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Work was numbing and grueling. Take an order, take the money, put on gloves, shave the ice, pour the syrup, hand the over the ice, remove gloves, take an order, take the money, put on gloves... The process repeated endlessly. And as the only employee on staff, long lines accrued quickly and grew impatient even faster than that. And all the while there was the lingering fear of Ashleigh, because he couldn't have her find out what had just happened with him and Rian. He focused on the skunk and before long work had ended. It was clean up ship and go home, Here's seventy-two dollars Oliver, see you again tomorrow, have a good night.

And have a good night was exactly what he intended to do. He got home and kicked off his sandals (stiff with sugar-water) and hoped to stave off encountering Ashleigh. Surprise, surprise. She wasn't going to let things be that way.

"Oliver? Are you home?" she stood up from the couch. How'd she gotten in? Dammit, the key! He forgot he'd given her a key.

"Oliver? I'm terribly sorry about our argument. I didn't mean to get so heated. It wasn't nearly so bad as I made it seem."

She came closer.

"Oliver? I'm sorry. Don't you believe me? Let me show you how sorry I am."

He saw that she wore nothing, save for a scant lace covering that didn't really cover anything. He was quite taken by the sight of her and dropped his car keys. But when he thought about Rian, she didn't seem so attractive. He was beginning to feel very conflicted.

"Was work all right? Oh darling, I'm terribly sorry about our little spat." Her arms encircled his neck. She was so close he could taste her breath.

And he kissed her. There she was and there he was and so he kissed her. And it felt good like he remembered. And he remembered Rian and that if he wanted everything in his life he could have it. But not her.

"I guess it went okay," she giggled. "You're not talking much tonight. That's all right. Or are you just desperate for attention?"

"Ashleigh," he said between kisses. But she didn't hear or she ignored it and before he knew it even the transparent lace was gone.

He knew he needed to get her attention so he picked her up, and he needed to tell her something important, so he took her to his bed, and he knew they shouldn't be doing this, so he undressed, and he knew they had to stop, so he spent all night trying to stop until he was sore all over, and he was spent, and a great emptiness came rushing back and he fell asleep thinking only one thing and that was Rian.

When Ashleigh walked in and slapped him and left it was as good a realization as he'd ever had. He knew then that it had happened and that she was gone and that it was just us. Funny then, that he never really recovered from that slap. It might have been his downfall. It was certainly a big step on the way down.

Jeff tried cheering him up. Despite all odds they were becoming fast friends. I don't know how he does it. Don't even ask me why I'm his friend because I couldn't tell you. But it was no use either way. Friends couldn't cheer him up anymore. He had fought as well as he could to be happy and it had almost worked. That's not to say he wouldn't have recovered. But the slap left him vulnerable. Life finished him off while it had the chance.

"Do you still want to get married?" Oliver asked Rian, as they sat on the couch together. Rian was drinking a cup of coffee and neither of them had to work that day. Renee had been gracious with giving them time off -- more so than she had any right to -- but she tried to let them have days off together when she could. Often one of them would work while the other stayed at home. But sometimes she'd let them both have a day off, if she could spare the workers. Just one of the perks of working together, and under the management of friends.

"Serious question?"

"Yeah, serious question."

"Clearly not."

"And why not?"

"Because you know as well as I do that it won't happen."

"What? What makes you say that?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Rian looked over his glasses with an expression akin to disgust.

"Is it that obvious? Because I'm not seeing it."

"You don't care."

"I do."

"You don't. Last time you thought you cared that much about someone you wound up leaving them."

"I left her for you. And at your insistence."

"Well you couldn't just go around sleeping with both of us, now could you?"

"I'm trying to make sense of what you're saying here. You don't think I'd marry you because I never married Ashleigh?"

"No, Oliver. It's just that you don't care."

"That's a lie."

