FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Most distance runners would agree that the middle of a race is the most grueling part. You don't have the energy that you had in the beginning, and you can't taste the finish line like you can near the end of a race. All you can do is slog forward and pray for time to pass faster as energy is sapped from your legs in a fiery inferno. But for Chris, who always tried to wring out on hundred percent of his speed at every moment, the final few laps were definitely the hardest part.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" Chris screamed out in agony as he continued his run around the school's track, the white lines of gingerbread brown glowing faintly in the early morning light. The Wolf's legs and lungs were screaming at him in fifteen different languages to stop running at this point, because he was DYING. Worst of all, the song he was listening to just reached its fade out ending, meaning for the next fifteen-ish seconds, he didn't have any loud music to help him push through.

"Last lap and a half!" Daren called out, sitting cross-legged on the turf on the edge of the track. Neck scrunched forward with a paw propping up his jaw, the Rottweiler eyed the Wolf warily as if expecting him to collapse at any moment.

Daren had insisted that Chris wait at least a day before running another practice 5k, but Chris was adamant that he had to push himself. So against his better judgement, Daren had agreed to time him for another 5k at the asscrack of dawn, even though there was little chance Chris could improve his time significantly. But surprisingly... the Wolf was doing rather well. In fact, he was on track to break his record timing. He probably took up the Rottweiler's advice to eat breakfast, go figure.

Before long it was down to the final half-lap, and Chris was inhaling and exhaling up a tornado. Exhausted as the Wolf was, his pace was badly reduced, even if those sharp blue eyes showed him fighting tooth and nail to push on as fast as possible. Daren initially figured the Wolf was a bit of hyperactive blonde ditz, but seeing him run with such desperation slapped that impression upside the head.

When Chris finally, finally finished his twelfth and a half lap, he collapsed heavily on the grass turf in the center of the track, heaving gasps violently escaping his body. "Oh my glob it feels like every cell in my body is getting an abortion!" the Wolf bellowed out in a raspy groan. Luckily it was still early enough in the morning that nobody was around to hear his weird profanity.

"Good fucking run. I got tired just watching you," Daren said with an impressed smile as he walked over and crouched down by the poor wolf that was writhing in agony on the tarp. Poor Wolf looked like he was about to pass out, or even retch at any moment.

"How'd I do? I must have done better right?!" Chris half-spoke half gasped.

"16:25. You shaved off six seconds from yesterday," Daren said with warm enthusiasm.

"Fuck..." the exhausted wolf groaned between erratic breaths, now pulling at his dirty blonde-locks in frustration. "That's not nearly good enough..."

Daren let out a concerned mumble at the Wolf's unsatisfied response. "Well, your legs should still be fatigued from yesterday's run," he said with a sympathetic shrug. "Your time might be a few seconds shorter if you wasn't already tired. And you still ran like a fucking beast to me, ain't you happy?"

"No, 'cause A few seconds won't cut it," Chris grumbled bitterly. His eyes narrowed as he continued to grasp for air, eyes staring off to the dimly lit sky before flaring up with sudden determination. "I'm just going to have to work even harder! I'll run a 5k twice every day! I'll get better faster!" he declared, his refusal to accept the outcome starkly evident in his obstinate tone.

Daren's expression rapidly soured. "A'ight Chris, real talk? Running two 5ks a day ain't pushing your limits, it's overworking yourself. I do bodybuilding, right? You need plenty of time to rest your muscles to see gains. Same concept here. You'll just destroy your body if you overexert yourself."

After Daren's cool explanation, Chris' expression sunk as if he had just been rejected by a college, a boyfriend and a book agency all at once. "But that's the whole point! I have to beat the impossible or else I won't be able to inspire Lach to start running again!" he insisted, voice cracking.

Daren sighed sullenly as if he were about to disillusion a child about the non-existence of Santa Claus. "Nah, fam, you can't expect biology to just suddenly work different. Your body ain't work like that," the Rottweiler said, taking a deep swig of green tea from his thermos.

"Then how am I supposed to get faster?!" the Wolf whined, widely splaying his limbs across the turf in a gesture of frustration.

Daren started tapping his fingers against his forearm in a wave motion, eyes sliding upwards as he contemplated. It wasn't hard to imagine a million cogs turning in the Rottie's head. "Well... since a 15 minute 5k means you need to average 3 minutes per kilometer, maybe we should use that as a basic building block. If we focus on just doing a single 1k per day for the next few days, you can still build up your pain tolerance and sense of timing without overworking yourself. Then once you've had 'nuff time for your muscles to recover we can try the 5k again."

