In the more recent weeks good portion of Thackery's days were filled with very bad feelings, of doubt and worry and concern, especially during the time spent staring at a folder of unsent text drafts to Remi on his phone. The sentiments ranged from 'don't leave me' to 'leave for your own good' to 'I care so much' to 'I care too much' bits of gibberish typed through sleepy tears. Remi was
important, and anything that he thought might jeopardize him set off another string of worries. He was so sure, in the simultaneous panic he felt and absence of any other threat towards the kitsune, that
he would be the one to hurt him.
When that feeling that something was most definitely wrong first began, it was easy to discount it as normal.
And then it got worse. And worse again.
He tried a text (and actually sent it this time), and then another, and there were not any responses and it was just getting increasingly terrible. He curled up tightly in the space below his vanity and pressed his palms against his face, desperately trying to make himself believe that this wasn't happening.
Stuck in his concern, he almost missed the sound of scratching on the door. But it registered, albeit faintly, and he crawled across the floor, reaching up to turn the knob and tentatively peek outside.
"
Remiiiii," he whined, shoving the door open with enough force to dent the frame. "Remi, no, no, no,
no..."
As he trailed off, he reached towards him, carefully petting one of his ears before he moved to help him inside. He didn't waste time by asking if he was okay - he was often oblivious to many things, but it was obvious that he was anything but.
"What, um..." He sniffled and took a few moments to compose himself again. "What can I do? How can I help you?"
He'd been so fixated on all the wrong things, and now that something had
really happened, he felt pathetically lost.