Work Text:
“What a baby! Dennis is a baby!” A blonde-haired child shouted, stubby finger pointing at the boy.
“Baby! Baby!” The crowd of fifth graders began to chant!
“I’m not a baby!” he defended, tone already holding a quake.
It was times such as these that Mr. Tibbs wished he could speak, wished he could tell the boy that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he remained tightly clutched to Dennis' chest, fingers gripping his soft blue belly.
“Then why are you carrying around a stuffed animal? You’re too big for that!” One of the miscreants (that was the term Mr. Tibbs used for his classmates) shouted, and the other kids started to laugh.
“B-B-Because! He’s my best friend!” Dennis’ voice squeaked, hold growing tighter around Mr. Tibbs' middle.
“Seriously?” one of the kids in the back scoffed, an angry looking child with hair the color of used oil. “That’s pathetic.”
“What a pansy,” another boy who had a stocky build and spiked hair whose red shade rivaled that of a fire truck teased.
“No one wonder no one likes you,” Dee muttered beside him, then immediately jumped over the invisible line that separated Dennis from the other kids and began to taunt him. “He wets the bed!” she announced proudly, and started to cackle.
“I do not!” Dennis shrieked, and Mr. Tibbs could tell that he was crying now. The poor child, he thought, always so lonely except for when his sister was on his side (which was becoming rarer and rarer as time went on).
While he’d only resided with the Reynolds for two years and counting, Mr. Tibbs had witnessed many an incident while in Dennis’ care. From the constant hurricane-like force that was his father (often violent and angry, hardly ever calm), to his cold and distant mother, the Reynolds' household was anything but a peaceful one.
School was no better for little Dennis. He hid behind his sister when she let him, but often times, he was ostracized for his…uniqueness. Mr. Tibbs had noticed that none of the other children carried their best friend with them, but Dennis was different, and that was okay.
Everywhere Dennis went, Mr. Tibbs did as well. His father often scolded him for always having the little blue elephant with him, and sometimes, the man would grow furious and separate them if Dennis did something he had deemed wrong. In one instance, he even locked Mr. Tibbs away in a safe so Dennis couldn’t get to him.
Mr. Tibbs could hear the poor boy wailing, begging his father to grant him access to the elephant, but his father had only laughed while Dennis cried.
Two days had passed in the suffocating darkness, but Mr. Tibbs held out hope and eventually, was given back to the boy whose eyes were constant pools of sadness.
After that, they were inseparable, and Mr. Tibbs was happy to accompany the boy on his travels.
“Bed wetter! Bed wetter!” the miscreants began to taunt, and little Dennis fled, racing away from the horrible children and into an empty classroom. He hid himself away from prying eyes into a corner, muted sobs pouring from his lips as he tucked his knees to his chest and buried his head into Mr. Tibbs soft fur.
“Why can’t they just be nice to me? I’m not weird. I’m not.” He sniffled, ran his skinny wrist across his damp cheeks then peered down at the little blue elephant who longed to be able to hold the boy tight when he was filled with more anguish than he could handle. “You’re the only one that’s nice to me, Mr. Tibbs.” Fresh tears continued to roll down his cheeks, some dropping onto his tiny blue feet. “They just don’t understand me, not even Dee. Not anymore anyway. She’s my sister but…” His bottom lip trembled as he cast his gaze away from the stuffed animal. “It’s not the same.”
“She still loves you,” Mr. Tibbs wanted to tell him. “Just differently.”
He wondered if Dennis could sense his sentiment because the little boy’s eyes rounded when he looked back at him. “You’re the best Mr. Tibbs.” There was so much agony etched into the ten-year-old's face. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the other kids refused to accept him for who he was. Mr. Tibbs would. Forever and always. When Dennis squeezed him and nuzzled his face, he hoped with all his might that Dennis would continue to be comforted by his presence forever.
🐘🐘🐘
Fingers were clutching his belly, not as small as they used to be but grip just as strong. His back was tucked against Dennis’ chest while the teenager spoke.
“The thing is – I like him, and not – not in a friend way, but in a…in a way I’ve never liked anyone before.”
Gone were the days when Mr. Tibbs accompanied young Dennis to school. The boy had advanced in age, and along with that advancement came a few changes in routine. The little blue elephant was a staple in Dennis’ arms until he reached the ripe old age of twelve.
It was then that Mr. Tibbs was left on his pillow every morning, waiting out the day until his return, but the moment he’d step foot through the door, Dennis would pick him up and begin to tell him about everything that had transpired while he was gone.