The idea seemed to sit well enough with Chris, who rolled to his side, propping his head up with his left palm. "Okay... but what do I do in the meantime? That's still a lot of me not running."

"You need to do some homework on nutrition, post-workout recovery and plan some meals. Oh, and you should walk the actual course so you can figure out the most efficient angles to take." Daren suggested, clearly relishing the idea of having to crush some numbers for optimal macro/micro nutrient distribution.

"So... you're giving me homework?" Chris asked with flattening ears.

"The boring parts are the most important part," Daren retorted dryly, playfully pretending to flick Chris on the forehead.

"I mean, I'm okay with that, but that sounds like a real drag for the readers..." Chris offered with an exaggerated frown and a palm up in the air from his reclined position.

"Well... there's one way to do all the work but make it seem to go faster," Daren sighed, knowing well what stupid shenanigans he just condemned himself to.

Chris' knowing eyes immediately lit up like iridescent fireworks. "You don't mean?!"

"Yup."

"Just like what they did in Rock E 4?"

"Yuuuup."

"An 80's style montage!" Chris exclaimed in a second wind, darting straight up the air in an impressive jump for someone who had just ran a 5k. Out of nowhere, some shitty furry AU knock-off Eye of the Tiger (thanks copyright) began playing on full blast right as Chris landed on the ground, yelling out "OW!" as the land wrecked his tormented leg muscle.

Risin' up, back from drama

Did my time, took my chances~

And just like that school had started and ended for the day! Thanks to the temporal space-time beguilement of 80's synth music, Daren was apparently now giving a lecture to Chris on nutritional macros and their role in protein synthesis to Chris in a classroom that they apparently got permission to borrow. All the while Chris was doodling a picture of Lach in his notebook. Realizing the Wolf wasn't paying attention Daren slammed his paw onto Chris' desk, where Chris reciprocated with a sheepish grin, and a promise to pay attention that was mostly drowned out by the music.

Went the distance, now I'm back on my paws

Just a fur and his will to thrive~

_ _

Reality now skipped to Chris riding a grocery cart like a scooter in the local Megalo Co. picking out various vegetables, fruits, fish and eggs for maximum recovery as Daren followed and read all the nutrition labels. The pair grimaced at the $71.38 total, and then reluctantly pooled together what cash they had available to pay for the massive load of food.

So many times, it happens too fast

I trade passion for site clout

Suddenly Chris was now back home, drinking a large container of raw eggs and then stuffing his face with giant forkfuls of spinach and salmon sauté. Chris started gagging on the massive mouthful of food before forcing it all down in a painful gulp.

_ _

You lose your grip to all the views I amassed

You must fight just to stay relevant

In the blink of an eye two days had passed and Chris was back to running a 1k on the track. "AAAAAAGH!" the Wolf exclaimed as he continued to push to the maximum, his yelling just barely audible amid the music. Once he finished, he tiredly ambled over to Daren who showed him a time of 3:01 for 1k. They both nodded in pleasant surprise, knowing he was at a good time for the basic unit at least.

'Cause it's I the popufur, I'm the king of the site

Risin' up to demolish all my rivals

Now they apparated at Docking Hills, slowly walking the 5 kilo path of ultimate destiny. Daren explained the concept of 'hugging' the inner side of the track as you ran, and always running the closest possible hypotenuse from one bend to another to slightly reduce total distance and maybe cut off a second or two. All the while Chris nodded to the explanations as his eyes soaked in every crevice of the dirt path. Daren's massive pile of advice was a lot to take in, but it started to make sense after the third explanation of "the fastest way to get to one point to another is a straight line" and "it's like how the inner track on the circle is shorter than the outer tracks, it just ain't a perfect circle".

And the last known survivor's work get no views tonight

Cause I suck them all up: it is I... the popufur

Whippity zoop zoop, Chris was once again running around the highschool track, but this time doing a 2k. Panting heavily once he finished the final lap, Daren walked over to how Chris a 6:06. Not knowing math Daren had to explain that it's the equivalent of getting 15:15 if he could keep that pace up for the entirety of a 5k. Hearing that, Chris raised his paw up in the air until Daren shyly give him a high five back, slightly blushing under his fur at the open gesture of friendship.

