby, scarred up teenage pup dwelling the streets by himself. It was a risky business, but a wolf had to do what he needed to get by.
Today however, Bertók was extra serious. It was the first time he had to take his younger brother out with him. It was deemed that Bartók was old enough now to join his older brother on his daily exploits, and Bar, while not keen on the idea of stealing, had begged to go for ages.
Bertók was extremely against the idea for many reasons. The toxic air, the huge crowds of stranger wolves that could unwittingly hurt Bartók in the scramble to get to work, the hot afternoon sun… But Bartók had gotten his brother to cave by the pup’s last birthday.
Ber knew how awful it must have been to stay home and play indoors by himself all day while he waited for his brother to return. Bertók wouldn’t let Bar cook, go outside, or even answer the door when he was alone at home. The lights always had to be off to avoid attracting salesmen to the house, and the windows shut to keep the toxic air out of the house. It was a strict living, but Bertók wouldn’t hear of letting Bar do anything that would jeopardize his younger brother’s fragile health. Even Bar’s toys were far and few between. The plushies were sold off a while ago to pay for rent, and all of the older books had to be thrown away as the dust they collected sent Bar into many a coughing fit in the past.
The first time Bartók coughed up blood, Ber recruited the help of some of his friends from the local fight club to go through a huge purge of Ber and Bartók’s house to get rid of everything ‘dangerous’. It was an emotional time for the two brothers, creating one of the first ever big fights between them. The rift that event created had never fully healed, but Bertók was doing the best he could to raise his brother. It hardened him, more than he would have wished.
Today he was going to compromise with his brother, and test to see if Bartók could handle more than Ber’s strict rules allowed.
“Do you remember what I told you Bar? Walk quickly, don’t make eye contact, and keep your arms moving as naturally as possible. And don--”
“-- Don’t ever get caught. Yes Ber, I remember. Can we just get going now? Please?”
Bertók, sighed, and tightened his lips into a big smile. “Alright, alright. Just… follow my lead.” And with that, the two began down Market Street, the easiest target in all of downtown. The two wolves, side by side, easily integrated with the bustling traffic, casually slowing down at every other street vendor they came across. Bertók was already on the move, smoothly taking an apple, a small fish, a cheap looking pearl necklace and a thin looking wallet from the first four tables they walked past. Everything was stuffed easily in Ber’s big orange jacket, which was modified to have many pockets lining the inside. While holding the wallet over one of his pockets, Bertók looked back to check on his brother’s progress. Bartók was staring slack jawed at everything around him, only remembering the real reason he was here when he caught his older brother’s eye and stern expression.
“O-oh, yeah!” Bar stammered quietly, and quickly turned his attention to the tables of items, looking for something small and insignificant to take. Bartók watched his brother’s face turn from concentration to a look of confliction very quickly, and it hit Bar with a pang of guilt.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told him he had to take things… It’s not right. He’s still too young.’
I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true,
‘cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you.
Look at you go, I just adore you.
I wish that I knew, what makes you think I’m so special.
While distracted in his thoughts and still looking back at Bartók, Ber didn’t realize the huge mass of a wolf he was about to bump into. A big, dark red wolf with a docked tail and spiky, almost dangerous looking hair was watching Bertók. The large wolf remained still even as the younger wolf collided with him. “UUF-- Sorry mate, didn’t see ya-- Oh.” Bertók shut up and almost cowered at the sight of this wolf, and the awful expression he had on his face. But he quickly regained his stance. “What are you looking at buddy, you got a problem?”
The red wolf snorted quite literally down at the brothers in front of him. “Maybe I do.” He growled with a deep voice. “I run a tent on this street, y’know. I’ve seen a pup with an orange jacket like that once. Folks said he was a bit of a thief. Know of anyone like that?”
Bertók’s heart lurched a little, but he quickly swallowed the fear and scoffed noisily at his threat. “Are you accusing me of something mister? I wouldn’t be asking for trouble if I was you. Now if you don’t mind, I got places to be!” Bertók half shouted at the red wolf. He turned up his snout and attempted to walk ahead around the brute, but was suddenly grabbed around the shoulders and tossed back in front of the red wolf.