Mr. Tibbs listened eagerly as he had missed the boy dearly while he was away, and it was clear that Dennis had felt the same.
While he knew it an inevitability, the thought that he would never once venture outside of the home again with Dennis hurt, but as with all boys who became young men, there wasn’t anything that could prevent it from happening.
“I know if I tell Dee she’s just going to turn around and say something to him, which – apart of me actually wouldn’t mind if I’m being honest. He’s so stupid though, and he says the dumbest shit, but he’s also – okay, I know you won’t say anything and that I can trust you – he’s also…cute.
Is it wrong to like him? He’s my best friend, and he’s always going on and on about gay people and God, but I don’t believe in any of that crap. And even if there is a God, why in the hell would he care? I’m sure he’d have better things to do, like strike people like my dad down or something.
It’s just…I want to kiss him, you know? His lips look surprisingly soft for someone who’s never worn ChapStick. I don’t even think he washes his face at night.”
Ah, so young Dennis was starting to come of age, interested in another boy, no less.
He often spoke about someone named Ronnie, but Mr. Tibbs had yet to meet him. It didn’t sound as though high school was quite as lonely as grade school. Aside from Ronnie, he talked about a Charlie as well. That was a good thing, Mr. Tibbs supposed, having friends.
“I kind of think he likes me back though. Sometimes,” he paused, grip lessening then tightening again. “I catch him looking at me, and there’s something there. Like – he sees something in me.” A sudden quiet fell over the teen, and a familiar dampness started to spread along his ear. The next time Dennis spoke, the hopeful tone he’d been using transformed into one riddled with misery.
“Do you think it’s even possible for anyone to love me? I know my dad doesn’t. He hates me, and my mom, well, you know how she is.” A shaky exhale followed before, “Am I unlovable?”
“Of course, you're not,” the stuffed animal wanted to say. “You’re easy to love, my boy.” Unfortunately, since he wasn’t able to voice such a thing, Dennis never received his answer.
🐘🐘🐘
Mr. Tibbs watched the door fly open, and in Dennis raced, face blotchy and tear stained, slamming it shut behind him. He hadn’t made it less than two steps before his father appeared, features holding a darkness that frightened Mr. Tibbs.
“Get your ass back here, Dennis!” he shouted, hand clamping around the boy’s arm so tightly it made him wince in pain. “Oh, you think that hurts, huh?” The older man spun Dennis around, then backhanded him so hard he fell onto the bed.
Dennis held his cheek, shoulders hunched and head bowed when his father shoved a finger in his face.
“Do you know what you did, you little shit? Do you?” his father ranted, eyes round and furious behind his thick glasses.
“I didn’t do anything,” Dennis defended, and his argument was met with another slap, one that made the air crackle between them.
“Don’t you fucking lie to me! I know you took that money, you little son of a bitch! You give that back or I promise you the lesson I’m going to teach you will be one you’ll never forget.”
Mr. Tibbs knew a threat when he heard one, and he tried with all his might to move, but it was apparent that his best still wasn’t good enough.
“I didn’t take it! I swear!” Though Dennis’ voice was no longer prepubescent, it cracked when he spoke, which only seemed to further his father’s ire.
“You lousy little scumbag! You get that lying shit from your mother, don’t ya?” When Dennis didn’t respond, he grabbed him by his hair and forcibly moved his face. “Quit being a goddamned nancy boy and look me in the eye when I’m talking to you! Do you hear me?” He shook the teenager who had outgrown him by exactly a foot, causing a pained whimper to leave the boy’s mouth. “Do you hear me?”
“Y-Y-Yes!” Dennis stammered out the response, trying but failing to pry his father’s fingers from his curls.
Spittle covered the older man’s bottom lip that was sticking out further than the top one. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the goddamned truth.”
“I didn’t –” Before Dennis could finish, the back of his father’s hand struck him across his cheek again, leaving the skin split due to the large, gaudy ring on his pinky finger.
“You got one more chance, Dennis.” He held up his index finger and shook it while still grasping him by his hair. “One more. Don’t make the wrong decision.”
Mr. Tibbs knew Dennis like no other, and while he could be mischievous (as he may have borrowed some items once or twice and forgot to return them), he was sure that this time, Dennis was telling the truth.
