It Lives.

More on that later, till then, I hope you all enjoy.

He was so desperate, hoping that this time would be enough. That this would be the last time he sat upon this chalky sidewalk curb feeling the hot sun burrow into his fur. The last time he sat in front of this old cream colored apartment, wishing for one more chance to take a peek inside of it. To smell it one last time and see how their rooms had been redecorated to someone else's taste.

To see just how happy the ignorant people of Zootopia could be.

It was hopeless to wish for those things, he knew, to stay up so late at night fantasizing over seeing the simple things that you used to look past while you were out the door. The slight tinge of a coffee stain that left a darkened ring on the countertops that you used to scrape your paws over when you were bored. The mud tracks near the front door from that one time you two got caught in the rain without your umbrellas. The smell of a blueberry pie fresh out of the oven after you came back from school, smelling so lush that you could taste the oozing fruit lingering in the air.

Oh, how he adored that.

A worn sketchbook and ruler lay across his lap, filled with doodles and scratches of his surroundings. He lightly tapped the pencil onto the water stained pages, leaving tiny graphite dots across his illustrations. He tainted them without a care in the world.

Nick stared at the building in front of him, his tongue starting to peek out from his lips as he focused on that cheap apartment building. He scribbled in his sketchbook. A straight pencil line here and sometimes over there. A couple of ugly pink stains from his withered eraser end. In the end, he captured it. This moment.

A dishonest and unhappy smirk was plastered on his bushy muzzle.

The crimson lollipop was loosely hanging out of his young canine mouth, reflecting the bright sun into a ruby red shadow onto his chin due to its natural translucence. His emerald eyes flickered back and forth across the worn and flattened tar, watching the colorful cars zip on by at what had to have been an illegal speed.

The sounds from downtown had become music to his ears.

The brown lynx who would come out to perform every Friday evening at the local bar with his worn down relic of a guitar he's had since college. The twangy strum of his metal strings complimented by the herd of animals yelling at the latest sports game on the TV.

An argument or two about a blockbusters silly plot from a tiger couple as they left the theater. The smell of the gas station down the block refueling its pumps.

The people scuffing their shoes on the sidewalk behind him.

Brief moments like these had made the orange fox grin, actually genuinely grin, whether he was aware of it or not. He shut his baggy eyes and unknowingly swayed with the noise, feeling his mind go empty and his skinny body become weightless. The last 5 months had melted away around him, as if nothing had changed.

In a word, Nick was comfortable.

In ten? He was living a euphoric daydream that he never wanted to end.

As stupid as it sounded, he could make himself believe that she was still waiting for him to come home.

Suddenly, that lynx at the bar was drowned out in a few polite claps, followed by a thankful mumble that Nick couldn't make out. Before he could really start to listen in, he began to play a tune Nick was already familiar with.

A nostalgic melody that had left the fox humming and swaying next to the road, his tail thumping against the sidewalk curb to the beat, becoming increasingly more blackened and dirtied as the song continued. It was like a wave of déjà vu had washed on over him, leaving him over the moon. He felt warm - a different type of warmth than the sun's - one that radiated inside of him.

He didn't know the lyrics, but he could hum the sultry (and repetitive) melody as it began to progress to the pre-chorus.

A pleasant progression… that had become tainted with the sound of a wailing police siren.

He clamped his strong jaw on the translucent lollipop, crushing it into tiny fragments that scattered across his silver tongue.

Nick huffed in anguish, his eyes squinted in annoyance.

'Time's up,' the fox thought to himself as he felt himself return from the sky.

He opened his green eyes one at a time, before fully registering the cruiser that was parked in front of him painting red and blue across the downtown buildings and windows. It took even longer to see the large bison standing at the driver side door.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" The officer asked as his voice dripped with sympathy, "A good one for you, I'm sure."

The fox tightened his grip on his backpack strap - running his thumb across its mesh lining for comfort before getting up from the curb, sketchbook in hand.

