The Bonds of Friendship

The Bonds of Friendship
Cite / Dragato

What does being a friend mean to people? Cite’s thought about that sometimes over the years.

Everyone has a slightly different definition. For most, being friends means having a shared interest in something. Or a shared hatred of something. For some people, it’s just a catch-all term, something to use when it’s rude to call someone an acquaintance.

Most people tend to throw the concept around without thinking about it. Cite doesn’t judge them - friends come in all shapes and sizes, and if they’re happy, kudos to them!

Cite himself never really had friends as a kid. Children liked to pick on the one who was different from them, and friends were a luxury he usually couldn’t afford.

For him, who had never been able to bond with others easily as a child, friendship meant…a lot of things.

To Cite, friends were supposed to be dedicated to each other. They’re comrades, allies through thick and thin. They kept secrets and carried those secrets with them to the grave. They had to be someone you could trust with your whole life.

If you couldn’t completely trust someone you called a friend, then they weren’t really a friend at all.

And if someone you did completely trust, someone you thought had been one of your friends, did something that no friend should ever do–

…

Dragato is special to him.

There was a time when Cite thought he’d never have any friends. He’d been bullied as a kid so much that, by the time he’d moved to Kalmari with his mom, he’d resolved never to reach out to anyone again. Friends, he’d thought, weren’t worth the trouble of getting hurt.

Dragato changed all of that. Dragato was the first person to make him feel seen - to make him feel wanted, like he mattered. No matter how much Cite pushed him away, out of anxiety, out of guilt, not wanting to be a burden, the other always bounced right back with a smile.

Dragato never judged. He never poked fun at Cite’s stutter, or his disability. Dragato was just there, living life with him and offering support whenever Cite needed it, even if Cite didn’t want it.

If it weren’t for him, Cite wouldn’t be anything that he is today. Dragato is a friend, in every sense of that word, and Cite owes him everything.

“I-I don’t underst– and.”

“I know…”

Dragato wouldn’t just cut him off. Dragato is too kind for that. He’s an incredibly giving and selfless person, to his own detriment, even. If Cite stops hearing from him, then something’s happened.

“He d…d…doesn’t answer the phone- anymore, h-he’s never at his house–”

Cite can’t describe how terrifying it feels, not knowing if your best friend is okay. What’s happening? What’s going on? Why won’t he call? Why won’t he pick up? Why won’t he answer the door? Is he safe? Is he even alive? Cite called Dragato’s parents immediately.

“A-And nobody will t…tell me…what’s going on!”

He’s alright, they said. Everything’s okay.

And that’s it. Nothing else. No matter how Cite pressed, no matter how he practically begged, they didn’t tell him anything more. Dragato is okay, and that’s all.

“That is indeed very frustrating…”

“F-F-Frustrating? I-It’s more than frustrating– It’s cruel! It’s been over a month!”

Bate gives Cite a calm look over his tea.

It’s funny how, at any other time, the sight of him would’ve set Cite at ease. The old knight was a steady, easygoing and soft spoken man, and more a father than Cite had ever had of his own; of everyone, Cite trusted him implicitly.

Bate, if nobody else, should’ve been willing to tell him what was happening. Bate knows how close Cite holds his friends. He wouldn’t just sit by and let this happen.

But even Bate won’t say what’s going on.

“I’m sorry, Cite,” Bate says, eventually. His voice is carefully even, devoid of any particular emotion. “Dragato’s reasons are his own; it’s not really my place to say…”

“Really?” Cite snaps, the acid bleeding through his voice. “S-So you admit he’s avoiding me, is that it? That’s why won’t he talk to me? W-Why won’t he sh…show up anywhere? A-And why…nobody, not even you, w-will say anything?”

Bate glances away.

Cite feels his jaw clench as a bitter, ugly feeling curls in his chest. He glares down at the tea in his hands, still warm against his palms, and a bitter, ugly expression glares back at him.

It’s depressing how he had already suspected that. Dragato wouldn’t just drop him - not even when they had their worst fights. Dragato was too kind for that.

But Dragato had dropped him.

Friends are supposed to rely on each other. They’re supposed to be those people you could come to about anything without fear of being judged or hurt. Cite has relied on Dragato so much throughout his life, and he’d always hoped that Dragato knew he could rely on Cite too.

He’d been a good friend, hadn’t he? He’d done everything he could to be the best friend he could be to Dragato for all those years looking after him. Had Cite not proven himself? Was he still relying on Dragato too much? Did Dragato finally just get sick of it all, after years of carrying Cite’s burdens?

That bitter feeling crawls its way from his chest to his throat. His hands tighten around the porcelain of the tea cup, squeezing as a tremor runs through him. His reflection looks at him accusingly.

