(Slightest angst, fluff and possibly bad writing)
After months of staying with the ape colony, you had very well become one of them, establishing your own place in their daily routines and existing almost naturally within the ecosystem itself. The young apes adored you and you were respected and cared for by the other apes as you did them.
It felt like a decade, really, instead of the 9 months it was. You had spent your spring, summer and your autumn being observed, or rather watched over as you learned to fend for yourself and contribute to the apesâ survival as well.
You had ended up here due to you being sick and having been quarantined away from the humans as they stated they would âcome backâ. You didnt blame them, since they were afraid it was the Simian flu.
So they had placed you in a designated location and left you in total, complete isolation to fend for yourself. You wouldnât have survived if you hadnât left and been found by Caesar and Koba. Truly, you owed your life to the apes.
So you packed up your things and said your goodbyes; hugging the apes you were close with, and saying your last words to those who helped and those who were acquaintances. You went to meet Caesar to finalise your time there. It wouldâve been rude to not tell him.
You yourself agreed, alongside him and his advisors that you could not return. For the safety of the apes, of course.
But that didnât quite cushion the pain as well as you thought it would.
You still felt a longing, thumping deep within you. After the forged bonds that would certainly never leave you for years to come, you werenât surprisedâanyone wouldâve felt the same had they been subjected to know the apes as well as you did.
Assuming (gaslighting yourself) that it was merely for some kind of human contact or interaction, however, you had willed yourself to leave a day early without telling a soulâa little earlier than what a certain grumpy bonobo would have liked.
He told himself that it was the annoying lack of an extra pair of eyes when he was out hunting, or the supposed mess you left in your hut, along with the âsmell of humanâ. Or maybe it was the fact that now there were one less pair of hands to take care of the little ones so he was the one who had to find an ape for the job.
He did all he could to avoid the truth and made up all the excuses his mind could muster. For the truth wasâŚinexplicable. It was messy, and couldâwould only turn messier.
But to Koba, it was an impossible thought. The truth came to him once in a fever dream, and he has avoided it like the plague ever since.
You know what, maybe it was because he hated change? Yes, that was most likely it.
He told himself that it was the annoying lack of an extra pair of eyes when he was out hunting, or the supposed mess you left in your hut, along with the âsmell of humanâ. Or maybe it was the fact that now there were one less pair of hands to take care of the little ones so he was the one who had to find an ape for the job.
And he especially hated the kind of shift in his mind you brought him to. Like a wrench thrown into the gears of hatred and desire for revenge against all of humankind. The thought that injected itself into his brain like a parasite only about a month ago.
He had been sent out look for more prey to hunt, meat to prepare for the winterâor rather that was what he had been told. He knew what Caesar was up to, he just wanted Koba to look out for the unpredictable human.
Koba agreed, you certainly needed some protection before you break a bone, but he wasnât the ape to do it. He could barely complete a conversation with you, after all. But Caesar had already shoved him out of their short meeting and sent him on his way.
After walking for about a mile, he stumbled across an opening, full of herbs and spices and bushes. He breathed in the natural scent of the crisp, cool air, mixing with the various colours of autumn born from the life cycle of the forest itself. It was alive as he wasâand it amazed him more each time it arrived.
Suddenly, he heard loud, annoying footsteps and the crunching of dry leaves and immediately knew who it was. You were the only one in the colony wearing large hiking boots, after all.
He hid quickly and quietly behind a thick tree trunk and peeked out from behind it, his fingers tightening on the bark as he spotted you.
You werenât hurt, surprisingly. He was sure you wouldâve broken something out here alone. You were bent over a large plant, and brushing your fingertips over the leaves in a gentle manner.
His breath hitched, as he saw how focused and silent you were. You werenât plotting, you were just deep in thought. Somehow, it made him wonder what went through your mind as he too, subconsciously quietened his usually loud breathing.
Perhaps he wasnât as stealthy as he would have been on his daily hunt. He was rather thrown off today, for unknown reasons. So while trying to back away from the scene, he stepped on a twig, which created a loud snap.
You quickly turned your head towards his direction, your focus momentarily broken from the large plant in front of you. Your eyes softened after realising who it was, which made Kobaâs own widened, ashamed of having been caught spying.
Yet you just smiled, and beckoned him to come close. He grunted bitterly in refusal, not wanting to be involved in stupid human activities, as he called it.
But after you just turned back to the plant and paid him no mind, his curiosity got the better of him. After all, what couldâve been so important that you were willing to risk your life out in the open like this, let alone turn your back to a dangerous ape like him?