"Do you want another minute, Nick?" The officer asked gravely.

The forming lump in his throat had gotten larger, causing the fox to give an uneasy gulp. It was at this moment that he always felt the most docile.

But it wasn't like he had a choice.

"No." Nick answered harshly as he zipped his backpack shut, enclosing all of his supplies.

The first time he let a few tears fall, made a fool of himself in public like a child crying over fallen ice cream. It was a shameful, embarrassing memory.

The second time, he ran from them - a simple solution that bided him a few hours but ultimately left him in more trouble than he would favor. So now he took it on the chin. The cruiser was a wake up call. An unfortunate reminder that this wasn't his place.

That this city wasn't his home anymore.

"You hungry?"

Painfully mundane. Nothing too out of the ordinary. A bland - yet quick - question meant to spark up a conversation with the young tod. To build some possible camaraderie, for sure.

"Looks like you're getting a little thin there. Did you eat lunch at school?" The orange fox stared at the passing buildings through the car window, unbothered with the bisons words. He hated the smell of the cruiser.

"Well, I have a spare beetle sandwich today. I'm trying to bulk up some more, but…" a crumpled paper lunch bag was swinging from his swollen hooves, outstretched towards the fox, "Yours if you want it kid, really." Nick shrugged.

He hated it. The concept of it all. Those feelings he'd felt of loss and dreams of redemption had been stirred together like different shades of thick paint, mixing into a solitary gray.

Unremarkable. Unnoticeable. Gray.

Like a wound that had just finished coagulating, finally forming into a scab.

"Nick?" His authoritarian tone had caused his brown ears to twitch.

'Only for someone to start picking at it,' The fox huffed.

His brown fingertips rolled onto the armrest in four muted rhythmic percussions, occupying his already unbothered mind.

"Listen Nick... I'm not your guardian and… I don't even think I'm qualified to give advice on this sort of thing but, I can see that things have been hard on you lately. I mean, I can't even imagine how such a good kid like you-"

"I don't take food from strangers," Nick automated, refusing to give the buffalo any eye contact whatsoever, "I'm no charity case."

The buffalo paused in a clumsy silence, before finally giving a half-sighed, "Right." They both absorbed the sounds of the Zootopian city in the absence of their conversation: Tires pressing into the flat asphalt. A quick conversation of some passersby about a TV show. The sound of the town bell ringing…

Nick's eyes slightly widened at the sound, causing him to glance at his cracked wristwatch. '7 PM.' The pit in his stomach dropped even deeper, which he didn't even know was a possibility. 'She's gonna kill me.'

"Mind letting me finally see what's in that little black book of yours?" Bogo asked as he glanced at the black notepad sitting on the fox's lap.

Nick didn't even have to reply.

"I hope you'll let me see it someday, Y'know. To see how good your drawings have become," Nick grumbled.

The sound settled once again as they finally rolled into the tighter Zootopian streets, the warm buildings towering above the road were practically hugging each other. Huddled together in what surely must have been an ignored city code, Nick imagined. The vehicle came to a squeaky stop outside of the fox's old and familiar residence.

The sign atop the old bricks read, "House of Love." Nick looked at the subtitled placard that was placed directly beneath the sign and released an exhausted breath. It was taglined: "Zootopia's home to Orphaned Predators."

'How polite.'

"If you'll excuse me, I have another punishment that I have to get to," Nick answered with an absence of grace. His brown hand reached for the door handle and was about to give it a hard yank, before the car door locked in front of him with an obnoxiously loud mechanical click.

The tod snorted in annoyance. "Really? Locking me in the car is your play, huh?"

"Nick," The bison intervened, waiting for the fox to look towards him. After a few seconds passed, Nick's green eyes flicked towards the fellow predator - anger abundant in his flaring gaze. Yet, there was a hint of… something else entirely in the fox's look. A hint of vulnerability perhaps.

"Just let me out of here, buffalo butt."

