The following story is probably a lot of nonsense and maybe that's a little weird for me to come straight out and say, but I just had to say it before everyone starts reading. Still, I think I was able to string the words together to make something coherent, to make a short story out of what I have been thinking for a long while. Of course, the irony to that is when I originally envisioned this story, I only saw one scene. Funny.

The piece is basically broken into three parts, though everything comes together as a whole. Again, maybe this is a little weird to say before the story begins. The opening part is separation, the second realization, and the last one recovery. I tried to keep this realistic, though I'm not sure I really know what that means anymore. I guess you'll have to tell me how I did.

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Frosty Night

I couldn't tell you why I went on a walk that night, why I ventured out into the first winter's frost and moved aimlessly down streets with no real direction. I think if I needed to give a reason, I'd have said something along the lines of how I needed to get away from staring at the walls and thinking of how empty the space was. I was tired of the internet and looking at thing I didn't have. Mostly, I was just done with looking through countless writings to fill in all my free time.

I was sick of reading endless novellas about two furs falling in love. I mean, after a while each story is just one cliché after another. Here's a true American jock that goes to a bar to meet a pretty girl, here's the faggiest of faggots sitting at the bar, and for some stupid reason they both end up together that night. End of story, straight guy fucks a gay guy and they fall happily in love for no apparent reason. Or maybe the plot is more along the lines of two best friends that hang out with each other daily or work closely together. One day, they both find out a secret about the other one and fuck themselves into a new love that they didn't know was there all along. Different set of homosexuals, and yet still the same ending.

Except I can tell you that's not the truth...

I'm not sure I really want to get into my past, but let's just say I tried it, or at least a variation of the former tale. I went to the club, played up the whole, "I'm a big, strong, and tough straight jock. No really." It works as well as any fur would expect. If I had to guess why, I'd say it works because homosexuals really want to have this experience that they were able to convert a straight bastard. So I lied and, yeah, I took home a little bitch boy that night and we had it out like fucking teenagers screwing in the back of our parent's pick-up.

But that was it. There was no more romance to the story than our straight-up sexual encounter. One cock went up one ass, there was a lot of thrusting and panting in the heat of the moment, and then that heavenly state of bliss. I've found that that blissful state of mind is fragile and lasts for only a few seconds. Then reality comes crashing back down. Like the fact that I just fucked a guy I never knew, that I couldn't even remember his name and he probably couldn't remember mine. Hell, even now I can't remember what species that bastard was, though probably a canine of some sort. I don't know why; I just always think of wolves and dogs as being pretty unbelievably gay.

The story ends pretty dramatically too, which was probably the only thing I do remember. He jumped out of bed screaming, "SHIT," a couple of times before bolting. His pants were barely up around his waist by the time he had made it to my apartment door. One loud-ass slam later and that brittle state of mind was shattered, the bliss all but erased and I was back to where I had been before the club.

Maybe that was why I felt so broken and in need for endless stories of stupid, cliché love. Did that really matter? Probably not. All I can tell you for sure was I would take them anyway I could get them; whether reading endlessly into the night to the point where my eyes were burning or listening to countless hours of love songs. It's almost a serendipitous type of joy for the broken hearted, no matter the form.

I wanted nothing more than to lie down and listen to those tunes tonight, blasting them through my headphones and just emptying out my soul through someone else's words; but I had run out of tears to cry with, the lyrics to my favorite songs had started to go stale, and overall I was just too tired to find my good headphones.

Maybe that's why I decided to venture out on a walk, or maybe because I was tired of looking at my apartment's walls like I said earlier...

When I looked up from my feet, that's when I realized my deepest thoughts had pulled me somewhere I didn't quite recognize right away. There were houses all around me, each one lightly blanketed by the first frost of the season, and each one prepared for the first snowfall expected later that night. I took a minute more to admire some of the homes that had already put up their Christmas decorations for this time of year, but still I couldn't really identify where I had gone.

You know that moment when something suddenly hits you, the realization that you've journeyed somewhere a million times but in a different light. That's what happened to me right then and there. Like if I had been in this same neighborhood during the daytime, I would have known instantaneously where I was. The sun had gone down and everything looked different now. My eyes adjusted to the dark atmosphere and made sense of what I was look at. My cheeks burned from the cold, but I stood still as the realization of where I had gone smacked me straight in the face.