"I love you, and don't think I'm being completely malicious when I say this, but you're not giving this enough effort. You don't care enough. Maybe you think you do and maybe you wish you did. Maybe you want this relationship to be nothing but smooth sailing. Maybe you really do want to marry me. I don't doubt that you do, but what have you done for me to make me think you're actually going to go through with it? You've been the source of a lot of problems in this relationship. Or at least one of the bigger problems -- look how long it took you to break it off with Ashleigh. And look how much of a mess you made of it. That's all you. Because you're apathetic and you don't really care about making this relationship work. You want it to be easy and nice and wonderful but you're not willing to roll up your sleeves and put in some work and make this relationship great. I'm ready. I've been ready. But I need you, too. And I'm not sure you're going to be able to help."

"So what are you saying, then? You don't want to be with me?"

"Of course I want to be with you," Rian sulked. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to do it."

"Let me make it easier for you, then. I do want to make this work. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

"You need to be less apathetic. I said that already. You never really devote yourself to anything."

"Why, then I'll devote myself to you. Come on, I wasn't joking. Do you want to be married? We can be married."

"Oliver."

"Let's be married. What do you say? I want to marry you."

"Oliver."

"This is me asking you to marry me. Will you marry me?"

"You're going to make me cry, Oliver."

"It's okay to cry."

"I'm not crying because I'm fucking happy."

"Come on Rian, come on. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You're a monster sometimes, you know? You wouldn't actually marry me."

"I wouldn't, would I? No, you might be right. I don't know how to be married."

"Fuck, now you've done it! I didn't want to cry. I hope you're happy."

"I won't be happy until you say yes. I'm very serious. We can be married. We can have the wedding you wanted and everything."

"Have you been drinking? I don't understand why you're being this way."

"Because I want to make you happy. I want us to be happy. You said all that about me not caring, eh? Well, here's me caring. I swear, Rian, I want to be with you, and no one else. I've never felt like this before."

Rian set his coffee down softly and wiped his teary eyes. He looked Oliver straight in the face.

"I feel like you're only saying this to please me. Because I complained."

"Now, look --"

Rian shushed Oliver by placing his finger on his lips.

"If you love me. If you really love me. And you really do want to be married. You're going to have to do better than that. You're going to have to convince me. It can't be today or tomorrow, sprung upon me like that. Because I will have a hard time believing that you're sincere right now. Right now you're being rash, and you're being hasty, and I won't have that. I want you to think about things for a while."

Rian sat back against Oliver although he was upset. Oliver wished he could do something about it but Rian's complaint was not one he could remedy so soon. It would take time to get on his good side again. The skunk was not happy. Not even with him. Not even with Ashleigh out of the picture and the possibility of a happy future just on the horizon. Rian wasn't happy. And he didn't know what he could do about that.

"I'd love to marry you," Rian said, "But sometimes dreams don't come true. Life's a bit hopeless sometimes, isn't it?"

"Bleak outlook," Oliver murmured.

"Bleak's exactly the way of things. I wish it weren't so. Maybe it's just me. But everything does seem so bleak sometimes."

"What's there making you feel that way?"

"I don't know, oh, I don't know," Rian put his arm around the fox. "I know I'm angry at you, but I want you to kiss me."

Oliver kissed Rian.

"Did that help any?" he asked.

"No," Rian said, "But I'd like you to do it anyways."

"Why do you want me to do it if it doesn't help?"

"Because you love me and I love you. That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it? Kiss?"

They kissed again. Oliver could taste Rian's cappuccino.

"It is all hopeless, isn't it? I'm kissing you and nothing's changing. I'm so very frustrated with you, dear."

"Life can be frustrating."

"Damn it Oli, you're still not helping!"

"I'm a bit confused now is all."

"I'm so very frustrated," Rian repeated. He had one hand held to Oliver's chest and the other around his neck. "And you are completely clueless."

"I'm not clueless. I'm just misinformed."

"I wish you knew what to say more often," Rian sighed. "Sometimes you say very much the wrong thing."

"Was that the wrong thing just then?"

"No, I suspect it was the truth. You've been very misinformed. But you've made mistakes that were all your own."

"And you haven't?"

"I'm beginning to think you are my biggest mistake. But I can't help it now. I'm in love with you and I can't help it."

"Don't think of it that way."

"You've made me very unhappy."

"You were worse without me."

"That's true, too. I just don't want to admit it. I'm just unhappy. Oh, it's so very frustrating that you don't understand."

