Dog Man Dead Petey AU if it were. erm! freaking awesome!

[oneshot #1] Book One Chapter Nine scene rewrite

This was mainly written for a chance to get out of a writing block/burnout. It kinda worked, and I am very glad I was able to improve with my writing ^_^

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The two felines were walking down the rough, sandy-colored side walk. The sky was glummy, shpwing evidence of recent rain. Cars dashed down the street next to the two of them.

It was quiet between them, Sydney didn't even bother to look back at the other. Peter sensed it wasn't a good time to try to talk to her.

The tabby, due to having thinner fur and a disliking for rainy weather, was wearing a small grayish-green jacket. Sydney, as expected, wasn't wearing anything of the sorts.

He felt awkward, to say the least. I mean, they did practically just confirm that Mrs. Lawson had.. killed.. Petey, right? They both should be talking about it. Sydney has now got to know that it was going to be okay.

But.. would it? It would get better between the two of them, right? Peter had at least some hope that they could reunite, and that they could be themselves again.

Recognizing where they were, Peter realized the street for his bus stop was coming up. Sydney would be going the other way.

"Hey, uhm-" Peter tried to clear his throat to tell her. Sydney turned around, raising one eyebrow in confusion.

"This next turn is, uh, my bus stop. So, uhm- I guess this is goodbye? For now?" Peter rubbed the back of his head and avoided eye contact.

"Oh. Alright," She nodded and looked to the side as well. Sydney tried to gather her next words. "I suppose, thanks for telling me what happened earlier, I never would have known."

"W-well- no problem, I really hoped I helped. With today, I mean,"

"Yeah. Well I have a kid to get back to, so. Yeah" Sydney gave an awkward thumbs up. Peter, remembering what he has to go back to, sighed.

"And I have two giant holes in my ceiling to get back to," he said mainly to himself.

"?? How did you get two holes in your ceiling? Huh??" Sydney turned back around, bewildered.

"Oh, that blue robot unfortunately crashed through my ceiling when flying me to your house"

Sydney rubbed her face and sighed. "I thought I told them to stop doing that," she muttered, and Peter was wondering if she had actually been talking about the robot.

"I can pay you the money to get it fixed, it was my robot after all."

"S- Sydney, you don't have to do that, it's alright. I can figure it out myself"

"I used to make and sell robots for a living, I have enough money for 2 holes in your ceiling." She rolled her eyes, mainly wishing that the two could be done talking so she could leave.

"O-Oh. Sydney, that's- that's very kind of you, thank you" For a moment, Peter had a burst of hope that they could be friendly to eachother again.

"It's fine." She glanced to the side and awkwardly shrugged. Peter's moment of hope faded. "Well, uh. Goodbye, i guess,"

Just before she was about to cross the street, Peter somehow worked up the courage to call out to her.

"Hey, uh, before you go-" Sydney stopped again, slight irritation showing on her face. "Maybe- soon- one of these days- uh. We could, uhm. Go somewhere? Officially catch up on things?" He finished with a weak smile.

"Oh, um. I have things to do," one of the calico's ears flicked. "I don't really have much time to do any of that stuff."

"Oh, uh, well. That's, that's okay," The peterbald nodded. "I hope you- you can get everything sorted out."

But Sydney was already out of earshot, leaving Peter officially by himself.

A drop of rain hit his nose, and as if it were mocking him, the sky lit up in a hard storm. Lightning flashed about, and thunder crackled off in the distance.

Peter covered his head up with his jacket hood. He ran under the bus shelter and sat down on the blue bench. While sitting, he wondered if he and Sydney could ever get on good terms. He wondered if they could be something again, if the spark was still there. 

But the candle had already ignited to its fullest burn, and lighting dead wax will simply bring you nothing.

Words: 743