Written with RoaryTheFygar 's permission Contains the aftermath of blueberry inflation, isolation, depression, and recovery Naomi gently pulled the wooden blinds down, peeking outside with a forlorn sigh. It was a bright day out, cloudless from what she could see. She could feel the warmth of the sun emanating from the window, and a desire to go out and bask in it welled up from within. She let go of the blinds and stepped away, looking down and sniffling. Her midsection was still bloated and blue, the constant weight present that disgusted and embarrassed her to no end. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this. She would never hear the end of it. Even now she could imagine them laughing at her stupid appearance. Gritting her teeth and forcefully tugging her ill-fitting shirt down to cover as much as possible, she stormed off to the bathroom. It didn’t help her mood when she felt the juice trapped inside sloshing about. She leant over her sink, hair falling over her left eye, paws clutching the edges of the porcelain and stomach pressing uncomfortably against it. She glared into the mirror, taking in and hating every detail she saw. Her eyes used to be green. Her unkempt and frayed hair had been a dark brunette. Her fur was a pale yellow before this. Not anymore. All of it was blue. That same sickening shade, it was all over her. Every part of her, even her tongue and teeth bore that color. Tears began to run down her cheeks, her jaws clenched in outrage and frustration. Why her. Why this. Why? Why wouldn’t this leave her? Why was she still scarred from that one terrible day?! She bellowed at the top of her lungs, staring her reflection in the eye. Her voice echoed through her empty home, and she began to see just what was ahead of her. She couldn’t see anyone. She couldn’t talk to her friends or people in general. No one could know how she looked, except Abby. Yes, Abby. She could… She could stay by her side. Tell her it was okay.. She knew what had happened, she had been the one who saved her. But she had been gone for a few days. Naomi vaguely remembered it being a previously scheduled business trip. If it was long she would need to order food to the door, how much did she have in the pantry? Hold that thought… The color. It could also come out with time. It would. It had to. Maybe it just needed her to wait a bit longer. She just had to quarantine. Yes, that was it… She just needed to stay home, she was… she was ill, that’s all. Nagging doubt clawed at the edges of her mind, threatening to upend the fragile hope she had begun to cultivate. No. She just needed… time. And Abby. *** Click. Fuck, as if it weren’t enough that she had to quarantine away from everyone else, Abby couldn’t come. Not even guaranteed within the month, work had decided to extend her stay indefinitely. Naomi just sat there on the couch, putting her phone down, leaning back, and staring at the blank TV on the other side of the room. Scratch that one social interaction. Looks like it’s just her. Indefinitely. Or until the color leaves. Like hell the color would leave, her arm was still as blue as ever, her entire body was still blue. No, no. She couldn’t get caught up in this. She… She needed something positive. Oh for the love of God, what about this was positive?! She was stuck like a discolored and partially inflated balloon! How would she go to work?! How would she get food?! She began to freak out again, her breathing sharp and quick. Her eyes began to well up with tears, her only bit of hope having been dashed to the side of the road, plummeted to the bottom of a mud puddle and stomped on by multiple obnoxious children playing in it. She leant forward, resting her head in her hands and softly beginning to cry. She let the tears come as they wished, feeling too overwhelmed to stop them. Dark thoughts started to make themselves known, a vision of an insane version of her plunging scissors into her belly, letting herself burst in a splash of juice. Laughter echoed from around her, her cheeks burned from embarrassment. Her friends, random strangers, everyone was laughing at her. She grabbed her head by the ears, trying to block out the noise as tears continued to fall. Her jaw clenched and her voice struggled to make itself audible. She whimpered and whined as the laughter continued, eventually fading down behind her sobs. *** Ding Dong. The doorbell rang, startling Naomi out of her depressed stupor. She blinked and grabbed the stack of bills on the end table, getting up and walking carefully to the door. Holding the mail slot open with a finger, she inserted the bills through and waited until they were taken. “Thank you,” A young adolescent voice called from the other side, “Have a good day.” Yeah, right. Naomi waited until she heard a car start up and drive away before unlocking and cracking open the door. She peeked through the opening, looking out at the dark neighborhood. Reaching up and flicking off the porch light, she opened the door and snatched the paper bag containing her food for the night. Shutting the door harshly and hurrying to the kitchen, she put the bag on the counter and opened a cupboard to grab a paper plate. Her hand was met with empty air and she cursed herself internally as she remembered she had run out a few days ago. She had been running out of supplies for a while now, her regular dinner items being fully consumed a few days into her quarantine and the quick-to-prepare meals having fully gone after the first week. Despite everything, she found her appetite incredibly unreliable. Some days she’d crave something like a steak cooked to a medium well, others like today she’d just want quick takeout from the nearest fast food joint, and for a while she didn’t want anything to eat at all. Only when her body desperately cried out for sustenance did she bother to get up from her bed or her couch. She took the bag of food and sat back down on the couch, reaching into the bag and pulling out a plain sandwich. Another odd thing about her appetite; she found