Rationally, Cite knows - there’s nothing he could have done to prompt this. His thoughts make no sense, and how Dragato is acting has nothing to do with him.

But, irrationally…

Cite’s voice comes out incredibly small. “What did I do wrong…?”

…He wants to beat Dragato over the head with his crutch and yell at him for making him feel this way.

The quiet is heavy over the living room. Whatever Bate is thinking, Cite doesn’t look up to see it. He shouldn’t have even bothered coming here; of course Bate was never going to say anything about one of his own, much less to someone who had barged in uninvited.

“...He’s with his parents, out of town. He’ll be back this evening.”

Cite looks over.

Bate lets out a sigh that is long and slow and labored. He stares down at the floor as his brow furrows with the weight of years of burdens.

“I can’t say why he’s acting this way,” The old teacher murmurs, and his tone makes him sound very unenthusiastic about that fact, “It isn’t my place. But I can agree that this is… out of hand. And certainly not the way a friend should be treated. You deserve to know this much, at least.”

Cite stares at him.

It is by all accounts the first solid piece of information he’s gotten on his best friend in…over a month. No, it’s not much, but Cite can recognize it for what it is: a lead.

Anything - anything! - is better than nothing at this point.

Cite’s shoulders sag. “Thank you,” He mutters, “...And I’m sorry for yelling. And coming uninvited. All of that was uncalled for.”

“Anyone would act the way you did if they were in your place. You did nothing wrong, Cite.”

Cite twitches.

He takes his leave not long after that.

As he makes his way off of Bate’s property and back onto the path to town, his mind turns, poring over questions, ideas - plans. He walks with purpose.

If Dragato won’t come to him, won’t even meet him halfway… Well, Cite is just going to have to force him to.

---------------------------------------------------------

Cite makes sure Vera knows he probably won’t be back until late. She, in her infinite wisdom, gives him something to eat and a bland, knowing look that tells him not to do anything crazy.

Dragato’s house is about the same as Cite remembers it being the last four times he’d dropped by. It’s not a very big place, but it has a sizable front yard and the back stretches on into the open Kalmari fields like most of the country homes here do.

Cite looks at all of the burrows and holes dug into the ground as he makes his way up to the door. Once or twice he has to pause to maneuver one of his forearm crutches so he doesn’t get stuck and trip, but he’s not mad about it, nor is he surprised. Tali would dig wherever Tali pleased, and no amount of coaxing or cajoling from her papa would be stopping her.

Speaking of Tali, he thinks, the bench beside the front door looks absolutely hammered. Bite marks and gouges are torn into the wood, some of which appear fresh. He has to be very ginger with how he sits down so it doesn’t just collapse on a broken leg.

He remembers when Dragato had told him of her hatching - absolutely beside himself, for a lot of reasons. As happy as he was to be a father, he hadn’t expected a baby Zoos to hatch.

“I bet you’re glad about the bigger house now, huh?” Cite had guffawed. Dragato had practically asked for a shack; didn’t want to impose, he said. Not on Cite’s life.

She’s a real firecracker, Tali. He dreads when she and Gryll have their first playdate.

If they have their first playdate.

Cite’s eyes narrow. Anger simmers in his gut, and he takes a deep breath to cool it down.

He looks across the front yard, scanning the holes dug into the dirt, the chewed up, broken toys littered everywhere. He gazes at the path that leads from Dragato’s home and winds off to fork in different directions. One road leads to the plaza. Another, to the forest, the trees of which he can see as a green backdrop in the distance.

That’s where Dragato is going to come from.

Cite’s plan is this: he is going to sit here. And he is going to wait until Dragato shows up. And he doesn’t care how long it takes. He is not moving from this spot, even if has to camp out here the whole night.

He will find out what’s going on even if he has to force the words out of Dragato’s mouth.

The sun shines down warmly on his mantle. Cite hunkers down as it begins to make its slow descent towards the horizon.

…

…

…

The world always looks so different when it’s dark.

The position of the sun is pivotal in understanding how light interacts with the color and shading of an object. When observed at mid-day, the color temperature tends to be neutral - the yard is a vivid, bright green and the road is an assortment of earthy tones neither vivid nor dull. Neutral whites tend to keep someone awake.

As the sun shifts, however, the spectrum changes. The sun descends and the light of the environment takes on a warm ambience as the sky goes from blue to red. Greens look deeper, duller like a kind of verdun, while browns start to look richer, like dark mahogany. Shadows stretch as the light hits everything at a more narrow angle. Relaxing - used in restaurants and bars a lot.

Eventually, for a short period of time, almost everything is a beautiful, striking array of reds, oranges, and yellows. And then, as the sun starts to set completely, the lack of light forces the environment to darken as the eye loses the ability to perceive it.

