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Hello, sweet peas,

welcome to the Hockey Hunk! It's Monday, and we're back in business, and I do hope you'll have fun! I'm sorry about the delay on Friday, I just felt so damn bad about the chapter, it's rare that it happens, but I couldn't help it, I had to pull the plug, but now I'm here again, and I do think it's better now! I shall look forward to your feedback, and do remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories as well!

Cheers!

*

At least he wouldn't be able to claim that I didn't go all out. I took the tray from the cabinet, dusted it and put the mug and a saucer on it, and a plate for the outrageously large chocolate muffin I dug from the freezer and defrosted before placing it onto a nicely folded napkin and then onto that plate. I studied the collage for a moment, mourned the lack of a cut rose in a flute glass to complete it, but hoped that Nicholas wouldn't mind, under the circumstances.

With fragrant cocoa steam rising towards my nose, I made for the living room, and my challenge.

Nicholas was still sitting on the couch where I'd propped him up before going to the kitchen to fix the hot tea and goodies. He had his muzzle resting on both of his paws, tail floppy on the floor, ears drooping as much as the man himself, eyes staring into the emptiness of the dark TV screen. He looked deflated, uncharacteristically so, which was another worry. He barely batted an eye or an ear in my appearance.

"Here we go darling," I said, "one dose of green tea and ten milligrams of Valium, and one of these ridiculously sugary muffins I keep in store for guests!"

His whiskers moved a little as he sampled the scent of the tea oozing into the room, which probably was somewhat a good sign. I placed the tray onto the coffee table in front of the couch and slipped onto the couch next to him. Nicholas glanced at me.

"I joked about the Valium," I mused, "but the muffin has real butter in it."

He did look like he might need some Valium, though.

"Thank you," he muttered before picking up the mug from the tray and cupping it in his big paws, "this is perfectly fine, just fine, thank you, Sinclair."

Hmmm...you'd think we'd be on first name basis by now, especially since we just fucked. Or maybe it was just that bad.

"No problem at all, Nicholas," I replied.

I watched him blow steam from on top of the mug before he took a long gulp and sighed.

"It really is quite nice, thank you."

"It's just supermarket stuff," I told him, "I don't know whether you're into tea snobbery or not."

I had a suspicion he was. It would have been...so Faye of him.

Nicholas let out a snuffle that was bordering on a chuckle as he put the mug down.

"I do still drink Tetley's, like I did drink in England when I was staying there," he mused, "It kinda stuck on me."

"Awwww...no visiting Ye Olde Tea Shoppe for those special brews?" I suggested.

"No, no," he shook his head quickly, "though I have taken up cooking as of recent!"

Well, that was definitely news. I don't think I ever saw him eat anything at all that didn't have a wrapper stamped with the name of a fast food chain on it.

"Really now?"

"Oh yes," he said, "someone taught me to appreciate it more, and then I was hooked!"

"Someone special, I bet, but kept it to my own knowledge, not wanting to push anything at this particular time, when adrenaline ran high.

"Well, that's good of you," I said, "I do prefer it myself. It's so much more healthy in the long run."

Nicholas put his mug down and then hugged himself on the couch, leaning back on it, and watched me while he seemed to consider my statement, before he gave me a sagely, mane-brushing nod.

"I presume you have to look at your health a lot more carefully than the average fur, with your condition."

What a way to put it.

"All the common sense advice everyone should stick to stands with me too," I replied matter-of-fact, "I avoid sugar and fat, do exercise, get regular checkups, don't drink alcohol, and don't do anything stupid. It's all quite simple, really."

Nicholas' mane bristled.

"You used to look so sick," during the last year of undergrad school," he said, regaling me.

He didn't just look...he regaled.

"And smell, too, if you don't mind me saying."

Well...tact was never his strong suite, was it now?

"Urea," I said.

"Hmmm?"

"It's a kind of a poison your kidneys make out of all the shit in your bloodstream, and when it packs up in your body, you start oozing it out of your pores. So...well...I was practically pissing out of my skin, hence, I smelled like piss."

He managed to stay remarkably composed even facing such disgusting personal details. I was almost disappointed. A little bit of cringing would have been most amusing.

"I never quite figured out what it was, I admit."

"There you go," I waved a paw.

"Did they ever tell you why?"

I shrugged.

"I've asked that question from a lot of doctors and a lot of furs, "I mused dryly, "but apparently it'd just been going on for years before I actually started getting ill. It's how these things often work, they told me. You don't notice anything's wrong until your body starts drowning in your own piss."

Now he did cringe. I didn't blame him.

"It is a remarkably insidious, isn't it?" Nicholas suggested ever so eloquently.

"So it seems," I said, and didn't really know what else I could comment on that truth.

"But you do look so much better," he said as he leaned over to pick his tea again, "So much, much better."

"Do I smell better too?" I snuffled.

Now he appeared thoughtful, over the rim of his mug.

"There is something peculiar about it, but I cannot really name it, I think, "he mused, "If you don't mind me saying it."

Funny how he ended all his embarrassing statements with that. I suppose even Nicholas had some grace nowadays.

"It's probably the drugs, "I said, "some of them are made out of mould, after all. I don't really notice it myself, but I must've gotten used to it, I suppose."

"Well it could just be my memory doing tricks on me, anyway," he replied, "It's been a while since I smelled the original you, after all."

Awww...he sure knew how to make it sound sweet.

