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Arden pushed himself away from his desk, rubbing his cramped paw, and wandered over to the sad, under-counter refrigerator that passed for his sole 'major' appliance. Taking out a bottle of water, he drank deep, too lost in thought to even cry anymore.

That was the last time I saw him. He died thinking I was his only straight friend. He had the courage to live his life, to endure all the prejudice and hate, and I couldn't even come out to him of all people, the safest space in the world. I can't believe I was so gutless.

And that was truly what it was, wasn't it? Cowardice? Arden had lived in fear his whole life, in one way or another. He had never felt safe. And certainly since high school, he'd been afraid of what people would think if they knew he was gay. When David came out to him, he was afraid. Afraid because he couldn't be as honest. Afraid he would be seen as 'gay by association.' Afraid later on that David would hate him for keeping such a secret, for lying to him, and deluding someone he professed to be a friend.

Tim would never have believed that he truly had no desire for the fox if he had admitted to being gay, though, right? And he really had just wanted to be his friend.

But...if the wolf were being honest with himself, hadn't he truly wanted more out of the situation, at least a little bit? Wasn't he just a little bit selfish? For all his plans of altruism, he certainly had benefitted from his association with the fennec. Being around David, being around other gay people, had made Arden feel at once fearful but paradoxically, safe. Fearful because he knew some would just assume his orientation, yes. But safe because the longer he was there, the more comfortable he felt, with himself and his surroundings. It was liberating. And it was the fennec who had invited him into that world. If he were truly honest, he had to admit that was something, along with his friendship of course, that Arden admired and cherished. His openness. His love of life in the face of death. His commitment to always be himself. It was a gift.

When Arden had unloaded both barrels at Peter, he had nearly outed himself to the dog. In the split second between rants, he turned his ire on Peter's rumored secrets rather than confess his own. He had been so angry that the Château, a place he had felt so honored to be a part of, might reject him just because he was gay, and all of his childhood fears had leapt to the fore, fully realized in that moment. He had not been honest then, either. It was a pattern he was more than sick of.

Arden's muzzle snapped back to his desk, his ears tall, and his tail began to wag. He had written all he could, but he realized he still had one more thing to do, and he had precious little time to do it. It would be light soon, and he would be expected to show up to work on time, like the good wolf he was. Well, even good wolves have to break the rules sometimes.