Cite often enjoys painting scenes like these. There’s something about the softness of the colors and the gentility of the light that makes someone have to pause and process. A bright, sunny day at the market is easy to take in, but here, the environment relies on every scrap of light it can find to show itself to the viewer. With only the light of the moon and stars to rely on, all of the colors become a blanket of cool, dark hues with only a hint of lighting to emphasize their shape and hue.

Had he brought a sketchbook with him, he would’ve put the scenery to paper. It definitely would’ve killed the boredom.

Cite doesn’t know how much time’s passed. The sun set a good while ago and everything is mostly dark but for the glittering night sky above offering what little light it had. He can feel the nip of hunger in his stomach and the pull of exhaustion in his eyes, and he’s had to get up several times now to keep the stiffness from sinking into his limbs.

Where is Dragato? Bate had said late, but surely not this late? Cite did swear to camping out if he had to, but he didn’t expect NOVA to call his bluff.

It occurs to Cite that Dragato could very well be staying with his parents for the night. He gets a headache just thinking about it and decides immediately that he doesn’t care. Dragato isn’t avoiding him again and if he has to take himself into those woods and track that man down himself–

“Hurry, papa!!”

“I am, I am…!”

…Cite pauses.

He looks off to where the path from the house veers into the inky black. From far away, two voices reach him distantly, steadily growing louder as their owners get closer. They’re hard to see, but the moonlight gives him just enough to make out a few hints, and they grow more defined as they travel down the road towards the house.

He squints his eyes - a child on all fours, running around an adult with a pair of massive wings.

Honestly, it’s unnecessary. He’d know those voices anywhere.

Cite sits up immediately, ignoring the stiff protest in his limbs. The abruptness of it makes the bench below him creak in protest, threatening to upend him if he’s not careful.

Tali scampers on up ahead of her father in the direction of home, tearing off of the main road and onto the path on the property. There’s a big grin on her little face as she crosses into the yard, hopping over each hole like a galloping steed without even looking. Tiny claws dig into the dirt, shredding it behind her and leaving her father, almost literally, in the dust.

Dragato moves slower, and Cite can see why. Most of his form is hidden behind an absolutely massive stack of packages held in his arms. Each step he takes is calculated, carefully maneuvering around each hole and toy in the yard as he follows his daughter up to the door. He can’t see where he’s going - no wonder they’d been so late.

They haven’t changed a bit, Cite thinks vaguely.

Every part of him had been preparing for this moment. He’d thought his questions over so much while he’d sat here for hours on end with nothing to do but think: What happened? Why? Is Dragato okay? Where has he been? What is wrong with him?

It’s odd that, now that Dragato is actually here, Cite doesn’t know what to do. There’s a part of him, the angry part, the betrayed child inside him, that wants to shout. Scream. Do something he’d regret. He can feel that anger simmering in his belly the longer he thinks about it.

Another part wants to grovel. Apologize and beg for forgiveness for doing something that upset Dragato so badly that he had to cut all contact. That, too, comes from that little kid inside him.

Neither of them are rational. Both of them butt heads violently. And underneath all of that, the more rational part of him, the adult who knows he did nothing wrong– desperately wants to know if Dragato is okay.

He’s…afraid to move. He’s afraid that if he does, he’s going to do something stupid, and then Dragato’s going to run away again.

“Tali?” Dragato’s voice comes muffled.

Cite looks down.

Tali stares at him.

In a lot of ways Tali is so much like his own daughter. A strong kid, with a zest for adventure. An endless well of energy and the big appetite to prove it. It got her in trouble more often than not, since she didn’t know her own massive strength and followed her impulses like any kid did. The bench below him is a fine example.

Gryll did the same. Impulsive, unaware of the chaotic nature of her powers and how they could adversely affect people, him included. It was something that Cite had had to work with her a lot on so she wouldn’t accidentally hurt him. No, he couldn’t play with her the way she wanted with his physical limitations, but they could sit and draw together, and Gryll loved being helpful. She took great joy in levitating anything Cite challenged her to bring to him.

“Father Ramset?” Dragato calls. “...Is that you there?”

It’s an easy thing to apply to Tali who deals with the same challenges as Gryll does. Tali loves fetching things for him, and she’s always so excited to get him anything he needs. When they aren’t doing that, Cite and Tali also play board games and do crafts together, provided she doesn’t eat anything.

“Father Gravel? Erh. Falspar?”

Sometimes, they’d just look at each other. See who of them could make the funniest expression. When she stares at him now, Cite makes sure to stare back with comical intensity, giving her a big blink that makes her tail thump against the ground.

It goes back and forth like this for a minute, Dragato’s voice nothing but a bit of background fuzz. Cite ignores him for a second, to clear his head and because he hasn’t seen his niece in awhile and he’s missed her.