Post to post, sluts are in heat

Sex so rough, asses hungry

After another nondescript time lapse, Daren was now guiding a Chris through a guided meditation on the grass by school, chanting several out of context clickbait Zen Buddhist Sutras Chris had found. Clearly the Rottweiler had no idea what the hell 'Nah-myoho-renge-kyo' was supposed to mean, but Chris was superstitious enough that Daren figured it might at least have a powerful placebo effect on the Wolf, and goddamn if he'd ever seen Chris sit this still!

I stack the odds 'til they take to the mods

'Cause my kink stream is a parasite

A sudden screen transition happened, and ??? amount of hours/days later Chris was running his balls off doing another 5k after a week of slowly building up his strength through moderate exercise and post recovery nutrition. Daren looked proud when he showed Chris his time of 16:03, but when the Wolf saw the timing his ears and face immediately drooped to an expression of uncontained disappointment. Clearly, it wasn't enough for the Wolf.

'Cause it's I the popufur, I'm the king of the site

Risin' up to demolish all my rivals

Suddenly Chris was forcing himself to guzzle down a dull but nutritional breakfast of mushy oatmeal with berries and crushed nuts instead of his usual bowl of sugar-glazed Diabetes-O's: Mega Syrup flavor. He topped the meal off with even more spinach and eggs. Yum...

_And the last known survivor's work get no views tonight

Cause I suck them all up: it is I... the popufur_

Montage magic activate: it was now late at night in Chris's messy room. The Wolf was now doing all sorts of leg stretches, from side splits to calf stretches to knee to chest stretches, unwavering passion glowing from his blue eyes as he slowly continued to level up his dexterity stat.

I the popufur...

_ _

Oh hey it was lunch hour at Grovedale High! Chris was slouched forward in exhaustion at the Varsity football lunch table, muzzle resting on his arms as his friends chatted excitedly. Daren came over with a bunch of phallic XL bananas for Chris to eat for muscle recovery. Immediately Allie scuddled on over and offered a weirdly specific price of $71.38 for anyone willing to deepthroat a banana. Daren and Chris exchanged desperate, pride-less glances, contemplated the amount of money they had already spend and would still need to spend on food for Chris' regiment, and before you knew it "Wolf and Rottweiler: banana deepthraoting " was trending on Tik Talk. Also half the school was now recording themselves deepthraoting bananas in a bid to get internet famous.

_ _

I the popufur...

_ _

After another magic chaos warp, Chris was now in the lockeroom after a grueling football practice. As Scott, Rob and the others were goofing off, Chris opened up his locker to take out a protein shake. It was lukewarm by now, and had no flavor to it, but Chris chugged that badboy without even hesitating.

_ _

I the popufur...

Once again Chris was running the high school track early morning, eyes on the prize, dashing forward with fierce conviction radiating from his eyes. While the Wolf continued to push and push forward, he failed to notice a tiny rock that had made its way onto the track. Unfortunately, Chris' right shoe made fateful contact to the rock, causing the wolf's leg to suddenly contort to the side. Sharp pain lancing up his leg as the Wolf tumbled to the side in pain. "FUCK!" Chris screamed out,

"Holy shit, you okay?" Daren cried out, rushing over to the toppled Wolf's side.

Chris began stringing several expletives as he cradled his ankle. "I think I sprained my fucking ankle! Shit!"

Daren easily managed to pick up the much smaller wolf, cradling him with his two thick arms as he rushed toward the school. "Fuck, better take you to the nurse's office before the montage is over!"

I the popufur...

_ _

Chris now sat on a shabby medical exam table, legs dangling off the side, suspended in air. The eerily astringent-smelling and blood-stained school Nurse's office was the last place he wanted to be. Mrs. Bankruptcy, the school nurse, a massive orange Raptor who communicated mostly through screeching noises and gestures, offered Chris an ice pack wrap for his ankle, all while making officious-sounding raptor noises at him. Chris' ears slowly dropped and his posture deflated, a painful realization chipping away at his usually happy demeanor.

_ _

I the popufur...

The montage apparently ended the following Monday morning, five days before the October 5k. The tiniest sliver of sun crested over the horizon, the chirps of feral birds hailing the beginning of a new autumn day. Chris was sitting arms crossed over his right leg, brooding by the rickety and oversized storage shed by the running track. Chris wore a pair of black sweatpants, oversized on his tiny frame, the hem easily reaching the soles of his shoes. But the hem on the right was pulled backward, allowing for a telltale icepack to balance on top of his right ankle.