My eyes latched onto the house ahead of me, the one that might go unnoticed if not for the fact that my heart held onto a deeper meaning from there. They didn't have up Christmas decorations, they didn't even turn on their porch light tonight, but I knew that was the one. The warm glow of the lights from the other side of the front window drew me closer, my foot paws finally lifting once more off the cold concrete to step onto the softer grass of the front lawn.

As I drew near, the interior of the house become more apparent. The familiar pictures on the walls of random scenery, the white couch with flowers across it, and the lamps located on either side. From here it looked like the picturesque family room you would see on one of those old television programs, something along the lines of Pleasantville jumping straight to my mind but not exactly that. I continued to slowly approach closer, the ends of either side of the wall behind the couch coming into frame until finally I could see the entire room and then some to either direction. This view was a private stage and I was now in the forbidden, chilly audience seating.

To my right I saw some stairs, which my eyes flicked to as I watched him come down. He had a bounce in his step, but that's because rabbits always have at least a little bounce in their steps, and he was looking away from me. He was smiling, he was happy, and the white fur on his cheeks was glowing.

I'm not sure if you've ever felt your heart break twice, but when you see the one you used to love so vibrantly happy, uncaring, and free from it all; well, let's just say there's still a lot of pain that resonates deep. The muscles in my chest all contracted at once, a feeling I can only describe as being hollow on the inside and your body trying to seal itself up as tight as possible. Or maybe like your heart is being crushed by all the other organs as they compact inwards as best they can. But I couldn't walk away, like my feet had become frozen to the cold grass below and my head locked in its current position. So my chest kept tightening as I found each breath just a little bit harder to take.

He turned for a second, his eyes flicking past me in a blink, as another lapin suddenly came up behind him. My insides locked themselves fiercely together, my lungs unable to suck in anything under the new found stiffness inside. I saw her face for the first time. She was brown and black, definitely not from his family, and it crushed me to see her. Their noses touched, they softly kissed, and I watched as a smirk of enjoyment flushed across both their faces. My feet finally gave away.

I felt my knees hit the grass hard, my tail falling behind me dead on the ground like a killed snake. I couldn't see them anymore, but the image was already trapped in my mind. There they were, nose bumping and nuzzling and just all and all looking perfect for one another. They were glowing under the touch, and him like an iridescent light burning from within.

I think I wanted to feel hate, to feel the fire build within me as I marched over to the front door and banged on it. I could see the whole scene in my imagination: Him opening the door to see me for the first time in over a month and me just laying loose something from deep inside. Would I yell or would I throw a punch, they both seemed like wonderful options and yet terrible at the same time. Why was I wishing for the strength to do this?

Because the hate wasn't there. Instead of walking to the door my eyes just went back and forth along the siding of the house, glancing at nothing in particular. In my head I didn't see the siding, just an endless void that I was searching through for any glimmer of hope. I was looking for that shining light that he pulled forth from somewhere deep within his own life. There was nothing and the thought of that made my heart start beating faster than ever, though still pressed between the contracted muscles in my chest.

I could feel the tears beginning to well-up in my eyes. I shut them and breathed out slowly. I didn't know if I would be able to heave anything back into my lungs after that, the pain still there and burning deep, but more like the charred remains after the fire is gone. Sure enough, I managed to take in the cold night's air before one more letting that too slip slowly from my chest.

I'm not sure how long I stayed on their front lawn, dying there in my own abyss. I let the cold take over and the last embers of the fire inside burnout. When I finally did come to, it was from the feeling of shivers pull me back to reality. I couldn't tell you if I was crying, because I couldn't feel my face anymore. All I was now was cold. I got up and started walking away, but again not in any direction in particular nor towards the small box I called home.