Tali wrinkles her snout. Cite squints one eye while the other goes wide. Tali grins, full of sharp teeth, her smile so big it creases her little eyes.

Cite squints his eyes really, really hard and leans forward. Tali’s frills stand alert on her head and her whole little body leans forward, wound like a spring.

“...Nonsurat? Anybody?”

Cite gestures. Come here! He seems to say.

And Tali is off like a rocket. “Uncle Cite!”

Dragato goes very, very still.

----------------------------------------------------

Dragato tries to turn Cite away, naturally. Says it’s late, sorry for missing Cite’s calls, they can catch up tomorrow in the plaza. Cite can’t see his face but he knows the man is sweating bullets.

Naturally, Cite lands a hand on his shoulder. It’s no trouble, he says. In fact, he’s been waiting for them! He insists they go inside and talk, catch up. He won’t be long.

“Please?”

Dragato is quiet as he lets them in.

Tali scampers inside with a loud yip as he flips the lights on and Cite takes a second to adjust his eyes as Dragato walks off into the kitchen, scanning his gaze around the living room.

“And I thought Gryll was a storm!” He can’t help laughing, “You’re a real Scarfy, aren’t you Tali!”

The house has probably seen better days since her arrival here, and his absence has just given Tali more time to redecorate. There’s probably not one thing in here that hasn’t seen the sharp ends of her teeth: furniture, walls, even the floor has been a chew toy at some point. Cite has to be mindful of the holes torn into the couch cushions as he sits down.

Tali perks her head up from her spot on the living room floor at the sound of her name, gnawing on the toy in her mouth with extreme prejudice. As he takes off his crutches and sets them aside, she ambles over and practically spits the toy into his lap. Cite looks it over.

“Got you some new things to play with, I see,” He says to her, running his hand across the rough texture of it. This toy’s not one he recognizes; it’s made of leather, sewn into the vague shape of an animal, and where Tali’s bitten he can see the chew marks embedded into the material. She snorts and goes to grab another, flopping down onto her back and biting into it with a force that he knows would have broken bone. “Finally find something to match your bite, huh? Bet you’re happy!”

Tali barks proudly. Cite chuckles.

Dragato returns eventually. Cite can feel him hovering to the side more than he can see him, and only after a few minutes does Dragato enter his view. The other doesn’t look at him - he keeps his eyes averted as he hands his daughter a bone which she latches onto excitedly. A snack.

Cite waits.

Dragato eventually sits in the chair opposite of him.

It’s surreal to be talking to his best friend again, Cite thinks. It shouldn’t be; learning what Dragato’s been up to all this time shouldn’t feel this surreal, like some riveting discovery. He tells Cite about Tali and about his new job in the family business making fireworks. Cite asks about her new toys - North Novan leather, Dragato says. Perfect for a girl like her. Her grandpa Gravel made them.

Cite catches him up in turn. Gryll’s been working with her mother practicing her powers a bit more lately. His latest art restoration project is almost done. Cite tells him about the kids’ art workshop he’d hosted in the Plaza two weeks ago; he’d been hoping to see Tali if they happened to pass by.

They talk, long enough that Tali eventually ends up going and curling on Dragato’s lap with a big yawn. Eventually, Dragato has to excuse himself to go put her to bed.

Eventually, he returns. Eventually, it’s just the two of them.

And Cite just…looks at him. For a long time.

He’d had a thought once earlier today, while he was at Bate’s house. That Dragato would never drop him, especially out of the blue. Of course that turned out to be wrong, but between then and now Cite had had a realization, sitting there on the bench.

Years ago, long before either of them had families, back when Dragato had been a soldier, Cite had often sent him letters. They’d been day to day things, mostly; how he was doing, how his art exhibitions had been taking off, how things were with the folk at home. Dragato was his best friend, and being light years apart hadn’t changed that.

Cite never had gotten a response. At the time, he just figured Dragato had been busy. Was he upset about it? Yes. Very much. But he’d never begrudged the warrior. Dragato would never just drop him, so he figured his time in the army took a lot of his attention.

He’d been wrong. Dragato had been receiving his letters, and he’d had plenty of time to write back - he just never did. In fact he hadn’t even been reading them.

All of that’s water under the bridge these days. Dragato had been stuck in a situation that’d been killing him, and he beat himself up for his behavior far more than Cite ever could’ve. Cite hadn’t been angry when all was said and done. It was years ago.

But it still did hurt. Cite apparently didn’t know his friend as well as he thought.

He takes a deep breath.

“Out with it.”

Dragato twitches. His wings stiffen. He won’t look at him.

“No calls. No visits. You’re never home when I drop by. And your fathers conveniently won’t tell me anything. Nobody will. Not Bate, not Falspar… It’s enough to make anyone worry, let alone your best friend, you know?”

Dragato’s expression pinches. He says nothing.