"I'm a bison," the officer chuckled, "Stay in the car. Let me see what I can do for you." His large arm tossed the paper lunch bag into Nick's skinny lap causing the kid to jump in surprise. "And eat, Nick. I know you're hungry."

Not breaking any eye contact, the fox folded his arms across his chest in defiance. His lips pressed into a fine line. Eyebrows pressed downward in a challenging glare. An obvious answer for the bison.

"Officer Bogo!" A voice called out to them, followed by a familiar clap of flip flops striking the sidewalk leading up to the entrance, "Did you find him? Is he okay?"

Approaching them was his guardian. The single overwatch of their orphanage, Honey. She was a sight to behold, a short and stubby Honey Badger that managed the entire complex and its occupants.

She was always found in an ankle-long skirt, along with an ever changing colored sweater (which happened to be turquoise today). Despite everyone else that worked at the orphanage, Honey was the only one who would take the time to know every child as they were admitted. The only one who cared really, unlike the rest of the short staff who prioritized their paychecks more than the children who would be gone in a month - if they were the lucky ones.

"He's fine," Bogo stuck his hand up in a comforting gesture, one that made the chubby honey badger stop running and sigh in relief. His beefy frame leaned back into the police cruiser, chuckling for a brief second before affirming, "You are fine, right?"

The fox huffed in anger as he stared at the dashboard.

"Just give me a minute, alright? I'll be quick." The officer concluded as he softly shut the cruiser door.

Nick sunk into the passenger seat, annoyed beyond imagination. His furrowed brows sat low above his angry emerald eyes. Eyes that seemed to be glued onto the bison's golden badge that rested on his navy blue uniform. The way it flickered in the sunlight as the thick necked officer walked in front of the vehicle amused him.

'Zootoopia Police Department.' Nick mocked, as he watched Bogo head towards his caretaker. They shook hands and began talking, with Honey becoming more and more at ease as their conversation continued.

The fox rested his head on his paw, turning his attention towards the controls mounted on the side of his door. He played with them, messing with the automatic windows in a lifeless intrigue. The sound of the motors whirring were drowned out by his thoughts as he flipped the toggles. Up. Down. Up. Down. U-

"You don't think he's on… drugs do you?" Nick heard his caretaker's meek voice. Nick couldn't help but snicker at her question.

"Ms. Honey, I run into a lot of orphaned children during patrol and I can usually tell which kids are involved in that sort of thing. You can trust him, believe me," Nick's giggling died down into a slight smirk. A smile of approval.

"I'm sorry officer. It's just that… this neighborhood isn't exactly what it used to be."

"I understand and if it's any consolation, the chief at District One is widening the patrol routes to cover this area more."

'Oh great. More of them,' Nick huffed.

There was a tense silence between them.

"Was he there again?" Honey asked in curiosity. Her dark paws were clasped together across her stomach, a stark contrast to her large turquoise shirt.

"Uh huh. Every Friday. Exactly the same place," Bogo answered quickly, like they had gone through this conversation multiple times before. Almost routine-like in nature. "Just like clockwork. Never gets into any trouble. Just… sits there," Bogo sighed, "He's a good kid."

"Doesn't mean it's okay for him to keep running away after school. Keeping all of us on edge like that. You can't escape consequences with a few one liners."

"Don't tell him that. He's gonna think it's a challenge," The bison joked, as he took the chance to examine the giant brick building in front of him.

"So how long has it been? A couple months?" The badger looked at the officer in curiosity, before finally understanding what he meant.

"Five," She confirmed, "Five months…"

"Five months," Bogo repeated, his tone turning sympathetic, "A thirteen-year-old kid ends up at this place. Seemingly overnight, huh?" Honey nodded, "My route hangs around Webb street, so I saw him in the neighborhoods quite a bit. Before, I mean. He always just went straight home. Wasn't a troublemaker in the slightest, as far as I-"

Hearing enough of the conversation, Nick zipped the window back up and forcefully leaned back into the seat. His large head pressed into the fabric of the chair as he focused his gaze towards the gray ceiling of the patrol car. The aged color matched his large hoodie, he decided.