she no longer cared what she ate. If anything, it was the least of her problems. What with her and her balloon of a gut- She put a hand to her gut, expecting to find a soft cushion. Instead she felt solid flesh, a lack of body fat. Wait. The juice. It… it was gone?! She looked down, dropping the burger on the floor and pulling up her shirt. Sure enough, her stomach… it was flat. Her unbridled excitement at this discovery was tempered by the fact that her fur remained blue, so rather than jump for joy and cry in happiness she sat back down with a blank stare at the TV that had remained off for the two weeks she had been alone. Looking down and inspecting her hands, she confirmed that she was still indeed blue. But she wasn’t deformed anymore, she wasn’t a walking balloon ready to burst! The realization began to draw tears from her eyes, a new hope beginning to overtake her as the thoughts that she was forever stuck began to dwindle into the background. Oh what a great feeling. Hope, happiness. It was so foreign, but she accepted it with open arms. If she had gotten rid of the juice, maybe the color will soon follow. Maybe… just maybe… she won’t be a blue freak the rest of her life. She stood up straight, looking out for the first time with a smile. Then her foot brushed her dropped burger, and she realized that that was her dinner. She grumbled and pulled out her phone, opening up the food delivery app once again. *** Flick. The lights in her bathroom blinded Naomi for a moment, she raised a hand to block the brightness in response. It was eleven twenty something. She didn’t bother looking at the alarm clock for longer than a short second as she moved on to more pressing matters, namely her bladder. She did her business and got up slowly, squinting as she tried to keep the lights from waking her up all the way. Making her way to the sink and turning on the water, she began washing her hands and glanced up at her reflection. Hold on. What… what’s that on her nose? She finished washing and drying her hands off, leaning over the counter and turning her face to the side. It was almost like… almost like there was a patch on her muzzle that was fading. She ran her hand over the lightening fur, comparing her hand’s color to the patch. Holy shit, it was lighter! The color, was it actually coming out?! Naomi backed away from the mirror, looking around and rushing back to her room to grab her phone. As she returned to the bathroom she raised the phone up to the mirror and suddenly realized what she was doing. Her instinct was to take a picture of herself. The realization caused several spikes of anxiety to crawl up her spine, and she nearly dropped the phone as she could practically hear whispers in her ear. They scolded her for being so careless, taking a picture of her condition that someone, anyone, could find. Her eyes widened and she lowered the phone, her feelings and thoughts of embarrassment coming back twofold. Naomi closed her eyes and grunted as she put down the phone and balled up her fists, leaning forward onto the counter. She told herself that this picture was going to be temporary, she was going to delete it after a day or so. The voice began to quiet down, not quite leaving but not screaming at her anymore. She raised up the phone, turned her head and snapped a photo of the patch on her nose. *** Ring! Ring! Ring! Click! “Hello?” Naomi answered the phone. “Naomi? Are you okay?” Was that… Patrick? “Hey, I… I’m really sorry I haven’t been texting lately. I’ve been visiting my parents so I completely forgot to check in! How are you doing?” Naomi felt a twinge of guilt and winced, looking down at her hand and realizing how she had managed to completely forget about him. All that time, she could have told him. She could have been- “Naomi? Can you hear me?” “Y-Yes,” She stammered, shaking herself from her guilty thoughts, “I…” Oh God, what did she tell him? Could he know? Could he be trusted? “You sound tired. Is there something on your mind?” He prompted, egging her on to open up. “...Yes,” Naomi relented, shivering as she began to stress about how he’d react. “Do… do you want to tell me?” Patrick asked with a hint of nervousness, “Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Naomi took a deep breath, shaking from her own nerves. “No. I… I’ll tell you later, okay?” She said forcefully, trying to mask her stress. “O-Okay,” Patrick said apologetically, “I’ll… uh… Do you want me to come over?” Naomi nearly jumped at the offer, some actual physical contact with others would be heavenly. Only problem? She was still blue. Well, mostly. The color had indeed been fading over time, but it just couldn’t get out of her skin fast enough. It had been three weeks. “I-Is that a no?” “N-Not yet!” Naomi rushed to get out her answer, accidentally sounding quite angry with him. “O-Okay, I’m… I’m sorry,” He apologized, obviously confused but still deeply concerned. Naomi just grunted in helpless frustration, this interaction was going deep south and she wanted it with all her being to be a positive one. “I-I’m not angry with you, I… I just need time,” She grasped for a peaceful resolution. “...Okay,” Patrick agreed, “What about… What about this weekend?” It was Sunday. Naomi couldn’t tell how much the blue would fade from now until Saturday, but… Screw this. He… He wanted to help. “Y-Yes. Maybe sometime in the afternoon,” Maybe that would be enough time. “O-Okay!” Patrick’s voice lightened up noticeably, “I’ll see you around two.” “That… that works,” Hopefully, “See you then.” “Alright, goodbye.” “Goodbye.” Click. Naomi put the phone down and just collapsed in her chair, feeling helpless and stressed about the week to come. *** Four Days until Patrick arrives Naomi had spent several hours in front of the bathroom mirror, looking over the lightening patches of fur. The blue was universally lighter than a few days ago, but some parts of her body were clearing up faster than others. Patches of her arms were resembling a darkened version of her normal fur color while her neck