“I wasn’t done talkin’ to ya, punk!” The red wolf said and shoved Bertók. The older brother fell backwards, toppling over onto an oblivious Bartók. The smaller wolf yelped, and a small collection of books fell out of one of his own coat’s inner pockets and onto the sidewalk. Bertók groaned too, feeling the not-so-fresh fish he’d stolen squelch against his chest and the sidewalk. Fish guts started to ooze from the inside of his coat. The red wolf snarled in shock, seeing it all.
“Thieves!” He bellowed into the air, gaining the attention of many other wolves very quickly. Bertók’s eyes snapped open, and he jumped to his feet. “Bar! Get up buddy, we gotta go!” Bertók said, trying to rouse his younger brother off the sidewalk. Bartók was shaking, half out of pain and exhaustion, but he took his brother’s cue. They both began pelting off, easily escaping the burly red wolf’s sight and wrath with their smaller size and speed.
Halfway down the street, the younger wolf started to slow. He was panting hard, and it was clear every breath was agonizing him. Bertók stopped as soon as he didn’t hear his brother’s pawsteps behind him anymore. “Bartók! Are you okay buddy? We got to get away from here fast!” He rushed to his brother’s side.
“Ber… I don’t feel so good…” Bartók replied meekly, and coughed. A small splatter of blood fell from his lips to the sidewalk under him, and he wobbled. Bartók’s heart lurched for the second time today, and this time snapped into action before he could even think of swallowing his fear down. He tossed his fish-smelling coat, and scooped his younger brother up, in one swift movement. Without a word, Bartók rushed them to the nearest hospital.
He prayed he wasn’t too late.
If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything.
I would even learn how to love.
See part two of this story on booklover789's form here!Short Story: Part 3by fauxfawnBertók opened the front door to his apartment at about 12:30 AM on a Monday night. He tried his best to keep quiet, assuming his brother was asleep in the bedroom a few tens of feet away. His tired paws fumbled greatly, but he was vaguely sure that the noise couldn't disturb Bartók. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the case.
“Evenin’ Ber. How was work?”
Bertók yelped loudly in surprise as his brother’s voice emanated from the pitch black living room. The yell in turn scared little Bartók, and the smaller wolf grabbed his chest as his eyes widened in surprise.
“AHG-- Bartók! What’re yo-- Why are you awake? The heck- It’s past midnight!” Bertók’s shock turned into a bit of anger, and he instantly regretted it. He used the cover of the dark house to openly grimace at himself as Bartók approached him in the doorway. The younger wolf looked up awkwardly at his brother, heart still fluttering. This was the third time this month that Bartók accidentally startled his brother when he returned home from work.
“S-sorry Ber, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just fell asleep on the sofa and you woke me up.” Bartók answered, the wheels of his air tank squeaking slightly as he approached. “I didn’t stay up for you, I promise. I know you don’t like that.”
Bertók rubbed a paw over his face, focusing heavily on massaging his tired eyes as he thought about how to respond. “Alright, okay... You’re fine. I’m sorry. ‘M just a little sleepy, and you caught me off guard.” He laughed a little. “If my mates saw that, they would never let me live it down.” Ber said as he flipped a lightswitch next to the door. A soft light flickered to life above them, and both of the brothers squinted their eyes to adjust to the new light.
Bar yawned and stretched his paws out ahead of him, while Ber stomped off to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat. “Did you eat dinner?” Bertók asked as he went through the motions of making a chicken sandwich. Ever since Ber landed a job at the local supermarket, the two wolf brothers had enjoyed a slightly increase in their quality of living. They had regular meals, cable TV, and Bartók was able to start receiving his own allowance. Bertók gave him simple household chores during the day while the elder was at work. Which he was at a lot these days.