His baby blue eyes glowing dimly in the morning, the Wolf began swearing to himself and spiting the universe for twisting his ankle. This was so unfair... a twisted ankle six days before the October 5k. His mission was near impossible as it was, and now this?! ...It would heal though, right? Mrs. Bankruptcy said he should be good to jog again in a week... If he worked real hard on icing his injury... and did a lot of physical therapy, then maybe...

Chris let out a directionless sigh and checked his outdated Eyephone: 7:25, roughly ten minutes before the start of school, way later than he usually met with Daren. Not that there was going to be any running today, anyway.

The soft crunch of a bike tire against grass crept up on Chris' auditory periphery, soon followed by the clanking of a bike chain against a fence. Chris swiftly tossed his ice pack into his backpack and stood up, psyching himself up to smile before Daren could catch him. "Uh, hey Chris," Chris soon heard, in Daren's telltale velvety voice.

Chris shifted his gaze over to his larger friend; concern was deep set in the Rottweiler's eyes. Chris was almost scared of Daren and his imposing build when he first met him, but now Chris knew that Daren was a big softie deep down. A softie, and an incredible friend.

"Hey, Daren. Thanks for showing up," Chris replied warmly.

"So uh... how your ankle doing?" The Rottie asked casually, pointing to Chris' right leg. "Everything went by so fast yesterday on account of the montage, I ain't had a chance to ax you how you was doing. You a'ight?"

Chris felt a sharp pang of guilt as he continued to smile. "Oh, it's really minor thank glob," Chris laughed, staring at Daren's neck instead of at his eyes. "Mrs. Bankruptcy said I just stepped funny, and bent it a bit too much to one side. I should be good to run again in a few days!"

"Really? Just a few days?" Daren responded dubiously. "You seemed like you was in a lot of pain yesterday, fam."

"I was just panicking and overreacting because I was so worried an injury would get in the way of my bet; it really wasn't all that bad!" Chris responded with a frivolous laugh. "She said I just need to be really good about icing and not pushing anything for a day or two, plus I'm a fast healer! So just to be safe I think I'm going to come up with some excuse to skip football practice this week. And... I think I can handle my training slash physical therapy from here. I just wanted to thank you in person for all you've done for me."

Daren looked sidelong at the grass, his lips still bending downwards, unsatisfied. "...What about Lach? He'll definitely call off the bet if he learns you hurt your ankle six days before the October 5k."

"That's why he can't know!" Chris blurted out with sudden fervor. "Just... please don't tell him," he said after a moment, trying not lose any more of his composure.

Hints of exasperation poke through when Daren let out a sigh. For a moment Chris worried that he was catching on. "A'ight, I ain't gonna say nothing to Lach..." Daren muttered. "Not that I regularly talk with him anyway."

Chris realized how uptight his posture had suddenly become, and quickly rectified it. "Thank you so much for helping me out Daren, even though you didn't have to. It means a lot," Chris said, his smile accented with motes of sadness. "You're a good friend..." The Wolf carefully walked over and gave the worried Rottie a friendly hug, his arms barely making it to Daren's backside. Chris' grey tail began wagging back and forth.

"My pleasure. I had fun spending time with you..." Daren replied melancholically, reciprocating the hug. Chris couldn't help smile as Daren's strong embrace enveloped him. "I rooting you, a'ight?" Daren stated, pulling Chris back by the shoulder and staring reassuringly into the Wolf's eyes.

Chris let out a humored huff, "I know you are," the Wolf replied, blushing under his fur. He smiled back at his friend.

"I'm heading to class now, you coming?"

Chris dismissed the offer with an overexaggerated wave of his paw. "Nah, I just wanna do some more light stretches by myself before heading over. Go on ahead without me!"

"A'ight..." Daren muttered, slinging on his backpack and reluctantly walking away as Chris began touching his toes. Daren glanced back over his shoulder once, before mixing in with the crowd of students flocking to the school in the distance, and Chris promptly dropped his charade of stretching. He sat back down on the ground before he gave his ankle anymore reason to throb.

"Fuck..." Chris muttered, tears welling up in his eyes. He wiped them away defiantly before ripping off his right shoe, and furiously yanking out a light ankle brace. It was black, just like his sweatpants. He probably could have hidden it from Daren under his sweatpants, but the Rottie was just too damn perceptive to risk it...