Out came a muted whine before, “I-I’m sorry. I took it.” It was a lie, a forced one, one that left a bad taste in Mr. Tibbs mouth. He’d known Dennis long enough to hear an untruth, and this one was blatant, but only to his ears.
“If that money’s not back in my wallet by midnight, you’ll be staying here by yourself while your mother, sister and I go to the shore. Midnight,” he clarified, mouth pulled into a deep angry frown as he gave Dennis one last look of warning then released him before he stomped out of the room, ensuring to slam the door hard enough to make the honor roll plaque that was proudly displayed above Dennis’ desk fall, the glass cracking once it his desk.
Dennis stood there, unruly curls hanging in his face before he climbed onto the bed, pulled Mr. Tibbs into his arms and started to weep.
🐘🐘🐘
Something was off the moment Dennis walked into the room. His movements were slow, as though he was covered in molasses or his limbs had suddenly turned to lead.
He set his bookbag down on the floor in its usual spot, but Mr. Tibbs could tell by the vacant expression he wore that he wasn’t his usual self.
Instead of stripping off the school uniform as he did every day after school, he kept it on, even the blazer that had gotten looser as of late, Mr. Tibbs noted.
The bedsprings creaked softly under his weight, and without a word, his fingers curled around the little blue elephant’s belly as they had numerous times before, but in this instance, Dennis buried his face into his velvet coat, and tiny, choked sobs soon followed suit.
His silence worried Mr. Tibbs. Dennis was normally a talkative boy, mouth moving a mile minute when he knew he only had an audience of one. The heart wrenching sounds continued without fail, until finally, his breathing evened out, and unconsciousness swooped in to steal him.
As the months went by, these particular instances became more frequent, from once a week to every other day.
Dennis never spoke then, only sought silent comfort from the companion who wished he could give him more.
🐘🐘🐘
“Is that a stuffed animal dude?”
One of Dennis’ friends was over, his curious face now looming inches from Mr. Tibbs’.
“Uh, maybe,” Dennis replied, worry and confliction marring his pinkened features when the other young man snatched him up.
“Bro, you’re fifteen.” The ruffian swung him through the air carelessly, and a frown encompassed Dennis’ mouth instantly.
“Well, don’t throw him like that.” Soon, Dennis’ delicate touch returned Mr. Tibbs to his rightful place in between his pillows, and the other boy scoffed.
“It’s just a dumb stuffed animal dude. It’s not like I hurt it or anything,” the teen defended, and Dennis threw him a dirty look, the corners of his mouth descending lower.
“Him,” he corrected, and Mr. Tibbs bounced when the darker-headed boy who was wearing a sleeveless tee unceremoniously flopped down onto the bed. “Mr. Tibbs is not an it; he’s a he.”
“Whatever dude. Wanna get high?” Oh, Mr. Tibbs knew who this boy was now, none other than Ronnie, the boy Dennis had spoken about many a late night.
“Yeah, why not? What time are we supposed to meet Charlie again?” Dennis took a seat next to Ronnie, close enough that every time one of them moved, their arm or leg brushed against the other.
“Shit, I don’t remember. We could just stay here if you want,” Ronnie offered, and Dennis shrugged, then started to fidget with the end of his sweater sleeves. (It was a nervous habit that he’d been doing ever since Mr. Tibbs had come into the picture.)
“Yeah, that’s – that’s cool,” he nodded, then opened his mouth again, but before he could voice his thought, Ronnie started to talk about how hot the new girl at the diner they sometimes went to was, and Mr. Tibbs was sure that whatever Dennis was going to say would never be spoken.
🐘🐘🐘
Dennis paced back and forth past the foot of the bed, arms folded across his chest before he let them fall to his sides then started to tug at his ear. He kept sending glances back at Mr. Tibbs, apprehension blanketing the features that were now that of a young man and no longer a boy.
A sigh of that held a note of woe along with distress departed the eighteen-year-old’s lips and he finally sat down, lifted Mr. Tibbs as though he was made of porcelain then set him in his lap so that they were facing each other.
“So, um, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and –” His eyes suddenly took on a sad glimmer that reminded Mr. Tibbs of the lightning bugs that flew past his window when summer was ending. “The thing is –” Another pause rife with hesitation. “This wasn’t an easy decision – it wasn’t, but…I’m going to be leaving for college and –” His voice softened, fell to almost a whisper. “I won’t be able to take you with me.”
