To Start Again

Chapter 5, Ticking and Tocking

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Alfred really hated that sound. He always had, since the sound of a ticking clock meant that he was so alone that there was nothing else to listen to. At this point he was not really sure what was going to kill him first: his boredom, his sulking, or Arthur trying to shove another pill down his throat. At the very least, he could say that he had stayed true to his resolution of not swallowing, even with Arthur's persistence. He really had to give the man an "A" for effort. Of course, he was not blatantly spewing the pill back up when he was around, but he was not exactly trying to hide it either. It may have very well been pure luck that had protected him to this point, and he was perfectly fine with that. As for what he did with the evidence, well that varied, but for the most part Alfred really hoped the toilet would not clog up.

Still, this issue with the medicine was just step one. It mattered not one bit unless he could address his own issues that started this in the first place. He still had yet to do that. Admittedly, it was not like he had not tried, but whenever he so much as thought about that open window his mood would take a nosedive. It was not like he could really rush his epiphany anyway, so what exactly was he supposed to do? As expected, time was cruel and not kind. The more time that passed, the more it ate away at him and the less he wanted to think about it. That is when he changed tactics. Maybe if he could not answer this, then he could answer another, just as important, question and everything would then fall in place: what would he be doing his fourth year?

He had conveniently ignored the question up until that point, but it was a central problem. If that epiphany never came he still had to have a direction for his life. Though, the thoughts on this quickly became just as stagnant as his others. It was not like this was his first time analyzing the problem and he was equally as hopeless on it as the other, but at least not every aspect of it depressed him. One thing was certain and that was he would not spend a single second more on the things he had already tried unless there was some reason to expect a breakthrough. He had already dedicated a year of his feline life to each without producing any results and they deserved no more. His father was still getting worse by the day and the analysis of his life was not going any better. The only real step forward was the open window, and that just brought him back to step one again. It was a vicious cycle that Alfred was beginning to doubt that he could get out of, as he lay every day on that same couch, just brooding over it all while the clock ticked and tocked. He really hated that sound.

Alfred was not the only one in a frustrating loop. His father was in a parallel one. He had tried absolutely everything to help Hero: psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, behaviorists, regular trips to the vet, and every half brained idea from them and the internet. Nothing worked. It was not just the big things either, such as consulting a contractor to remodel his home to be more cat friendly on the recommendation of one behaviorist, but the little things that he tried his best on. He cooked more for Hero, and sometimes not at all, to try to appease him. He made and bought treats alike. He had mixed feelings about bringing catnip into the situation, but he tried that as well. Then he kept buying new toys, hoping that at least one would spark Hero's interest like they all had in the past. With his cat like this, it was like he did not have one at all. Just one extra, furry couch cushion. Arthur was getting incredibly lonely. It was during one of those moments that he could not tear himself away from those thoughts that a familiar fear crept forefront into his mind. It had all started with a halfhearted comment by the vet and now the words echoed in his head nearly all the time.

"Hero was born a stray, yes?"

Yes, he had. Arthur had found him lying by the side of a road one day and picked him up, amazed by the cruelty done to the animal. Clearly someone had dragged him out of the way only to leave him to die on the side of road. He could never understand how anyone could do that kind of thing in the first place, much less once he actually got to know the creature.

"Perhaps he wants to go back outside?"

Outside? Why would he ever want to go back outside, especially when it was such an unsympathetic world? One that just dragged him to the side of a road and left him to die, he could never forget. Surely at first he had. Hero had tried absolutely everything to escape when Arthur had first gotten him home and while it had not been a surprise it had been hurtful all the same. Though, later, maybe a year at least, Hero stopped trying to escape, at least with the same vigor. He was still a curious cat that would take any openings, Arthur had been sure, so he made sure there was none. And they had been happy. So why now of all times would Hero be so depressed by not being able to go outside? Even if it made absolutely no sense to him, it drove Arthur crazy that there was even one thing that he had not tried to help his beloved pet. He could not believe that his own selfishness and anxieties had actually proven to be more important and the more he thought about it the worse he felt. Even so, he could not bring himself to open the front door and he doubted he ever could, but he was not out of options just yet.

It was nothing new for there to just be a random knock on the front door in the middle of the day, even before Alfred hit his little fit of depression. Arthur ordered many things offline, being the shut in he was, so every day, especially in the evening, was prime time delivering hours. On top of that, now that Alfred was depressed these shipments had increased because many were centered on himself. That was why when a knock on the door broke through the usual ticking and tocking, Alfred paid absolutely no mind. He was in no mood for any new cat toys and catnip had not made him feel any better either, and, naturally, if Arthur had half a brain he would not be ordering him any more clothes for the time being. He had no reason to spare it a second thought, so he did not. However, Arthur was tearing down the stairs before the delivery employee could even knock a second time.

