He wanted to stab the birds.

They made no sound, not even a peep. They did not warn him of the rising sun, nor of the pink clouds and purple sky. They were mute. It frightened him. He didn't like silence, he never had. He needed noise. He needed someone to remind him the world still lived. He needed the god damn birds.

Henrik was asleep... or was he? Maybe the world was silent because the world was dead. Maybe Henrik was not inside his room? Maybe, if the Vaporeon rushed inside he'd be greeted with an empty bed, made and yet lacking the Umbreon who slept all mornings? Maybe, if he walked outside, the houses would be empty and lights off, houses barren. The world was dead, wasn't it? The world was empty, and Isaac was alone. It made sense now, why the birds were silenced. They no longer were there. He was alone, again, yet this time not a soul could even mock him. The hostility was better than nothing. At least it reminded him there were others viewing him, sucking in the same air he did. At least it meant he wasn't alone.

Quickly, tiny feet scampered across the floor, hands slamming open his door and then ripping open Henrik's. The dim light of the room masked the bed, his tiny hands flipping the light switch and fumbling around for something to rely his weight on. His feet slipped, sending his body slamming into the ground, head thrusting upwards and mouth catching itself in an oval shape. No. No no no. The scream wrenched from his mouth before the thud of his body met the ground, hitching and cracking once his body landed into the floor.

Henrik was not in his bed.

The birds were silent. Henrik was not in his bed. The world was quiet. He was alone. The Umbreon slept until the sun set usually, a nocturnal creature, and would return to bed right as the sun began to rise. It was rising. Where was Henrik? Where was the only consistent part of his life? Where was he? Why was he not there?

The world was dead.

His body lurched across the hallway, slamming into each sides before he nearly flew down the stairs. He searched the house, nothing. No Henrik. No anyone. The birds still did not chirp. The world was dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead dead dead. What had he done wrong? Why? He had done nothing wrong! Damian abandoned him..... Henrik was gone. The world left him. He was alone. He was alone! He was alone! Alone! He wa-

"What are you doing?"

His heart froze as the sound of birds reached him. As red eyes locked onto yellow. As a tall man entered the house from the front door, holding grocery bags firm in his hand as he stared at the panicked Isaac and then at the destruction of the house. In Isaac's panic he had ripped curtains, thrown chairs, flipped tables. His mouth opened to yell when small arms clung to his hip, sobs erupting from the small child. The blue-haired boys body trembled violently as he collapsed, arms clutching Henrik's legs tightly, violently, cutting off circulation. With a sigh, low and rumbling, Henrik set the bags down and scooped the boy into his arms.

"Silly boy. Stop your crying and help me unpack these bags. Then, you're fixing the damn house."