Til' Your Scars Fade

An Unlikely Friendship

Floyd sat straight up in his bed, sucking in a deep breath. He patted his small hands against his cheeks, the pads of his paw like palms warm against his cold face. He tried to wake himself up as quickly as possible. Another nightmare.

His eyes seemed to take forever to adjust to the dark, unlike they used to. He hated how slowly his body functioned. He shifted around in his matchbox bed a bit, seeing a light from across the room. Ah, the matchbox bed. He must be at Veneers apartment, he realized, trying to gather his surroundings.

While at first Floyd found he had a bit of a complicated relationship with Veneer, the two had grown a friendship over the past six months or so.

   Veneer had gotten essentially a slap on the wrist when he was arrested, seeing as he had no prior offenses and he was completely cooperative, not to mention a juvenile at the time. He only ended up serving two out of the eighteenth months he was sentenced to, being paroled out early. (Earlier than Velvet was as well, Veneer was very relieved when the two were finally reunited.)

Floyd was both pleased and disappointed by this. On one hand, he knew Veneer was a bit spineless when it came to his sister. He would do anything to make her happy and keep her content. It seemed like he was constantly walking on eggshells around her. He hadn't really gone into the music industry with the intentions of scamming or hurting anyone, he just couldn't stand up for himself against Velvet.

But on the other hand, when was enough enough? Veneer was grown enough to know what he was doing was objectively wrong. And while he had seemed very uncomfortable hurting Floyd at first, he could, it seemed, turn off his empathy with the flip of a switch. Especially for Velvet. When Veneer knew he was backed against a corner with her, he would switch up so quick and put on that catty, careless and cruel persona she expected out of him. It was disturbing for Floyd to witness that.

He had seen Velvet get physical with Veneer, shaking and smacking him, just generally getting in his face and putting him in his place. Unfortunately Floyd knew Veneer was just a victim of the cycle too, ultimately continuing it unto Floyd. That was just what happened. Especially considering Veneer's age. He was still figuring himself out. Floyd tried to offer him as much grace as possible, especially considering how he had turned around and stood up for not only himself but Floyd as well in the end.

Standing up for what was right was a better representation of Veneers character and morals. So why had he been so unnecessarily mean? Even under his sisters careful watch, he didn't need to go out of his way to mock and belittle Floyd, and yet he had. Veneer had even been physically rough with the little troll. That's what still gave Floyd nightmares.

He always pictured himself trapped again, getting shaken around and tossed against hard diamond walls. It was so uncomfortable in there, lying against the cold hard floor of his prison hurt his head and made his back ache. Not to mention having his essence extracted so viciously. That left his body permanently fatigued. Maybe if he didn't have such prominent physical reminders of his trauma, he wouldn't be thinking about it enough to have so many nightmares.

He swung his feet over the side of his bed that Veneer had made for him. It was a little sponge tucked inside a matchbox, with one of Veneer's satin scarves tucked around it as a sheet for his "mattress". He pushed his handmade quilts from Poppy off to the side.

Floyd would sometimes stay with Veneer for a few nights to go to a local punk or goth show. He figured if Veneer really wanted to get back into the music scene, which he insisted he did, it was best to get him started in the right place. Last night, the two of them had gone to a pretty brutal punk show. And while Floyd had the best time in the pit, finally able to unleash a lot of the tension he had been building, his body was definitely feeling it now. He may have overdone it.