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LaShawn first met him at a bathhouse.

Of course, they met stark-naked, at adjoining shower heads. LaShawn's gaze was a little nervous as he glanced at the thin, lanky beech marten right next to him. As he suddenly slowed the rate at which he rubbed the shampoo into his fur, he found his breath catch: he could not help but stare at the brown fur of the marten, and the white fur just under his jaw and all over his chest. LaShawn had always been drawn to exotic presences, but there was something about him that intrigued the bear.

"The name's Tomás," the marten spoke up.

"Tomás?" LaShawn looked at the marten's dark green eyes in surprise. "I'm going to guess you're Spanish."

"Yes indeed, señor," he replied. LaShawn then took note of Tomás' light accent, smiling as he realized it.

"Pues, ¿como es mi español?" LaShawn had asked almost immediately upon finding this out.

Tomás chuckled lightly, a small smile revealing perfectly white teeth. "A little too... permanent, I think," he quipped. "The word you're looking for is estar, my good friend."

"Ah, of course," said LaShawn, giving a shrug. "I always get those two words mixed up."

"It happens to most non-native speakers," the marten had replied.

They made a little small talk, the two of them edging closer to each other as they showered. After a while, LaShawn felt comfortable in the marten's presence, and he felt something grow between the two of them.

He also felt a particular something harden down below.

Tomás had managed to catch it on a small glance, to which the marten merely smiled. "You look quite... excited there, my friend," he replied.

LaShawn looked down and blushed, feeling intensely embarrassed. "Oh, well, that tends to happen around places like this," he said hurriedly, his tone a little quick.

"Ah," said Tomás, leaning close and putting an arm around LaShawn's shoulder. "I see. That is quite good..." He then leaned close, and LaShawn could hear his breath in his ear. "Perhaps I can help you with that, my dear bear..."

Despite himself, LaShawn found himself smiling as the marten's hands played with his chest fur. "Well, that sounds awful nice," LaShawn said. "Sure thing, Tomás..."

And after that, nothing else really needed to be said.

----**----

It had been quite a good session. LaShawn was a little inexperienced, of course, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. The marten quite liked LaShawn, and thus the two made it a point to see each other frequently, often meeting in places nobody would think to check. It was the 70's, after all. LaShawn had known too many people that were warped by 'Nam to simply sit back and live life without a little spontinaeity.

After about a month, Tomás suggested that he move in with LaShawn. LaShawn agreed, and so Tomás moved in rather gleefully, a smile on his face the whole time.

It was then that LaShawn and Tomás learned more about each other. LaShawn was staunchly Roman Catholic, and sang at every opportunity he got. Tomás loved LaShawn's voice amongst other things, though he refrained from making too many jokes about Wolfgang Windgassen and the like. He also learned that LaShawn could make a mean paella, and it was a paella that the two of them often enjoyed together just before hopping into bed.

----**----

"Mmph." Tomás rubbed his stomach, looking at the mixed-species bear. "That seafood especially was quite nice."

"Well, what can I tell you, Tomás?" LaShawn asked. "The West Side Market always has the good stuff. I wouldn't do shopping anywhere else in all of Cleveland."

"Evidently not, mi amor," said Tomás, smiling at LaShawn. He then leaned forward, grasping LaShawn's hand. "So tell me: how did you learn to make that?"

"Oh, you know, growing up in California and all, I had plenty of Hispanic people around," said LaShawn, his voice turning fond. "Some of our neighbors were actually Spanish, though, and not Mexican. One time, they had us over for dinner, and they made us a paella so good I couldn't stop talking about it for days."

"Sounds like the work of a good Spanish madre," Tomás replied jovially. "I guess you learned it after a while?"

"Something like that," LaShawn replied. "I've been making it for the family for as long as I can remember after that. And now..." LaShawn turned his hand, taking Tomás' hand in his. "Now, I get to share it with you."

Tomás chuckled. "Now that, mi amor, is quite cheesy," he said.

"You know I love it," said LaShawn.

"Indeed I do," said Tomás.

The marten then leaned over, giving LaShawn a full kiss on the lips. LaShawn replied in kind, closing his eyes and momentarily forgetting about the dirty plates on the table.

