FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Author’s Note: This is a musical chapter, however after due research and diligence, I have found that it is widely advised to avoid publishing a story, even one that is being posted online for free, with song lyrics included. As such, the only songs in this chapter to still include their lyrics are parodies, that have had the lyrics changed from the original. However, song titles are still included, so readers may feel free to look up the songs if they do not know them.)

Chapter 4 – Juke Box Hero

(Content Warning: _ Mild _ homophobia, bullying, abuse** )**

“Ashley.” Mandy said, glancing over at the stoat, who perked up and grinned. Ash rubbed his hands together as he hopped up, grabbing the mic and circling around to stand at the head of the table, between them and the door to the room, striking a pose like a performer on stage.

“Hit me with your best shot!” He said, biting his lip and grinning.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Mandy said, looking down at the tablet and tapping a few buttons. They heard the speakers pop in the corners of the room as the screen lit up, coming to life, showing an album cover, as the deep, angry, almost tribal sounding drums began playing, the opening beats of Disturbed’s ‘Down With The Sickness’.

Ashley looked at Mandy, lowering the mic for a second to glare at her, at which the doe smirked. That was until, with a cock of his hip, the stoat started smirking back, lifting the mic up as the first lyrics, spoken rather than sung, flashed up on screen. “Do ya feel that?” Ash breathed into the mic, his voice soft, light, a sensual caress in a dark room. It was already not fully fitting the tone of the hard bassline that was picking up in the track.

It made an uncomfortable shiver run down Michael’s spine as he gulped. Mandy’s smirk died as she rolled her eyes, already fearing what she had unleashed.

The next line up was supposed to be an annoyed “Ah, shit” from the singer. Ashley arched his back, tail flicking up as he ran his hand down the front of his body, brushing past his waist and down his thigh to his knee as he looked right at the doe. “Oh, fuck~” He moaned into the mic, really leaning into the most girlish, high pitched, sexually charged tone he could hit, which was enough to make Michael’s eyes widen in his seat and his face flush beet red.

He had not thought it was possible for a male to sound like that, but he’d be damned if the lithe stoat hadn’t pulled off a perfect cutesy anime girl voice, albeit in an exceptionally lewd manner. Maybe more hentai than anime. He clenched his jaw, looking away from the sensual display in front of him for a moment, seeing Troy watching with a big, dumb grin on his face, like he knew something was coming.

Everyone knew the next part, arguably the most famous part from arguably the band’s most famous song. It wasn’t even really words, just a weird, gruff vocal warm up sort of thing that the lead singer did into the mic, like someone had taken doo-wop and run it through metal vocals. A raspy, angry “Oo-wa __h_ -ah-ah-ah!”_

Unable to contain his curiosity, Michael looked back at the stoat, who was grinning as the doe sitting on the couch opposite Michael glared at him. Michael was fairly certain he saw her mouth ‘don’t you dare’ at the mustelid, before that part of the song landed like a bombshell.

“Uu-wuu!” The stoat hit the line full force, pure meme aesthetic, with zero hesitation and not an ounce of shame or cringe in his body, which only seemed to cause an even more powerful reaction from his audience.

Mandy put the tablet over her face, growling “Fuck” from behind it, while Dylan nearly spat his beer everywhere. Tal and Troy burst out laughing, the former stamping his paws on the floor while the later rolled out of the couch and onto the floor, clutching his sides. For his part, Michael tried not to laugh, he really did. It was stupid. Childish and cringe, internet brainrot at its worst. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from smirking slightly, breathing out of his nose a bit sharper as he fought to keep from snickering. Something about the raw directness Ashley had on his face when he said it, the look of having successfully won this challenge already, that made it hard to hate.

As the song progressed, the lyrics actually starting, two things became apparent. While his voice was no where near deep enough to match the original, it was still not bad at all, with a decent range and tone. The other thing was that he was dead set on turning a song about hate and rage over parental abuse into a silly, hypersexualized parody.

“… Drowning deep in my sea of longing

_Broken your servant, I kneel (will you give it to me?)

It seems what's left of my_ masculine _side

Is slowly changing in me (will you give it to me…?_)

Get up, come on, get down with the th_ickness

Get up, come on, get down with the_ th_ickness

Get up, come on, get down with the_ th_ickness

Open up your_ love, and let it flow into me!”

The subtle changes to the lyrics of the song showed either an impressively quick mind for improvisation, or else that Ashley knew the lyrics better than he was letting on. Either way, this parody was leaving Michael a blushing, uncomfortable mess, Mandy filled with enough rage to give the original song a run for its money, and the rest of them in fits of uncontrolled giggles.

When it got to the bridge, during which, originally, the singer broke into speaking into the mic again, while seemingly reliving or reenacting a childhood trauma at the hand of his mother… needless to say, it came out very different, with Ashley’s version:

“Yes, Daddy! Please, do it again! I’ll be a good boy! I promise, Daddy!”

This was enough to leave Michael leaning over, head in his hands, feeling like he might pass out from the amount of blood that was rushing to his face. He could also feel the Voice, the one he hated, clamoring to be heard at the back of his mind, but… something funny was happening. Embarrassed as he was, uncomfortable as he was, this was still reminding him of when he was a teen, coming home and drowning out his father’s voice, his worries, his fears, his exhaustion… his own thoughts in the sound of music, while singing along, to songs that were angry, horny or sometimes just stupid and silly. He didn’t know if it was the song choice (a favorite of his when he was fifteen or sixteen) or what, but, while he could still feel that hateful, bile spewing thing in his head, trying to get his attention, it couldn’t be heard over the sound of the music.

When the last note of the song sounded, Ash struck a pose, mic held up in the air while his free hand was resting on his thigh, close enough to draw the eye down to the rather obvious bulge in the front of the tight little overalls he was wearing. Michael looked away instantly, pressing his lips together and trying his best to mentally bleach that image out of his head.

“Alright! We get it!” Mandy exclaimed, throwing her head back on the cushions and holding up the tablet. “Do not try to out troll the maestro.” She said, rolling her eyes. “First round’s already on the way.” Ashley walked over, smirking and snatched up the Tablet, sitting down as he tapped away at the screen.

“I’m glad you’re being all magnanimous about this, Mans, but I am so not done with you yet.” He said, leering over the top of the screen. Mandy went a little pale, and shook her head, but Ashley was already pointing the mic at her. “Get your ass up there, bitch, you’re next!”

Mandy gave a groan, hamming it up a little, as she stood up and took the mic. “Ugh, fine! Just, don’t make me sing some stupid pop song.” Ashley’s smirk made Mandy instantly regret her words, before the album cover on screen changed, and ‘Demons’ by Imagine Dragons started playing. “I hate you so much right now.” Mandy said, before rolling her eyes and raising the mic. Her performance was… lackluster, to say the least. She simply stood there, singing into the microphone with a monotone voice and glaring at Ash. Within a minute, everyone else was booing and pelting her with popcorn and candy wrappers.

“Come on, Mans, ya gotta at least try!” Tal said, sticking his tongue out at the doe, and she shrugged, lowering the mic and walking back to her seat.

“I am not singing that shit, and you all know it. I will happily pay for two rounds in a row.” The doe said, flopping down onto the couch. “You can keep throwing free snacks at me, all you want.” She said, picking a piece of popcorn off her shirt and popping it into her mouth.

Michael’s eye was caught by a flash of green above the door and a beeping sound, and he turned to see a small green light had come on above the door. “Drinks!” Tal said, hopping up and jogging over to the door.

“Don’t we already have drinks?” Michael asked, glancing at Troy, who grinned.

“Nah, man. These are shots bro!” He said, as a woman, a human in the attire of a waiter, came in, a tray in one hand with six shot glasses and a tall glass of what, upon spying a lemon slice on the side and a straw, appeared to be tea, and a pitcher full of what looked like just water in the other. She sat both down on the table, backing away.

