Firefly Glen i'm a hot mess

After his spat with Riley Charles returned to Firefly Glen feeling broken. His body felt battered, even though he'd only been thrown to the ground. He had a few scratches where Riley had bitten him initially before he'd touched the ground, a few patches of disheveled fur that looked more dramatic than they were, especially on his face. There wasn't much blood to be seen; mostly Charles felt battered, which made sense considering he'd been physically thrown around before his brother stopped and chased him off.

More than the physical encounter the harsh rejection of the encounter stung in Charles' mind. Everywhere he went it felt like he wasn't good enough. Wasn't good enough for Leta compared to Osiris, wasn't good enough for Osiris to be part of his pack, wasn't good enough for his brother to even give him a fucking hug or something. He just wanted to be loved, but it seemed like nobody would ever want him. And his screaming-friend had left the pack, too, to top things off. At least he still had some friends here — he thought of Bronco, Lunaria and Dhalia — and that was more than he'd ever had back at Easthollow.

It was hard to be positive as he dragged himself back into the pack, across the borders, and made his way to dig up a nearby cache because he was starving to boot. His gait was nowhere near his usual energetic trot, but just a slow and tired walk that mirrored how battered he felt. He just wanted to eat, sleep and forget about today and about his stupid brother and his stupid family.

It was pure luck he had happened by. Holland grunts, sniffing the air and picking up the budding blood and torn fur. Of course, he can't smell torn fur but he assumes it is there. Before he could react, there was movement near his blind spot. He stiffens, turning his head to view a young man.

Someone he hasn't met yet. "Hail" he utters in greeting, twisting his body to view the kid (compared to him, they are a child). His red eye focuses on them, a brief flicker of concern. "you alright?" He expects to be told off. The way the other carries himself is prickly and uninterested.

But he tries regardless. It's all he hopes to do.

Of course someone happened upon him. Just his luck. Charles wasn't much in a mood to see anyone, and as the older guy approached, he certainly wasn't ready for this. This dude would have been absolutely gorgeous if it wasn't for his scars. They reminded Charles of ruffians like his brother; ironic, considering the scars he carried because of wolves of the likes of his family. What is wrong with you, Charles, stop thinking about how handsome he is! Luckily he had a moment before the man reached him so that he could compose himself and bury the self-loathing somewhere deep.

Hail? What did that mean? What? he said, blinking. It was out before he realised it. Is that like, hi? Charles' vocabulary wasn't very good and he had never heard of this word in his life. He understood the latter though, an expected question. Oh, yeah, y'know, all 's cool. Why did he just turn into an awkward teenager? Charles didn't remember being awkward (uh, that he realised, anyway) in his life. Even around Osiris he was totally smooth. He hated this. Was it because the guy was older? Was it because he was so — Stop thinking he's handsome! — uh, anyway, Charles laughed awkwardly to cover up his awkwardness, which didn't actually help at all.

Holland was silent as the other burst. His head did not even tilt to the side, he only focused on the other being with a singular eye. "Really?" he says softly, more to himself than to the young man when they said it was 'cool'. It looked like someone had beaten him up.

"Humor me then" he croaks, glancing away to reveal his glossy blind eye. The red was obscured from view now. "I'm studying to be a medic for the pack..." Lies. Holland was already a medic, but probably not the medic as he had been told by Toad Amelia. 

Did he even want that responsibility? No, but he wanted to be someone the others could turn to. To be useful to someone. "Would you mind if I looked you over?"

The 'really' was sort of weirdly spoken to himself, it seemed, and Charles felt awkward and unsure if he should respond to it and if it was meant for him at all. Ah, how he missed when he had been ignorant of awkward situations. He decided to ignore it in the end. The expression 'humour me' he had never heard, so Charles blinked owlishly at the man when he said that. He went on to say he was a medic, and if Charles hadn't been the bluntest tool in the shed he might've realised where this was going by now. Uh, okay, he said, confused why he was being an oversharer right now.

It become clear in the next instant and realisation dawned on Charles' face along with a good dose of a panic. Ah — it's not really needed — he tried. The last he wanted was this handsome dude to look over him. It was only my brother — nothing bad — He tried desperately to convince the other, his voice laced with a rare spot of panic. He knew, however, that he was a pushover and that he would likely be convinced. And that would mean that he would be touched by this handsome dude. He wasn't sure he could handle that. He wasn't sure he could handle himself right now. Maybe if he repeated in his head long enough that he was into chicks it would all go away.

Any other time he would have been on his way. But this was a pack mate, and therefore Holland needed to check to make sure he was fine. "I will only look over you" he said firmly "I will not touch you." He recalls Leta being the same way, not trusting him or wanting him to place his paws on them.

"If you still feel uncomfortable later, you can come by my den for herbs" this would be a tired and true statement by the time he was old and grey. From a quick glance, Holland knew there was some pain. The young man's movements were a bit stiff. Awkward even.

What was this strange mix of disappointment and relief when the dude said that he wouldn't touch him, only look? He really was out of his mind. Totally going bonkers. Rest in pieces Charles' sanity. O-okay, you can look, he stammered awkwardly. It was hard to steer away from the topic at hand in his mind — What the fuck is wrong with me?! — and focus on the present. The biggest relief was that at the very least, Charles was pretty sure that he didn't have any wounds that needed ~ special care ~ or anything. He was just a little roughed up.

Yeah, okay, Charles agreed hastily when he said that Charles could come by later if he was uncomfortable. What did that even mean? Charles was pretty much always uncomfortable. He didn't really remember ever being in a state of comfortable mind. Not even when he was around Leta. Anyway, the gist of what the dude was trying to say was clear to him, though, so he paid it no more mind.