It occurred to Alfred that this was strange behavior on his father's part and a thought occurred in his mind telling him to investigate, but the funny thing about his depression was that all these thoughts of what he should do never came to fruition. It was a stark difference to how he used to live his life, both feline and human. He may have not cut out thought completely, but usually he was thinking about his actions while performing them. He had always been the type to think on his feet, and he was good at it, too, if you ever asked him. Just where had that energy gone? Certainly not down the toilet with those little pills. No, those pills never gave him his energy back. He knew what they were supposed to do, but what they actually had done had been a whole other story for him. At least from what he understood. He was still not sure what they actually did to him. Then again, this was all irrelevant in the face of his larger questions. If he never figured out what he was going to do with his life, then he would never figure out how to feel better about the choices he had made, and he would never leave this stupid couch listing to the annoying clock tick and tock.

While Alfred stewed, his father had actually opened the door while the employee was still there. Alfred was caught up in his own mind so he could not tell anything about the employee, or even notice that his father had actually done something that he normally reserved for rare occasions, and Arthur stayed unobserved the entire time he brought the package into the house and began to open it. It was a single package, a rather small one, too. If Alfred had actually paid attention, he would have been beyond curious as to how he got such a small package in the first place. His father had a bit of a tendency to order a lot of things from a site if he was going to order anything at all and his packages were normally large in size and in multitude. For it to be a single, tiny package, there had to be something rather important inside, certainly important enough to be ordered all by itself, yet still small in stature. If Alfred had been forced to think of an example, he would think of prescription medication or maybe emergency glasses or contacts. The latter was the most plausible since he was still going to the vet for all his medical needs, but it was still odd because Arthur had not been complaining about either glasses or contacts, and he certainly had still been writing.

Still, this all went unnoticed by the brooding cat, even as Arthur finally pulled the contents out of the package. All he could do was stare down at them for a moment. It was really starting to hit Arthur exactly how desperate he was. This was a last ditch effort if he had ever seen one, that was for sure, and yet, he could not say that he was not excited. He was finally going out of his comfort zone, even if it was in a way where the voices were mostly quelled, and all for Hero. If this did not work, he really had no clue what he was going to do. In fact, the very thought of it not working terrified him. He may have simply been paranoid, but Arthur honestly believed that the vet may ask to rehome Hero with a foster family or even start bringing euthanasia into the conversation. It was certainly true that his quality of life with depression was not what it used to be without it, but killing him, even if it was "to prevent his suffering?" Arthur could never have that on his conscience. Depressed humans were not killed, why would he kill a depressed cat? The rehoming option, even temporarily, seemed far more viable anyway. Whether or not Alfred recognized it, his vet was actually extremely dedicated and it would be no surprise if he wanted to test to see if it was Alfred's environment causing his depression. No doubt the vet had the connections with willing fosters to do it. Though it was more reasonable, it was still just as grisly of an option to Arthur. The last thing he wanted was to lose his cat in any shape or form, be it by a needle or a new home. Deep inside he knew he would choose the latter if it ever came down to it, but he simply would have to make sure it never did.

"H-Hero! Come over here for a second, will you?" called Arthur, each word shaky with the weight of his recent thoughts.

Alfred had been stunned by the words once they reached his ears. He had actually forgotten his father had been downstairs, partly because he expected him to just go back up once he was done. Instead, however, it seemed that this mysterious package was indeed for him. Why else would he call him into the kitchen to where the man had no doubt tore into the package? Alfred's shock quickly faded into an apathetic annoyance. Another toy? It had to be. Maybe another scent or hormone thing. Either way, it was just going to be another boring thing that never worked and this whole event was only distracting him from what he should be doing. He had half the mind to just stay on the couch, but he roused himself to humor the man. Deep down, he knew he was not the only one affected and that he had been rather selfish lately. That admittedly bothered him, but it was rather low on his list of priorities usually. He supposed he could make an exception for him right now.

The moment that Alfred appeared in the opening to the kitchen it was apparent that his father was about to call for him a second time. The man's stance was edgy enough to even suggest that he may have gone after the cat before the words had completely left his mouth, but that was unnecessary now with his presence. The realization gave the man some relief, evident on his face, and he even smiled cheerfully for the cat.

"Hero, I have a present for you." he explained, smile still in place.

That apathetic annoyance from earlier was back in full swing as Alfred took a seat in the floor right before the man. In fact, forget apathy, he was simply annoyed, for the first time in a long while.

"A present? I am so excited. Really, Arthur? Before I even ask who of us it is really for is it really even a present? For all I know you just refilled my medication or bought me matching socks for that stupid sweater! Then you have been giving me a million so called presents lately. How many cat toys do you think I need, anyway? If you get anymore I am going to check and see if I have enough to clog the toilet! And do not even get me started on all that hormone crap or the 'home remedies' you have been trying. Do not trust everything you read on the internet!" Alfred snapped, accenting each aggressive meow with a tail thwack to the floor.

Despite how hard he was trying to trying to convey his very human emotions in an admittedly feline and human way, there was no doubt a communication barrier between the two.

"You have not talked this much in a long time, Hero. Are you by chance feeling better today?" Arthur asked, cautious optimism overflowing as he kneeled down to get a better look at the agitated feline, which was more than likely a bad idea if Alfred's increased tail thwacks were anything to go by, "Or maybe you can just feel how excited I am."

There was a barrier alright. Alfred liked to call that barrier the parental communication barrier. That was because he had this problem well before he ever became his father's pet. The man interpreted peoples' actions and words however he wanted in any way he wanted and once he came to a conclusion nothing would shake him from it. It was an exhausting game to play to try to explain anything to him. He might as well having been meowing then, too, now that he thought about it. Whenever he said anything it was like his father had already come to a conclusion on what he was supposed to be saying, so of course he could not possibly mean anything different. Just like how his rant of meows were certainly just the meows of a cat finally feeling a little chatty today. This just annoyed the feline all the more.

"Show me the freaking present or I am leaving." Alfred growled rather bluntly, though the man was still oblivious to his true words and even had the nerve to pet him before standing back up.

Alfred resisted the urge to sink his teeth into Arthur's hand like a champ and waited impatiently, with plenty more tail thwacks, for the man to show him why he even came to the kitchen in the first place. He heard the rustling above him and had just been about to start meowing again about how long it was taking when he first caught sight of it. His tail froze midair on its way back down to smack the floor. He at first could not believe what he was seeing. It had to be a mistake. There was no way the Arthur that he had lived with for three years would buy that kind of thing, would he?

Arthur seemed to be reading his shocked feline's mind with a grin, "You underestimated me, did you?"

Yes, quite frankly, he did.

"W-well I was thinking that maybe…" Arthur's cheeks were painted with a blush as he mumbled on, but Alfred was still very much captivated with what was in Arthur's hands.

As for the identity of this object, it was very simple really: a leash. A specially made feline leash and matching harness. This may not seem like much at first glance, but it entailed many, many things for the feline captivated by it. One would think that Alfred, being the freedom lover he was, would be repulsed by the mere thought of a leash alone. After all, what was he, a dog? Well, close, a cat, but that was not the point. The point was that he and his freedom should have been respected more than it was, without bringing the leash into the picture. However, this was actually a breakthrough, as sad as it was. A leash and harness meant walks. And walks meant he could go outside. All Alfred had ever wanted was to go outside in his entire existence and this madman he lived with had always been the obstruction he had to get around to do it. The thought that Arthur was finally helping him to get outside was foreign and unfathomable to him, even if it was done with the safety line that he could even compare to an umbilical cord. He was going to finally going to go outside. He was finally going to get to go outside—with Arthur. Arthur was finally going to go outside! Alfred's little head was spinning by now and all he could do was still look at the leash. It was finally clear to him now, despite the dizzying thoughts. He was not going to go on walks, oh no. He was going to be taking Arthur for walks. This changed everything. No longer did he have to think about what he was going to be doing that year. Not only was he going to finally socialize himself, but his father was coming along for the ride whether he wanted to or not. This present was pretty sweet.

Alfred, as painful as it was, held his excitement in. He wanted nothing more than to go on a walk right then and there, and was more than tempted to climb his father's pants to reach his savoir of a leash. Still, he had been selfish enough lately. He could handle having a little patience now that he had some hope and he limited himself to rubbing against his father's leg in a show of affection. Alfred was not sure how long the man had continued his mumbling, but when Alfred had started being as sweet as he was, which had not always been an everyday occurrence from the admittedly sassy feline, the words died on Arthur's tongue. The man did not want to even chance ruining this, and just sat back to relish the moment of the no doubt fleeting affection. Maybe he had done something right after all. He now had new hope for Hero's recovery, and that was all he had wanted. Little did the two of them realize that neither of them could hear the clock ticking and tocking anymore.