He thought you were rather stupid for that, and that you shouldâve been more guarded. Then he reminded himself that he shouldnât care. Youâre a human. Humans are all weak, and flexible.
Despite his words, his head darted around, to secure the safety of their surroundings anyway. His surroundings, of course. Totally not yours.
He leaned in, looking only a little away from your shoulder while you were on your knees, caking them in the mud on the forest floor. You took the thick, waxy leaf and ran your fingers along it.
âLook. Aloe Vera, we humans call it. Good for healing young apes.â You say, with a smile. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you. He did not returning your soft gaze (shocker).
âHumanâŚdo not trust ape plants?â He asked, jumping to the conclusion that you were trying to undermine the apesâ discoveries of the herbs and plants they already had sprouting in the vicinity of the colony.
You shook your head quickly in firm denial, having expected that Koba would take it the wrong way. âNo. No, Im not. Its justâŚa suggestion.â You whispered under your breath as you began cutting the leaf out from its stem so as to not ruin its quality, which certainly wasnât easy.
Koba grunted again in quiet acceptance of you reason. He wasnât convinced, but he was pretty surprised to see a human go through all this trouble just for a few young apes that caught a small flu.
He watched you work to gather a few more leaves with a struggle. His arms were crossed, and he had a subtle smirk on his face. He had to turn away briefly to keep himself from smiling completely like an idiot.
You were certainly good at that. At making him feel like an idiot.
When you stood up, he did as well, pushing himself off the bark of the tree. He huffed, mounting his horse and taking the reins again. âGet on. Almost sunset,â he said, in a rather demanding tone.
As you held on behind him, your fingertips brushing against his back, a smile crept on your lips. Koba meant well. And you understood that deep, deep down, he knew you did too.
The horse tripped on a particular large vine, and you were brought to grip his torso tightly. He gripped the reigns a little tighter and tensed up at your touch.
He closed his eyes to calm himself to some extent, and much to your own surprise, he allowed you to hold on without so much as a glare. In fact, he didnt turn to you, not once.
But he felt your forehead rest against his scarred back, and your fingers running through his thinning fur. Not going too far, but not nearly close enough to ease the pain, the burden he had been carrying for years.
Koba allowed it. Allowed your touch, and your presence being in the same vicinity as his was. He had to admit, the young apes were rightâyou were very warm.
He thought you were different. He knew you were different now that you were gone. He had felt what the other apes felt, that you had taken a piece of them with you. It was soâŚhuman of you to do so.
To give and give as much as possible; more than what was necessary and more than theyâd ever seen someone do for them, then leaving with your generosity and the aftermath of your kindness.
Perhaps Koba was right the first time around. It was better this way, without useless human chatter that he seemed to hear every time he stepped outside of his hut. Even now. It was better without your soft eyes and your calming presence that even the little ones missed. And your warmthâoh, how cruel it was that you had taken that with you too.
Koba hated being wrong. Especially when it comes to humans. But for the first time in his horrible life, he wished he was.
Despite the way youâve carved your space among their colony and blended perfectly into their environment, youâve managed to squeeze your way out just as well. Back to them. Back to where you supposedly belonged, back to the other side where nature would be pleased.
And that was what Koba hated the most.
The journey through the jungle was a long one. But you figured it would all be worth it, since youâd see the people you considered your family in this time of despair. Youâre sure it would be worth it.
When you came to the broken neighbourhood, you took a deep breath. Here we go.
You were nervous, since you havenât had any human interaction in literal months. Anyone would be. What if they suddenly decided you werenât a part of them anymore?
You jumped. What the hell was that?
Maybe youâd lost your mind already. It had been far too long.
You gripped your bag a little tighter the closer you got to human civilisation. You were nervous. You didn't know whyâyou had dreamt of this moment for a long time, ever since your quarantine.
I mean, you never expected to make it out of there alive. Youâd either have been torn to shreds or died from the virus.
Or perhaps you hadnât been tormented as everyone said you would. Humans had been teaching each other how they should be scared of apes, and the danger they posed to humanityâs survival. How any interaction, good or bad, should be avoided with the apes.
So when you were forcefully placed into a small cabin that had barely enough space for you and barely enough food to last in the forest of unknown territory, you were terrified of what might happen. But you attempted to prepare yourself for everything that could be expected.
Until you didnt. Until an unknown force that you had never known existed pierced through your heart and seeped its way to your soul.
You didnt want to believe it. Not now, not ever. It was a wrong feeling, let alone equated to an ape. Mankindâs biggest enemy at large now. A threat to their spot on the food chain.
When you came to the town, no one was waiting. Of course, why would they be? What did you expect, a parade?
You walked the empty streets. Sure, it looked like home, but the apocalypse had made it look like a complete wasteland. You made your way to the house you shared with a few friends. It was a three-story terrace house, just enough for five people and maybe a few extra on sofa beds. It wasnât muchâbut it was home. Or considered one, at least.
You didnt bother knocking and just went inside.
Inside, you were met with wide, shocked eyes instead of the warm welcome you expected. It was as if they already deemed you dead, and your corpse was standing in front of them.
You looked up at them and mustered a smile. âHey. Been a while, huh?â
They quickly recovered and got up to get a blanket for you. They sat you down and asked questions in a way that was almost interrogative. They had been roommates with you for about a year or two, so the least they could do was express how happy they were to see you healthy and happy.
Instead, it was all âWhere were you? How did you survive? Did you meetâŚthem?â
You didnât answer truthfully, to say the least. No, I didn't see a single ape. Yes, I thrived out there. You made up more lies and a bit of believable nonsense of low probability.
But they believed you. And went on with their lives.
You liked to believe that these people, your closest friends throughout the whole pandemic of the Simian Flu and the falling of humanity, would at least have tried to make you feel missed.
But they had been doing fine without you. That was the truth, wasnât it?
As much as youâd like to pretend this was new, that it was probably because they had been waiting a long time for you to come back, and had just gotten used to being without you, this has always been the case.
They never needed you. They didnt when you left, and they dont now.
You remembered the way theyâd attempt to include you, just to talk over you and pay no attention to a word youâre saying unless one of them repeated it. It was annoying, living with people like that.
And the constant chatter. The complaints, the lack of self-awareness. Of course no one was perfect, but you thought no one could ever be that unbearable either.
Humans cold. Cruel. But weak.
There it was again. A voice in your head. It sounded a lot likeâŚ
No. You couldnât think like that. The past is in the past.
The longer the night dragged on, the more your mind wandered to other things. Being left sitting in a sea of your misery while your friends had fun and got drunk on vodka they raided really helped with that.
The whole time you were there, they were so intent on disregarding your thoughts and your inputs that you couldnât help but ask yourself what youâd done to them. What made them exclude you. What made you so different. What changed when you came back?
Then it was clear to you. They hadnât changed, they just started to become who they really were. Express what they really thought of you.
A doormat that listened to all their problems. But that was all you were allowed to do. That was all you were good for.
You sat in front of the fire, speaking with Maurice and discussing how you would be leaving. Your conversations were normally accompanied with broken sign language on your end and you using your words a lot.
As you talked and laughed, goosebumps crept up your skin as you felt yourself being watched. You turned around, and your eyes met his good one.
He stared you down, something he hadnât done in a long time since he deemed you useful. Since he deemed you safer than most humans.
You hadnât told him you were leaving, as you had just told Maurice and Ceasar. Why would you? He wouldnât care. You knew that.
So why was he staring at you like heâd been stabbed in the back by your spear?
Instead of sitting down a little away from you, as he normally would, he huffed, and stormed off, leaving the scene as quickly as he came.
You were more than confused and looked to Maurice for answers. To which Maurice suggested you just outright talk to Koba. He advised against using tense or confrontational language, though. Obviously.
You got up, and knocked slightly at the entrance to his hut, making yourself known. He looked up at you, and growled menacingly.
You flinched. He hadnât growled at you for a long time. You almost missed it. He had allowed you into his personal space, and even mustered up the will to have literal conversations with you instead of grunts and glares during the remaining months you stayed here. So why now?
âKobaâŚIâm coming inâ, you said, determination evident in your voice. You didnât want to leave on a bad note with him.
Koba growled again, but let up since you let yourself in anyway. You were stubborn enough when the situation called for it. And this one certainly did.
He towered over your small stature, and circled you. He was guarded. As guarded as the day you met and it worried you.
âWhat are you doing? Why are youââ acting this way, you finished in your head. Reacting to Koba was the worst thing to do, you knew that. You needed to respond, not treat him like an animal. Like a being lower than you.
âLeave.â He said, glaring at you. âAll human..do. Leave. Now.â
You looked up at him, shocked at his words. You didnât understand what was going on at all. âI dont know why youâre mad. I thought you of all apes would be happy Iâmââ
He stepped back again, when you reached out for him. He stood away from you and huffed as he sat down âLeave Koba. Leave apes.â
It was your turn to roll your eyes. He was being impossible now. Even you had a limit to bullshit. âHey, we all know I can't be here forever. I'm a human, remember?â You crossed your arms, your own body language guarded as well, and he read that loud and clear.