----**----

There was much LaShawn learned about Tomás as well. Tomás was also staunchly Roman Catholic, being of Spanish descent himself. Of course, LaShawn would never have guessed considering how often they rolled in the hay, but then LaShawn knew that he would be a hypocrite if he ever called Tomás out on that. The marten carried himself with poise, and seemed to love reading English poetry. Sometimes, LaShawn wondered if Tomás was really Spanish, but every time he asked Tomás rattled off a quick verse of Federico García Lorca and that would be that.

He also quite liked movie musicals, which lined up perfectly with LaShawn's talent for singing. In fact, LaShawn greeted Tomás with a rather jovial musical performance of some Rodgers and Hammerstein standards on their first anniversary, something Tomás appreciated.

After all, as the lyric went, "you are precisely my cup of tea".

Of course, LaShawn also realized that Tomás liked his alcohol. In fact, Tomás probably liked his alcohol a little too much...

----**----

LaShawn rather liked going out for New Years, and he almost always found himself going to the same place. Tomás was sure to follow on these endeavors, but he was getting tired of the same crowd on the West Side. Thus, they decided to change it up, taking their excursion all the way to Downtown Cleveland. It was thus that they sat at the bar of the Leather Stallion Saloon. It seemed quite clean (though LaShawn thought he had heard the sounds of someone being pounded against the door of the restroom when he went to relieve himself one time). The bartender was also rather friendly; he was a rather large stallion, and while both LaShawn and Tomás agreed that the horse bartender was too damn obvious, LaShawn appreciated the fact that the horse had served their drinks with a broad smile on his face.

"So, how're ya'll doin' on this fine night?" asked the bartender.

"Oh, we're doing just fine, thank you," said LaShawn, glancing over at Tomás with a quietly happy glance. "And how're you tonight, good sir?"

"A bit lonely, but I kin manage," said the bartender. "I'll find someone 'fore the night ends."

"Maybe," said Tomás. The marten sat forward slightly, smiling at the bartender. "You never know."

The night passed on, with LaShawn declining after a few drinks. Tomás, however, knew no such restraint, and after the fifth or sixth glass of sangria Tomás had gotten rather tipsy. He started slurring rather jovially, he smiled lewdly at everyone... But of particular note was the way the marten glanced at the stallion bartender. LaShawn could have sworn he saw Tomás get more forward with the horse, something that the bartender replied to with a smile and maybe the occasional wink.

LaShawn knew that this was how Tomás was when drunk. He always got a bit flirty: hell, LaShawn kept the red wine in his pantry for precisely this reason. But whatever the case, LaShawn felt that Tomás could always be trusted to keep it constant at the very least.

It was as Tomás tapped the bar for his seventh glass of sangria that LaShawn felt the urge to urinate.

With this in mind, LaShawn patted Tomás on the back. "Sorry, Tomás," he said. "I need to go to the bathroom. You hold the fort down, okay?"

"Sí, sí," Tomás had stated. "Vayas al baño, mi amor..."

LaShawn thus left Tomás in the care of the bartender. As he stepped into the bar's bathroom, he heard the sound of rutting coming from the stall. He sighed exasperatedly, glancing beneath the stall and seeing the same feet down there as he had earlier in the night. He shook his head, wondering how two people could have that much stamina right before walking up to a urinal.

He pissed, and left the bathroom.

And then he walked out to find Tomás making out with the bartender.

LaShawn was not certain of what came over him in that moment, but before he could say much of anything else, he had leaped in, shoving Tomás away and punching the stallion very hard in the face. Tomás shouted at him in a slurred voice, but before LaShawn could do much else, a bar fight erupted around him, and everything became a haze of angry voices and fisticuffs and glasses of alcohol shattering on the floor.

He had no idea when he and Tomás had been dragged out of the bar, but soon enough both bear and marten were out on the pavement in front of the Leather Stallion Saloon. And when they did, the long bus ride home was taken in a somewhat angry silence.

----**----

Tomás sat at the table the next morning, his head hanging low. When LaShawn walked in, he kept looking down at the floor, his hands clenching and unclenching. LaShawn could tell from the way Tomás' brow was furrowed that Tomás felt very guilty about what had happened the night before.

