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Angry.
An emotion he would feel often. Quite frequently. Sure he was happy and sad as well. But anger was the most prominent. Rocket huffed, staring at the ceiling. He felt destructive. It was in his blood as a demon, as inphernal to fight. This destructive feeling felt more aimed. Aimed right at himself as if he were a target in the Phights. This was common with Rocket. He'd get angry at whatever it was and then go off to blow steam. Was it healthy? Probably not. Did he care? Nope.
Rocket sat up, deciding that the ceiling was also pissing him off. Staring at his prosthetics, he begrudgingly put them on. Especially his leg if wants to get anywhere easily. Once he got them on he made his way to the window. Not caring for a sweater or proper pants. He wants to feel that cold night wind. He needs to. Rocket began to climb out, making his way to the road to The Playgrounds. Grimacing at the memories from before his dad, Zuka. He loves his dad, of course, he did everything for him. No expectations of any kind. Zuka was weird like that. Yet, Rocket was grateful.
The wind from the water on the road leading out to The Playgrounds was more cold than he expected. Shivering now, Rocket summoned his gear. Staring at the water, he shot. Feeling the buzz of using his gear starts to fill up his brain. He shot more rapidly. Hearing the rockets hit the water before causing a boom. This wasn't enough, unfortunately. So Rocket decided to step away from the ledge. Aiming at the ground in front of his feet then..
BAM
Rocket went flying, quickly using his boost to go higher, he smiled. It hurt and took quite a bit of effort. He didn't care. He felt free. Anger still boiled, but it was less. Rocket stumbled as he landed. Now on the other side of the road. Rocket did it again, and again, and again.. Till he felt the familiar pain of exerting his prosthetic limbs. Rocket decided to stop there. Not wanting to deal with excruciating pain for the next couple of days. He sighed as he resumed shooting rockets into the water for the next while.
That quickly got boring. The buzz of using his gear wasn't there. Rocket decided to go back. Making the treacherous walk back.
Rocket looked up while walking. He admired the stars. Something that he loved since was a young demon. The stars were pretty. He didn't get to see them often due to the Flipside Tower blocking most of his view. But now he could see them clearly. He admired them until he was in Crossroads. The feeling of calm now subsided. Rocket huffed more. More alert as he walked across the middle of Crossroads. Heading straight to his and Zuka's home.
The sun would rise in a couple of hours and he did not want to deal with Zuka's lectures. Granted they were short and very straightforward. Rocket did not enjoy them. As he climbed in the window, his foot got caught. Landed straight on the floor of his room.
“Fuck..” Rocket groaned, pain consuming his mind. He laid there for a good while till he moved. Anger welling up, he sat under the window. He scratched harshly at his neck with his non prosthetics arm. Everything felt off. He needed to scream. To let his gear destroy something other than his body. (He already lost an arm and a leg.) Scratching at his neck more harshly, blood started to trickle. Leaving small lines of blood as he scratched. He didn't stop. It felt good. It relieved a pressure under his skin he didn't know was there. Maybe he did know.
What he didn't know was Zuka coming in. Zuka wanted to check in on Rocket because of a loud thud. Worried for his son, Zuka stood in the doorway. Staring at Rocket in the dark. “..Rocket?” Zuka quietly called out. Voice tired and deep. Hearing his dad's voice, Rocket snapped out of it. Realizing Zuka was standing in his doorway, he tried to cover his neck with his hands. They stared at each other. One like a little kid who got caught doing something and is now scared. The other saw the scared and angry kid he brought home long ago.
Rocket curled up on himself, ashamed. Zuka blinks before walking towards Rocket. His steps filled with caution and concern. “Hey kid, y'good?” Zuka spoke in a softer tone. A soft groan escaped his mouth as he kneeled beside Rocket.
Rocket didn't respond. Zuka sighed, “Hey, let's get those scratches cleaned up. Then either we talk or we watch a show.. or somethin’...” He mumbled out the last part.
Rocket shifted, the movement small, barely noticeable. Zuka, a former soldier and Faction Ambassador, did notice. “..I'll get the first aid kit, be right back, bud.” Giving Rocket a soft pat on the leg before he got up and left.
Rocket felt like his skin was burning. The pressure underneath is unbearable. A noise left his mouth. Frustrated at himself, Rocket began to scratch at his already raw neck. Everything was bothering him. He needed to release the pressure underneath his skin. Yet nothing helped.
Once Zuka came back, Rocket was looking rougher before he left. With a sigh, and a slight struggle, Zuka turned on the lights. Rocket hissed at the lights. Now that Zuka could see Rocket properly. He noticed the damaged pants, smoke and dirt on him and how bad the scratches were.
Zuka made his way to his boy, not so gracefully kneeling down beside him. “..Alright, bud, I gotta clean those up before they get infected.” Zuka bluntly said. Placing the first aid kit in between them. “C'mon, Rocket, we gotta clean those.” He tried to gently move Rocket's hand. Rocket responded by moving against the wall. Knees now against his chest, Rocket was afraid and angry. Angry at himself. Afraid of Zuka's reaction.
“..hey.. Rocket..” Zuka tried to soften his voice. “What's wrong..?” Zuka's full attention on his kid. Rocket stayed silent, looking anywhere but at him. “..Rocket.. kid..” Zuka mumbled, scooting to sit beside Rocket. Wrapping his arm around him. At first Rocket didn't lean into, he leaned away. Then, slowly began to melt into Zuka's hold. “...You went out to blow some steam off.. Didn't ya..?” Zuka murmured. Rocket nodded slowly, wincing at the movement.
Zuka didn't reprimand Rocket for sneaking out to blow off steam. He knew it was a way for Rocket to cope. Zuka worried, of course. It was his job as a father. He felt Rocket shake. Trembling as he started to sob. Emotions whirling inside him. And Zuka only held him tighter. (As best he could with one arm.) “..I've got you..” Zuka whispered, feeling a deep sense of nostalgia.
Rocket's sobs lasted for a good while. They've died down to a tremble in his body. Rocket's breathing was uneven, yet they were softer. Beginning to even out. Rocket relaxed his posture, leaning against Zuka with more of his weight. The anger now buzzed in the back of his head. The feeling of pressure underneath his skin now faint. Rocket shakily exhaled.
How did Zuka not hate him? He sneaked out. Got himself hurt by using his gear in a stupid way. How can Zuka hold him like he was the ten year old he picked up all those years back. How?
Questions of doubt ran through his mind then,
A hand.
A calloused hand rubbed his forehead in that soothing way.
Rocket started to cry again, Zuka rarely did that anymore due to himself being distant. Zuka whispered nothing but comfort. Words laced with safety and love. Rocket turned to be in Zuka's chest, causing Zuka to let a soft “oof” out.
“..You're safe, Rocket.. I've.. I've got you..” Zuka murmured reassuringly. Rocket held on tighter. Quiet sobs that would die out after a bit. Zuka gently rubs Rocket's head. Waiting for Rocket to pull away.
And he did, not for another while, but Rocket sat up.
He was disheveled, eyes red, the dark circles under his eyes worse, his neck still raw and angry. Zuka gently rubbed Rocket's eyes, wiping the tears that stained his cheek.
“..Ya ready to let me clean yer neck?” Zuka asked softly, hand resting on Rocket's shoulder. Rocket nodded, too emotion riddled to speak properly. “Alright..” He reached for the first aid kit. Opening it up to reveal the alcohol swabs and other various medical items. Grabbing the saline solution they keep, Zuka gently poured some on Rocket's neck. Flinching, Rocket let out a soft whine.
“Sorry kid..” Zuka apologized, continuing to clean the scratches left on his kid's neck. Having to switch between the cotton swabs and saline was tiring yet needed. (One arm was a pain in the ass.) Once Zuka deemed the wounds to be clean, grabbing the gauze, he gently placed multiple on Rocket's neck.
At first, it was uncomfortable, Rocket being careful to hold gauze as Zuka grabbed the bandages to secure the gauze. Once Rocket's wounds were situated. Zuka placed everything back, pushing the kit aside. “Wanna tell me?” Zuka inquired, voice laced with concern. Rocket stayed quiet. Talking felt like too much yet he wanted to scream. Zuka took notice of how Rocket was acting. “Angry?” Zuka asked, now positioned against the wall. Rocket nodded.
Zuka slowly nodded. “Mm.. Whatever you did was stupid.” Zuka hummed. “Not you, you're smart. Just acting upon emotions.” He reminded, not needing Rocket to spiral anymore. “Hm.. Y'could've asked me to drive ya to the warehouse.. or talk..” Zuka softly spoke. Rocket stared at the opposite wall, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
Rocket leaned against Zuka. Seeking the comfort of his dad. Zuka breathed out, wrapping his arm around his son. “...pa..” Rocket croaked out, hand now holding onto Zuka's shirt. “..I got you..” Zuka whispered assuringly. “..Pa..” Rocket's voice cracked again, desperate for the comfort Zuka provided. Zuka placed his head on Rocket's head, mindful of the horns.
Zuka never knew how to comfort a child or anyone before Rocket. Rocket never knew comfort from anyone before Zuka.
“Pa… m’sorry..” Rocket apologized. To and for what? That was lost on Zuka's part. “For what, my boy?” Zuka asked softly. Pulling Rocket into his lap despite having one arm and Rocket is seventeen, almost eighteen. “...for a lot..” Rocket mumbled out, sitting in Zuka's lap. Curled up like he was twelve, having nightmares from his previous life. “..everything..” was all that was said. “Y'don't need to apologise for anything.. You're.. you're doing fine.. perfectly fine..” Zuka mumbled. Rubbing Rocket's arm in a comforting way. “..I.. Papa..” Rocket turned so he was now holding onto Zuka's shirt and burying his head into his chest. “..mmf— Got you.. always..” Zuka whispered. Rocket shakily exhaled. Breathes heavy with emotion.
So for a while, the two stayed like that. Rocket clinging to Zuka and Zuka holding Rocket. Soon, Rocket would pass out, exhaustion kicking in. The moon lower, the sun barely gracing the sky. Zuka watched his boy, unable to sleep due to the position of them. Yawning, Zuka listened to the soft snores of Rocket. Hand on his back, absent-mindedly rubbing Rocket's back still.
“Love you kid.. never forget that..” Zuka tiredly said.