For a moment, the room was quiet as your words sunk in. When he didnât answer, you had just about enough and got up to leave. But he wasnât done.
He snarled, and got up as well, looking at you in a rather threatening manner. âAll humansâŚweak. Run and hide. But alwaysâŚfight. NeverâŚcare about ape. Only care aboutâŚwinning.â
You stood, looking at him in complete silence.You know youâre a human. You just wished it didnât have to be like this sometimes. That you werenât even involved with that word.
He gave you a cold smirk, and waved you away, as if dismissing you from his line of sight. âJust like them. Leave.â
Your eyebrows furrowed out of frustration. You put up a lot from him, but everything heâd said had stung harder this time. You reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
He took that action as intentional hostility, and snarled again, bearing his teeth this time. You stepped back quickly as a large stone soared past your head, missing you completely.
That was the night you packed the rest of your things, tears streaming down your cheeks. You had no right to cry, you know that. Koba knew it too, so you held it together well in front of him and left without a word.
He was right and so were the humans. You couldnât argue with beasts.
The next morning, Caesar came to check on you the next day, he saw your empty bedding. It confused him, and he told the rest of the apes so.
Koba avoided everyoneâs eyes. He didnât think you would actually leave. He should be happy. Joyous even, at the news. It proved him right about all humans.
It had also increased his aggression towards humans and other apes, so a lot of them were a little afraid of him.
He was satisfied with that. With what he had done. At least, he thought so. After all, your response was brought out after he provoked it. But was it the truth?
You let your head rest on your knee, and a small sigh escaped you as you thought of that night. Regret was only natural, after all.
What couldâve been done, anyway? Koba wouldâve still made a scene, still thrown that rock. Still pushed you away.
You sank deeper into yourself, mind replaying every little detail, as if you were trying to grasp at memories you could picture before they disappeared.
Wallowing in your self-pity, you hear a voice. A voice that was all too familiar with you. He was screaming, and it ate away at your soul to ignore him.
Human weak. Humans all fragile. Sad over nothing. Not even other human like you. Leave. Disappear. No one would look. No one would care. While you canâLeave.
You closed your eyes and relished in the vivid voice-illusion your brain conjured up that sounded a lot like the real Koba. Youâd heard it all too many times now. Maybe it was there for comfort, but you heavily doubted it was the comfort you wanted.
It was what youâd needed though. A harsh, demanding voice calling you back. To him.
So you stood up, and sauntered out the door, while the others were busy. You had muttered a small excuse in case they asked where you were going.
They didnt, of course. Most of them were passed out on the couch, without a care in the world.
You had taken a few necessities, like your journal and some food with you. And of course, stolen some clothes.
You wished things were different. They could be, if perspectives were exchanged, or if they ever thought of how you had felt. Maybe if they valued you, appreciated things youâd done, it wouldâve very well turned out differently.
Maybe Koba was right. Humans had become insanely self-absorbed, and that made them weak.
So you grabbed your backpack, snuck out the door and ran. You ran as if you were holding your own life in your hands, and the weight of the world crashing down on your shoulders.
You followed the path in the woods, and slowed to a walk. You had run out of energy after your sprint, but was content the farther away you got from the remaining humans.
You walked without a care in the world now. You walked like you were free. You are free.
You walked hours upon hours, until you came to a clearing you knew all too well. You fell to your knees out of exhaustion, leaves crunching beneath you.
The night was unusually cold. Surely not as cold as you remembered it being.
Winter is coming soon. It is getting closer and closer.
The dying bushes surrounded you in a circle and a cold gust of wind blew, making you tuck more of yourself into the jacket you wore. But you were still wearing shorts, for it was more or less all you owned. You were pretty helpless out there.
You shivered and let out a sigh as you closed your eyes.
Before you knew it, you had accidentally drifted off into a deep slumber on the forest floor, a hand gripping your jacket zipper, the other gripping the grass below you.
Koba awoke groggily in the morning, and was grumpier than he usually was. He threw his felt off himself, and stumbled out of his nest to continue with his morning routine.
He plucked a few berries from one of the bushes around his hut, and chewed them as he mounted his horse again. He was to secure the surroundings of their home, to make sure no unwanted visitors showed up.
As he checked the reigns of his horse and tightened them to a more comfortable position for it, he couldnât help but glance at your empty hut.
For a momentâand only a moment, he had a forlorn expression in his eyes. A sad, powerful desire that had never been felt by the bonobo before.
