private Beggin’ || Butterflytuft

[Chickbloom]

Buttery paws paced back and forth, padding in circles as dinnerplate eyes continually glanced towards the twolegplace - wondering if he should just slip across the scent line and simply disappear. Asking Butterflytuft to meet him by the border was probably overkill, but the baby bird would bury himself alive if any cat overheard the coming conversation - no matter which way it went.

How did people do this? Guilt and stress had been eating the baby bird alive for the past few days, every attempt at flirting having sent him down a spiral. Butterflytuft had walked around with his necklace, thinking it a gift from a good friend, when in reality it was nothing more than a bribe for her love. What kind of cat did that?

Lots, apparently, but it didn’t make him feel any less like scum. Every word and action since had been examined, intense introspection always making the milksop conclude that he’d acted inappropriately. Did Chickbloom really care about the queen when he’d been treating her like an object, a machine to stuff affection into and receive love out of?

He hated this. Hated flirting, hated treating Butterflytuft like anything less than a friend. He’d asked Johnnyflame for a magic bullet made of words when it all started, but wasn’t that just as evil? Only caring about the end result, the goal of getting a mate, it was like the she-cat’s autonomy was stripped away.

Some (most) cats would say the warrior was overreacting, that compliments and gifts were how one showed affection, but Chickbloom felt like it was…artificial. Maybe it was just nerves, the ball of anxiety always second-guessing himself, but the pit in his stomach felt deeper than usual. The tomcat couldn’t take it anymore; he was about to be the first cat to confess because of guilt instead of love.

Well, he did love Butterflytuft. He loved talking with her, hanging out with her and the kits, hearing what she had to say…She was like a special friend. That meant he loved her, right? Part of the whelp was worried he’d never truly know, that his heart would give out before she’d get there, and the queen would arrive to their meeting place to find a cold corpse full of questions.

Thankfully, the scent on the breeze brought the boy out of his macabre worst-case scenario. Wide amber eyes turned away from the border to focus on the autumn-hued she-cat approaching him, buttery tail raising shakily in greeting. “T-Thank you for - y’know - c-coming out here…” he muttered, shuffling back and forth.

// @butterflytuft​

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft catches Chickbloom's scent as she nears the border, weaving through the underbrush with a light nervousness. She isn’t used to being out here all by herself, not at all. Especially when she’s been hearing so much of hungry beasts and rogues crossing the border…The crisp leaf-bare air carries a chill, but she wants immediately upon seeing her friend waiting by the scent line. She steps into view and hurries to his side, already comforted by the presence of a warrior.

His pacing, the restless back-and-forth of his yellow paws, causes her sudden concern, though. "Chickbloom?" She trills in a gentle, lilting tone. Trying to meet his wide eyes, she tilts her head slightly, the faintest frown curving her lips. "Is everything alright?" Her eyes flick to his lashing tail and shifting paws. Stars, it’s like the earth itself is blazing beneath his feet. There’s definitely something unsettled in his demeanor, something beyond his typical nervous energy. "What's on your mind?" Butterflytuft asks finally, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
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[Chickbloom]

Chickbloom never thought he’d be caught off guard seeing Butterflytuft out of camp, especially since he was the one who’d asked her out here, but amber eyes briefly widened in confusion nonetheless. It was like seeing a sea turtle in the desert. She was totally out of her element, carefully padding through the undergrowth, and the sight just served to make the Scottish Fold feel more guilty. “This ends now.”

Chickbloom cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “E-Everything’s fine” The baby bird squeaked, not quite sure how to broach the issue. “It’s- it’s n-nothing serious - er - I g-guess it is, but it’s - y’know - not bad serious, it’s-“ The warrior was rambling now, amber eyes sliding from Butterflytuft to the floor like egg yolks falling into a pan. He willed himself to meet the queen’s gaze once again, finding in her eyes the kind patience to calm him down, even as his whole body began to shake.

It was that pit in his stomach again, that nausea-but-not-nausea that Chickbloom could only chalk up to nerves. It was just nerves, and he just had to press on.

“- I like you, B-Butterflytuft. I - I like like you - L-“ The sinkhole opened wider, but still he pushed forwards. This is what he had to do as a tomcat. This is what he was supposed to do, needed to do. “-Love you…” He didn’t feel good, not good at all. Chickbloom felt tears well up within as he continued, trying to embrace this self-imposed purpose. “I - I want to be with you - to g-groom your fur, to p-play with the kits-“ For a moment those feelings were genuine, true desires to spend time with a dear friend, muddled by forced feelings of love - in all its forms. “-t-to - to have kits with you -“

That was Chickbloom’s first inkling that the hole in his stomach was something more than mere nerves. He knew he had to father children some day, to have kits and make him complete as a cat, but saying it out loud…the mental image it conjured of folded ears and butter-stained fur taking part in such carnal acts - with a cat he cared so deeply about, no less - it made him feel horrible.

Hints of tears sprinkled around amber eyes, as Chickbloom was sure he was about to cry and throw up at the same time. Why? Why did he feel this way? "Isn't this what I want?" Coming to the terrifying realization that he wasn't sure he knew the answer, Chickbloom tried to meet Butterflytuft's gaze, the gaze of the cat he'd just asked to objectify and defile, but he couldn't. All the coward could do was wait for an answer.​

 

[butterflytuft]

The words tumble out of Chickbloom in a jumbled rush, a messy admission. Heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest, Butterflytuft’s ears burn as she listens, dread already beginning to coil in her gut. “Oh.” It’s whispered, shock clear in her expression. Her mind races, searching desperately for the right thing to say, anything that wouldn't hurt him too deeply. She had no idea he felt this way.

"…Chickbloom," She finally mews, her voice faltering as she tries to keep her expression gentle. "I...I really appreciate your honesty. It takes a lot of courage to say what you just said." She looks down, her paws shifting in the dirt as she tries to force away the lump in her throat. "I just...I care about you, more than I can say. Y-You're one of my closest friends, and our time together means everything to me!” She swallows, her words stumbling over themselves. And she truly means it. She’s grateful to have gotten so close to him recently. He’s a great friend. "But I...I don't feel that way. Not in the way you’re wanting."

An uncomfortable heat creeps up her neck as she steps forward hesitantly, pressing her nose briefly to his shoulder in an act that’s meant to be reassuring. "You're kind - so incredibly kind - and you have a heart full of goodness that any cat would be lucky to share. I hope you know this doesn't change how much you matter to me as a friend." When she draws back, she meets his gaze with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment, hoping he wouldn't notice the way her whiskers twitch with nervousness. "And…I would like us to stay friends, if...if that's something you want. B-But if you need space, I understand.”

The forest around them seems to grow louder, the rustling pine boughs and distant bird calls amplifying the uncomfortable silence that settles between them. She holds her breath while she waits for his response, heart feeling like it’s about to burst from her body with how fast it’s racing.
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