"Lo... Lo siento, mi amor..." he said, his voice low and gravelly in a way that LaShawn was not used to hearing. "Yo... Tomé tanto trago, y me--"

"Sh..." LaShawn reached for Tomás' hand, gently caressing it. It was then that Tomás looked up, his eyes bloodshot and his cheek fur stained with tears. "It's all right, Tomás. I forgive you."

The marten nodded, looking at LaShawn. He opened his mouth, but then closed it, preferring to lean close to LaShawn. He then leaned his forehead against LaShawn's letting out a strained whimper as he did. LaShawn nodded against his lover, his paw coming up to caress Tomás' cheek tenderly. The two of them then stayed that way for several minutes, LaShawn lightly pressing a kiss against the marten's muzzle.

They both agreed that it would be the last time they ever went out to a bar for New Years.

----**----

After that, the relationship got back on track, but LaShawn noticed a slight change in Tomás' behavior. LaShawn had become quite busy at university at that point, though he generally refused to take Tomás' help whenever he offered. The sex was still great, but LaShawn felt that Tomás was growing distant.

And it became more apparent than ever. Tomás would sometimes go out at night, with LaShawn staying in. He would be gone the whole night, and when LaShawn saw Tomás come in the next morning, he looked a touch disheveled much of the time. LaShawn never asked what happened whenever Tomás went out, but he could tell that Tomás was generally unhappy every time he did.

That realization stung LaShawn slightly. Nevertheless, he loved Tomás too much to ask about that. They were quite close, after all: things would work themselves out, he trusted.

It was a few months later when Tomás finally stayed at home more often than not, and over time he began to get moods where he would just remain completely silent, as if pondering something.

After a little while, LaShawn could not take it anymore.

----**----

"Tomás, what's wrong? You've been awfully quiet lately, and it's getting strange."

LaShawn looked down at Tomás from where he laid down on the bed. Tomás faced the wall, remaining that way even as the mixed bear stroked his hair tenderly. They remained quiet for a few seconds, Tomás remaining silent. Finally, the marten sat up, looking up at LaShawn with a great deal of worry.

"LaShawn..." he glanced down. "I know that in America this is not always possible, and indeed in España it is not possible either. But..." He breathed in nervously, caressing LaShawn's cheek.

"LaShawn, will... Will you marry me?"

LaShawn felt his fur stand on end almost immediately. "T... Tomás... What are you talking about?" he said, his eyes wide as he recoiled slightly.

"I... I want to get married," said Tomás. "I love you, LaShawn. I love you, and I... I want to stay close to you. Is... Is that not enough?"

"But the courts... the courts won't let it happen, man!" He looked down. "You know how they get about people like us! And what about all those priests? Nobody would officiate it!"

Tomás frowned. "We can find something," he said, leaning closer.

"And even if we could somehow do it..." LaShawn looked at Tomás intently. "Why now, of all times?"

"Because I care about you," said Tomás, a desperate edge to his voice. "And I worry about what's... I want us to be close, LaShawn."

"I... I can't..." LaShawn took a shaky breath in. "I don't know..."

The marten let out an aggravated sigh. "Of course," he said. "You don't know. Is it that, or are you just afraid?"

"I..." LaShawn paused, glancing at the ground. It was true that there was some fear: LaShawn was still not out as a bisexual man to anyone else in his life. His family was not aware of that, none of his friends were aware of that: all they knew about Tomás was that he was a friend. If Tomás were to be introduced to them as something more than that...

He was not sure where that would go at all, but he had a sinking feeling that rejection waited.

The hesitation LaShawn showed gave Tomás the answer he needed. The marten frowned, pulling his legs closer. "I see..." he said. "And here I thought you meant what you sang about not letting anyone rain on your parade."

LaShawn gaped at Tomás. "Don't say that, man," he said, leaning forward. "I just... I wanted to sing something you like again! You like Barbra Streisand, and I--"

"--wanted to make me happy, I know," said Tomás, a bitter edge in his voice. "Perhaps you should have sang Hello Dolly instead."

"But your name ain't Dolly," LaShawn replied. "And I'm pretty sure you know that Tomás doesn't fit in the rhythm of the song!"

