Zetabyte

He was sure it wasn’t his personality that bothered many. He admitted he could be a little curious about the world, but surely that wasn’t enough to annoy others, was it?

He used to chase his tail as a child, pleased to catch it, though less pleased to bite himself silly, bright eyes darted for the next source of play, and it was the one thing he could never outgrow, even as he grew into an adult, his childish nature was content to stay in his heart. It would be much more endearing if it meant he caused less issue within the lair.

He wouldn’t apologise. He couldn’t admit remorse for something he couldn’t control. And with time, he was slowly taught that he would either be accepted or ignored, and he was perfectly happy to live in either light. With long claws and a carefree jump, he was eager to live in the skies.

His lair would complain, though he feigned ignorance, they disliked his boisterous and noisy behaviour, and though many were tranquil about him, some would rather express their displeasure more openly.

Honestly, he would fight them if his mind was put to it. Violence wasn’t the answer. He had to laugh it off. After all, what other choice was there?

There were too many complicated things about life, but he rather enjoyed to watch others live. He could feel the swell in his chest upon seeing strange romance blossom between two others, and deep down, he almost longed for the same. His nature isolated him in an odd way, though he was pleasant conversation, the ability to get near him was strained at best, and he was in a constant state of confusion as to why.

Someone had told him roses helped. In some books, it was one of those cliche, beautiful things. He hoped he didn’t look awkward, clutching it softly between his teeth, he felt foolish, but if it made him more likeable, he couldn’t find the heart to complain.

Deep down, he wished to be more accepted. To have long winded conversations about clever subjects, or to gaze upon a library and feel excited, instead of the crashing wave of boredom. He had tried to force himself into it, but the idea simply couldn’t stick. He had no motivation. He had nothing.

He couldn’t explain why his heart sunk at the knowledge that he was alone. Hadn’t he taught himself that it was fine, to be rejected? That the people who didn’t like him weren’t worth worrying about? But the rose in his mouth told more of a story than he could ever offer.

He truly desired to be liked.

Written by PunchingSolas



Art by Sabariel



Canine by Kesler



Chibi Mirror by Midler



Art by BunnyKei