“Wait here, please?” Tal said, smiling at the woman, who blushed and nodded, as Tal, Dylan, Ashley and Troy, the latter tugging on Michael’s arm to tell him to join in, reached out and took one of the shot glasses. It looked like it was filled with… jello, actually, as Michael picked his up. Watered down jello, but jello for sure. He frowned, as Tal raised his glass. “To friendship and love!” The wild dog said, nodding, before knocking back his cup. The others all tipped theirs back and shot them, so Michael followed suit. The sweet flavor of cherry jello hit his tongue, immediately followed by the warm, tingling sensation of alcohol running down his throat. He coughed slightly, more from surprise than anything, and blinked at the shot glass, as the others all tipped theirs upside down on the tray. Ashley looked across to him with a grin.

“What? Never had a jello shot before?” She- he asked, and Michael, clearing his throat, shook his head.

“No. That was… actually really sweet!” He said, smiling slightly. “Kinda tastes like candy.”

“Yeah, that’s why we do them in little shots like this.” Ashley said, as Michael put his glass with the others and the waiter collected the tray and took it away, leaving the pitcher of water behind. Mandy had collected the tea and was sipping it. “They make them with all kinds of booze here, and which one gets chosen is up to who’s ordering the round, buuut… it’s always something strong; vodka, rum… I think they even do one with soju, here! You don’t really get the bite from the alcohol cause it’s so sweet though, so you don’t wanna overdo it, right?” The effeminate stoat said, smiling at the tiger who smiled back, nodding.

“Right, I getcha.” He said, as he stepped back, sitting down. He glanced over as Ash picked up the tablet and passed it off to Taliesin, watching Mandy as she leaned back in her seat. Even for just five shots, if it used high grade alcohol like what Ash had mentioned, it must cost a lot, and the doe had already had to order twice. Serves her right, he thought, before kicking himself, shaking his head slightly, as though to dislodge the thought from his brain. That wasn’t fair. Mandy hadn’t done anything wrong. Sure, she’d been shooting him subtle glares since she got to the room, as though wishing he hadn’t stuck around. And she wasn’t wrong for doing that. He looked down at his hands, sighing. She was right. He hadn’t cared about how anything he’d done in school affected Dylan, or her. He glanced up, as the others seemed to be talking something over between themselves, leaving only him and Troy to sit on their own. Michael’s eyes found Dylan, who was talking to Mandy softly, the doe rolling her eyes at something the coyote said, a small smirk back on her face.

Was it true? Had Dylan locked himself away, after graduation? She’d said she had to ‘talk him down’. Did that mean…?

Michael thought back to that night: They were eighteen. They were getting out of high school. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, of parties and fun and freedom, at least for a little bit. But Michael had known it wasn’t going to be any of those things, for him. It was going to just be more of the same, once summer was over and he started college: Train. Drill. Workout. Compete. And, in between, try to do as good at his classes as he could. His father may have given up any dream of Michael following in his pawsteps and becoming a doctor when he was in elementary school, but he still expected good grades, even if he was going to college on a scholarship.

And meanwhile, Dylan Starr, the little queer, was getting out. Getting to go home to his family, probably go work some dead end job that he had chosen for himself, where the worst thing he’d have to deal with was a lousy manager and bitchy Karens at the drive-thru. It hadn’t felt fair. That he got to choose where he went from here. That he got to live a life outside of familial expectations. His family had even just accepted that he was gay, like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t some unnatural, deviant perversion.

Michael had been angry. He’d been mostly angry at his father, and a bit at himself. He was even starting to realize that, by then. But he wasn’t ready to accept it, or confront it. And so, he had fallen back to his old standby: Take his anger out on Dylan Starr. Still, care had to be taken. He was eighteen, now, after all, he couldn’t just go beating the bratty little canine up. He could wind up in jail for that. Not for very long, most likely, not being the son of such a wealthy man, not around here, in Deepwater. But, his father would have his ass if he wound up with a record, especially over someone like Dylan. So, a little more planning, a little more care, was called for. He did have an idea, though.

Getting the skunk spray had been the hardest part.

Most skunk anima were, by law, required to be deskunked by the time they hit thirteen, but wrangling a wild, feral skunk seemed risky. Fortunately, one of the guys on the team, Jared Lee Besker, a human with an unfortunate speech impediment, was always tagging along with Michael and helping him out, especially if it involved picking on Dylan. And, Jared happened to be friends with Clyde Harris, the oldest son of the only skunk family in Deepwater, who’s little sister hadn’t yet gone in for her deskunking. And so it was that, after getting Clyde in on the plan, they managed to get a hold of a small jar of the foul smelling liquid, no questions asked.

After that, the rest was easy: Fingernail polish and glitter were easy to get, from Jared’s older sister and from the craft store in the mall. Jared had found out that Dylan was keeping his robe for graduation in his locker, a mistake Michael had intended to make him regret. Breaking into lockers was old hat for him by that point, especially Dylan’s.

They nearly got caught by a hall monitor, but a few quick words and a fifty dollar bill changing hands, and ten minutes later they were done. They had popped back off to their respective classes, and sat through the rest of the day. When the last class let out, they all mixed in with the crowd of students heading to get their robes and get changed for the ceremony. Michael had rushed a bit, not wanting to miss the show, and the three of them met up in the boy’s restroom where they could spy on the coyote’s locker without being seen, easily. Dylan, head down, had come to his locker to collect his robe, to go get changed after class. He had clearly smelled that something was very wrong before he reached it, since a frown had crossed his face, and he had rushed over to open the locker and check on his things, just as they’d hoped he would. And there was his robe, covered in slurs written with the nail polish, and an unhealthy dose of glitter, but it was the skunk spray that was the real piece de resistance. Not only had Clyde (the only one who could open the jar without gagging instantly) splattered the robe in the substance, he had gone an extra step, setting the open jar inside the locker and tying a piece of string to it and to the inside of the door handle. Dylan had pulled the door open with some force in his panic, and the jar had been jerked from its resting place, flying out and splattering him, and a few innocent bystanders, in the disgusting stuff. He had been coated, from his waist down.

He had stood there, his books falling to the floor in a heap, forgotten as he retched, gagging, and staggered back, slipping in the puddle on the floor and falling into it. Most of the other students around him had fled from the stench, while Michael had nearly fallen out of the restroom, laughing, his own pain temporarily forgotten. He was soothed, as well, by the thought that this might make his Dad proud of him. But, he was so caught up in his sadistic joy in the moment, he hadn’t seen where Dylan went. When he looked up, the canine had been gone, only the stench and the ruined robe attesting to what had just transpired, but Clyde and Jared swore he’d run off sobbing after seeing Michael laughing at him.

Dylan hadn’t come to the ceremony that night, and Michael had felt inordinately proud of himself as he’d taken his diploma in hand and walked out of high school a free man.

He had not learned until a week later that Dylan’s father had passed away a couple of weeks before that. He had told himself he didn’t care. Had even quipped, he thought, to Clyde or Jared or some other crony, that the old man must’ve offed himself out of shame. But, inside, he’d felt a flinch, even then, that he’d denied. A thought that, had he known that ahead of time, had he cared enough to find that out, he wouldn’t have let the plan continue. Even at his worst, he would like to think he’d have had more heart than that.

Now, Michael sat, his eyes on Dylan, feeling his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he thought about the past. Dylan looked up from talking with Mandy, seeing him staring, and gave a small, tentative smile. Michael felt sick. Why are you smiling at me? Why are you helping me? I don’t deserve any of this. He thought to himself, as he made his best attempt to give the coyote a weak smile in return.

“Troy!” Taliesin said, waving the tablet in the air. “You are up, my dude!” Michael blinked, coming back to the moment fully, as the human, as laid back as ever, got up, nodding his head.

“Okay, bro, give me all you got!” Troy said, grinning, and Tal shrugged.

“Oh, we’ve got a banger for you!” He said, tapping the screen. A moment later, the monitor switched over, giving them all a five second countdown while showing the album cover and song title. Hozier’s ‘Take Me To Church’.

Troy rolled his eyes. “C’mon, man, I could sing this one in my sleep, as often as you guys play it!” He complained. “Y’all are goin’ easy!” He rolled his eyes, but lifted the mic to his mouth and started singing. He did fairly well, his voice maybe a bit off key at times, certainly, but he followed the tune, and he even managed to match Hozier’s deep, bluesy vocals, though with a clear lack of training. It lent itself well to giving the harder tone of the chorus a raw, rough feel.