Cite feels his skin crawl. It’s an ugly sensation, nothing like the cold prick of fear but something much more electric. Something that begs to be let out as his voice starts to tick up.

“Do you know how worried I was? Do you know how sick at my stomach I was, how many calls I left? I looked for you everywhere. The plaza, the forest. I went to your house and you were never there.” Cite glares. “Or were you there and just refusing to open the door.”

He can see his friend flinch as if stung. The sight of it - the acknowledgement - makes his blood boil.

He thought they were friends. Friends trusted each other.

He thought they were friends.

Cite knows he needs to keep calm. He knows he needs to keep a level head about this, needs to keep his voice even. He can’t act like this, not when there’s a child in another room. He doesn’t want to do something he’ll regret.

But–

“I thought you were dead.” Why has Dragato been avoiding him? “I thought I did something that upset you.” Why has Dragato been avoiding him.

That seems to get his friend talking. Dragato jerks and looks at him wide-eyed. “What? No, that’s not–”

“Then why are you avoiding me!” What did he do wrong!

Dragato withers, and it feels good to see in a vindictive, irrational, emotional way–

“I’m sorry, okay! I’m– sorry! So, so sorry…! I know I shouldn’t have, I just–...!”

And then Cite immediately feels sick to his stomach.

He quiets.

Cite takes a great, deep breath and lets it out slowly. Once, twice.

He’s…been hurt a lot in his life. The fact that Dragato would hurt him the way everyone else has, the fact that he’d leave him alone, just like that… It’s.

It’s not Dragato.

And despite everything about how he feels, this…isn’t what Cite wants.

The silence blankets the room. Dragato has practically scooted back into his chair, trying to absorb himself into the cushions. Dragato’s never seen his friend this angry, much less at him. Cite can imagine the shock.

Cite…gives him time. And then, quietly, very, very calmly, tells him, “I am worried about you. I am your friend. I want to help. And I want to know what is going on.”

He’s more than his emotions and he’s more than his own heartache. He is worried.

Another beat passes in which Dragato refuses to acknowledge him. He’s looking everywhere in his effort to avoid Cite’s gaze, staring at a chunk torn into the wall, staring down at the threadbare padding of the armrest of his chair. His gaze skims briefly towards the door.

He hesitates. His voice, when he speaks, is so quiet that Cite has to lean forward to hear him. “I’ve…been having some troubles.” A pause. “Erh. Financially.”

Cite blinks.

…That.

He hadn’t been expecting that of all things. Just because, well.

Dragato does know that Cite’s disgustingly wealthy, right? He does know that he could’ve just said something? Cite’s told him a million times, if he wants anything, he just has to ask. Cite could and would buy him quite possibly anything he wanted.

He almost opens his mouth to tell him that; luckily, he still has the common sense not to.

Dragato tells him the story in stilted words. About how much he loves his daughter, and how he could never imagine a life without her. About how he’d do anything for her, even if it meant moving the entire cosmos. He spends a lot of time emphasizing just how much he cares about Tali.

It’s not her fault, he mutters, for being in an environment that isn’t meant for her. That she had to hatch into the care of a man who had no job and no way of expecting parenthood to fall into his lap.

Dragato plucks at the threads of his armchair. It’s horribly frayed, stuffing threatening to spill over where the threads have been cut.

It hadn’t been so bad at first. But the more things Tali destroyed, the more Dragato had to replace. And the more Dragato had to replace, the less money he had. Eventually, he mutters, it started becoming a struggle just to even get groceries, much less afford new glasses.

“My insulin pump broke eventually,” Dragato says, “...I couldn’t afford a new one. Teacher Bate… He bought one for me. Talked to me. Got me to speak to my parents who set me up with a job in the family business.”

He hesitates.

“I know I should have told you. I’m…so, so sorry. I just… You’ve done so much for me already, Cite. This house, the furniture… You’ve been so generous giving me and Tali a place to call home. I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing how much I– wasted it. Of you seeing what a failure of a…a Star Warrior and a father I am.

“I got scared. I’m sorry.”

The silence hangs deep.

…

…

…

Cite–

“You could have died.”

“I know…”

“You could have died.”

“I kn–”

“You knew I had money to help. You know I would have gotten you another insulin pump. I would have gotten you everything. You could have died.”

Cite feels like he’s going to throw up.

Dragato squeezes his eyes shut. Cite swallows down the urge to scream look at me!

“What were you thinking?” Cite asks, demands. His voice raises, and raises. “You know how important it is to you! You’ve told me since we were kids– you need it to live. If it breaks, you could die. What were you thinking! Dragato!”

“I…don’t know.”

Cite can’t stop shaking. He can feel his breath starting to get shallow, can feel it starting to quicken. His vision feels fuzzy at the edges, and he can’t tell if it's the lack of air or the cold-hot adrenaline screaming through his entire body making everything in him tremble.