"Maybe," said Tomás. He then glanced down at the floor. "Look, if you don't want to, I won't bring it up again. But just... tell me, mi amor. Do you want to marry me?"

LaShawn's mouth dried up, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. "I... I would, but... I can't, Tomás..."

The marten nodded, the hurt obvious in the way his eyes watered.

"Then that is that," he said, his tone steely. He then turned away, lifting the covers up and stepping out of the bed.

The pang of guilt that LaShawn felt was one that would not go away for quite some time. And even in his university classes, that pang followed LaShawn everywhere.

----**----

Surprisingly, Tomás stayed around, even after LaShawn rejected his proposal. However, things had chilled considerably between the two of them after that point, and LaShawn felt it in the way they talked.

His paella got increasingly worse, something that Tomás did his best not to mention in their conversations even though it did still weigh heavy on LaShawn's heart. The sex also turned rather cold, and while it was still fun it was not what it used to be. LaShawn could tell in the way Tomás moved that the rejection still stung, and it would do so for a while.

And then there were the arguments. The arguments had been few and frequent before, but now they happened near constantly...

----**---

"I told you, Tomás, I can't just up and leave school! I've put it off for long enough!"

"Oh, so I am the one meant to support you now?"

"You know I've never used your money for that, Tomás! That is all my money going into that university! My money! Not your money!"

"So that church job is going to pay all the bills as well?"

"Tomás, you know that it covers all of the university's expenses, and leaves some for everything else! We have gone over this again and again, and you're still complaining about it!"

"Well, these are our finances, LaShawn, you thick hijo de puta!"

"Excuse me? I'm trying not to strain our finances here, and that is how you feel about it? Tomás, just... I don't even know how to dignify that with a response!"

"You can start by--!"

"This ain't even really about the money, is it? You're still angry that I don't want to leave Cleveland!"

"What? How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I know how it is you look at everything around these parts! You don't like it here, I can tell!"

"The whole city is falling apart, LaShawn! How can you not see that? If we'd just move back to California, we might find something better there!

"You know I can't leave, Tomás! I've got too much here! I've got the church, and the university, and connections! Back in California, what do we have?"

"I have relatives, and you do as well!"

"So? Why should we rely on them when we can do just as well here without them?"

"Because I worry it may not be enough without their help. Or are you just afraid to face them about us?"

"Don't change the subject, Tomás! You know that I'm not afraid of leaving Cleveland! I just don't see the point in doing it now!"

"Of course, LaShawn! Diós maldiganse if we leave this place now!"

"Don't you take that tone with me! You know why we can't leave! And you know that this isn't about money, not anymore!"

"Maybe it is not. But you are a fool if you think living like this is any kind of solution."

"Tomás, that is not the--!"

"I am tired of this. Do what you want, LaShawn. I cannot stand another word of this."

And with this, the marten stomped out of the room, off to have a night away from the house they shared.

----**----

The arguments only got worse and worse, and it was so that they stopped getting intimate as time went on. It was LaShawn's hope that their quarrels would eventually end, that things would go back to the way they were. He could see Tomás' increasingly distant behavior, and the distance honestly scared LaShawn a little bit, perhaps more than his own fear of coming out to anyone inside of his family.

Sometimes, he prayed to God. He prayed that God would look past the whole 'love with another man' thing and see that deep down, LaShawn and Tomás were a couple trying to settle the growing amount of differences. He had always turned to God in times of trouble, and in that place it was the only place he could go to.

Please God, he'd say. I want us to stop arguing. Please...

And as the nights passed on, he'd add other things: he'd add for Tomás to come to his senses, he'd add for Tomás to stop going out drinking all the time, he'd ask God to give him the strength to make it all work out in the end, sometimes he would even ask God to just send down some advice at some point. The pleas only intensified as time went on.

And eventually, LaShawn got what he wished for.

Only problem was, it was nothing like how he envisioned it.

----**----

LaShawn had come home at exactly the time he normally did on Thursdays, still thinking about his homework for the night. There was quite a bit to do, and he carried all the books he needed.

Of course, he knew Tomás was home at the time, so he simply unlocked the door and let himself in.

"Hey, Tomás, I'm home," said LaShawn as he wiped his feet on the welcome mat.

He wiped his feet for a few more seconds, before realizing that he was greeted with nothing but silence.

LaShawn blinked, looking into the house they had shared. "Tomás?" he asked.

Silence once again greeted him.

And immediately, the bear mix knew that something was wrong. Even with the distance they had attained, Tomás would be running down the stairs or from wherever else he was situated to greet LaShawn at the door. That constant had never changed at all across all the time that LaShawn and Tomás had been living together. And now, not only was Tomás not at the door, but he was not even replying.

LaShawn's blood turned to ice as the realization dawned on him.

"No... God, no, please don't let it be true!"

LaShawn quietly placed his books on the nearby table, and then began frantically looking around the house for any sign of Tomás. He looked in all the rooms, made sure that he was not hiding anywhere at all. When that failed, LaShawn began to panic, and he created a disorganized mess of his own house. He checked drawers, desks, anything for any kind of note or personal belonging that he had left there. He searched every cupboard, trash bin, and anything for any, just any sign that... that he hadn't...

But it was to no avail. Neither Tomás, nor any of his personal belongings, were in that house. There was not even a single strand of fur left lying around.

It was as if Tomás had vanished into thin air. And somewhere, deep in his heart in a place he never liked to talk about, LaShawn knew that Tomás would begone forever.

LaShawn could only sit on the bed that night. He had planned to get so much work done that night, but he could not do any of it. Tomás had left with not even so much as a note; LaShawn wondered how someone who had been so beautiful, so wonderful, could bring himself to leave without even leaving that.

It was as if Tomás had meant to hurt him. And the fact that LaShawn knew this was utterly out of character for Tomás on every level hit him even worse than the fact that he left in the first place. LaShawn had wanted to spend the night in Tomás' arms. Instead, he spent the whole night weeping bitterly.

He didn't know when the tears ended. All he knew as he drifted into sleep was the heartache of his first intimate relationship coming to an end like this...

----**----

The relationship had lasted seven years. Seven years of a slow decline, seven years that LaShawn would never get back... Seven years of love, life... and an almost perfect slice of paradise.

In some ways, LaShawn now understood exactly how Emile De Becque felt. Paradise once nearly was his, and losing it was a feeling that tore his heart apart...

But as all things in life did, LaShawn soldiered on. He began to work out after that point, attaining quite a bit of muscle, before developing the signature gut that most bears develop in their later years. He devoted more time to the church. He began recording with people he knew across Cleveland. And he continued singing his heart out. And as LaShawn's life mached on, so too did the later half of the 70's. And beyond the 70's, his life would continue without Tomás. He watched as Ronald Reagan was elected. He stood on the sidelines as the first outbreaks of AIDS affected people around him. He watched as gay pride began to pick up steam. He found himself still relying on landlines when the world began to turn to cellular telephones and laptop computers. He remained a devout Catholic through the death of John Paul II and the resignation of Benedict XVI. And eventually, he would look back on Tomás, and find the good even amongst the bad.

Hindsight hit LaShawn rather hard once it took hold. When it did, he came to realize that perhaps he and Tomás were not meant for each other. They'd had sex far too early in the relationship, he knew, and perhaps it had gone on longer than most would have projected it would. LaShawn was not sure what to make of it, and he knew he would never quite be sure.

But one thing stood out to him: even amidst the hardship, it was a seven year relationship he would not quite forget anytime soon, for ill or for good. After all, even amongst the fighting, he had gotten to know a wonderful man. He let go of his initial hurt over Tomás' departure, and this allowed him to remember what he loved about Tomás: his love of the songs he sang, his love of that paella, and most of all...

Still, even if he forgave Tomás for everything that happened, LaShawn could never quite move on from how the relationship ended. He had been burned very badly from that one relationship, and it was a burn he could never recover from. LaShawn never actively searched out any kind of intimate relationship after that point, and it was something that he honestly could not have been happier about. He could do just fine without anyone else: after all, without him pulling it the tide came in.

Of course, God had other plans in mind for LaShawn. And it was something that neither LaShawn, nor his next intimate relation several decades after Tomás, could have ever seen coming...