Taliesin stood up, bowing with a smile as the human finished the song, passing him the Tablet. “Already placed the order, we never doubted you for a minute!” He said, as the four of them on their couch grinned at him.

Troy glared at them, though he was grinning at the same time and sat down. “You fuckers let me have that, don’t think I don’t know that!” He said, nodding as he looked down at the tablet. “Of course, given the options I’m stuck with for who to choose, I don’t think I’m gonna whine too much about it.” He said, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” Michael asked him, as the door light flicked on again, and Dylan jumped up this time to get the next round of shots. They’d all been sipping beer, or in Tal and Ash’s case, whiskey, and Mandy with her tea. Tal had also poured everyone a cup of water to drink from when needed, encouraging them to do so, and popcorn and other salty snacks were on hand. Even so, Michael was already feeling a soft, warm glow about himself, by the time he’d knocked back the next shot, and, sitting back down, turned to Troy as the human answered his question.

“Dee and Tal are the two best damn singers in this group, even better than Ash, who’s old man taught him to sing. Something about it being a family tradition, or whatever.” Troy said, frowning at the screen as he searched through song choices. “I might as well just order the next round now, save us the time and trouble. But, I wouldn’t wanna make the poor waiters have to be bouncing up here all the time, give ‘em a little break.” He finished, grinning to the tiger.

Dylan could sing? He thought, glancing over towards the coyote. And not only that, but well enough that Troy deemed his loss a forgone conclusion, apparently. For that matter, Taliesin being able to sing was a bit surprising. With how he was dressed, like a raver about to head out for a night of hard partying and thumping bass, the wild dog being able to dance would not have surprised him, but sing? You just couldn’t tell, with some, he guessed. He did wonder, for a moment, if Troy might not be pulling his tail, but why would the human bother?

Troy glanced up, tapping the screen. “Okay, Dee, you’re up. I ain’t gonna make this easy, but I’m already sure I’m gonna be payin’ anyway.” He said, grinning, as Dylan stood up, walking over. The jeans draped and flowed around his paws as he did, giving an almost ethereal look in the low light of the room, as though he were floating, as he picked up the mic from the table, took a drink of water, and nodded.

“I wouldn’t want you to go easy, Troy. And, just so you know, I thought we should’ve given you something harder when you were up.” He said, smiling at the man, who nodded, grinning back.

“You’re always a real one, Dee! So, let’s see how you manage this!” He said tapping the button, and the monitor up above changed once more. Michael was mildly surprised to see a woman’s face on the album cover, and a name he recognized, though he didn’t think he’d ever really heard any of her stuff before. Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’ started playing over the speakers, and he saw Dylan purse his lips a second, before a smirk crossed the coyote’s face. He began to move his hips side to side, swaying them in tune with the guitar and drumbeat, bringing the mic to his mouth, and started singing in a surprisingly clear, weighty baritone voice.

Michael found himself sitting back in his seat, mouth open slightly. Not only could Dylan sing, he could sing well. He sounded like he might have even received some proper training before. There was hardly a single note out of place, even though he had to be singing much deeper than the original singer had. He matched the beats of the music, his paws tapping the floor as he continued to sway back and forth and, most impressive, he was doing it all without even looking at the monitor, singing the song purely from memory.

As he finished the first verse, he lowered his body, sinking his hips down, and his voice seemed to follow, dropping down into a low baritone, bordering on a bass note that Michael could almost feel more than hear. However, not but a moment later, the coyote stood up straight, raising his hand up into the air and tipping his head up slightly. Once more, his voice followed his body, shifting up into his head, as he began singing in a light tenor, closer to the sort of tone Michael had expected from him to begin with.

Michael found himself sitting forward in his seat, eyes wide. It wasn’t just the technical aspect of how good Dylan’s voice was, it was also the canine’s ability to put his heart into the words he was singing. As he sang, the desperation and fear could be felt, as he begged this beautiful woman not to steal the man he loved.

By the time the song came to a close, Michael was sitting with his elbows on his knees, one hand covering his mouth, and as the music faded and everyone in the room started cheering and applauding, he was distantly surprised to find himself joining in. Dylan gave a pleased smile and a bow, before glancing over at him. The smile grew a bit wider and warmer, a surprised look on the canine’s face. Michael, blinked, realizing he’d been staring still, and shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, as Dylan stepped over. “Glad you liked it~” The coyote said, softly.

“I… I didn’t know you could sing like that.” Michael said, honestly, glancing down at his hands.

“Shit, we don’t call him the Prairie Songbird for nothin’, bro!” Tal said from across the way, grinning.

Michael lifted an eyebrow, seeing the blush on Dylan’s face. “It’s an old nickname for a coyote, feral ones, that is.” Dylan said, shrugging. “Cause settlers couldn’t go a night without hearing them chattering out on the prairie.”

Michael nodded, chuckling. “Well, still, I guess it fits! Have you received actual training?” He asked, unable to contain his curiosity, as Troy leaned forward, setting the tablet in the middle of the table. The light over the door kicked on and the human went to get it, as Dylan sat down in his seat, just across the narrow divider from Michael.

“My Grandma taught me how to sing, yeah, for when we went to church.” Dylan said, nodding. “That was… That was back before I came out.” He said, glancing down at his hands and frowning softly. “I missed singing with her, after that.”

Michael blinked, shifting in his seat. “Oh. I, uh… I thought your family had accepted you being… Ya know.”

Dylan snorted, smiling. “You can say the word, Michael. It’s not offensive and it’s not going to hurt you.” He said, leaning forward and picking up his shot glass. Michael did too, as they all made a toast and knocked back the third shot of the sweet, candy like drinks. This one felt warmer going down, and Michael took a breath, blowing it out as he tipped his glass up on the tray, and the waiter took it away.

“Okay.” The tiger said, turning and looking at Dylan. “I thought your family had all accepted that you… you were gay.” He said, frowning a bit as he still hesitated a moment. The word felt odd, coming out of his mouth, like his tongue wasn’t sure if he should form it, or like it had actual substance, like a thick gum around his tonsils.

Dylan smiled at him, though, even as his ears folded down sadly, and he shrugged. “My parents did. My mom more than my dad, though he did his best. My aunt and uncle tried, but I think they were always convinced that it was just a phase and I’d grow out of it. But my grandma… I was my parents only child, and she thought it was a disgrace that I was going to let her son’s ‘bloodline’ end.” He sighed. “That not even getting into the whole ‘it’s a sin’ argument. Every time she used to come around, before my Dad… passed away, she used to try and preach at me about how I was going to end up in hell if I wasn’t careful.”

Michael pressed his lips together, glancing down at his hands. He had always simply assumed that Dylan had it easy, compared to him. That his parents accepted him, just allowed him to be what he was, so it must not be that bad. He twisted his mouth, glancing up at the canine, wanting to say something, but not sure what he could say. What would matter, even, coming from him? It felt wrong to sympathize, after everything he’d put Dylan through because of this very thing. Was it even allowed, for him to feel bad? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say, and so he was rather glad when Tal got up and walked over, leaning forward.

“Hey, Dee?” The wild dog asked, the smile that Michael was getting so used to seeing on his face dropping a little bit. “I got a favor to ask.”

Dylan looked up, frowning a bit. “What is it, Tal?”

“… I got a song I want to sing. I’m needing to.” He said, reaching up and scratching his neck slightly, tail twitching slightly. He was till smiling, but there was a serious look on his face.

Dylan blinked. “Are you okay? She’s not tried to call you again, has she?”

Tal sighed, nodding. “Texted me earlier today. I don’t know how she keeps getting my number, when I keep changing it. Can you play it, Dee? I’ll pay for the next round-”

“No, you won’t. I’ll play it, and take the L.” Dylan said, smiling, before leaning up and putting a hand on the wild dog’s face, stroking it gently. Tal sighed, eyes closing as he nuzzled against the other canine’s hand, before Dylan drew back and they both nodded to each other, the wild dog grabbing up the mic and downing an entire tumbler of whiskey in one go as he stepped up, hopping from paw to paw in a simple shuffle dance step, his pants flowing back and forth with the motion.