It's funny how I don't remember the name of the guy I fucked, how I can't even tell you what species he was, or what his first words were to me. I wish I could and maybe that would make me feel a bit better about now, because the one time I would never forget would be the moment I looked through the window and saw my ex-boyfriend's face. In fact, in my head it felt like I was looking at an old photograph hanging on the wall of my apartment. I could just stand there forever and view the scratched-up scene displayed before me in a sepia of colors: His little light brown nose rubbed up against her dark one. I had taken the picture right as his ears dropped in that adorable way I used to love so much. Even in my imagination of this picture on the wall I could see his little teardrop of a tail still flicking back and forth in a blur. All these things were etched forever in my memory.

I didn't want to think of that scene anymore and I certainly didn't want this pain, but my chest kept closing in on itself no matter how fast or how far I walked.

Although the path had started out with no destination, I knew where I was going this time, but I didn't want to be there alone. Pulling out my cell, I held down the button and told her to, "Call Reg." She knew exactly who I meant, just one of those numbers I call all the time I guess.

Putting the phone to my ear, I waited impatiently for the rings to stop until at last the raccoon's raspy voice came through the line. "Hello?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just said what I wanted. "Can you come to the hill?"

I heard some shuffling in the background and a bit of heavy breathing, which made me think the coon was getting out of bed. "Hold on." There was a loud thump followed by a second, much softer one. "Alright, I'll be there in ten."

Even though I mouthed, "Okay," I let the silence fill between us instead of speaking up. I was lost for breath, but I knew that he would get the message without the words.

Still, he waited a little while for the response before adding, "Just wait for me." And then there was that familiar click before the line went dead. The phone went back into my pocket, the hood to my jacket over my ears, and I bundled up tight as I headed towards my destination.

I let my mind returned to the solitude of my own thoughts, mostly memories of the past that felt broken now, or maybe just clipped and edited of their context. Like the first time I met the rabbit. It was in the coffee shop at the University Library, I remember that because I was studying for my finals that week. He was in line when I looked up, his fur a heavenly white and with a laugh that pulled my attention to him. He saw me looking at him, and I looked right back into his golden eyes as he winked at me.

But I was studying for a final, frustrated and upset with everything going on, and he was just in line to get coffee. Neither of us was really trying to attract the other. No, this was just some polite public bantering. So even though he queued me into his interest, all I did was blush and let my tail fall flat before turned back to the paper in front of me.

I don't even remember what was on the page, though. I couldn't tell you if I was sitting there studying for a math or psychology course, or if it was for something completely different. It was just a paper in front of me with notes and scribbles and letters all over it.

But then he sat down at my tiny, round table and put a coffee cup on the paper that I can't recall a single thing about. Our eyes met again as he spoke. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to distract you from your studying." A grin cracked on his face as his eyes glinting in the fluorescent school lights.

I was lost for words, or maybe just out of breath, but I must have said something; or maybe I really didn't say anything and he just got up and left. That's the part that feels lost or missing from my mind now, I can't remember the middle. Instead, I'm left with only the beginning and the end.

He pulled them out of his coat pocket, one paw a pen and the other a small notebook. A few flicks of his wrist later and he pushed the small, ripped piece of paper across the table. "Call me and let me make it up to you." Then he walked away, his tail flicking back and forth. I couldn't see his face, but knowing him as well as I do now I can only bet he had that satisfied smirk all over his face.

I remember looking down, staring blankly at the paper for a moment before finally picking it up and pocketing the note. That memory gets blurred together with later that night when I was looking at my cellphone in one paw and the paper in the other. I wasn't sure if I should call or not, and I don't think I did that night.

That was just how spontaneous he was, giving a small clue maybe only minutes before diving into a new adventure. I can recollect another time more recent when he was just as spontaneous, or impulsive with his decisions, as that first time we met. It was a warm fall day and we were outside underneath a tall oak tree. The leaves were just finish up turning colors for the season. We sat on opposite sides, me with my nose deep into some book and him sorting through some thoughts.

I can still see my paws brushing a couple of leafs that had fallen out of the middle my book when he spoke-up. "Hey."

I twisted back to see him shuffling around the tree, but like most bunnies he was quick to his feet and standing next to me in no time. I think I said, "Yeah," but for all I know I could have said what or even just grunted.

His golden eyes were looking away from me, his paws fumbling with themselves, and his ears were flat. "I think we should break up."