"Perhaps it is so."

"Aren't you drinking tea, Sinclair?" he finally noticed my lack of a hot beverage as he put his mug down again and returned to his safe position of hugging himself.

"I'm just fine," I replied, "Besides, talking about my kidneys always makes me lose my appetite."

He pouted and hung his head.

"I apologize, Sinclair."

"Oh, never mind," I said, "I'm sure you rather speak about my kidneys than about you getting gay bashed outside my front door. Unless you want to have a therapeutic chat about it, of course, or maybe cry."

Well, he asked for it.

His tail batted the floor a couple of times, but besides that, there was not much of a reaction...which could've either been a good sign, or a show that the dramatic lion really was very...very deeply disturbed and kind of...locked in a cage of his own misery.

"I've known I was peculiar since I was five years old," he said, "when I was ten, I learned that there was a dirty word called faggot. The dictionary told me that it was a bunch of twigs, and that made no sense. By the time I was being called a pansy and a tail lifter, I finally made the connection between the public perception of homosexuality and what I learned was called...gay. And yes...I am gay, and I have had twenty-four years to practice dealing with the hate being gay entails. I may be shaken now, but I will deal with it in time. I will not give those over-grown children in their saggy pants and their ill-fitting caps the victory that would be gained by having me break down in tears here now, or curse the world, or myself, or my wretched existence. I shall not give that to them, not now, or in the future. There is nothing proud about it, I feel humiliated and violated, but I shall not let it shatter me. I will not let go."

I almost had my muzzle hanging open by then. It all sounded...practiced, like he'd have to defend himself before a jury of his peers, or something of the sort...and I'll be damned if it wasn't the coldest and hardest thing I'd ever heard that...lavender-scented, soft lion ever speak out. It was...jaded. Dry ice beneath the golden furs I'd never encountered before.

"I...see..." I rumbled.

"I've never been beaten up, though," he said, "I think I got away quite lightly this time, considering. No broken bones..."

I glanced at the torn sleeve of his shirt, and bit back a retort.

"Well I hope they catch those furs who did this."

"Yes," he said. "I described them to the police, and they are investigating whether there are any nearby security cameras they could use for identifying my assailants. They might have good leads. They have eyewitnesses, too."

"Then I'm sure it's only a matter of time," I said.

"Yes..." he stared at the mug on the table.

"I'm really sorry," I said, meaning a lot of things with that.

He shook his head.

"Sorry doesn't mend broken clothes or shattered phones," he said.

"I'm still sorry you got hurt," I said.

He shook his head.

"I think we've done being sorry for today," he said, "I'd just rather speak about other things now. I feel violated enough as I am, I don't want to get onto an endless cycle of bad thoughts."

"If you're sure," I said.

"I didn't come here to be pitied," Nicholas said, "I simply can't be alone now. I shouldn't be."

"You're right, you shouldn't," I said.

But whether this was proactive for his wellbeing...I wasn't sure.

"Good."

"You should drink your tea before it gets cold," I said, "and I don't think the muffin's too bad, either."

"Hhhmyes," he rumbled, rubbing his chin.

This really wasn't going anywhere.

*

"Is that him?"

I'd been trying to look at a book while Nicholas continued his game of silence, instead of wandering around the apartment while I stayed on the couch, following him occasionally from the corner of my eye. His trip had taken him about the place, and now he had found the photographs.

He was pointing at a framed print of a snapshot of me and George, taken...yes...yes, taken in a restaurant...when we actually went on a date. We both looked like shit in that one, but since it was a first one, that's what mattered. We were smiling, and I was holding his paw in mine. He looked so shy, and young, and I looked...like I always did, glad that the table covered my bulging dialysis belly.

I put my book away, knowing that this wasn't going to be quick...or easy.

"That's me and George," I explained.

Nicholas squinted as he leaned closer, almost huffing at the glass.

"He has a kind face," the lion said.

"He was wicked," I noted fondly, "he had a dirty sense of humor, like someone of that age should, and he cultivated it to the maximum extent. It's what I miss most."

Every single fucking second I live, I will miss it, and will live for it, too. But that was too private a thing to tell to Faye. He might get poetic. George wasn't poetic. He'd disapprove being turned into...lyrical things.

Nicholas gave me a glance.

"When did you meet?"

"In 2006," I said. "At the hospital of all places."

"Oh..." his ears jumped.

"We started seeing each other soon after he turned 18," I said, "apparently his sister had told him not to make a move on me before he turned 18, so that I wouldn't be able to turn him down based on that complaint."

"An interesting sister..." Nicholas rumbled.

"Charlene is lovely," I said.

Still he looked at it...the smiles...the fingers, together...

"So was he...ill as well?"

"Congenital heart defect," I spoke. There was no sugarcoating that fact, or the ones that were to follow. "It took a turn for the worse and he needed a heart transplant. He got one in 2008, but on November last year, he had a heart attack and he died."

And that would be all I would tell him about it, or anyone, if asked.

"I..." he said before catching his tongue, based no doubt to our previous agreement for today, as he simply shook his head, drooping his ears. "I see."

"So that's my story," I mused, scratching one perpetually itchy arm.

"You have many pictures of him," he said, gesturing at the wall.

"It feels like the right thing to do," I said quietly.

*

Thank you for reading my story!

I hope you had a nice time, and I look forward to your comments! Do remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to read as well!

See you on Friday!