Gray. Again.

He eyed the seats headrest with a certain jealousy - a want. How badly he wanted to be taller, be bigger and older and finally be able to rest his own head against it. To be his own person. To assume that responsibility. To be treated as an equal.

It was silly, of course, to think that he would ever be that tall enough to fill out a passenger seat designed to transport a bison and other larger animals; No fox had ever been that tall in the history of his species.

Actually come to think of it… No fox had ever been really treated as an equal either.

He made the unwise decision of looking into the side mirror, his orange and ruffled face stared at itself. Emerald eyes met each other and suddenly he remembered that he would never be an equal either, so long as he was what he was.

The fox reached up towards his hood and pulled it up and over his large brown ears. (He had been told that he would grow into those too, when he got older.) Nick pulled at the strings until the hood was cinched tightly around his short muzzle.

He very much disliked his appearance. He looked more like his father than his mom, something that… he still hadn't come to terms with.

The paper lunch bag in his lap crinkled as he moved around, causing the fox to loosen his hood - revealing a single comically wide eye looking down at it. He huffed in annoyance at the food.

…

…

He had had enough.

Grumbling, Nick manually unlocked his door and swiftly hopped out of the cruiser with his backpack slinging around his shoulder. He slammed the door with a hefty amount of force, causing the two adults to look back at him with surprise. Nick marched past them, only taking a moment to grumble, "It's been a minute," to Bogo. His long claws clacked on the sidewalk as he moved, eyes unflinchingly locked on the door to his residence.

"Nick… sweetheart we need to talk about this," Honey started, compassion filling her voice.

The fox stopped at the door, the aged handle in his small hand. "You don't need to call him to pick me up everytime. I can take the bus."

"That's not the point, Nick. You can't keep running away after school!" Nick scoffed loudly. "We can set up a designated time where you can be supervised. Bring you a chaperone so that you-"

The fox yanked open the door and stepped inside, taking a moment to face both adults before adding a sarcastic, "See you next Friday," to the officer as he finally closed it.

An uneasy silence followed the child's departure.

Honey gathered the stress building inside of her chest and forced it out of her in a long heavy exhale.

"I'm… I'm sorry you have to see that," Honey shut her eyes in disappointment, her shoulders drooping down in embarrassment as well, "He's been getting more and more disobedient and-" She stopped when she heard the deep sounding chortles behind her. The badger turned towards the amused officer, eyeing him as he giggled into his hoof.

"Sorry mam. I'm not trying to be crass, but… well," Bogo hummed in thought, his large hoof finding its way to his whiskered chin, "The kid's got some fire in him," Bogo responded with another amused chuckle.

"That's one way to put it," Honey mused, happy to find someone who saw something in the fox that she did, "I think of it as a spark."

"Well, fires are always hottest at the start, mam," The loud static crackling from his handheld radio snapped him out of his hilarity as he reached for it.

After speaking a few codes to the dispatcher he turned to look at Honey once more. "Sorry mam, duty calls." He said as he began to take a few steps backward. She nodded at him with understanding.

…

Bogo let out a sighed relief the second he returned to the safety of his patrol car. He plopped down into the driver's seat and rolled down the passenger window, watching as Honey entered the orphanage at a hurried pace. Once the door had shut, the bison rested his head on top of his steering wheel, socially exhausted from handling that situation. He flipped his lights and sirens on, shifted into drive and…

He couldn't help but smile when he realized his lunch bag was nowhere to be found.

'I need to take better care of myself,' The fox giggled to himself as he slithered up the wooden stairs leading to his assigned room. Step by step his eyelids seemed to droop more and more like a rotting bridge threatening to collapse. Once at the top of the stairs, he shakily lifted his skinny wrist up to his tired and sore eyes. The cracked LCD screen mounted onto his weathered wristwatch read, "2:32 AM" - a time that he admittedly was getting too used to.