“What was that about?” Michael asked, confused.

Dylan glanced at him. “… Tal’s story to tell, not mine, though… Just listen, and I think you’ll get part of it, I hope.” He said, taking a breath as he tapped the tablet’s screen a few times, before the monitor changed again, this time to a band Michael instantly recognized.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, indeed. Looking at Taliesin, Michael would’ve guessed Hip Hop, or EDM, maybe some Pop-Punk kind of music. A lot of things he might have guessed, but Buckcherry, the very band gracing his t-shirt, was not one of them, and a song he recognized, which instantly made the wild dog’s words take on a different meaning.

A Child Called ‘It’

As the hard rock kicked in, Tal leaned into the mic and practically screamed the opening lyric, his eyes open, but not looking at anything in the room. He seemed more like he was staring at something, or someone, who wasn’t there.

As the song’s fast paced, hard rock riffs and drums progressed, Tal danced, paws kicking the floor in a rhythm that made it seem like he was running in place almost, even as he banged his head along with the tune, his empty left hand alternating between clawing and wrenching at the air, and pointing accusingly at that thing he was looking at that no one could see.

Tal bent, twisted, his dancing becoming less rhythmic and more violent. Raw anger in his voice as he snarled and screamed the lyrics into the mic, his tail thrashing the air as he danced a circle. While Dylan’s head bobbed to the tune, and Troy was pumping his fist, Michael noticed that, intense as the show the wild dog was putting on was, no one was smiling. Mandy was looking distant, thoughtful, as though she were elsewhere, while Ashley looked like he wanted to cry, his hands covering his mouth and his eyes shining, even as he rocked back and forth to the beat.

In fact, as Tal turned and spun, his body dancing free of any thought or control, any rhyme or reason but for the sake of simply burning out the energy inside, Michael saw the short fur of his face sparkling and realized that, for all the rage and pain in his voice, it was coming out physically as tears.

By the end, Tal had bent nearly double, his voice raw and torn as he screamed and nearly sobbed into the microphone. As the last note of the guitar faded, he stood up straight, breathing ragged and heavy, as tears rolled down into the fur of his face. Dylan was up out of his seat already, moving quickly to the other canine and putting an arm around his shoulders, while Ash was quick to join them, moving in and wrapping his arms around Tal’s waist, laying his head on his chest. Troy grabbed a cup of water, bringing it to the man as the other two helped him over and he collapsed into the seat next to Michael, breathing heavily. Even Mandy had gotten up, bringing him a honey bun they’d gotten with the snacks downstairs, opening it for him.

Michael watched as they all coddled the other man, petting and comforting him, even as Tal leaned his head back and one long, slow sob seemed to escape him, before he groaned, and put his hands over his eyes. And then he started laughing, just a short, pained little chuckle, before letting his hands drop. He took the offered food and drink and sat there. “Thank you.” He said, to Dylan, who smiled sadly.

“Are you gonna be okay, Tal?” The coyote asked, and the wild dog nodded.

“I’ll be fine. Now, I know, I’ll be fine.” He said, blowing out a sigh. “Not gonna be playing, next round, though. That shit always takes too much outta me. Fuck, I’m starving.” He said, tearing into the honey bun and making it disappear too fast for Michael to follow. The tiger must’ve been staring, as Tal looked over at him, and grinned at him, shrugging. “Welcome to the gang, man.” He said.

“I… I don’t know what to say. You sang that song… well.” Michael said, awkwardly. What were you supposed to say, when you just watched someone seemingly vent every ounce of rage and pain they had in their body in front of you. It was like watching a mental breakdown, live.

“Don’t worry, man. I know: That was really fucking heavy and you’re not sure what to say.” Tal said, nodding, and Michael blinked. “But, this kinda thing? This isn’t just about ‘oh let’s forget our problems and just have fun’.”

“It’s not?” Michael asked, frowning.

“No, bro. This fuckin’ room? This booth? These people? This is the best damned therapy money can’t buy. Maybe Dylan don’t like me saying this, but I’d take this any day of the week, over some therapist talking my ear off, telling me shit I already know.” Tal said, and Dylan looked over at him.

“Not at all, Tal. If more people could be that open and vulnerable, they wouldn’t need therapy. But, you know, most people can’t bring themselves to do that.” The coyote said, sadly. Ashley got up, walking over, and sat in the seat on the other side of Tal, and leaned against him, hugging him tightly, and kissed his cheek.

“I just wanna make all that shit go away for you, Tally.” He said, mouth thin as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

Tal put an arm around the stoat. “I know, Ashy.” He said, before looking around the room, then back to Michael. “A room like this, music, drink and people you love. People you’re not afraid to let see you break, to see you cry.” He said. “That’s all you really need, to get over pretty much anything.” He looked back at Michael and almost laughed at the questionable look on the tiger’s face. “Don’t worry, macho man!” he said, winking. “Not saying I love you! I don’t know you well enough, for that, yet! All I know is you used to be a dick to Dylan in school. Not cool, bro.” He said, and Michael frowned, clenching his jaw, his ears folding back as he felt that shame rise in him again, before Taliesin continued. “But, you’re here tonight. You’re sitting in a room with a bunch of queers, and you managed to make our token straight guy not so token any more. And, you’ve been really fuckin’ cool about it, too!” Tal said, smiling tiredly. “That tells me, you’re trying, and that’s what’s important. Change ain’t easy, bro. I oughta know.” He said.

Tal sighed, before holding up his right hand and shaking it. The bracelet around his wrist rattled around, made up of alternating lines of pink, white and blue beads, Michael frowned, feeling like he’d seen the pattern somewhere before. “You know what that is?” Tal asked, and Michael shook his head, slowly. “Well, we’ll make sure you know all of them, if you choose to stick around. Consider this your first lesson.” He lifted his other hand, pointing to the pink line. “Feminine.” His finger shifted down to the blue line. “Masculine.” Then to the white line that ran between them. “And where they meet.” He lowered his wrist, nodding and smiling. “That’s the Trans Pride flag, my dude.” He said, taking a swig of the water in his cup.

Michael blinked, eyes going a little wide. “You… So, wait, you’re a-”

“Careful.” Ashley said, looking up at him defensively, before Tal stroked the stoat’s back, soothingly.

“It’s okay, Ash. You know I don’t get all bent outta shape about that kinda stuff, too much.” He said. “Always kinda considered the extent some Trans folks take it to be a little extreme. Can’t expect people to just know shit, after all.” he glanced over at Michael again and nodded. “I was born Talia Jackson. Attended South Deepwater Methodist Church where I sang in the all-girls choir. And when I was thirteen, I came out to my family that I was, in fact, a boy.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “… It did not go well.”

“What… What happened?” Michael asked, uncomfortable and nervous in equal amounts.

“… Well. That’s a long story.” Tal said, sighing again. “And I don’t wanna bum you out, too bad. Suffice to say, I wound up leaving home and moving in with my aunt by the time I started high school. She was a novelist, living up on the north end of town, in the fancy houses and shit, and she didn’t judge. In fact, it’s all thanks to her that I’m sitting here now, in the skin I was meant to have.” He said, smiling. “She paid for me to get started on HRT and to start getting the surgeries I needed. I completed my transition two years ago. I’m lucky, in that regard at least. A lot of Trans people don’t have anywhere to go, in situations like that, and don’t have any money to pay for what they need. Insurance barely covers it, in some places. In others it doesn’t at all. I’m 24, and still have plenty of life to live as myself. Some people are out there twice my age and haven’t been able to get anywhere with it.”

Michael took a breath, letting it out, and glanced around as he saw the light over the door flash on. He sat there as the waiter came in, a shiba inu this time, male, who sat the tray down, as well as a fresh bowl of all sorts of snacks, and another 12 pack of beers. He leaned forward, grabbing up the shot, and downed it in one gulp, feeling himself starting to get a bit fuzzy.

As the waiter took the tray and left, Tal was opening up the fanny pack he had come in with, digging around in it. Michael sat back, sighing, and looked at him, licking his lips. “… What’s it like?” He asked, without really thinking about it, the alcohol starting to have an effect.

