old man gets nostalgic and sentimental

these restaurants were largely abandoned now. names forgotten to time, left to rot on planets scattered throughout the cosmos, their empire now crumbling, save for one or two, maybe three, remaining on the same planet. jack should be happy. it's what he'd wanted, after all, it's what so many others wanted.

but he wasn't. he couldn't be, not with how much he'd had to sacrifice for its empire of dirt to fall. he sighed.

the sodacat landed his rickety spaceship on the forgotten and abandoned planet, the rough winds kicking up dirt and sticks and rocks. he wasted no time, sprinting to the entrance of the building as fast as his four paws could take him. he stopped at the door and squinted through the debris and groaned at the sight.

of course the doors were boarded up. why these buildings hadn't been destroyed bewildered him, but he couldn't find much energy in him to complain. heaving himself up onto his back paws, jack shifted his weight to slam himself hard into the door: once, twice, thrice, until the splintered wood of the door cracked and withered away, letting him stumble inside.

despite the wear and tear of the building both inside and out, mold and mildew and moss growing throughout, the smell of trashy pizza still permeated the building. spraypaint decorated the walls, profanities and, "??? WUZ HERE," so many names unintelligible, everywhere. jack couldn't help but chuckle. he shook his head and continued on into the building.

picking himself over the booths that families once ate at, the ones families flew in to dine at, he made his way to the stage, where a robotic skeleton lay withering away. jack scrunched up his muzzle and leaned in close. he lifted a paw and prodded at it, pushing it until it rolled over.

his paw yanked back instinctually when the thing toppled over and fell apart. he sighed and turned away. best keep moving if this wasn't going to cut it.

there was one place he was coming here for. or, well, one thing. he doubted it would still be here… or, rather, she would still be here, but… he guessed it was worth a shot.

turning his attention back to the direction of the entrance, the ginger sodacat kept mindful of his glass bottle tail as he walked briskly, climbing back over debris and metal and mold, to the prize corner close to the doors of the dinertainment area.

the shelves were empty, long since raided and the merchandise that they once held were probably scalped or in collectors' collections. (though he couldn't see the appeal in collecting terrible dinertainment merchandise, really.) jack couldn't help but frown. he missed the days when these were stocked to the brim, kids standing at the counters and harassing whatever poor soul was behind the counter. the memory was vivid in his mind. tears pricked the corners of his eyes. he shook his head.

now's not the time to get sentimental. (this entire trip was nothing if not sentimental.)

staring at his target, the large white gift box wrapped with a red ribbon next to the counter, jack approached cautiously. again, he didn't have high hopes, but… maybe. maybe.

rearing up on his hind paws as he approached, his bottle tail tinking against the ground, jack lifted the lid of the box and…

he fell backwards as a handful of moths flew at his face, spiders scrambling out, with a surprised shout.

his ears flattened against his head, flustered and embarrassed even though no one was around to watch. guess she wasn't here. it'd been a long time, surely he wasn't surprised, was he?

jack sat there on his hind legs for a moment, paws numb to the sharps he was unknowingly standing on…

and cried. hard. this trip was supposed to be a trip down memory lane, to find something worth bringing back home, to- to find her, and yet… and yet, there was nothing. he couldn't help but cry. a grown man, hunched over his paws, crying in the dustiest and most rundown abandoned building this side of the galaxy… crying.

he needed to leave. he wanted to take the box with him and leave, but his grief left him glued to the spot. and all he could do was cry.