But he turned back to the reins quickly, and took off with a grunt. He was used to being alone while he scoured the forest. It allowed him to be thorough without having to wait for any other apeâor in your case, he did tend to wait for you, a weak human that couldâve easily gotten lost, and therefore depended on him.
The smallest smile formed on his scarred face and disappeared as quickly as it came.
He came to the clearing. Your little spot, where you went to hide from the world. It was out of his route, and a little bit farther than he was supposed to go; but it was almost as if the place had a pull, tugging at his heart and beckoning him closer.
He led the horse towards it, the trotting of hooves becoming louder as it crushed the red and brown leaves below.
Koba came to, eyes searching the area. It was like time itself had been frozen, stayed waiting for him again. He dismounted to get a closer look.
Thatâs when he saw you. Lying on the ground, motionless. In your state, shock and panic, among other feelings arose in him.
He ran to you, and knelt down as he held your hand tightly. He pulled your torso upwards, his right hand holding yours as he supported your lower back with his left hand. His ear pressed against your chest to listen for a heartbeat.
Steady. But slower than heâd liked.
With a grunt, he lifted you in his arms and slung you over his shoulder. He wrapped an arm tightly around your waist as he got on his horse and rode into the colony again.
He couldnât help but feel slightly worried. What had you been doing out there? Have you come back? Were you dying?
As these thoughts flooded his mind, he leaned forward in his saddle as best as he could with you on him, gripped the reins of his horse and thundered through the forest.
The forest echoed with the sounds of hooves thumping against the dead leaves of autumn, the quick wind hitting his face as he rode.
When he arrived at the colony, he hopped off his horse and hurried to get you to the medical hut as the other apes stared in horror.
Afraid that Koba mightâve done something he shouldnât have. Afraid that Koba did something very, very horrible. He seemed to have gotten on more aggressively when you left and they were afraid he finally snapped.
But he ignored them and placed you down on the soft furs with as much gentleness as he could bring out of himself. After much examination, a bowl of fruits and some herbs were brought.
You had passed out from exhaustion when the temperature dropped significantly and your breathing had slowed because of the minimal amount of clothes you wore which exposed you to it.
Koba could almost have rolled his eyes when he heard that. Of course you almost died. He couldâve killed you himself for falling asleep defenseless, too. Did you learn nothing from him nor the apes?
He sighed as they handed him a soft, damp cloth. Without thinking, he wiped your face with itâby instinct. His thumb brushed against your nose despite the cloth.
For a few seconds, he allowed himself to admire the softness of your skin. How natural it felt in his calloused, scarred hands.
He folded the cloth, and placed it over your forehead; the same way heâd seen you do with sick apes. Then he sat back on the ground and waited for you to wake up.
You stirred awake about an hour later, turning to sleep on your right. Your eyes adjusted to the light of the morning sun, enjoying the warmth as your hands gripped the soft furs beneath you.
You blinked again, your eyes meeting a blue-gray one the other a milky white with a huge scar. They were as intense as you remembered them.
You rubbed your eyes out of fear that you were hallucinating now. But you werenât.
The bonobo realised you were awake, and slowly approached you. You looked alright to him. He grunted in soft approval and spoke.
âStupid humanâŚsleeping on forest floor. Want to die?â
You let out a soft laugh, the sound ringing in Kobaâs ear and warming his heart. He didnt want to admit it aloud, certainly not to you; but he missed it. Missed you.
He could hardly believe it himself and wondered whether you felt the same. Thereâs an extremely slim chance you did.
But that chance grew with the way you looked up at him. With adoration and respect that he had never been looked with before and definitely not by a human.
You sat upright, groaning as you rubbed your temples. He watched you briefly, to make sure you were alright. You ran your fingers through your hair, the light hitting it at an angle that made you look ethereal.
He stared without realising it. He had stepped back to give you space and watched you breathe in the morning air before yawning.
He looked down at his own hands. They were rough, and he was missing a few fingers. He felt strange around you. Again.
You looked up at him, noticing his distance from you. Your hand reached out and touched his wrist gently. His eyes met yours, in a gaze similar to your own warm one.
He stepped back again, and grabbed the spear you had left behind when you rejoined humanity. Koba tossed it to you and your hands caught it by muscle memory. You looked at him in confusion.
A teasing smirk appeared on his face as he walked towards the entrance of the hut. âCome. Apes need food.â
He left without waiting for you, so you quickly gathered your thoughts and stumbled outside to join him.
This is his routineâand yours too now. Youâre home and home is wherever he is. For a long time now, you knew that; while Koba just needed to learn to be at peace with that thought.