"I'm not giving up..." he muttered between clenched teeth as he strapped on the brace that seemed to mock him as it brushed against his leg fur. Chris scowled at his own ankle and the ugly piece of neoprene fabric that sequestered his ankle, and his hopes of running again his with hero.

Lach pretended he needed one of these when he didn't, and now Chris was going to have to pretend like he didn't need his when he clearly did. What a fucking joke...

Chris angrily but carefully stuffed his ankle back into his shoe which he had to loosen so everything would fit. Throat aching, Chris stood up and dispelled all the doubts and anger with another declaration from his aching throat:

"I'm not giving up!"

*Later that evening*

School was miserable today. Chris' right hindpaw was incredibly cramped with the ankle brace in his shoe, making it near impossible to forget his rotten luck. Focusing during any of his classes was practically impossible, Coach Grafter gave the Wolf a scowl and stink-eye for an eternity when Chris told him 'I sorta hurt my ankle and need a week off from practice, also could you keep in on the DL?', and the Wolf had to walk back all the way home in this stupid ankle brace. He couldn't even look forward to seeing Lach at band practice today because he was going to have to bail; couldn't risk his brace being seen and standing for two hours on his injured foot didn't seem wise. Today had officially been garbage, at it wasn't even over...

Now pushing 5:15 P.M., Chris sighed at the side entrance to Angie's garage. He used to run to band practice, but with his ankle he ended up walking and underestimated how long it would take. The end result was that he was late to practice. He had an irking feeling in his gut that Angie was going to rip him a new one for showing up late, telling them he needed a week off and... maybe missing practice for the last two weeks? Maybe he showed up for practice the past two weeks, but then again maybe he hadn't? Montage rules were crazy vague...

Once the Wolf placed his paw of the doorknob, he picked up on the talking from inside: Jessie was the one speaking, reading out loud some very... strange sentences. Oh fluff, he wasn't reading the results of another one of Angie's 'microdosing on a million different drugs to come up with amazing song lyrics' stints, was he?

"What time is midnight? Is it today or yesterday?" Jessie read out in a pseudointellectual voice.

_ _

Oh God, he totally was...

_ _

"Maybe Blink 182... has its name... because Every time we blink, someone else is blinking too... 180 degrees on the other side of the world.

_ _

When I erase my name on the whiteboard like... where does it go?

_ _

We could ruin Christmas, if we really wanted to... just set the tree on fire and small all the presents. We have the power... it's within us...

_ _

Can you really misspell the word 'misspell' or is it always correct?

_ _

I think if you want to be immortal, all you have to do is like... decode the circle of life...

_ _

Waluigi's trying to kill me! He's in the garage stealing my reflection! Holy shift somebody stop him before it's too late! He'll control me through the mirror world! AAAHH."

"And that's what we got," Jessie stated very conflictedly.

Cue the unironic slow clap from Angie. "Fucking, sublime. We have it, guys!"

Chris couldn't help but comedically scoff to himself. As funny as stoner logic was, Chris never really thought it made for great song lyrics. But, maybe there was a funny ironic song to be made with it? As long as Angie didn't want to try to force it into a 'Standing in the way of Control' kind of song, like she always did.

"Alright, the next thing before we come up with the melody and verse is to decide what kind of vibe we're going to go for with this one. I'm thinking of 'Standing in the way of Contr-"

"Uh hey guys!" Chris announced as he tactically entered the garage, shelved powertools rattling once the accidently slammed the door over. "I'm sorry I'm late, some stupid stuff came up!" He laughed.

"Chris! There you are!" the voice of a very angry punk Panda resonated. Cautiously Chris' gazed passed over each member of Counterstrike.

Jasmine was slouched over by her drumset, bobbing her head up and down in the air and smelling very distinctly of lemons and weed. Jessie was leaning on the head of the massive SUV that one of Angie's moms drove, looking just comfortable enough to seem like he had finally integrated in the band. Sitting down on the steps to house's interior, Lach was fingering the bassline to what was probably "Just Exit" by Eliza the Delusional. The Rat waved sympathetically at Chris, and the Wolf blushingly smiled back. But that smile wouldn't last for long because Angie looked beyond miffed.

The faux-leather clad Panda stood up and from her spot next to her bedazzled red and black microphone stand. With the way she was glaring at Chris with that 'imma fuck you up' anarchist stare, you'd think he was a cop or a landlord or something. "Thanks to all your montaging, the last two weeks are kind of a confusing blur to me, but I have this nagging sensation that you might have been skipping band practice maybe probably!"