“Y-You don’t know. You don’t know what you were thinking? Yeah, I can t-tell. Otherwise y-you would have called. You know I’d have helped. You know I’d do anything for you! You know! But you’d– what. You’d rather suck it up and…die? Leave Tali fatherless? Your parents without a son? Because you think I care? About any of this? Because y…y…you’re stubborn?”

He needs to shut up. He needs to stop. He can’t do anything stupid. He can’t wake Tali up. But his breath leaves him just short of a gasp, over and over, and he has to fight so hard not to take his crutch beside him and throw it.

Why? The question won’t leave him. Why doesn’t Dragato trust him? Why doesn’t Dragato accept his help? Why does Dragato think he cares about a stupid house or a stupid furniture set?

Dragato could have died.

Why won’t Dragato trust him?

“You make it sound so easy, Cite.”

Dragato’s voice cuts. Cite looks, thrown to silence.

Dragato’s never been angry at him before. Dragato is a kind man, someone who doesn’t get angry easily. If he does, it’s for a very good reason, and Cite’s never ever wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

Dragato sits up with his wings just short of flaring out to their full great size, barred only by the chair he sits in. His hand grips the armrest. His expression is twisted into something that gets progressively uglier the longer he speaks. Fingers dig terribly into the chair beneath them.

“Do you know how hard it is to ask for money, Cite? Do you know how I had to feel, every day, for years, asking for money for things that I should be able to afford? To know I had to keep relying on hand-outs just to support my daughter and I? That I’m such a failure that I can’t even afford food for Tali to eat, much less my own medication!”

Cite says nothing.

“Maybe you don’t get it because you’re blessed enough to have the financial success that comes with your hard work. You don’t know how it feels to be in that position. Asking for money like some freeloader. Leeching off of someone else’s achievements.”

Maybe Dragato sees something in Cite’s expression. Maybe he realizes just how defensive his posture has gotten. Abruptly, he deflates. Wings sag as his face falls. He practically collapses back into his chair.

He looks tired.

“You’ve been more of a friend than I’ve ever deserved, Cite. I just don’t want to be a burden to you anymore.”

…

The light flickers minutely in the living room.

“You’re an idiot, Dragato.”

Cite doesn’t look at him. Cite refuses. He grabs his forearm crutches, holding them by the handles with one hand for support. He leans forward, his other hand on the armrest of the couch, and prepares to get up.

Simple. Practiced. Done it a million times. When he was a kid he sometimes dropped them. Someone always had to pick them up. Dragato often did.

“Cite?”

Dragato’s voice comes out weak.

Dragato had to help him with groceries. Had to help him move things around. They travelled together for a very long time before Cite got to where he is today; Dragato had been his bodyguard - and practically his caregiver.

And Dragato thinks he’s the burden?

“If you think you’re a burden, Dragato, then what do you think that makes me?” Cite utters. “I can’t run. I can’t climb. I can’t even walk without help. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“I–”

“Dragato, please help. Dragato, can you grab that? Can you carry that for me? Can you slow down? Can we take a break? I can’t play that game. Go on without me, Dragato. Don’t worry about me, Dragato. Remember that?”

Children didn’t stick around kids who were different. Adults didn’t like going out of their way all the time for someone who just kept asking and asking for things.

“Do you know how that feels? To have to ask for help for almost everything? Money doesn’t fix that, Dragato. This is my entire life. Embarrassment, shame, and self-loathing.”

He stops moving. He barely even realizes he’d been moving, pacing around the room. When he stops and his vision comes back into focus, he finds Dragato looking at him quietly.

Cite sags.

“You think I don’t get it? It’s hard and it makes you feel like you’re not worth anything. Of course I get it. But, Dragato–”

He moves. Moves until Dragato is beside him, sits down with the weight of the exhaustion of this entire month. When he looks at Dragato’s worn, haggard face, he wonders if he looks the same way.

They’re so alike.

“...That’s what friends are for,” Cite murmurs. “They’re people who love you. People who care. Even when everything seems pointless. Why do you think I relied on you so much?”

The whole time, he thought Dragato had known that. And maybe he had; but Cite had been so wrapped up in his own worries that he hadn’t really stopped to consider how Dragato might see himself for taking space.

Dragato, the guy who never wants to impose. The guy who lets someone cut in front of him in line. The guy who always tries to seem a bit smaller so he doesn’t spook anyone.

The guy who withdraws when something happens and doesn’t say anything about it.

Cite wonders who, or what, hurt him.

He feels like an idiot.

“You don’t have to hide this, Dragato. You never did, not from me. Money means nothing to me. You, Dragato, mean the absolute world, to me and to everyone else.”