Tal looked up at him, blinking. “Huh?”

“Being… Being trans, I mean? What’s it like?” The tiger asked, frowning.

Ash frowned, shifting and setting up, but Tal pulled him back in, kissing his cheek gently, and passed him his bag. The stoat reached in, digging around, as the wild dog looked back at the feline. “… Well, if you mean now, it’s not that much different from just being a guy. I’m on meds for high blood pressure and I go in next month for a checkup to make sure my heart’s working right, since, you know, Hormone Replacement can have some complications. I won’t ever be able to have kids of my own, but… I don’t really want to, anyway. Honestly, I’ll take that and more, if it means I can be who I should have been to start with.” He said, before glancing back again. “… If you mean what was it like before I transitioned?” He sat there for a moment, Michael watching him as his eyes flicked back and forth, his mouth working slightly, before taking a breath. “… Imagine you’re wearing a suit. A really expensive suit that everyone tells you looks so great on you. They all say it’s the best suit you could ever wear, that it was made for you. But, as good as they all think it looks, you don’t. To you, it’s the ugliest god damned thing in existence, and not only that, but it doesn’t fit anywhere near as well as it looks like it does. It pinches and chafes, and you’re aware of it, every fuckin’ minute of every day. You feel that suit, itching and riding up and just… fuckin’ wrong, in every way it can be.” He said, before taking a breath and letting it out. “And, that suit… is your own skin.”

Michael sat there, leaning back in his seat, eyes gone a little wide as his fuzzy brain tried to wrap itself around an idea like that. He blinked, shaking his head as it began to spin just from the effort. “… Fuck.” He said.

“Fuck indeed, my man. Fuck indeed.” Tal said, looking over as Ash handed him a medicine bottle. He popped it open and pulled out, not a pill, as Michael first thought he would, but a gummy bear. A small, green gummy bear, which he popped into his mouth. He held up the bottle. “Anybody?”

Dylan, Mandy, Troy and Ash all took one, and then Tal turned, offering the bottle to Michael. The tiger blinked, leaning back. “Uhh, W-What-?”

“It’s just cannabis, man. Nothing weird, and none of that stupid synthetic shit, either.” Tal said. “I promise, it doesn’t taste like weed.”

“I don’t….” Michael started, brain instantly going to try outs, training, drug screenings….

“I think Michael might be worried about getting tested, Tal.” Dylan said, speaking the tiger’s thoughts, practically. “He plays for Dulsee State, I’m sure they wouldn’t be happy if they found it in his system, and you’re technically the only one here with a medical reason to be taking it.”

Tal nodded. “Right, right. Shit, sorry, man, I didn’t think-”

“No, it’s fine.” Michael said, taking a breath and holding out his hand. “Fuck it. It’s summer break, right? They won’t test me for anything until school starts back up anyway, if they do then.” He said, pressing his lips together as he finished, looking up and checking everyone’s expression as he did so. Dylan seemed a bit surprised, but smiled slightly, while Mandy lifted her eyebrows, humming.

Tal nodded. “Okay. Alright, man! Let’s fucking party!” he said, tipping out one of the gummies onto Michael’s palm pads. The tiger took a breath, then popped it in his mouth and started chewing before he could think better of it. It was sweet, though with a slightly bitter taste. Still, Tal hadn’t lied, it mostly just tasted like a sour gummy bear. He chewed it up and swallowed it, sitting back.

“Uh… How, uh… How long…?” He asked, hesitantly, and Tal looked over.

“You’ve never had weed before, man?” He asked, and Michael shook his head.

“No, my Dad would’ve killed me if he found me doing drugs, of any kind.”

“I don’t really consider pot a drug, to be fair. It’s an herb.” Tal said, smirking, before shrugging. “Either way, these things usually kick in after ten or fifteen minutes.”

Another round of shots came up, while they were sitting around, chatting, making Michael realize that the first two turns of the game had passed before the first shots had been brought up to them. They all drank and the waiter left, and he sat back, as Tal leaned forward, holding his hand out and dropping his D20 on the table top again. It bounced, rattled and rolled, and the sound seemed to echo slightly, as Michael felt his eyelids getting heavier and everything seemed to slow down a little. He breathed in, slow and deep and let it out, sinking back in his chair.

“Mandy’s up first, again! Shit girl, you gettin’ lucky tonight!” Tal said, and Michael glanced up, seeing the doe leaning forward and picking up the tablet from the table, smirking slightly, as she looked up, and their eyes made contact.

Oh, fuck, I’m in the game now! He thought, feeling his heart rate jump a bit. Oh shit, what do I do?! I’ve never sung anything in front of people before! Dad always thought it was stupid and a waste of time! I do not like the look she’s giving me. Is she gonna try and fuck with me, right now?

“Michael.” Mandy said, and his breathing picked up, chest rising and falling. He saw Dylan lean over, frowning.

“Mandy.” The coyote said, and the doe turned, glaring at him.

“What?! I’m not gonna break any of the rules. I promise.” She said, pressing her lips together as she turned to look at Michael. The tiger stood up, his head feeling a little light for a moment, before he shook it off and picked up the microphone, stepping out to the spot they’d all been standing in to sing.

“Okay, Amandy.” He said, before stopping and pursing his lips. “Amanda.” He said, on the second try, hearing Ash snicker. “Give me what you got.” He said, locking eyes with the doe, who tipped her head up, narrowing her eyes. She tapped a few buttons, and the monitor changed.

‘Bodies’, by Drowning Pool. There was a timer counting down the start of the song, because it began with lyrics immediately.

He knew OF the song, had heard it before, had even thought it was okay, if a little more ‘scream-o’ than he cared for. But he didn’t know it well enough to sing, not even with the lyrics on screen. He glanced aside at Mandy, seeing the smug look on her face, before hearing Ash snicker again. He glanced aside at the stoat, seeing her leaning on Taliesin’s side, talking softly with the wild dog. However, when she looked over and saw him staring, she smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

He. Fuck, he was gonna have to work on that. Everything about the slim, mischievous stoat screamed female, and it was so hard to keep it in his head that he wasn’t. Except of course for earlier, when he was singing and he’d been waving his bulge in front of everybody, then it had been impossible NOT to think about. Of course, it had been a funny as fuck performance really. Michael chuckled a bit at the thought, then, suddenly, like a light flicking on in a dark room, he had an idea.

A wonderful, terrible idea.

He turned around, smirking at Mandy. He didn’t know ‘Bodies’ well enough to sing it, but there was another version of the song that he’d listened to a lot, he Jared and Clyde, giggling at the stupid thing while standing around the school bathrooms or behind the bleachers after a game, trying to look cool.

The timer reached zero, and the song started, and Michael lifted the mic to his mouth, singing in a raspy, harsh whisper.

“I can only count to four.

I can only count to four.

I can only count to four.

_I can only count to….

FOOOOUUUUURRR!”_

He screamed into the mic, none of the emotion that Tal or Dylan had put into their songs, but in this case he wasn’t totally sure what emotion the original song was trying to convey, other than anger for anger’s sake, maybe. And, besides, he wasn’t singing the original song. Instead, he had decided to serenade the group with Psychostick’s loving rendition, called ‘Numbers’, which had been popular on the internet when he was an immature sixteen year old hanging with the idiots he called friends.

He saw Ash sitting up from the couch, his face lighting up with a grin, and reaching for something on the table, as Michael continued singing. He was surprised as the stoat joined in, singing the backing vocals to his lead, but grinned and leaned into it.

_“One, two, five, four! (Five, Four!)

Me count so poor!

(Gonna count!)

Gonna count!

(Gonna count now!)

(One!)

I can count to one!

(Two!)

I can count to two!

(Three!)

I can count to three!

(Four!)

I can’t count no more!”_

The song continued in this vein, and by the end of it, there wasn’t anyone in the room that wasn’t in the middle of a fit of giggles. Even Mandy, though she was trying to hold an angry glare, kept fighting to keep from smiling.

“Fuck!” She snapped, tossing the tablet to him after he had finished. He caught it out of the air while she shook her head. “I guess I don’t get to win shit tonight, huh?”