Chris recoiled backwards; this was what he was worried about. "Have I been skipping practice? The rules on montaging are actually pretty vague..." he pondered.

"Well..." Jessie began nonconfrontationally, shuffling over to his guitar case by the garage shelves. "Did you have any scenes where you were practicing with us during your montage?"

"Uh..." Chris trailed, thinking back to the montage sequence. Running... food... nutritious lessons... more running... deepthroating bananas... the near destruction of his hopes and dreams... "No?"

"Well then that means you've probably maybe been skipping practice, Chris! I can't believe you didn't even think to have one scene with us in that training montage!" Angie bellowed, her fury reverberating in the closed space of the musty garage, preluding to the inevitable angry tirade. Lach shrunk a little bit, evidently feeling guilty for having a hand in the montaging.

"Sorry, but it's not like I get to pick what scenes go into the montage-"

"-I don't care! We're not going to be able to inspire the masses to topple the capitalist regime with our music if our lead guitarist is skipping practice for running! You didn't even come microdose with us, and the Exclusionist Halloween Party that we're playing at is in less than two weeks and we still haven't finished our new song yet! I'm so mad right now I'm... lavid!"

"livid?" Lach politely corrected.

"Yes! That word!" Angie agreed, steaming as if she was ready to bite someone's head off right then and there. Chris looked guiltily toward the side, not willing to look directly at the fuming Panda.

"Sorry, I just need one more week of montaging and or vague time skips for my training for the October 5k, then I'll be done, I swear!"

Angie began making some angry noises before Jasmine came over and placed a hand, soothing the Panda just enough to give the Lizard a chance to speak.

Jasmine began nodding... or was she still bobbing her head? It was hard to tell... "Yeah Chris, um... this is like... actually your intervention." The Chinese Water Lizard began, sucking in a big lungful of lemon-sorbet THC vaping fluid from her e-cig, her eyes incredibly redder than a bloodmoon. "We think your obsession with montaging is actually..." Jasime started coughing violently, some blood trickling down the side of her mouth. "A serious addiction, or something. And like, negatively affecting the band and we're concerned," Jasmine said while casually wiping the blood trailing down to her chin.

Chris couldn't help but scoff in exasperation. "Jasmine, are you seriously highroading me here, when you're clearly more stoned than a gay person in Saudi Arabia?"

Jasmine let out a one-note chuckle at the witty retort slash pointless political commentary. "Gurl, you know I have a 4.0, play better when I'm high, and always make it to band practice: I'm a very high functioning user. You know I love you dude, but you're like..."

"A low functioning user!" Jessie suggested excitedly, cutting Jasmine off, who didn't seem to even notice, and instead just started staring at her fingers, wondering if she had hands, paws, claws, what the fuck this made no sense.

"God Jessie, no, that's so lame and unoriginal. Leave the zingers to us," Angie moaned in minor disgust, to which the Wolverine hung his head down shamefully. "Anyway Chris, you're seriously like a low-functioning user. You need to set your prioritizes straight and stop it with this training montage bullshit! You've trained enough!"

Chris sighed. They had him backed into a corner on that... "Well... okay point taken, but... what I'm training for is really important guys! I'm sorry for skipping practice, but I just need one more week of montaging to focus on it!" Chris insisted, arms gesticulating forward in a desperate plea. The Wolf looked at Lach as if to ask for assistance, but the Brown Rat just looked downward with an uncertain frown. Chris' spine immediately began tingling at Lach's suspicious behavior; something was up, but he didn't have time to muse on it because Angie was not having any of Chris' excuses.

"More important than band practice?! We probably had to have Jessie take over for you as lead guitarist when you were gone!" Angie said saucily with a firm stamp of her foot on the ground. "Do you have any idea how probably annoying that was for us?"

"H-Hey, I've probably been practicing hard and doing my best... I think..." Jessie lamented, poutily kicking his foot against imaginary dirt on the floor.

Chris grunted out in frustration. Why did Angie always have to be on his case?! Whatever, there was no going back. He hated to do this, especially with Lach right here, but there was no getting around it. "Look, I made a wager with Lach so I just need to win the October 5k in 5 days, so he'll start running again! That's why it's so important to me: I'm sorry, but I just need one more week off and I won't be late or miss practice ever again!"