Cite looks at him.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re so loved, Dragato. I want you to trust that. Trust me the way I’ve trusted you all these years. Please.”

Dragato shudders. He lets out a harsh breath and sniffs, reaching up to rub his eyes behind his glasses. Cite reaches out and squeezes Dragato’s free hand, holding him through it. Ready to hold him through anything.

“Friends to the end, remember?” Cite smiles.

“Friends to the end,” Dragato agrees thickly. “Thank you, Cite.”

Dragato leans over and wraps Cite in a hug. It’s heavy, warm, reassuring to the core, and Cite returns it with all the force he can muster as he feels his own eyes burn.
Friends are people who are always there for each other, through thick and thin. No matter what, they stick together, from the highest highs to the lowest lows, because they trust each other. Cite’s believed this since he was very young.

He thinks Dragato is finally starting to believe it too.

-End-

Artist Comment:

June 5, 2025

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*Small disclaimer. The friendship Dragato and Cite share is one of my favorite, and I put them on the level of Bate and Gordon. They are essentially brothers in a way. So if use words like “Love” or “Deeply care” I mean that platonically. They are NOT lovers, and will never be. That’s all~

This story is a continuation to this one here.

A month or so passes, and Dragato has been avoiding Cite until he's financially stable enough where he can replace and repair all the broken furniture Cite bought him. He's really ashamed and embarrassed of himself for not being stable in his finances to purchase basic necessities without the need of relying on someone for help. He was mortified what Cite (the one who had Dragato's home built and fully paid for) would think of him if he saw the absolute horrendous state of the house. He wanted to wait before talking to Cite again.

Ignoring Cite may have not been the best way to handle such a thing. Actually, that was probably the worst thing Dragato could ever do to him. Cite does not handle radio silence well, and he goes through waves of emotions for the entire month- worried, mad, anxious, frustrated. Cite thought he was hurt, or Cite thought he has done something wrong to anger him- just a flurry of scenarios going through his mind until he finally had enough and decided to confront him on it.

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So, there's a lot I wanna talk about. It may get muddled because both characters are so alike, but in different ways and I may ramble about some things when comparing it.

First and foremost is Cite's willingness to help those in his life. For Cite, the bonds and friendships he's made in are incredibly important to him. There's a lot I haven't revealed about Cite's childhood, or his past town and bullies, but he does hold lots of trauma and trust issues from it. As a kid, Cite has fully expected, and accepted that he will never have those types of bonds in his life. He was heavily bullied- made fun of because of his stutter or disability. Those in his old town would constantly mock and make fun of him, and see him as a burden. In turn ,Cite saw himself as that as well.

Kindness and acceptance is an extremely powerful thing.

Dragato is the first one in Cite’s life who has ever showed that kind of support and kindness to him. Dragato never judged him, and never saw him as a burden. He’d never make him feel excluded if he couldn’t do anything.

And this meant the absolute world to Cite. Cite has always been embarrassed that he couldn’t do what his friends could do. When a game of tag suddenly breaks out, or a heated race begins, Dragato doesn’t go running off like everyone else. Cite has never felt that feeling of disconnect or loneliness like back in his old home.

Before he moved to Kalmari, anytime Cite asked his old friends to slow down, they’d usually just laugh and run faster. Or when they play games, they always exclude him, or argue which team has to be paired up with him. They made him feel like he wasn’t important enough, or dead weight to their group. And he absolutely hated the feeling of being singled out because he couldn’t do what his friends can.

But Dragato never made him feel like that. Dragato would always make sure to include him when all their friends would get together. I can’t express how much this meant to Cite, to have a place of belonging and being accepted despite his differences.

As time went on, (After this story here where Dragato left the GSA to live and travel with Cite.) the bond between them only grows stronger. So! This needs to be said, but not only was Dragato a bodyguard for Cite during their travels, he basically his caregiver as well. If you know anything about being a caregiver, it can be a very demanding job at times. Dragato basically stuck to Cite for the next several years. If Cite needed help with something Dragato helped with it. Any sort of assistance- opening doors, carrying bags, shopping, cleaning, packing luggage, Dragato did it. Cite is able, but he does need help every now and then. Dragato being Dragato didn’t mind. He likes helping his friend, and spending time with him.

Cite, who has relied of Dragato a lot in his life, retuned that kindness with kindness of his own. Cite is in a situation where he is incredibly wealthy. I mentioned before how filthy rich he is because of his profession. He has more money than he knows what to do with, and he uses that money to help those who have helped him in the past. This is how Cite shows his appreciation. If Dragato is willing to help him with just about anything, then Cite can do the same and support him any way he could- this also includes paying Dragato for being his bodyguard and caregiver. Cite would also purchase anything Dragato needs as well.