“Oh, Mans.” Dylan said, getting his giggles under control. “Relax! You’ve still got time! We’ve got the room for another two hours!”

Michael sat down, trying to decide what he wanted to do. I kinda wanna hear Dylan sing again. Dude really has a great voice…. The thought passed his mind idly, floating on a haze of alcohol and the effects of the gummy he’d had. Oh. But, what if he thinks I’m trying to bully him? I don’t want that! He thought, pausing as he started to overthink. If he thinks I’m doing that, he might not want me to come back again, and I am actually having fun, in a weird way. I haven’t really thought about… most of my problems, since the night started.

He glanced at Dylan, biting his lip, wondering if maybe he should pick one of the others. What about Ashley? He had an alright voice. He’d probably make a joke out of whatever song I picked for him, though. He hummed, staring at the tablet screen, trying to think, trying to decide on who he should pick, when the only one his brain kept coming back to was Dylan.

“Michael?” The coyote’s voice made him jump, looking up with wide eyes.

“Huh?” He asked, looking down and seeing the ‘yote holding out a shot glass in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed when the waiter arrived with the drinks, and he reached out, taking it, and looked up as Dylan cleared his throat, stepping back and raising his glass. Everyone followed suit, eyes on the coyote with varying degrees of curiosity.

“I don’t normally do this, but… I’d like to make a toast!” Dylan said, smiling at everyone, before looking at Michael. “To Michael!”

The tiger froze up, blinking as he looked at the coyote, and he felt a little shiver, a thorn of doubt in his brain. Was this a trick? Was he going to start teasing him? Had this all been some kind of elaborate trick, to get revenge on him? He was once more pulled from these spiraling thoughts by the sound of Dylan’s voice.

“Michael, I know it can’t have been easy, deciding to come here, tonight. After everything that… that happened, between us, back in high school. I had my doubts about it, myself. But, you were hurting, and I could see it. So, I’m really glad you came.” He said, amber-gold eyes shining slightly in the moody lighting of the room. “I hope that, in some way or another, we’ve helped you to relax and forget about your troubles, even if only for a little bit. And, I hope we’ve also let you know that… you’re safe around us. That we really only want to… to be your friends. And, I hope you’ll come back, next time we do this!”

Michael felt his throat close up, and he coughed, looking down, blinking quickly. You will _ not _ cry. Not here! Not in front of these people! Not in front of _ Dylan Starr! _ It was That Voice again, but this time he obeyed it. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if he started crying, right now. He took a breath, and nodded, tipping his head back and drinking along with everyone else. He focused on the warmth of the alcohol, mixed with the sweet flavor, and sighed, before looking back at Dylan as he leaned forward, putting his glass on the tray, waiting for the waiter to take it away before responding.

“… I would like to.” He said, seeing Dylan’s smile widen. “… But, let’s maybe save that for after this.” he said, tapping the tablet in his hand. “I pick you, Dill- Dylan.” he said, smiling, catching himself before he could fully let the nick-name slip out. “Get your mic!”

Dylan’s smile changed a little, in some way that Michael found it hard to process right now, but he grabbed the mic, taking up his position with a determined look on his face. Mandy, meanwhile, was glaring daggers at the tiger from across the room. She didn’t need to say anything. Her words from downstairs popped back into the tiger’s head: “If you hurt any of us, I will knock your teeth down your throat.” He took a breath, wondering. Did he really want to do this? It wasn’t too late to pick a different song, something maybe a bit less…. No. No, he wasn’t going to be afraid, not after Dylan had just said how happy he was to think that Michael could relax around them. He wasn’t going to repay that kindness with distrust. He wouldn’t allow it. He looked at Dylan. “Ready?” he asked, and the coyote nodded. He took a breath, nodded back, then hit the button, and the monitor changed.

‘Chasing Cars’, by Snow Patrol.

This was a song more his speed, one of the ones he had always loved to sing so much, when he was young and imagining what it would be like to fall in love. He had listened to it after he and Kelly first met, thinking of what the future could be like for them, making his father proud and being with a beautiful girl, all at the same time. Someone he could hold close, dance with, kiss, and make breakfast for. He hadn’t listened to it in a couple of years.

Dylan didn’t really know the song, that much was clear, but he seemed to pick up on the key, the tune, fairly quickly, and his voice, that beautiful, clear baritone, gave the song a much more soulful, emotional vibe than it had, even originally.

Michael leaned forward slowly, thinking to himself that there was no way. It wasn’t possible, but… this song had never sounded better than it did right now. That voice, soft and carrying, and those gentle eyes that would glance away from the monitor occasionally, looking around the room, looking at him. The way Dylan’s body played a part in his singing, lifting and dropping with his voice, and how he swayed to the tune. It was almost hypnotic.

Michael found himself singing along with the coyote, under his breath, as he watched him. He breathed deeply, in and out, and thought he could smell jasmine and vanilla, under the layers of alcohol and sweat and the faux leather of the sofa he was sitting on. It mixed with the fuzz of the drinks and the pot in his brain and before long he was leaning his chin on one hand, elbow propped on his knee, as he swayed back and forth in his seat, matching Dylan’s movements

As it went, the song built in intensity, coming to a crescendo, before it all drifted into silence but for one simple guitar riff, keeping the rhythm, as Dylan’s voice took center stage, carrying around the room. Michael’s eyes drifted shut, as he thought about the words, the feelings and emotions the song brought out in him. The idea of having someone there you could just lay with and forget that everything else existed. Someone who was your entire world. It was a thing he used to long for, to hope and dream about. He thought about Kelly, and sighed softly. He had given up on that hope, long before she had left. He hadn’t loved her, beyond a simple, childish fantasy. There was still the fear of his father finding out, and what he might do if he thought it was Michael’s fault, as he surely would, but….

Losing her wasn’t really that big of a loss.

Still, he listened to the words, as Dylan’s voice brought the song to its conclusion, and he let himself drift back five, six years, to when he still thought it was possible he would find what he wanted, and how he would imagine himself holding his lover close, fingers brushing through their fur, while he whispered sweet nothings in their ear about how much they meant to him, and they reciprocated in kind.

Michael slowly opened his eyes, looking up as Dylan bowed to the applause of the rest, before turning and looking at him. He saw the coyote blink, mouth opening slightly as though in surprise. He felt a soft rumbling in his chest, and then a sharp sting on his knee. That sensation, more than anything, snapped him out of it, and made him aware that he’d been leaning his chin in his left palm, while his right hand rested on his right knee, and he’d been kneading his own leg, his claws opening and closing, while staring at the canine with like a kitten, purring.

He shook himself, clearing his throat, and reached for his beer, draining what had to be his second bottle by now in one go, and feeling the alcohol rush to his head. “That was-” He coughed, choking as the last dregs of the beer went down the wrong pipe. He waved the coyote off as Dylan stepped forward, as though to offer help, and stood up, stepping aside, closer to the door, as he felt a sense of near panic set in for a heartbeat, before it calmed itself.

Dylan has been kind to you. Kinder than anyone has been in a long time. That’s all.

“Michael?” He turned to find Dylan standing just out of arms’ reach, a worried look on his face. “Are you alright?”

Michael took a breath, smelling the soft odor of the canine again, lingering in the air, stronger from how close he was, and nodded jerkily. “Y-Yeah. Yes. I’m fine, Dil-lan.” He said, clenching his jaw as he caught himself once more. “Thank you.” He said, pausing for a moment.

“… I just thought I’d check, you seemed… distracted.” Dylan said, still looking confusedly at the tiger, who shook his head.

“I’m fine. And, Dylan, I mean it.” He said, taking a short, half step forward, looking into those big, amber-gold eyes. “Thank you, for all of this. For inviting me here. For giving me this chance.” He said, feeling his breaths coming faster as the coyote nodded, reaching up and brushing his fingers through the fur on the side of his own head, glancing away. He’s blushing? Michael thought. The realization slowly dawned that he was less that three foot from the canine, looking at him, and he stepped back, clearing his throat. “I… I should order the next round!” He said, smiling. “You obviously won that one.”