"What?!" Angie yipped cacophonously, sounding betrayed as if somebody just hit her with a draw four Uno card. "So you have a bet going on with Lach, and neither of you told me? UGH, oh my Gawd, Lach!" Angie rumbled indignantly, attention shifting to Lach.

"Y-yes?" The Rat nervously responded, fearful of all-consuming demon that gazed into his soul.

"Go talk to Chris about this stupid bet thing or whatever and call it off so Chris doesn't bail on us! Clearly, you're the only one here he's going to listen to."

Lach sighed, deflating as he looked wistfully at his cast-less feat, and then at Chris. Ultimately he nodded to Angie, "Well, alright. I suppose we might be able to work something out..."

Chris sighed and joined Lach as the Rat sidled his way outside. Needless to say, Chris had a bad feeling this talk wasn't going to go well. Lach closed the side door and stood with Chris a fair distance away from the garage for privacy. The Rat looked cute today (not that it was any surprise), wearing an unbuttoned green flannel shirt over a black Slipknot T-shirt. His green eyes were dazzling as usual, but tinted with uncertainty.

"Sorry about missing practice," Chris opened up with a light chuckle. "I hope you don't feel bad or anything about me involving you. Angie was just really up my ass there and I felt like I couldn't keep on dodging the truth."

"Oh, not at all. It's... no bother," Lach replied weakly, twiddling with his fingers.

Okay, something was definitely up. "Is something wrong, Lach? You seem worried, and not just over Angie's temper," Chris began, bracing himself for a tough conversation. He always hated seeing Lach with anything but a smile on his face.

Lach's finger-fiddling became even more rapid. The Rat's head tilted slightly downward, his cap obscuring his eyes. "The uh... circumstances of the bet have changed a bit. It might be best to call it off."

Chris' expression immediately flared up in disbelief. "What, why?! You made a promise to me! We shook on it and everything! You can't back out of it now!" Chris said rebelliously, paws fanning out in indignation.

Lach frowned sadly as he cautiously peered back up, and Chris immediately regretted his tone. The Rat sighed once more, and continued, a dark lull to his slightly accented voice, "Well... do you remember Justin? The cheetah from Hudston highschool who I often competed against in cross country?"

Chris nodded suspiciously, uncertain what Justin had to do with anything. "Yeah, you used to be friends with him, right?"

Lach's head tilted to the side slightly hesitantly as if 'friends' wasn't quite the correct phrase. "Yes, I suppose we were rather close in a sense... for a short while anyway. He actually confronted me a while ago about why I wasn't doing cross country. And he... well he didn't take too kindly when I told him about why I wasn't running and then again when it slipped out that I had a bet going with on you."

"You told him about our bet? Like, all the details?" Chris questioned, mind slowly churning theories on how the changed circumstances might involve Justin.

Lach cringed, and let out a drawn-out sigh. "It was foolish in retrospect, but Justin has a way of talking to you that makes you feel like you're under... duress, I suppose. I didn't think it'd matter, but I underestimated Justin's obsession with me. He's a tad vindictive, spiteful even; it's part of why we grew apart. When he heard that whether I'd start running again was up to you, he got weirdly territorial about it..."

Chris glanced back at Lach, expression perfectly calm. Not a trace of doubt or fear to be seen on the Wolf's visage. "So... what? He said he's going to run our school's October 5k just to spite you and make sure that if you're not running again, it's because of him?"

Lach's expression darkened. Looks like Chris hit the bullseye. "Yeah... that's the long and short of it."

Chris inhaled a controlled breath through his flared nostrils. "So?" he replied mouthily, anger building up in the recess of his voice.

Lach stared at Chris in disbelief, jaw slowly dropping open. "So? What do you mean, 'so'? Justin's replaced me as the top high school distance runner in all of Ohio! There's zero chance that you can beat him bar some miracle."

Deep down Chris knew that this news was likely the nail in the coffin to his chances of winning the bet, but that didn't mean he was going to accept it. "Well that's the whole fucking point of the bet!" Chris snapped back. "I'm going to make a miracle happen."

Frustration began building up in the Rat's eyes his frown now bordering on a scowl. It was a rare site for someone usually so polite and meek. "Chris, no, I don't want you to spend all your energy on a bet that wasn't fair to begin with! You'll just be playing into to Justin's stupid twisted game! And I know how serious you take these things, I don't want you to work yourself to death for a goal that's utterly impossible!"

"Well are you going to rejoin the cross country and track teams and run again? If you promise to run again, I'll break off the deal," Chris insisted, staring down the Rat ferociously.