Due to the circumstances of time, Nick gave an exhausted (and silent) sigh before walking down the long labyrinth of a hallway that was his orphanage. Coming up to an aged vinyl door adorned in several sheets of childlike crayon drawings, Nick reached for the rusted brass handle - completely overlooking the newly plastered name tag of "Nick" compared to the more aged, "Finnick" that resided in the center of the wooden door.

The fox daintily twisted the gummed-up knob - making extra sure that it would not make any noise - and gently pushed the door open, causing the crayon-coated papers taped to the front of the door to slightly rustle due to the influx of air.

It must have been amusing for anyone that could've watched the fox, seeing him twist the doorknob with the precision of a surgeon in order to open his normally squeaky door. With the door finally shut Nick released a relieved sigh. 'Another day another dollar,' He jokingly thought to himself as he comically leaned his forehead against the door, feeling the slightest temptation to reel his head back and pass out onto the wood floor. 'Just another day.'

"Ahem." The semi-gruff voice behind him quickly shook Nick out of his funk as he smoothly spun around on his heels towards the voice. The smaller and younger fennec fox sat up on his bunk bed, navy blanket still wrapped around his small bare torso as the two foxes eyed each other up and down. The silence was equally as awkward as it was amusing to both of them.

"Hey Fin." Nick answered through a strained and exhausted smile. "What's the matter? Did your night-light run out of batteries agai-"

"You're doing it again, aren't you?" The young fennec fox interrupted his roommate, already used to the spontaneous routine that they had created. His question seemed like more of a statement to both of them.

Nick could only give him an even cheesier smile.

"Just tell me that you didn't get hurt again."

He gulped.

Nick's hesitation spoke volume in their tiny room. Finnick huffed before he flopped off his mattress, and facing his roommate.

The fennec fox sighed with his eyes drooping and baggy, "Alright, bring it here. How bad is it?"

With a hushed sigh Nick tiptoed towards the kid, slid his backpack off his shoulders and squatted in front of him. He pulled back his black hoodie to reveal a large purple lump forming on his cheek underneath his left eye. An obvious sign of a brawl.

Finnicks eyes widened, at full attention now. "Yikes."

Nick's eyelids fell with his slumped shoulders in annoyance. "Oh c'mon Fin. It doesn't look that bad-" Finnick reached forward and gripped the orange foxes face with his small hands and pulled it closer to his eyes. He twisted and contorted Nick's face as he examined him, poking and prodding his cheek gently at the same time. "Would you quit it!" Nick was able to muffle out through pinched lips and squinted eyes.

"You better hope that swelling goes down by morning or else Honey is gonna have a field day with you." Finnick spoke, as he let go of his friend's face.

Oh, he knew.

Nick scoffed and let his irritated words fly from his unfiltered mouth, "Yeah, well it feels like I'm getting the field day regardless." The orange fox stopped to massage his injured mug, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment. "Do we have any more cov-"

"Make up?" The fennec giggled.

"Cover up," Nick grumbled, feeling too embarrassed to call the product what it was labeled.

"Yeah, a little bit, but you're almost out so you may want to stop doing what you do," Finnick warned with a hint of salt.

"Yeah, well I can't get better without experience right?" Nick defended himself, as he dug around once again in his backpack, "You'll understand when you're older. Besides you don't even know how it turned out!"

"And I don't want to." Finnick refused, as he turned his body over onto his bed once more. "I don't need to be old to know what you're doing is wrong."

Nick stopped his digging and turned to look at his roommate. "Fin, I-" He so desperately wanted to prove himself right. To say the words that would make his friend realize that he was well intentioned, but the frog in his throat refused to let him speak.

He knew Finnick was right.

He slid his backpack off of his boney shoulder and into his hand as he fished around inside of it once again.

"Here."