“Of course I did. I made you some leftovers in the fridge too, if you want them. Turkey and veggies.” Bartók answered with a tone of annoyance. Even after all this time, his brother just wouldn’t acknowledge that he could fend for himself. It burned him.
Bertók jokingly made a disgusted face, and shoved his bland turkey and mayonnaise sandwich into his mouth. “Ew. That sounds healthy.” He said with his mouth full, smirking over at his younger brother. Bartók laughed and playfully nudged his Ber in the arm.
When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took. I could do about anything.
I could even learn how to love like you
“Hey, I’m a decent cook! Besides, you need vegetables.” Bartók exclaimed, and Bertók pretended to dry heave at this notion, rolling out his wolf tongue filled with chewed up chicken sandwich. “Bleh...”
This time it was Bartók’s turn to look disgusted. “Uhg, Ber. That’s gross…” Bertók snickered and continued eating, looking out the kitchen window as he chewed. While there was nothing to see in the darkness, it gave his eyes something to rest on so he could focus on eating. The bags under his eyes were much more visible in the light, and it seemed like the weight behind them took a whole half of the wolf's energy to keep them open. Bartók noticed, and his smile fell.
“So… you worked overtime tonight. Does that mean you get a day off tomorrow? Maybe we can we go to the movies or something?” Bertók continued to stare out the black window, shaking his head without hesitation.
“No, sorry bro. I gotta get back out there at 8:30, sharp. I got another chance at overtime if I ask the boss early enough in the morning. And we need that money Bar.” Bertók said and glanced backwards at the pup. Bartók’s ears fell, and he furrowed his brows in disappointment.
“Why? We’ve paid the bills, we have food, and there’s money in the bank in case I need to get my mask fixed! What money do we need so badly that you can’t take a single day off?” Bartók was starting to yell. He could feel his lungs burn along with the frustration he was feeling over the situation. He panted slightly and that caught his older brother’s attention right away.
“Bar… you know we need every cent we can get. If you’re getting bored here at home, I can probably arrange to have you taken to the library or the movies with one of my buddies from the gym--”
“No!” Bar shouted loudly, starting to wheeze openly. Bertók stood to attention, cocking an eyebrow in confusion and concern. He swallowed his food and faced his brother fully.
“Bartók… calm down, bud. I don't underst--”
“--No, listen Ber! You are gone more times than you are here these days, and all you do is sleep when you are here. I know you aren’t happy, and this lifestyle isn’t healthy. You are always looking out for me, but I think I need to stand up for you this time! I know we could use it, but we don’t need that money that bad! We’ve gotten by on far less before… I mean, if something happens, we can figure it out like we always do! ‘We’ll get through it’, like you’re always telling me.” Bartók paused to gasp. He was getting light headed, and he started to wobble. Bertók tried to help, but Bar quickly shrugged him aside with a cold glare. Bertók seemed to shrivel under the stare.“So, why can’t you just sit back and enjoy what we have for once? I mean, when was the last time you and I went to the fighting ring for fun? Don’t you miss it?”
As Bartók ranted, Ber’s face grew grim and stony. He didn’t even blink as his brother almost sent himself into a coughing fit over him. Gradually, Bertók felt a strange brew of feelings bubbling inside. Guilt? Exhaustion? Sadness, maybe? No, no these feelings weren’t it. This feeling was more like…
Disgust.
Bertók was disgusted with himself for letting his brother worry. For forcing Bartók to stay at home all day by himself to wait for Ber to bring home another paycheck. To make Bar think that all of this exhaustion might be because of him.
No.
This wasn’t what Bertók was supposed to be doing. His was the bigger brother. He needed to act like it!
Without realizing it, Bertók had swiped his glass plate off the counter so hard it shattered in the sink. “That’s enough!” Bertók snarled at his shocked brother, who was rasping with every small breath. “Stop it. I’m going to work tomorrow whether you or I like it or not. You need to get to bed now. Do. Not. Argue. With. Me.”
Bartók looked hurt and angry, and quickly spun around to his bedroom, when he shut the door. Surprisingly he did it quietly… Unlike Bertók. With the haunting look Bar just had on his face in his mind, the elder wolf angrily shoved the broken pieces of plate into a garbage bag. After that, he fled to the laundry room, which was converted into a makeshift workout room for Bertók's spare time. Unfortunately, it seemed to become his hiding place from his emotions. Still burning with a vexing fire, Ber set to work on a vigorous workout that would last nearly two and a half hours. He was going to be dreadfully tired at work the following day, but he needed this. He needed to vent somewhere. 'This isn't healthy.'
He knew he messed up badly, reacting the way he did to his brother’s concern, but he wasn’t thinking straight. In fact, he hadn't been thinking straight for the last six months, ever since he started working. He’d moved on from stealing to a more reliable form of work when he officially became an adult, and it hadn’t been easy. However, it was a more reliable form of supporting him and his brother than thievery ever could be. He knew he had to push through the next year or so of the backbreaking, mind-numbing work of the labor force. It was for the greater good.
After all, he was secretly saving up to move the two of them to a city with cleaner air and better doctors.
The endeavor wouldn’t be cheap, and Bertók wasn’t sure what his brother would think of the idea. Of course, stubborn Ber decides that the best way to deal with an unknown situation is to not deal with it completely until he figures out what the solution is. Even if it causes a problem in the meantime.
'I’m doing all this for you, silly. You and me. If you think we are okay now, just wait until you see what’s coming. Just gotta hold out a little longer, okay kiddo?' Bertók thought to himself as he clobbered the snot out of a homemade punching bag, already feeling remarkably more levelheaded. Bar was right, he had missed fighting.
'We’ll get through this Bar. Just like we always do.'
Love, like you…
Love me, like you.
See Part 4 of this story on booklover's form!Short Story: Part 5
by fauxfawnBertók paced in front of a dank building, his face grim and concentrated. A pair of wolves walked passed, probably returning home from a date or something. They kept their distance from the scarred wolf near the building, but one glanced back in concern while her mate tugged her along protectively. Bertók noticed and sighed. He knew how he looked, and he needed to calm down before some concerned wolf called the police to have him escorted home.
That was not what he needed now, when time was of the essence. Every minute that went by was another minute without Bartók, who had been missing for almost a month now. Ber breathed out and stood straight, resolving to keep his cool. It didn’t last very long.
With a throaty growl, Bertók clenched a paw into a fist and moved to punch the wall behind him, stopping just before his fist came into contact with another wolf’s face. The other wolf, shocked, stumbled back into the wall and held his paws up in surrender.
“Whoa! It’s just me Mr. Bertók! Your PI!” The other wolf squeaked quickly in defense. Bartók, equally as shocked, quickly dropped his paw and dropped his head in shame.
“S-sorry. I was going for the wall, not you. Er,--” The brown wolf shook his head, dropping his shameful look for a more frustrated one. “Where were you!? I’ve been waiting for over an hour. You know how urgent my case is!”
The other wolf looked nonchalantly down at a pocket watch he held in his long trench coat. “I was scheduled to meet with you at 7:30. It’s 7:27 now. That means I’m right on time, sir. It’s hardly my fault you arrived ungodly early to our meeting place.” The PI wolf said, and tucked the watch back into his coat’s inner pocket in true investigator manner. Bertók pulled a sheepish face and tried to hide it with a scowl. “Alright, fine! Can we get to business then? You’re my only hope now. And stop calling me ‘mister’. It’s weird...”
“Of course Mr. Bertók. Now, I need you to start from the beginning. What happened the night your brother disappeared?” Bertók closed his eyes, and furrowed his brows together. It hurt to think back but he forced himself through it.
They fought. Bartók was rasping at his brother to see reason, and Bertók in turn wanted to shut his ears from the words. It was all so stupid, stupid! He should have just listened to his little brother for once!
Glass shattered, and Bar ran off to his room. Bertók could hear his sobs. The night went on, and Bertók’s mood had improved considerably. He was going to take the chance to apologize to his brother now that he could think clearly. With a small sigh, Ber opened the door to his brother’s room.
A cold gust of wind came in from the half opened window, and the closet door was ajar. Bertók looked inside to find it empty, just like the rest of the room. A twinge of panic gripped the wolf’s chest and he held his breath as he ran through the entirety of the apartment, screaming his brother’s name. “Bartók! Bar! Where are--” That’s when he the front door slightly open. Panic struck him like a cold blade in the gut, and Bertók meekly fell to his knees in front of the apartment entrance.
“Oh no, no no. Bartók no, don’t do this please- Don’t do this to me buddy...”
Bertók was vaguely aware something was shaking him. The shaking grew in strength, and the wolf opened his eyes to a concerned PI looking down at him from above.
“Mr. Bertók, are you okay? You were recanting your story, then just went into a trance and toppled over on me!” The other wolf said, stepping back to let Ber stand up. “What in heaven's was that all about?” Bertók put a paw over his face, feeling the fleeting effects of his vivid memory
“Shoot, sorry. Did you get everything? After that night, I went out everyday to try and tack him down. Some wolves said they saw a pup matching his description some days ago, but then his trail went cold. I don’t know what else to do…” Bertók said, his voice trailing off as his face contorted in anguish. The PI looked away, feeling empathy for the other wolf but restraining from give off an aura of pity. He’d already seen Bertók going in for a punch, and he didn’t want to know how it actually felt.
“I have everything I need for now to get a good head start. You informed me earlier the last place you said someone saw little Bartók, and that’s where I’ll start. Keep a paw on your phone Mr. Bertók, as I will let you know the moment I get a lead.” The PI assured Bertók, putting a paw on the despondent wolf’s shoulder. Bertók’s expression lightened, but only slightly. “For now though, I think the best thing you can do is get home and sleep. You can’t help Bartók when you’re sleep deprived, after all!” With that, the two wolves parted ways, but not before Bertók shelled out a large sum of money from his savings to the PI. Business was business, and Bertók hoped he wouldn’t regret this. He went home, and tried to sleep. Anxiety filled nightmares prevented a good rest as they always did since Bartók left. Ber wondered if Bartók was having as rough a time as he was with all this… Deep down, he felt like he knew the answer was yes.
Three weeks passed achingly slowly, with very little word from the PI. Ber struggled to go through each day normally, then spend his evenings scoping out the town looking for Bar. It left the wolf a jittery, hyper-alert mess.
Bertók was at work, drearily checking out another wolf’s groceries as he struggled to loosen up his uniform collar. It always felt a little too tight, but today particularly, Bertók felt like his work clothes were trying to kill him. Almost fully asleep now as he bagged some cereal and meat, Bertók was jump started back to wakefulness at the sound of his cellphone ringing in his pocket. Somewhere behind him, Ber’s supervisor frowned in his direction, but the wolf couldn’t care less. There was only one reason his phone would be ringing.
The customer huffed in disapproval as Bertók answered his phone right where he stood. “Is it Bartók? Please tell me you found him.” Bertók said as soon as the call connected, his paws shaking. There was silence on the other line, then a small sigh. Bertók didn’t think his paws could shake more, but somehow they found a way.
“You need to get to the hospital, Mr. Bertók. He needs you.” The PI’s voice rang out monotonously from the other end of the phone. Ber’s blood ran ice cold, and he sprang into action. He tore off his uniform, and jumped over several checkout lanes to get to the exit of the store as fast as he could. As he ran, he barely registered other wolves shouting and running out of his path. There was only one thing on this wolf’s mind.
“Bartók.”
There were tubes and wires everywhere he looked. It looked like Bartók was being smothered by the very hospital equipment that was fighting to keep him alive. Bertók stared wide eyed down at the bed, his paws gripping the metal frame so tight that circulation was beginning to get cut off in his paw pads.
“He was suffering from emaciation when his air tank apparently started to fail. The combination of poor air quality, insomnia, and nutrient deficiency probably clouded his judgement, and caused him to seek help too late. When the EMTs arrived on scene, he was completely unresponsive. While we were able to jump start his heart again, it’s difficult to tell how long his brain was starved of oxygen unless he wakes up. If he wakes up.”
Bertók felt like he was going to vomit at the sound of the doctor’s voice, but he knew he wouldn’t. There was nothing for his stomach to expel. Instead, Bertók focused his energy on studying every inch of his brother’s still and fragile frame. His tank and mask were gone, replaced by a hospital issued mask that only covered his muzzle. The rest of his face was more visible than Bertók had seen in a long time. He could clearly see the bags under the wolf pup’s eyes, and the way his cheekbones jutted out from his skinny face. Bertók made an oddly strained cough to clear his throat. “Is he stable for now?” He asked the doctor quietly, who in return nodded at Bertók. “I would like some time alone with him, please.” The doctor agreed, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Leaving the two brothers alone with nothing but the sound of Bartók’s heart monitor beeping and the hissing of oxygen pumping into his mask.
Bertók moved to stand at Bar’s bedside, still watching him with unblinking eyes. A part of the elder wolf believed that if his blinked for too long, Bar would vanish again, and he couldn’t bear the the thought. Eventually though, Bertók found the strength to move in more, and sit on the very edge of the bed. He took the pup’s paw in his own, and squeezed it lightly. The paw pads were cool to touch, but there was some warmth that sent a wave of relief over Bertók’s heart. He couldn’t hold his eyes open so wide anymore, and clamped them shut tight. Ber leaned down to scoop his brother up into an awkward hug, while being careful not to disturb all the tubes hooked up to his body.
“Bartók…” Ber started, in a whisper. “You are such an idiot!” He hissed, and held the pup tighter, burying his face in the crook of the pup’s small neck. “Foolish little wolf. If only you had just let it go… If I just hadn’t yelled…” The wolf’s voice cracked, and he trembled. He held onto Bartók’s body like it was the last string that held his sanity from dropping into the void. “I’m so sorry, bro. I’m the idiot. You deserved better than this, and I’m just... I messed up.”
Bertók sobbed suddenly, his lungs heaving and betraying his command. He was ashamed, but too weak to stop the flood of emotions from coming. Everything in the room seemed to cascade around him, and he let go of all the pent up emotion he held onto for the last few months. Years, even. He’d never really cried before, even when their parents died. He had a baby brother to look after then, and there was no time for tears. But this was a pain like no other. This wasn’t an enemy he could battle in a fighting ring. He felt hopeless, and the tears kept coming. Bartók remained limp in his arms.
Of all the ways this situation could have turned out, this was one of the ones Bertók feared the most. It validated all his insecurities about not being a good enough guardian for his brother. Deep down, Bertók felt that he deserved all this. He wasn’t the best wolf in the world. He had his sins, many of which even his brother wasn’t privy too. But Bartók ended up getting caught up in the undertow of karma that should have been Bertók’s punishment alone. The guilt was killing him.
“It should have been me, Bartók. I should have been the sick one. I’m n-nobody, I don’t do anything for anyone in this world. Worthless. I don’t deserve to be happy. But you! You’re smart. You care. I-I bet you could have been someone really important. You deserve everything I can’t give you. And I’m sorry for that…”
The wolf was almost wailing now, his voice an unrecognizable mournful howl. Could coma patients even hear when people were talking to them? Bartók would know, he’s always reading those medical books that Ber couldn’t get through one paragraph of. But he couldn’t ask his clever little brother now.
As Bertók cried, he remembered the hopeful eyes of an even younger Bar, when he was a tiny puppy. Every laugh and happy cheer he gave when Bertók brought him a new book or toy. The look of wonder Bartók had on his face the first time he turned on the television. Those were the faces Bertók woke up for every morning. His only real purpose in life. Would Bertók ever see them again? Could he even survive not seeing his brother well again? Amidst all the sad thoughts, Bertók thought he felt a twitch in the body in his arms. He gasped.