"Well..." All frustration in Lach's eyes absconded at the question, and for a moment he threw his gaze out to the distance, conflicted. "No, but..."

"Then I'm going to beat Justin," Chris declared resolutely, not willing to give up an inch in this argument.

The sourness seeped back into Lach's expression. "Chris, I know I always overshadowed him, but he regularly runs a sub-15 minute 5k. He has so many years of experience, and plus he's a Cheetah."

"Good, so you'll be even more blown away when I beat him."

The tiniest sliver of anger cracking on the Rat's lips. "Why are you being so contrary? Why insist so much on following through with-?"

"-BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, OKAY!"

Lach's eyes stretched wide. Any more words were stolen straight from the Rat's mouth. Chris' heart skipped a beat, and he found himself stepping back and covering his muzzle when he realized what he had just said. Stupid, stupid...

The Rat was utterly taken aback, his eyes dazed at the comment. "You..." he began, but couldn't seem to form the rest of the sentence.

It was too late to backpaddle now. Eyes sunken with resignation, Chris sucked in a labored breath and continued in Lach's stead. "And I know, you probably don't feel the same way about me, and are probably straight anyway, and that's fine. But when I saw you win that 5k two years ago..." Chris sniffled and let out a pained huff, his raw emotions now fully exposed.

"When I saw somebody short like me who overcome all odds and win, something surged to life inside of me. Seeing you run helped me so much, when I was in a really bad place, and my life has been so good ever since I met you. And I see you're in a very similar place to where I was, But I know you love running, and I know even though the pressure was getting to you and you're scared, you don't want to give it up deep down, and I'm selfish and I want to run with you again. So I'm going to help you like you helped me, I'm going to make you run again... even if I have to be the most stubborn asshole in the world." Chris' fur on his head was matted with angry tears by the end. The Wolf breathed in a pained sob.

It felt like a painful eternity and a half waiting for the befuddled rat to collect his thoughts. It struck Chris that there was over a thousand different ways this could go wrong. Chris wished he could take back what he said, decided to have never showed up at all so this didn't have to happen, but he said what he did and now had to wait, starting at Lach with and exposed heart on one of the worst days he ever had.

Eventually, Lach acknowledged Chris with a slight nod. "...Okay," he all but whispered. "Then... I guess all I can do is wish you good luck."

"I'm sorry. It must feel gross hearing my stupid feelings like that..." Chris whined, sloppily wiping the tears and snot onto his sleeve. This was excruciating...

Lach immediately began shaking his head. "No no, not at all. I just... wasn't expecting to hear that," he said nervously.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm in a good headspace for practice tonight," Chris muttered, sniffling one last time just to get it all out of his system. "And maybe not for the rest of the week either..."

"It's alright... Jessie can cover for you. I think he's been covering you for two weeks now, heh..."

Chris smiled weakly at Lach's intentionally lame use of the overused joke. "Thanks, I... better go," Chris mumbled, before briskly taking off, trying to get far away from where he was. Today had been nothing but icky and gross encounters, and he wasn't standing any more of it.

He hadn't skulked off father than the sidewalk before Chris heard Lach call out to him from behind. "Chris!"

The Wolf stopped in his tracks, looked down sullenly before apprehensively rounding his head backward to see Lach smiling awkwardly at him. "Erm... thank you for telling me about how you feel. I'm happy that you care so much about me," Lach said kindly, sending Chris off with a two-finger salute.

A spark of energy surged though Chris' tired body, and the Wolf couldn't help but find himself smiling at the Rat's beautiful smile.

"You better show up to watch me destroy Justin!" The Wolf called back haughtily. "I'll run my fucking heart out for you."

"Thanks for showing up y'all," Daren announced in the one clandestine place in Grovedale High that no one dare enter: the cursed bathroom.

The single suspended lightbulb flickered on and off in the bathroom, bloodstains and pawprints mysteriously moving every time the light turned back on as if reality had warped into sort of malicious flip book animation. Worst of all, The Ghost Who Spoils All was wailing from the deep recesses of rotting bathroom stall aisle, "Oooooooh, Snape kills Dumbledore! The planet of the Apes was Earth all along! Khaleesi goes crazy and commits warcrimes! Hans is actually evil and betrays Anna, Oooooooh!"

Assembled by the rank-ass skinks, Daren stood opposite of five members of his new inner circle: Rob, Scott, Jayce, