Private the wolf and the lamb [private]

[Soma]

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More often than not these day, Soma found himself waking up in a way better mood than he usually did. But to be fair, it was hard not to wake up a little excited when you had something to look forward to. It felt a little cheesy when he thought of it that way, but it was true. For a long time now life had been boring and lacklustre for Soma. His twolegs home was a nightmare, his parents were horrible, and most cats his age thought his face was scary or weird, meaning he was either avoided or bullied. His mother told him it was his own fault; that if he didn't get so damn angry all the time and stopped being such a hateful little shit that maybe someone would like him.

But she didn't see the extend of how cruel kids his age could be. She didn't care because she hadn't wanted him to begin with. In that dirty, overcrowded house they called home, there already wasn't enough to go around and she'd made it clear often enough that he was just a waste of space and good food. That she wished her twolegs would just get rid of him to some other family or a shelter.

Needless to say, Soma didn't spend a lot of time at home.

Soma didn't spend a lot of time anywhere.

At least, not until he showed up.

A newcomer who moved in a few streets over. Soma had caught sight of him a few times but was too nervous to approach, knowing how it was likely to go. The new cat was his age from the looks of it, but they were a lot smaller too and would probably be freaked out by his face. So he kept away, watching but never getting close, noting how kind and gentle they seemed to be.

Nothing at all like Soma, who was all sharp, broken edges and insecurity. Hostility at it's fucking finest. There was no way they would want to be friends…

And then a day came where the cute newcomer wasn't alone. Other cats their age were over there, ones Soma recognised as his own antagonizers, and he watched on with growing anger as what looked to be a mocking conversation became a shoving match of cats laughing and knocking the smaller one around.

When Soma had charged over there, spitting mad, and launched himself at the leader of the bullies, he'd thought the vicious fight that unfolded would definitely be enough to scare the stranger away for good. Now that he'd seen Soma for what he was, he'd run for the hills like everyone else. He'd been so, so sure of it.

But when the fight was over, Soma standing there panting and bleeding from being ganged up on as the bullies ran of from a twolegs shout, a small voice had called out to him, sniffling from where they'd taken shelter beneath a bush in their yard. Asking if he was okay. Apologizing for getting him hurt. Asking if it was safe to come out.

And then instead of leaving him there alone, they'd made their way over to him and hunkered close as if Soma was something safe to hide behind, watery eyes looking up at his scratches with concern.

And Soma was hooked. Snared like a rabbit to the wire.

After that, he'd gone back daily to visit Lazarus. At first he'd just intended to watch from afar like usual, but to his thrill the other had happily called him over to play and hang out, marking the start of their new routine. Every day Soma would wake up, find something to eat, and then would promptly make his way a few streets over to his new best friends house –holy crap, he couldn't even believe he was able to say that!!-- to hang out for the day.

It was an unspoken rule that they never went to Somas. Laz didn't even know where the half-masked tom lived, and Soma kind of preferred it that way. He'd somehow managed to escape the hate and ridicule that others were so quick to throw at him and he didn't want his new friends opinion on him to change because they figured out just how pathetic Soma actually was.

So, with a bounce in his step the bi-colored tom slipped through the gap in the gate and ride into the yard of the nice little house Laz called home, letting out a single, loud call to let the other know he was there.


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[lazarus]

He didn't have many friends. Well, any really. He was adopted from a shelter, and skittish. His words that stuttered and stumbled over themselves were a bore, and with so many his age- they seemed to laugh and think he was much younger than he actually was. He can't play big kid games, when he was so little. He'd grow though... He'd show them.

He spent his time indoors, curled up in soft blankets, feeling gentle strokes from two legs that fed him soft food that felt good and tasted even better. Lazarus was happier indoors, it seemed. For when he was outside... It was a danger, cars that whipped down the streets, (it seemed too fast and too big for a little guy like him, light blue eyes watching in horror), big birds that circled over head... It was safer indoors away from prying eyes, and teasing tones.

But sometimes he would venture outside, white paws stepping carefully into the white snow, rolling around in it with a large grin as he would pop out from underneath a pile, spraying the white stuff all over.

But bad days came, when a group of older cats decided they wanted to play with him. That's what they called it. "St-st-stop, I d-dont want to p-p-puh-play anymore," he whined, the black and white tom being shoved too hard into the sidewalk as they climbed upon the much too small body of his. They teased and taunted, playing rougher than the small child could handle, tears beginning to wet his cheeks as his nose smashed against the cold cement as they shoved him again and again.

And of course it wasn't him who stepped up, a loud whine escaping him. Another cat, skinny and scraggly came to his rescue- and it caught his eye a little too hard. He managed to escape, diving into a bush as loud yowls made his paws cover his ears and his body curl tightly in on itself. But soon it was quiet, and he became curious, curious about him.

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Soma was Lazarus' best friend. His only, but regardless, he was his friend. And as the call sounded outside, he couldn't help but race to the door, getting one last head scritch, purring in delight, before nearly tackling the other as he burst outside. "Soma! How are you? Are you hungry? D-do you wanna come eat the kibble my two legs left out?" Sure they left it out for all of the strays, but regardless, it made him happy when Soma was fed. When Soma was here. He'd press his face into the others neck and shoulder groove in a greeting, pulling his cheek through black fur.

The heat rose in his ears, and the heart in his chest would beat louder, but regardless, the tom seemed to ignore it, grinning up at the other with an uncanny large grin. He knew not much about the other, but he knew he felt hungry sometimes, so of course he'd offer the invite of food, invite the offer to play- because who else did he have to do that with?

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