Finnick hesitantly turned in his bed to see a small comic book resting on his mattress.

"Issue 42. Came out on Wednesday."

The tan fox's petite paw snatched the booklet in total silence. After turning it over for the 6th time Finnick couldn't help but produce a hint of a smile. "Thanks Nicky."

He nodded back. "Thanks for keeping this a secret."

Nick grinned at the younger fox. It was definitely a shock to him when he found out they'd be rooming together; A fox with a fox. True the circumstances were a bit more exaggerated with himself being only a 13 year old red fox and his Finnick being a 8 year old fennec, but it did make him a lot more comfortable being stuck in that room together. Knowing that both of them were considerably more alike than previously thought.

In hindsight, it made perfect sense to make two of the same predators roommates. Though he didn't understand why, Nick had always assumed that he'd be paired up with a species more intimidating (at least as intimidating as a fellow pre-teen could be), like a polar bear or lion.

Truthfully, he saw a lot of himself in the kid. Rightfully so, he'd found himself taking responsibility with Finnick as a sort of guardian himself, helping him with the nightly chores, giving him the leftovers of his food and tutoring him with his challenging homework and so on and so forth. In a way, they were perfect for each other.

"I hope you don't mind that I looked through it already. The line work was a little sloppy this week, but I'm sure they were in a rush to ship it," Nick explained as he emptied his bag onto their small wooden dresser. "You hungry? I got half a beetle sandwich earlier today and I don't think I can finish it."

"Nah, I ate a little too much for dinner." He flipped through the thin comic pages, struggling to read the text in the darkness.

"Noted," Nick answered with a smile as he routinely handed his friend his phone to help him view his booklet in the light of the LCD screen, "It's kinda your loss though, it's actually not bad. Made by a bluey."

"Well that explains why I didn't see you after school." Finnick solved, his body slowly returning to its slothlike state.

Nick faced away from his friend, slipping his backpack back into his dirty paws. His body language was droopy, uncomfortable even.

"Did it make you feel any better?" Finnick prodded once again.

"No," Nick answered quickly, the word was sharp off of his tongue.

...

"Well… you're not the first one of us to do that. Maybe the most committed, but not the first," Finnick yawned, his warm breath turning into vapour in their dark room, "You won't be the last either."

...

There was a stagnant silence between the two.

"So… How did it turn out?" The fennec asked, purely to loosen the tension between them and not because he was actually interested in the foxes intriguing activities. Surely.

"You're the one with my phone kid, why don't you find out?" The older fox huffed, his shoulders dropping with his exhales.

Finnick tapped in his friend's passcode and opened the gallery like it was drilled into his brain. He swiped through the photos that they had taken together earlier in the week (of which they were making incredibly goofy faces and zoomed into each other's eyes), making special notice to slow down his swiping to see the mother of the fox that stood less than 6 feet away from him - he smiled at the image - before finally reaching the most recent photo taken.

"Wow," was all the kid had to say.

"Getting better, right?" Nick asked, his voice becoming uncharacteristically high as if he were self conscious about the photo. He laid down onto the bed with his friend and took the phone out of his dark brown hands.

A photo of a train cart covered in graffitied flames was illuminated on the dimly lit screen.

Though cartoonish in nature due to it's black outlines, the flames looked real enough to the two foxes, as if the train cart had been entirely engulfed in flames.

"You did that?"

"All me," Nick answered with a charmed smile.

They both took a minute to drink in the photo, both being rather impressed.

A sniff.

Another.

"Geez Nicky, you stink like sweat and paint."

Nick giggled at the kid, "Noted." He stood up from the bunk bed, his head instinctively tucking underneath the wooden frame of their bunk bed from painfully acquired muscle memory.

"You're definitely getting better though. Those highlights are really looking good." Finnick complimented, comparing the artistry of his friend to the coloring of the comic sitting in front of him. He was by no means a connoisseur, but Nick had been incredibly influential in Finnicks own understanding of art and painting in general. He had been given the crash course, so to speak.