Dylan smiled back at him, shrugging. “It was nothing, really. I’d never heard that song before, it was nice. Thank you for playing it!”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” Michael said, nodding, as he awkwardly turned, glancing down at the tablet as he tapped on it to open up the menu and place the order. It took a few minutes but soon enough the next round was on its way, and he was sitting on the sofa once again, listening to Ashley belting out a pop song with ease. It seemed that this round might relax into folks mostly getting songs they liked to sing, as a way of calming down after the first. But his mind kept drifting, to thoughts he’d not had in years. Thoughts of love, and of the future, and of wanting something better for himself.

Of actually thinking that maybe, just maybe, he deserved better.

* * * * *

The rest of the night had passed in a blur of alcohol and music and laughter. Ash was an outright troll, frequently butchering songs on purpose if they weren’t the sort he’d normally sing, and even Tal, in spite of the very serious take he’d had in the first round, got involved in it, with both of them doing a duet at one point of ‘A Little Bit Country(A Little Bit Rock ’n’ Roll)’ that left everyone giggling.

As the night had come to a close, it was nearly midnight, and Troy was falling asleep on the sofa, and Ash was falling asleep on Dylan’s chest, and they had all decided it was time to call it a night. They had all loaded up in Mandy’s car, after Michael made sure his Charger was locked up, and the doe had driven them to their respective homes. Dylan had told Michael that he could come pick him up tomorrow to take him to get his car, and the tiger had agreed. They dropped Tal and Troy off at a small apartment building in the Southwest of town, as they both, seemingly, lived in different apartments in the same complex. Honestly, though, to Michael, ‘Complex’ was a bit too strong of a word, since it was really just two, two-story buildings separated by a parking lot. He watched out of the passenger seat window as Tal had helped Troy out of the car and off towards the Northernmost of the two buildings, before Mandy had pulled away from the road and turned to head mostly North, towards the Lakeside district, and to the parking lot of Ryan’s Pub.

Looking out at it now, even in his current inebriated state, Michael realized how out of his head he must’ve been last week to have not seen the large mural on the wall, depicting what looked like a full blown Gay Pride parade, with a rainbow overhanging a crowd of people, many of whom he thought he could recognize as being members of the circle of friends he’d hung out with tonight. In fact he was pretty sure the couple kissing in the middle was Taliesin and Dylan….

He stared at the mural while his mind wandered. He had already had his eyes opened before, talking with people and realizing that his father was mostly full of shit, the ideas and beliefs he’d drilled into Michael’s head until they seemed to come to the surface unbidden nothing more than bigotry and hatefulness. But after tonight…. Why should it matter who someone loved? Why should it matter if someone felt they were not what they were born as? He thought again of the way Tal had described the feeling, of what it was like to be trans, in a body not your own, and a shudder of discomfort ran down his spine at the thought. If he felt that way, and there was a way to fix it, he wouldn’t want anyone to tell him that he couldn’t.

Ash got out, as did Dylan, and Michael turned as the coyote stepped up and leaned over outside his window. The tiger rolled his window down, and the canine smiled at him. “Hey.” He said, nodding.

“Hey.” Michael said, nodding back just as awkwardly.

“Thanks for coming.” Dylan said, fidgeting slightly with his hands, and Michael blinked, a little surprised.

“Oh, right. Yeah, no. Thank you, for inviting me, again.” He said, feeling the blush deepen, and thanking God that it was dark enough that Dylan hopefully couldn’t see it through his fur.

“Yeah, of course. Like I said earlier, Mike, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, to help you out and maybe help you see that it was possible to get… that you could be better.” Dylan said, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Uh, anyway. I’ll come by your place tomorrow to pick you up? To go get your car?”

“Oh, right, yeah! Yeah, uh… H-Here.” Michael said, pulling out his phone and opening it up. “I’ll give you my number. You just pull up outside the gate, please and message me?”

Dylan, who was in the process of pulling his phone out, looked up and frowned. “What?”

“Um…” Michael paused, thinking, before sighing and just telling the truth. “I… I don’t want my Dad to see you.” He said, fidgeting with his phone, now. “… He’s… He’s the one that put a lot of that shit in my head, like the shit I used to say in high school. And, if he sees you, he’s gonna flip his shit, and I’d really rather avoid that.” He said, flinching and kicking himself for saying it.

“Michael… You’re a twenty-one year old man, you’re an adult. You can do what you want.” Dylan said, and Michael held up his hands.

“I know! I know… I just… Please, Dill?” He asked, looking up at the canine with a pleading expression. “You don’t know my Dad, don’t know what he’s like….”

Dylan looked at him, then sighed and nodded. “Okay, Michael. What’s your number?” He asked. Michael gave it to him, sighing in relief as the coyote put it in his phone and added him to contacts. “Okay. I’ll text you once I’m inside and sat down somewhere, okay, so you can add me to your contacts.” Dylan said, and Michael nodded.

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” He said, and Dylan nodded, before reaching out, moving his hand close to Michael’s where it rested on the car door. He held it there for a moment, and Michael could feel the warmth, but there was no other sensation but for the tiniest tingle, like static electricity along his fur. It felt good, and he sighed out through his nose, smiling. “Thanks again, Dill.” He said, opening his eyes.

“… Sure thing, Mike.” Dylan said, smiling back at him, before turning and heading off to follow Ashley up to the bar. Michael watched them walk away, and his eyes inadvertently slid down the coyote’s figure again, taking him in from eartip to paw, before he caught himself and turned away, shaking his head slightly. He was drunker than he thought, clearly. Still, there was something to be said for… for the canine physique, he supposed. He idly found himself wondering what a canine girl would’ve looked like, wearing those pants Dylan had been wearing, and smiled.

“You need to stop calling him that.” Mandy’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, making him jerk upright and turn to look at her, startled.

“What?” He said, blinking as he tried to get his brain to catch up to the situation.

“‘Dill.’” She said, shooting him a glare before turning her eyes back to the road as she turned a corner and began taking them Northeast, roughly following the line of the lake shore. They could see the moon glinting off the surface of the water, off to the West-Northwest. Mandy continued. “Like ‘Dill Pickle’. You ought to know full well he fucking hates that name.”

Michael frowned, thinking, before flinching. “Aww, fuck.” he said, rubbing his head. “I don’t mean to. I don’t even mean anything bad by it, anymore, I swear.”

“What you mean by it doesn’t matter, Michael!” She said, glaring at him again. “What matters is how he’ll take it. You were the only person who ever called him that, so the only place that’s going to take his mind it right back to high school, pinned against a locker or covered in fucking skunk spray!”

“I know!” Michael said, before sighing sadly. “I know.” He said, taking a breath. “I’m going to apologize, to him, tomorrow, Mandy. I swear. I just… I’d rather be alone, and… A-and sober, to have that kinda talk.”

Mandy looked at him and narrowed her eyes for a moment, before taking a breath and turning to look ahead. They continued driving along in silence for another ten minutes or so, before they pulled up out in front of the gates of Woodland Hills Community, the bluffs of Cree Falls Reserve rising up against the night sky beyond. She pulled the car to a stop, looking at the place, at the closed gate and the security booth sitting out front.

“Hm. Bougie.” She said, sniffing, and Michael snorted.

“Yeah, I know.” He said. “Thanks for the ride, Mandy.” He said, reaching for the door handle. His arm suddenly jumped as electricity shot through it, and he flinched, pressing himself into the door and turning to growl at her.

“Fuck!” Mandy snapped, jerking her hand away, and he closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Please….” He said, softly. “… Don’t do that, without warning me, first, at least. Please?”

Mandy sat there, pressed up against her own door, eyes wide, and nodded shakily. “Right, yeah.” She said, taking a breath before shaking her head. “Jesus, you are fucked up, you know that?”

Michael groaned, shaking his own head. “Gee, yeah, thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” He said, opening his door and taking off his belt.

“Michael.” She said, and he stopped, turning to look at her. “… Bullshit aside, tonight went… better, than I thought it would.” She said, nodding. “Maybe you are trying, I guess. I still don’t fully trust you, but… I don’t fully trust anyone, except Dylan.” She said, taking a breath. “Just… Don’t hurt him, please?’ She asked, looking up at him, a look he couldn’t read on her face.

He took a breath and let it out, nodding. “I don’t want to hurt him, Mandy.” He said. “Not ever again.”

Mandy nodded, sighing. “Kay. Good night, Tsang.” She said.

“Good night, White.” He said, mimicking her tone, before giving her a small, brittle smile and climbing out of her old sedan. It was still fucking sick she drove a classic like this, even if she was kind of a bitch. Not undeservedly so, to be fair.

He teetered on his paws for a moment before puffing his tail out and finding his balance. He shut the car door and shrugged into his jacket, and started walking. He heard Mandy drive away behind him, as he came to the little guard hut. Terry, the guard inside, was a rottweiler in his seventies, retired from the Dulsee PD, who’d moved back to his home town of Deepwater a decade or so ago, right after retirement. A lot of people tried to say that his age was a problem, given his job was protecting them but, honestly, Deepwater had a pretty low crime rate, all things considered, and he was still in pretty good shape, to spite his age.

He was waiting by the door to the little hut, hands on his belt, watching him approach. “Hold up there, fella, you can’t just-” he started, before Michael walked into the light from his hut and his eyebrows went up. “Oh! Michael Tsang? That you boy?”

Michael smiled. “Yes, Terry, is-it’s me.” He said, slurring his words slightly.

“You been out havin’ a good Friday?” Terry asked, smirking, and Michael chuckled.

“Yep!” he said, nodding. “Just heading back to my folks’ place.”

“Why didn’t you just have your friend pull up? I’d’ve opened the gate for you and they could’ve driven you up there.”

“Ah… It’s late and I didn’t wanna keep them. Figured the walk might help me sober up before I got back home. I, uh… I mighta told my Dad I was gonna be back home an hour ago.” He said, flinching as he just now remembered this. His phone had been going nuts the last hour they’d been at Amplify, but he’d ignored it.

“Mmm, well, I’m sure David’ll be okay with it. Boys will be boys, after all!” Terry said, laughing.

“… Right. Yeah.” Michael said, flinching internally at the phrase. It had always been his Dad’s go to excuse to brush off his bullying in high school, as well as other things. Michael shook his head and nodded. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.” He said. “Can I just get through the side gate, Terry?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Mikey.” The rottweiler said, smiling, and led the way over to the small, locked metal door in the wall that surrounded Woodland Hills on all sides. He pulled out his keyring and, while he was getting it unlocked, Michael finally pulled out his phone and looked at his texts.

Two missed calls and a string of texts, all asking if he was okay, and demanding to know where he was. He sighed, cursing under his breath, and sent a quick message back, explaining that they’d gone to a karaoke bar and he’d not been able to hear over the music, that he was sorry, and that he was walking up from the gate now after one of his friends dropped him off.

A moment later, as he was bidding Terry good night and walking through the gate and up the sidewalk, he got another message from his father.

‘I’m coming to get you. Wait by the gate.’

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. No. Fuck that. He thought. I’m not waiting here for him to pick me up like a child. So thinking, he turned and started walking, texting on his phone as he went.

‘No don’t need that. Dad, Im block away, I can make that walk in my sleeb.’

‘You’re drunk, stay there and I will pick you up.’

‘am fine’

He got no response after this. Some distant part of his brain registered that he was not, in fact, fine, and that he was very, very drunk, plus still mildly stoned, but he just didn’t want his Dad to come and pick him up. But, want or not, he hadn’t made it very far by the time he saw headlights round the corner ahead of him, and he stopped and watched his father’s dark blue Mercedes pull to a stop by the side of the road. David Tsang rolled down the window and stuck his head out, looking at him.

“Michael. What are you wearing?”

“Bought it before coming back.” He said, lips tight, frowning. This was the other reason he didn’t want his Dad picking him up. The questions. Always with questions, with an interrogation, like he was a criminal under investigation. And Michael was not currently in a good head space for dealing with too much questioning. His thoughts were sluggish, reactions slow. He felt wired, but also exhausted, and it was making him sick to his stomach.

“You’re drunk, Michael. Get in the car.” David said, frowning.

“I don’t need a ride, Dad!” Michael said. “I’m twenty-one, and nothing ever happens around here! I’ll be fine! I’m not that dru-uurrrkk!” In the middle of his complaints, Michael’s stomach finally rebelled. Turning he vomited all over the sidewalk. Bending over and retching, he groaned, putting his hands on his knees. He heaved again, his paws getting painted in it this time as he felt it burn its way through his sinuses and out his nose. The sickeningly sweet taste of cherry and lime jello with the acidic burn of the alcohol on his tongue, in his nose, in the back of his throat. He nearly slipped as he tried to back up, before feeling his father’s hand on his back. He flinched, slipping and falling this time as he tried to pull away, looking up at him, holding a hand up defensively. “N-No! No! I’m… Urrrgh… I-I’m sorry, Dad.” He said, blinking past the tears forming in his eyes. He glanced away, trying to wipe them off, and wipe off his mouth at the same time.

David walked over slowly and squatted down beside him, sighing, and pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket. He was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, a Rolex watch on his wrist, glasses perched on his muzzle, looking as refined and well mannered as ever. He reached out, handing the handkerchief to Michael, who hesitantly took it, and began wiping his face clean.

“All of this over Kelly?” David asked, and Michael froze, feeling himself shatter inside. This was it. It was over. He knew. He knew everything and there was no going back and he was going to- “Son?”

Michael looked up at him, seeing the frown on his face, and he broke down. “I’m sorry! Please, don’t be mad at me!” he said, shaking, and David shook his head, frowning.

“Michael, I am not mad at you! Why would you think that?” The older tiger said, which left Michael frowning, feeling confusion fill his mind.

“I… Because I kept it from you? Because she left me?” He said. David took a breath, glancing with a sneer at the puddle of vomit on the ground, before getting up and holding out a hand.

“Come on, son, we’ll talk on the way home.” He said, and Michael hesitantly took his hand, clambering up to his paws. A few minutes later and they were driving slowly down the lane, winding their way towards the family home, and David was talking. “Her father called me a week ago. Saying she had left you, saying that you weren’t there for her… Does that sound about right?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, sir.” He said, softly.

David nodded back. “Mm-hm. I admit, at first I was angry at you… but, truly, I don’t know what that spoiled little girl thought she was getting into. You need to focus on your career, you can’t spend every minute of the day with her. You were never going to be able to do that.” He said, glancing at his son. “As far as I’m concerned, at this point, this is all on Kelly Hu. She simply doesn’t know what’s best for her, and will not listen to her father. Girls today think… That’s the problem with them.” He said, giving a harsh laugh. Michael gave a brief, sharp smile, without commenting. “… Michael, I mean it. I’m not blaming you, and, as for you keeping it from me… I assume you simply didn’t want to let me down?” His father looked at him as he asked the question, as they stopped at a stop sign.

Michael swallowed, before nodding. “Y-Yes, sir.” He said.

“Michael, Michael… You know better than that. I only want what is best for you, son! You needn’t worry about letting me down! You only let me down, when you let yourself down.” David said, smiling at him gently, before reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder, for a moment. Michael concealed his flinch with long trained skill. Other people, he might let see it, but never his father. “Don’t worry, boy.” David continued, smiling as he turned back to the road, continuing on the way. “You can forget about Kelly Hu, I wouldn’t let that little good for nothing back around us for all the money in the world.” He glanced at Michael with a reassuring smile. “I’ll find you a better girl. One that actually knows her place.”

* * * * *

After getting inside, letting his Mom know he was alright and giving her a hug, Michael went upstairs and cleaned himself up as best he could. He was too drunk to really be in shock yet, but he knew it would come. One of the things he’d been fearing for two weeks had come to pass, and it hadn’t even been that bad. Maybe….

His thoughts were interrupted as he was brushing his teeth by his phone pinging him in his pocket, and he pulled it out, finding a text from an unknown number.

‘Hey, it’s me, Dylan! I hope you got home okay! I had fun tonight~! :3 I’ll see you tomorrow! Nini~!’

‘You test lick a 15yo.’

‘Lol what?! I think you need to get some sleep, Mike~ XD I’ll see you tomorrow~’

‘K, yeah. Goodnight Dill Pickle. :)’