remained almost a solid azure. Things were slightly improving at least. Her food situation wasn’t any better, but with her body returning to normal (albeit slowly) she found herself slightly optimistic about the future. For the first time in her quarantine, she sat down and booted up her old Wii, setting up a game of Wii Sports Baseball. She set to losing herself into the fictional world where everything was fine and there wasn’t anything to stress about. She had fun. At least until she had to order food again. *** Two days until Patrick arrives Naomi had been gaming away the past couple of days, having rediscovered her taste for good old-fashioned recreation. She had almost forgotten about her worries with the video games, feeling much better about everything and just having a nice time. Well, until she got a glimpse of her arm from time to time, but she was getting used to it. The color had been continuing to fade from her skin and fur as time went on, but a few parts of her remained as blue as the day of The Incident. Parts such as her mouth, tongue, and eyes. She had begun to wonder if they would ever turn back to normal. She realized pretty soon afterwards the thought was rather depressing. So, back to gaming to forget the pain. It was startlingly effective with how the time just seemed to fly by. She made a mental note to return to the gaming consoles when things were seemingly bleak. When it finally came time to go to bed again, she turned off the console and walked into the bathroom to give herself another nightly once-over. Her face was almost entirely back to normal, save for a few patches around her snout and neck. Her forehead was in a similar situation, several splotches of lightening blue color contrasting her increasingly apparent peach colored fur. Things were going quite okay in that regard, so she was mostly content with her self image. But one thing that had been nagging at the back of her mind and keeping her from fully forgetting her worries was the fact that Patrick was coming around in two days. She couldn’t quite convince herself that everything would be okay. Despite Patrick’s poor eyesight, he was still rather observant and he often knew when something was on her mind. Naomi kept going back and forth on how she was going to tell him, desperately pleading and praying internally that she wouldn’t fall apart in front of him. God that would be so embarrassing. Patrick would be more understanding than that though, wouldn’t he? He had to be. Maybe everything would turn out okay. Maybe she’d be fine. *** One day until Patrick arrives Naomi was not fine. She had failed to fall asleep last night due to her increasing worry about Patrick and his reception of her condition. She picked up her phone and scrolled to her contacts, hovering her finger over Patrick’s number. Would he hate her appearance? Would he not want to talk anymore? Would he cut off the friendship? Dammit… Dammit! Her digit quivered as the doubts crept up on her once again, and she tossed the phone away onto the couch. Naomi leaned up face first against the wall and clenched her jaw, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. It was just too much. Everything was against her, it seemed. The blue wasn’t going away enough in time. He would see. He would hate it. She couldn’t just call him and tell him not to come. Not now. Knowing him, he’d probably show up anyway. Naomi rammed her fist against the wall above her, a tear finally escaping her eye. Why did it have to be this way? Why did life hate her? Why could she not get rid of this fucking color?! *** Patrick arrives today Ding Dong. The doorbell chimed, cutting into the silence and startling Naomi. She sighed, getting up and slowly walked to the door. She looked through the peephole, finding the expectant and concerned fox standing there. Sighing again and slowly opening the door, she greeted him with all the mental fatigue and physical tiredness that the past few days had worn on her. Patrick recoiled when he saw her, instantly rushing to hug her and causing her to yelp in surprise. “Naomi! Are you okay? You had me so worried!” He spoke so fast he could hardly be understood by Naomi’s sleep-deprived mind. “Y-Yeah.” No. “H-How have you been?” “Worried sick,” Patrick let go of her and shut the door behind him. Readjusting his glasses, he looked over her and paused as he looked into her eyes. Naomi almost felt herself break into a cold sweat, nervousness easily becoming apparent. “So… What have you been doing for the past few weeks? I’m sorry I forgot to message you again,” Patrick apologized, looking rather sheepish. “N-No, it’s fine. I’ve… just been caught up in things,” Naomi skirted around the topic, looking down and to the side. An awkward silence followed, and they just spent a few seconds awkwardly looking anywhere but each other. “Um… lunch?” Patrick asked after the long awkward pause. Naomi nearly jumped once she heard it. Is she able to go outside again? Would anyone notice the difference? “...How about I go and bring something back here,” Patrick offered a hand of comfort, having easily read the surprise and hesitation on Naomi. She looked back at him, unsure of what to do. “I… Are you sure?” She asked, the ideas that Patrick would spend the time, money, and effort on her practically foreign, “I can… I can go without.” “I’m sure,” Patrick resolved, pushing his glasses back up on his face and offering his hand once again. Naomi hesitated for another moment before finally grasping his hand, the touch of another soul was borderline euphoric. She stood there, holding his hand as she finally felt comfort, assurance, and the age-old bond that her and Patrick had once again. “Okay,” She relented, letting his hand go and finally giving the smallest of smiles. Then the air was knocked out of her again as Patrick embraced her tightly, holding her close and resting his head on her shoulder. “You’re okay,” He whispered, “Everything’s going to be okay.” For the first time in a long while, she finally believed those words. “Okay.”