"Thanks! That's what I've been trying to figure out the most," The red fox grumbled as he began to pry his black hoodie off of his sweaty body. His quietly strained grunts became small muffles as he struggled to remove his clothing, until the garment successfully lifted off his body.

"Can I see your sketchbook? You've got to have a rough draft in there right?"

Nick visibly tensed, something that the smaller fox did not see that often. "Not tonight Fin... It's not that nice looking."

Not wanting to push his friend any further, Finnick only nodded, returning the fox's own words, "Noted."

Finnick handed the orange fox his phone back, to which Nick happily accepted, but that didn't stop the small cream colored fox from obsessing over his friend's injured face once again.

"That doesn't explain how you got your shiner though," Finnick prodded once again.

"Yeah, that's a long story Fin," His blood-orange fur was immensely desaturated due to the moonlight shining through the window panes - giving him a newer, bluish hue of a hide. His body was incredibly scrawny, to the point that it was almost uncomfortable to look at the fox. "Actually it's not that long. Not long at all, now that I think about it. Certainly felt long, though."

Not that his roommate minded, they both slept peacefully in their underwear due to the immense heat that the biome was currently producing. "Might be better to just forgive and forget about this one," Nick corrected himself while pointing his brown finger at his squinted and golf ball-sized swollen cheek.

Snuggled gently into his bed, Finnick gave another chortle at the red fox's expense. "Don't tell me you fell off a barrel again."

Nick gave ragged huffs, as he hopped on one leg adamantly trying to remove the gray sweatpants that had wrapped around his ankles. "Not even close this time."

"Well, lay it on me then," Finnick answered as he finally got comfortable once again. His eyes began to slowly shut, "I can take it."

"I got jumped." The older fox - now standing in his baggy lime green boxers - finished by throwing his damp clothes into their destroyed laundry hamper which had been hastily squished inside their tiny closet.

Finnick laid there, eyes now opened comically wide.

"Right as I finished up, some guy came up and decked me. Stole my spray paints too." Taking the time to roll around and get nice and snug into his flattened mattress, Nick was wary of the loose (and sharp) spring that had popped out - he could only assume years ago given the amount of ripped-up duct tape surrounding the wound. He'd been very cognizant of it ever since it had given him a handful of bruises against his lower back. "Still have my nozzles luckily enough. Though I guess it was better he got me, rather than the cops."

"Really sucked though. Right when I was getting the hang of tagging things too," Nick answered downheartedly, as he snuggled into his own blanket. "Guess I'll just have to ask Weaselton for some more, maybe he can get me some better colors this time.

Like clockwork, the room fell into blank silence - much akin to the rest of the household at nearly 3AM.

With his head pressed sharply into his pillow the thirteen year old fox was marveled, with a now bittersweet dimple forming at the corner of his lip. From the angle he was laying, he could just barely see the night sky and it's unfiltered beauty. Though the Zootopian lights had definitely produced some severe light pollution, his night vision had helped him to focus on the stars flaring in almost every direction. The canine continually shifted his gaze - His tired eyes flickering back and forth - constantly wanting to burn the full illustrious night view into his corneas. Nick was weary eyed, star struck from the luminous lighting that flared from his window.

Now, the fox would never admit it. To anyone. But ever since he was a pup he would adore the stars. He admired their brightness from afar, seeing them as tiny specks of hope on a dark gloomy background. Even in his new room, he would sit at his dirty, broken window and simply gaze in awe at the ignitions. Sure, he would sacrifice some hours of sleep to engage himself, but to him the heavy bags under his eyes were of well worth when the morning came.

"Hey Nicky?" The soft voice muttered from beneath him.

In a flash of red fur, Nick comically hung from the top of the bunk bed - his head the only thing in view for the fennec fox as he answered, "What's up, Little Guy?"

"You know I hate that." Finnick solemnly warned his friend at the mere mention of being called, 'little'.