"Kiss me again."

"I don't want to kiss you. I want you to kiss me."

Oliver kissed Rian. They let it last.

"No," Rian said, "You were never a mistake. I do love you. I don't know why but I do. You're going to have to bear with me."

"I want to more than bear with you. I want to marry you."

"You're going to upset me if you try to bring things back to this. You've made me a little happy again, can't you leave it at that?"

"I'm sorry. It's a lovely day outside. Don't you want to get out?"

"Where would you want to go?"

"I know a great place for a picnic. Just a little past the suburbs."

"Where?"

"Just past Alpine, and a little more."

"That's a bit far, isn't it?"

"It'll be fun. It's very pretty. At night you can see all the stars."

"It's not even noon yet, Oli."

"I'll bet it's just as pretty at noon."

"I'm not sure I feel up to going out."

"It will be very refreshing. You'll love it."

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on. We'll have great fun. It'll be just the two of us."

"You want to go that badly?"

"Of course I do. It'll be good for you."

"Well, all right. I suppose we can go."

They drove.

There so far from the inner-city district and its dirty-by-association neighbors, the sky was clear, the air was clean. There was a distinct coldness in that clean air and it stung him a little to breathe; he could remember having breathed air like this once before, somewhere just as cold. He hadn't had Rian to warm him there.

They brought a light lunch and a bottle of juice made from Key limes. It was wonderful outside and even Rian looked like he was enjoying himself a little. Oliver considered it a great success. He looked over at Rian and grinned.

"Come here," he said.

"I am here."

"Come closer."

Rian frowned but did as asked.

"I'm sure you can get closer than that," Oliver said.

"I couldn't get much closer. Not without --"

Oliver kissed him.

"All right, you win. But only because we're alone."

"I wouldn't have suggested it, otherwise."

"T-There... Close enough?"

"Perfect."

"Well, aren't you the expert?"

"Takes one to know one."

"I'm only teasing."

"I should hope so."

"Oli?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

"Oh."

"Oh-h?"

" 'I'm only teasing.' I'm in love with you too, darling."

"Y-You shouldn't joke like that. I'm not in the mood for j-jokes."

"What are you in the mood for?"

"I think you know. O-Otherwise you'd s-stop."

"Should I stop?"

"No no no. P-Please, I'm having a g-good time."

"I love you Rian."

"I love you too, Oli. Oh-h, I love you."

We lay together on the blanket, dressed only halfway and in ruffled clothes. We had made love and it had been wonderful. I think Rian was still sad, but the sort of sadness where you've come to terms with it and can still enjoy what's going on around you. Like enjoying the embrace of a lover. The sun was high overhead but had just slipped beyond that midday point, that crevice from which the sun falls and cannot return, until the new day when she inevitably dusts herself off and sets back to work climbing again. It was not windy outside, it was warm, but still with a bit of early January chill. Because we were up in the mountains we felt the chill a little more than we would have in El Cajon. But it was still very pleasant outside and despite everything, both of us were enjoying ourselves.

Until Rian got the phone call.

It was nothing unusual. People got phone calls all the time. People got phone calls very much like the one Rian did. But it was different with him. It did something to him. Left him broken in some way. I don't know the specifics, really. He was very quiet after the call and he didn't want to stay outside but insisted that we go straight back home. I thought I saw him crying in the car but he kept his head turned away. At the house he sat down on the couch and tried to look all right but then he really let go. He could turn up the waterworks when he had a mind for it. But he was always oddly subdued about it. Never once did his volume level rise when he cried. Usually it went down. He stretched on the couch and cried into a pillow and he pulled his knees up under his baggy sweater and curled his tail around himself. It was some time before he would talk to me about that phone call.

I don't know why or how it broke him the way it did. I have some guesses but I never got to ask, because after that he stopped talking much at all. And there wasn't very much time left on our clock. I wish I'd known that in hindsight. There was very little else that we ever said, the two of us. Not to each other. A few days worth of conversations, perhaps. But pretty soon after that we never saw each other again and I still don't know completely what became of him. None can know what happens to people like him. I'm not sure I'd ever want to find out. I just want him back.

It was all foolishness from the beginning.