chapter four
Rigby woke early the next day with a silent scream on his lips, and the window still dark. It was as he had expected: his nightmares were beginning to get worse, but most of them were filled with Mordecai. He glanced briefly at the clock, and read the time-- 4:00 A.M. He let out a loud, annoyed sigh, and flopped back onto his bed.
He could've drifted back to sleep, until he heard the muffled sounds of people talking downstairs. Poking his head up, the raccoon looked to Mordecai's bed, to find that it was empty. And that was when the anxiety came. It was strange, to be nervous over something that he's never been nervous about before. He might just be in the bathroom, or getting water from the kitchen.
But then what were the voices?
Rigby quietly got from the bed, and quickly went to the door, swinging it open. As quiet as he possibly could get, he slunk along the wall, and tiptoed down the stairs until he saw Mordecai sitting on the couch, his arms wrapped around a familiar red bird, the color of bright, painted roses.
Rigby frowned and inched back up until he was behind the wall, and then peered at the two. Margaret was sniffling, her breath hitching, and she was clearly distressed.
"Hey," Mordecai murmured, Rigby's eyes widened. He had never heard his friend's voice this soft before. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay..."
"I'm just... s-so scared he's going to... to find out and--" her breath hitched again, and she covered her mouth. "And h-hurt me again."
"I won't let him hurt you," Mordecai said, hastily. Her eyes said words unspoken, and Rigby felt his fingers dig into the corner of the wall. He quickly softened them, and listened. Who was 'him?' Then, he remembered Mordecai mentioning Margaret's abusive father. He hissed under his breath.
"Thanks, Mordecai..." Margaret became quiet after that, only her small sniffles heard in the room. Rigby wondered how the whole scene played out-- Margaret coming to the door, distraught and already crying, Mordecai quickly ushering her in, his hands on her shoulders, her hands on his wrists, Mordecai's eyes wide with concern. And a small, bitter-sweet kiss shared between them as he sat her down and demanded what had happened.
Thinking of this only made him more jealous, in a way. But why? He cursed himself, anger filling his hands, his brain, his eyes, his heart... the anger seemed to call for something else. Why was he jealous? Sure, Mordecai's his best friend-- but he did nothing. Only comfort Margaret... only comfort Margaret.
He scampered blindly up the stairs with these thoughts, and went back into the room, closing the door and sliding down the surface until he was sitting on the ground. He was shaking. Why? He was only comforting Margaret.
Only comforting Margaret.
So why were his feelings of anger so... strong? For no reason? The confusion made him angrier, it seemed. He growled, loudly, and stood up, landing a punch in the wall next to the door. He hissed out in pain, and shook out his fist. Mordecai probably could've punctured the wall.
Rigby, obviously, could not.
The raccoon remembered the time Mordecai got mad for nothing, almost like now...
"Aw, what?! Dude, I can't believe this."
The yelling made Rigby jump and quickly scramble to his feet, looking up. "Uh--! Mordecai? What's up with you?" He scampered over to his friend, and then sat next to him on the bed, watching as the other buried his head into his hands. The bird rubbed his face, clearly angry, then looked up.
"I just can't believe this stupid house--! And I was so caught up in doing something, and I saw the time and-- and Benson got mad at me for slacking off but I was working! I was working! I just want... to be free!"
"You're not even making any sense. What are you even mad about?" Rigby snorted, before taking a swig of his soda.
"Don't talk to me! I just want..." his voice trailed away. His eyes softened for a split second, before hardening. He sprang to his feet, yelling with anger, and storming over to the dresser.
"Mordecai--?"
The bird crouched down, and grunted, pushing the dresser over, and watching the lamp shatter into pieces. "I'm tired!" He yelled and walked back over to the bed, stepping onto the shards. Rigby winced, and leapt to his feet. "Woah! Chill off, dude... it's okay! Hey, look at me--"
He remembered Mordecai turning to face him, his eyes mad, but Rigby could see now. He was tired. The raccoon placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay." He was surprised with how soft his own voice was.
Mordecai softened, and Rigby saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. "I'm sorry... I just need sleep, dude."
"I know." Rigby flashed a grin. "Me too."
The memory seemed to calm Rigby down, and he started to ease back onto the floor, when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and hushed whispers. Letting out a small squeak, Rigby quickly clambered over to his bed, and buried himself in the blankets and clothes, shutting his eyes tight.
Then, the door opened. Rigby didn't know who it was, until he heard Mordecai's voice. "Rigby?"
Rigby pretended to sleep, shutting his eyes tight and curling up.
"Oh... he's asleep," he heard Mordecai mumble to himself. "I swear I heard his voice..." the door began to shut. He mumbled something else, something that sounded like, "Sweet dreams, dude."
The door shut, closed.
Rigby sat up, staring with bewilderment at the door. Then he let out a small chuckle, and laid back down. Strangely enough, he forgot why he was angry earlier.