The teen swallowed thickly, both hands still wrapped around the little elephant’s belly, though his thumbs were stroking his soft fur. “I know what you’re thinking, and it has nothing to do with you. I want to take you, I do, but –” His face screwed up into the pinched misery he had been carrying with him since he was a boy. “Things are going to be different there, and I’ll probably join a fraternity, and it’s not that I’m ashamed of you because I’m not!” Honesty made his eyes widen. “I just think that it would be better if you stayed here is all. Where you’ll be safe.”
A few minutes went by, bottom lip worrying between his teeth before he spoke again. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Mr. Tibbs could never be mad at him!
“You’ll be safe here,” he repeated as though he were trying to drive home a point, though Mr. Tibbs was sure his words were meant for himself as reassurance rather than for the little elephant who’d been like a brother to him for over a decade. He curled onto his side, keeping Mr. Tibbs facing him before he began to murmur the same words over and over again -
You'll be safe here.
Would he?
🐘🐘🐘
Dust began to collect on his blue coat that had started to dull. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and while Dennis paid him a brief visit when snow had begun to collect on the tree branches outside his window, he became a relic, a thing of the past.
Time stretched on, and finally, finally, his faithful companion returned when the sun hung bright and high in the sky. They caught up with one another, and while they couldn’t exchange stories, Mr. Tibbs listened to all the ones Dennis told (some, he knew, that weren’t necessarily true, but it was important that Dennis get to use his imagination while he was young, not encompassed by the darkness of the world that was slowly closing in around him).
It was nice to have him back, present, but Dennis began to spend more and more time away from home, and it wasn’t long before he was gone again, leaving the little blue elephant to his own devices, to a lonely room that not even the maids ventured into anymore.
🐘🐘🐘
Hope filled Mr. Tibbs when he saw the door that hadn’t been opened in ages slammed into the wall behind it, but to his dismay, it wasn’t Dennis who ran in but his sister. There was a manic glimmer in her eyes that put fear into the little elephant. When she lifted him from the bed, she did so with impatience, grasp harsh around his little foot and not the secure but loving hold Dennis used.
“He thinks he can outsmart me. I’ll show that bastard,” she muttered, and Mr. Tibbs watched the hallway fly by before he was stuffed into a box along with other belongings that he’d never been acquainted with.
The next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the back of a car then taken into a place that reeked of beer and other substances he was unfamiliar with.
It wasn’t long before he heard the sound of Dennis’ voice, and his heart filled with joy. After all these years, they were finally going to be reunited! Perhaps, his sister wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought. Anticipation built in his little blue limbs, and for a split second, happiness filled him when he saw his best friend standing before him.
His face looked mostly the same, perhaps a little thinner than it had the last time he had seen him, but there was a spark of familiarity in his eyes before it was rapidly ripped away.
One minute, everything was fine, and the next, Mr. Tibbs’ head had been separated from his body, and Dennis was nowhere to be seen.
🐘🐘🐘
“Goddammit dude are you going to listen to me or what?”
Voices filled his ears, loud and rambunctious.
“Yes, Charlie, I am listening! I’m threading the goddamned needle if you couldn’t tell.”
Was that…Ronnie?
“Well, you’re not doing it right! Here man, let me do it. Your fingers aren’t nearly as nimble as mine.” That wasn’t Ronnie, no, if memory served correctly, it was Dennis’ other friend who didn’t visit his house nearly as much as Ronnie did, Charlie.
“My fingers are plenty nimble, Charlie! I can thread a goddamned needle. Jesus Christ,” Ronnie snapped.
“Oh, can you? Can you, Mac? Because it looked to me like you kept missing the hole!” His voice quieted when he spoke next. “Which is a surprise coming from you.”
Mac? Ronnie must have changed his name.
“Look, dude, I said I wanted your help, not your criticisms,” Mac shot back, and suddenly, Mr. Tibbs’ view shifted from the dark, cold place he’d resided for so long, to the two faces who were eyeing him with a scrutinizing glare.
“Remind me again why you’re doing this,” Charlie requested, blue thread tucked between his teeth as he stuck the end through a small, silver needle.
“If I tell you, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut, and I mean it, bro!” Mac shook a finger at the smaller man who Mr. Tibbs could see was also holding the lower part of his body.
“I’m not gonna say anything,” Charlie vowed annoyedly, then, “Hold the pieces together.”
Mac sighed, face carrying a nervousness that Mr. Tibbs has witnessed Dennis express more times than he could count. “Dennis has been having a rough time lately, and I…I want to do something nice for him. I found this thing in the trash years ago, but then I forgot about it until now and…I think it’ll help him.”