"That's why I say it, pup." Even while he was upside down, his charming smirk seemed to be carved from marble.

"I don't know why you go out and do… that at night," The kid continued, his thoughts not entirely cohesive or even well thought out, "But you're being careful, right? When you come home all beat up... It freaks me out."

Nick smiled warmly at the innocent fox lying beneath him. "Of course, kid. I'm being very careful out there." Nick reached out his brown hand and gently tickled his friend's exposed foot. "Tonight was just bad luck. You don't need to worry about me partner."

Finnick's foot immediately recoiled into the safety of his blanket, making Nick smile wholeheartedly at the young fox. "Now get some sleep. Alright?" Being flipped rightside up had never felt so relieving for Nick, the feeling of rushing blood flowing back into his palms and thighs had gotten him severely more lethargic as he slapped his head against his pillow.

Despite everything that had happened to him, he found that his new life was significantly more… Happier, in context. Happier than every moment in the couple of months combined.

He had worked his way into his own daily routine (which, sure, sometimes included stealing) and became his own man (well as manly as a 13 year old could get, so to say).

Sure, the past year hadn't been exactly smooth sailing for the fox. Things had happened that he couldn't change and he had come to terms with that. His grades could be improved of course - along with many other things about himself. He could be more social. Speak up a bit more. Look people in the eyes when he talke-

"I won't ask you to stop, Nick. But I don't want you to get caught. O-or go to prison." Nick's smug smile was immediately swiped from his face. "I've been here for 2 years and… The people I've met have been in and out within weeks… an-and," Finnick paused once more, gathering his thoughts before honestly saying, "You're the best roommate I've ever had, Nick. You're my best friend."

Nick felt a chill run down his spine, followed by a cold sweat.

"And I don't want to lose you too."

Biting his lip, Nick allowed himself to shudder at the memory. Nick had said those very same words before. Even then, they hadn't helped.

The fox didn't know how to respond to the affection. Since it had happened, he had noticed that he had become very standoffish. A wisp of who he used to be, of who he wanted to be. Nick didn't exactly give in to feelings of sentiment. He couldn't afford to anymore. He wouldn't let it.

'Never let them see that they get to you.'

Green eyes wide open - and blankly staring at the popcorned roof of their water damaged ceiling - Nick unknowingly took a large gulp before murmuring out, "You won't Fin. I'll always be here for you, okay?"

He knew it was futile to answer, loss had been a coherent part of the orphanage since it's conception. It had been the ending they would receive from the beginning. They were doomed from the start. Something that he learned the hard way. Something he hoped Finnick would forever remain ignorant to.

But for now, he was more than content with the smaller fennec fox peacefully murmuring underneath him.

So this is it! The beginning of the rework that I've been cooking up in my head for the past year.

And let me apologize for making you guys wait for so long without any updates or any information on my end. I am looking for a way to remedy this and I'll keep you guys updated in the upcoming chapters.

I've been busy working like a maniac, trying to figure out my school situation before I resume my classes, and oh yeah there's that pandemic currently going on.

If you're confused as to why I am reworking this fic, it's mostly because my writing style and original ideas for the direction of this story have changed. I started this fic in 2016 (which was a very long time ago and I am so sorry for the light updates) and I was only 17, now that I am older I've decided that I want to really invest and improve myself with this story! For the most part the bare bones of the story will remain the same, so If you are upset that I am rewriting, please know that I am working to end up exactly where we ended up in the previous iteration. The only difference will be that there will be bigger pay off and more dramatic and character building moments.

I will finish this story. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I will not abandon this story until it's completion. I promise you guys. Scouts honor.

Thank you all so much for putting up with my garbage. The reviews and PM's were my driving force during this hiatus and I am excited to get this ball rolling again. Your support is so incredibly valued and I thank each and every one of you. To the moon and back.

Also I may have changed my username, lets just call it mature rebranding.

Working on the next chapter as I type this. Till then, missed you guys.