Dragato means everything to Cite. Dragato is not only the first person to offer his hand in friendship, he also helped Cite feel wanted and loved. He put his trust in Dragato, and Cite knows he can always rely on his friend during his most vulnerable moments. He made him feel like he was worth something. Cite holds those feelings close, and will never not be grateful of everything his friend has done for him.

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Dragato doesn’t feel like he deserves the kindness Cite has given him. Dragato doesn’t believe helping Cite carry a few bags, or opening doors (He’s REALLY downplaying it. Dragato has done way more) is worth Cite spending so much on him. Cite has given him an income for it, and even purchased him a house when Dragato decided to move out of Cite’s home once Vera started to live with him.

During the story where Dragato’s insulin pump broke, he didn’t want to go to Cite because he felt like he was a freeloader. (Even though Cite has stated many times he is not) When Dragato finally told Cite about it, well, you know how it went. Cite was at a lost for words. He was mad, he was furious, his best friend almost died, even though he knew he had money to purchase a new one for him.

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So! I’d like to discuss a few things about this. I can completely understand where both parties are coming from.

I can understand why Dragato is hesitant in asking for help. The pump is 5000$. This is a huge chunk of change, and I can see why he didn’t want to reach out and ask for such a large amount of money.

Dragato has his own burden to deal with, and I’d like to compare it to real life in these passages. Dragato has been training his whole life for something he truthfully never wanted to do. As he grew older, Dragato realized he didn’t want to be in the GSA. He wanted to be an artist. Sadly, Dragato didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to disappoint his comrades or his teachers. So he continued training and eventually left for the GSA.

= Please note , Ramset and Gravel would NEVER have been upset or disappointed in Dragato wanting to change his mind.

Dragato couldn’t even finish several months on duty before he had to leave. He was absolutely miserable there, and wanted to travel and be with Cite. Everyone supported his decision about him leaving the GSA, and a huge wave of pressure was lifted from Dragato.

Once Tali entered his life, Dragato didn’t have much of an income coming in. He was a freelance photographer at best, and his savings from Cite was starting to dry up. Dragato had to rely on the kindness of others for food, or money. He felt ashamed that he couldn’t afford the basic necessities for his child, and even himself- his medication is expensive, and things were becoming very tight.

A lot of things could stem to why Dragato didn’t want help. He claims he put himself in this position, and he has to get himself out of it. In his mind, he threw away a good paying job (The GSA) to leave to become a freelance artist.

(In real life, one can see that as someone leaving their high paying office job to pursue their passion as an artist. Or something along the lines of that. And if one were to fail at their goal, they’d be too ashamed or embarrassed to go to their parents or friends for help.) I know not everyone will do such a thing, but for Dragato, he felt shame and embarrassment. Dragato feels like he let everyone down. He’s not a solider, he’s not successful, he doesn’t have a job. And he’s too ashamed to let anyone know.

Another reason as to why Dragato didn’t want to ask Cite is actually pretty sad. When Dragato would accompany Cite to many of his art gallery openings, they were held in very high-classy areas. (Think Les and Callan wealth.) While Cite had to mingle with the attendees, Dragato would usually just walk around and look at the art or talk to others. There have been some who would mock or belittle Dragato. They’d call him a freeloader or a leech. They’d compare Dragato like a stray dog. And Cite supporting his ‘pathetic’ childhood friend probably because he feels bad for him.

=Again, obviously NOT true. Cite supports Dragato for reasons I mentioned above.

This greatly effects Dragato. And even though Cite has reassured Dragato countless times, he is still hesitant on relying on Cite.

I think it all boils down to Dragato not wanting to be a disappointment to those around him. All of his comrades have found success in their life- their families, their job, their significant other- While Dragato is struggling being jobless and a single father.

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Both of them- Cite and Dragato see themselves as a burden to the other while at the same time don’t think that way about the other. Both are so alike, and both love and care for the other in ways that many in their lifetime may never get to experience.

Dragato has helped Cite negate the feelings of being a burden, and now it’s Cite turn to make sure Dragato feels the same.

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Anyways! I feel like I have SO much more to say, I feel like I'm missing so much, but I'll stop for now. I so do love Cite and Dragato so much! I’ve long taken down a story about them. It was called “The House on Top” and it just delved into Dragato trying to befriend and Cite, and their growing friendship along the way. I have a few unposted snippets about how Cite views himself, and a small (unfinished) timeskip when his bullies returned to Kalmari. It’s a good thing that wasn’t finished, because Dragato is deathly protective of Cite and would’ve slaughtered them for harming his best friend! But since we’re talking about Cite and Dragato, I’ll post it, and you can read them here~!

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The absolutely amazing literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess) ^v^ Thank you so much again for all your hard work!

Also, this was the original sketch I had made for it. But I wanted something sweeter. x)