Cat Eyes || Tomtord

Epilogue

Tom stared through the window at the lonely city bathed in sunlight. His face was streaked with the dull tears that he refused to wipe away. He still wore the blue shirt and vest that Tord had given him. It was wrinkled all around but looks didn't matter to him anymore. There was no one to impress. The only person who he would have dressed up for is dead.

Tord's funeral was just yesterday. Tom hadn't wanted to go, to see his boyfriend's body and not his lovely spirit. Then there were all of the police officers around, looking for more people to shoot. They'd questioned Tom but he'd only muttered out, "You killed him. You're the real monsters here," and they'd leave him alone to mourn.

He had only cried once during the ceremony, but afterwards, as they drove home, he absolutely broke and the flood of tears came dribbling down his visor.

He now looked out at the snowy city, collecting his thoughts and wishing things were different. Hoping deep down that he was in the longest, most realistic dream he'd ever experienced.

He daydreamed about other circumstances. If he had stayed up just a little longer that fateful night. If he had loved the depression out of his boyfriend. If he had kept Matt from getting hurt, never forcing Tord to stay up all night. If he had kept Tord from leaving the army. If he had refused to become a person. If he had run away from Tord when he was a cat. If he had run away from animal control. If he had let that fox kill him. If he had- If he had- If he had never died.

If he had never died then he would never have truly met Tord. So what was better? Not finding love or finding love and being there as it dies? Would things have even been different? Or would destiny have found a way to make Tord leave him one way or another?

Tom felt a tap on his shoulder. Edd stood there with an empathetic expression. He rubbed his arm softly. "Are you okay? You had a long day yesterday," he questioned.

"No," the boy said simply. Not with a rude tone, but not with a nice one either. Seeing the worried expression on his friend's face made him speak more reassuringly. "But I'm getting there."

Edd didn't say anything more. He just hugged Tom, who didn't do much to return the gesture, and left. Tom sighed, alone again. Though, he was still alone when Edd was there; now that Tord was gone, he was always alone.

He closed his digital eyes. Not that he had to, he never had to blink; he had no eyeballs, nor sockets, to keep from drying out. He just felt like it. He felt like seeing nothing, half tricking his mind into believing that he was nowhere. If he couldn't see anything, nothing existed. He wasn't dead or alive. Tord wasn't dead or alive. They could be together in the in between.

He pushed himself off the window and slipped through the living room, walking lightly out the door. The brit made his way out of the apartment building. His feet pressed into the thin snow on the sidewalk, lacing the bottom of his shoes with smushed flakes.

He shivered softly under his vest, cursing at himself for not wearing anything heavier. No matter, the cold wasn't important. He picked up his pace.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. A brick building with big letters painted on the side that read, "Animal Shelter," also know as the pound. On the door, another sign told of the hour it was open, which it currently was.

He opened the door and the sound of barking flooded his ears. A dumb-looking man sat at the front desk, cigarette smoke evident on his breath. He was twiddling with one of the dog catching tools. The same noose-like weapon that caught his mother. He recognized the man as one of those asshole dog catchers that don't care about the animals what-so-ever.

"You wanna look at the animals, I'm guessing?" he asked.

"Yeah, yes," Tom replied.

The guy just nodded his head towards the door. "Ask one of the people in there if you want to take a closer look at any of 'em."

Tom strolled further into the building and the sight bestowed upon him saddened him. Dogs in stalls way too small to be comfortable covered the walls. Their sad eyes gazed at him and their ugly yellow teeth showed as they all barked and wailed to be taken out of this hell.

He shivered and gulped, glad to not have been reincarnated as a dog. The cats, or him at least, were treated better than this. Although caged, Tom had a comfortable thing to lay on and room to move. These canines had the floor and only enough room to walk two paces. There's not only racism in the human world.

Tom made his way down the lane of deafening cries for help. One person sat in an enclosure, patting a husky's back while it wolfed down a bowl of stale dog food. He passed by, not wanted to make any sort of contact with the individual who got paid for these dogs being here.

He stopped suddenly when he spotted a mother stray nursing several pups. This whole place saddened him in a bad way but this is what brought him to tears. First of all, the fact that a mother dog was in here with puppies who were still nursing. He felt his anger rise at this cruel act of human selfishness.

Dogs can survive on their own. They don't need this. None of them need this. They could have all been wolves had humans not captured and bred the "savage" out of them. They could have been happy. Now they're practically on death row. For what? Existing? Not being attractive towards humans? Humans are the ones who made them like this, so why on earth are they being killed because no human wants to take care of it?

Tom felt empathy for these creatures, once being an animal himself, he knew what it felt like. Stupid people, he thought. Such selfish creatures.

Secondly, he cried because the puppies were so young. Not grown enough to fend for themselves in the slightest. Not grown enough to realize the true cruelty of the world. Just a few days old.

And Tord was just a few days dead.

"Do you wanna go in with them?" Tom jumped, startled by the voice. A woman stood there, the same person who was feeding the dogs. He internally huffed at the fact that he would have to communicate with her.

"Yeah," he said simply. She unlocked the cell and swung the door open. The mother, who he'd recognized as a corgi, looked up for a second before going back to licking her babies. The colour of her fur reminded him of Tord's hair.

He sat on the floor of the cage and stroked the dog's short and soft fuzz. He remembered his mother, she must have cared for him as much as this dog cares for her children. It all was so nostalgic. It was a nice feeling. The first nice feeling he had had in a while. After the huge low, this high was better than any other.

One of the babies turned from its mother. It squeaked and squirmed closet to him. He smiled as the puppy sniffed his knee and pulled its stubby body up on it. Tom stroked the tiny body and felt himself cry more. He let out a small sob as the baby curled up on his lap and fell into a light slumber.

A wave of happiness had ambled up onto him. He was so happy. Tears fled down his face like blood but he was happy. Everything in his life had crashed down before his electric eyes only a few days ago, but he felt joy. He felt loved again. This tiny being, who didn't even know how to think, had no grasp on anything other than what instinct told it, had allowed him to feel so much affection. So much positive emotion.

Although he had no way to tell, this was certainly a good start to finding Tord.