“Jesus, you two are so gay for each other,” Charlie muttered, and Mac frowned.
“I just want to do something nice for him asshole. Is that so wrong?” He huffed out another breath but kept Mr. Tibbs upper and lower halves together.
“You know what, I don’t really care dude. Let’s just get this over with. Frank and I have plans later, and I’m not about to miss them.”
The needle suddenly pierced Mr. Tibbs’ neck, and if he could have cried out, he would have. It was absolute agony, and the torture continued until finally, he was one solid elephant again.
“Holy shit dude. That actually looks really good.” Mac picked him up, eyeing Mr. Tibbs closely before he set him back on the table.
“Well, yeah, duh. My work is im-im –” Charlie narrowed one eye then looked up towards the ceiling. “Impish? No, impec-impec…”
“Impeccable?” Mac finished with a raised brow, and Charlie shook his head.
“No, shit, that’s not it…” His voice trailed off, traces of confusion causing the corners of his mouth to lower.
“I’m telling you that the word you’re trying to say is impeccable. It means perfect,” Mac explained, then stood up, bringing Mr. Tibbs along with him.
“Well, that sounds like how you’d describe a chicken. It’s gotta be another word,” Charlie argued, and Mac’s grip grew tighter.
“Just – forget about it man. Thanks.” He held the elephant up then started to travel down a hallway that smelled like urine. They went down a staircase then out into the world, and Mr. Tibbs took it all in, the sights, the sounds. Night fell as they walked, the sky transforming from a deep, dark blue to black with tiny little yellow dots speckled across its wide expanse.
“So, this is probably going to sound weird, and I feel like an idiot talking to you because you’re just a goddamned stuffed animal, but I know Dennis used to talk to you all the time so here goes.” Mr. Tibbs’ view changed from the sidewalk to the man’s visage, inquisitiveness along with remorse painting his face. “Dennis has been in a bad place for a while, and I’ve tried everything but nothing’s helped. He hardly eats, sleeps more than he should, and when he is awake, he’s angry, like all the time. You’re my last chance dude because –” The man looked away when his voice broke, dark eyes glistening with what Mr. Tibbs knew to be tears. “I honestly don’t know what else to do, and I don’t want to lose him, you know?”
Mr. Tibbs knew that feeling well, probably better than anyone else.
Mac sniffled, then took a deep breath, and headed through a door, up a staircase then through another door.
The floorboards creaked as he walked over them, and together, they entered a room that was weighted down with a heavy sadness that was detectable immediately. There was a figure on the bed, buried under a mound of blankets, curled on its side, but Mr. Tibbs knew immediately who it was.
“Dennis?” Mac’s voice was soft as he knelt on the floor, and he placed Mr. Tibbs behind his back. “Den?”
“What is it?” Oh dear, Dennis didn’t sound good at all. His voice – it lacked emotion. It sounded weathered and…defeated in a way Mr. Tibbs had never heard before.
“I, um, I’ve got something for you –”
“I’m not hungry,” Dennis cut him off, but Mac quickly shook his head.
“It’s not – I didn’t bring any food. I’ve actually – I’ve got something better, something you might have missed.” His fingers squeezed Mr. Tibbs’ belly, and Mr. Tibbs now understood why Mac had resurrected him. “Here.”
“Mac, I –”
Mr. Tibbs stared at the man who was far older than he last recalled. His face was thin, sunken in way one’s was after going without food for too long, and there was an inherent misery etched into the wrinkles that creased his forehead and the corners of his eyes. As he did when he was younger, his brow furrowed, a bout of confusion settling over his features before realization captured them.
“Mr. – Mr. Tibbs?”
“Yeah, Den. Mr. Tibbs,” Mac answered, and suddenly, he was being ripped away from the man’s hand and pulled into the arms that were like home to the little creature, blue trunk now smooshed into Dennis’ chest.
The silence was interrupted by what Mr. Tibbs was sure the breaking of a dam sounded like, gut-wrenching sobs now filling the air like an ash cloud settling in the atmosphere. They rose in pitch and volume, but as he was meant to do (along with Mac), he soothed Dennis as he had all those times before, soaking up his tears and granting him the comfort he’d gone so long without.
Time passed as it was meant to, but its stillness was broken once Dennis had quieted. “Thanks, Mac. Thanks for bringing him home.”
And that was where Mr. Tibbs remained, in his rightful place for the rest of his days.