Then there was nothing. I didn't speak a word, but my eyes fell and my ears went flat. They mirrored my heartbeat, then and now, and all the while his eyes never managed to look directly at me. He couldn't even glance in my direction. So we waited in the wind and the rustling of the leaves that had yet to fall for someone to speak up. When that didn't come, he just turned and walked away.

That was over a month ago, though from the quick change in weather I might have thought it to have been a few more. And a few more before that was all I still remembered the best, or at least the most vividly. There was that way our bodies felt when we held one another. A certain warmth that spread across us as we affectionately hugged and he smiled up at me.

I could still feel it now, though more distant in my mind than the real thing ever felt. My paws were on the small of his back, just above that teardrop tail, pulling him closer to me. His body pressed against mine, the way that when I purred it made him want to purr, and I know I was purring. And the smell of spices, he always smelled of spice and I loved it.

He would stand up on the very tips of his hind paws, his lips just barely reaching mine for a soft touch. Then we'd rub noses in the exact same way he did with her, the bunny in that photograph I had hung in my memories. It wasn't much of a touch, it didn't even look like affection, but there was a lot of love there. It was the same love that caused my heart to burn the brightest then that now made my eyes well-up with heartbreak.

My chest tightened again with that, pulling me back to the present as I gripped at my heart for no particular reason. Maybe the motion was more theatrics than reality, but to me the pain felt real. I took a moment and rested my eyes, trying to keep the tears from coming back. I didn't breathe, speak or move. I just waited.

When my lungs finally were able to fill with oxygen once more, I took a few deep breaths before looking at my surroundings. I was already at the first wooden steps that led up the hill. You know, they say never to go out on a hiking trail at night, but this really was more of a walk to the top of the hill than an adventure into the American Outback. And with the moon shining down through a hole in the clouds, I could see my spot at the very top, highlighted in the glow as the sparkles of the snow that had begun to fall.

My eyes drifted back to the first wooden step in front of me while my thoughts drifted back to the past. I remember when I took him here, showed him a place that really meant something to me, and watched as he bounced up these same steps.

That was also the first night we really did anything with each other. Sure, I had been with other guys before and screwed around a little bit, but the connection we had felt deeper and different; which is why we waited. Once the barriers had all come down and the two of us felt like we really knew one another, that was when the clothes came off.

Looking back, I wonder if only I had torn down all my barriers, given him access to my most treasured memories, and he had left a few of his up. Or perhaps during our time together he had started building new walls, making new memories that I wasn't allowed to be a part of, until finally he had built a new kingdom without me. And here I was, wandering the empty streets to his old world searching for him.

I'm honestly never going to know. Worst yet, I don't have an idea of where to start on rebuilding my own kingdom. This was all new territory for me and I didn't know where to start.

At the top of the steps, I passed over to the bench and brushed off the snow with one paw. I knew the seat would be cold, but how would that make me feel any different from how I was feeling anyway. I wiped the wood off as best as I could and sat, letting my eyes look off into the distance.

I had been up on top of this hill at least a dozen times, but almost never at night. Looking out now, I watched the twinkling of the city lights as they disappeared into the far distance. Some moved slowly and some turned on and off, but that was to be expected.

I want to say that I just admired the view for a while, but the memory of what I had seen just kept flashing back into my mind. Nothing was able to shake the thought of looking through that window, not the quiet air of the scenery around me nor the gently snow that fell. Still, I waited.

A few minutes later I watched as my friend started climbing the hill. He walked up the curving steps as quickly as he could, following the swirling trail all the way. When he got to the top, he came over and simply said, "Hey," before sitting down.

He breathed out, my eyes following the frost of his breathe for a moment before I looked forward again. Silence slowly filled the void of time, as if there was nothing to say, but of course we had a lot to talk about. He finally asked, "So, what's up?"

I closed my eyes, looking at that picture again on the wall, and felt my insides clench once more. I could feel the story getting ready to be told, that want to just let it all out building up because I couldn't hold the emotions in anymore. It was weighing me down and I needed to just let go. But I didn't. I didn't say anything then. Instead, I just laid my head on his shoulder and started to cry.

And he said nothing, because he didn't have to say anything. He just had to be there on this frosty night...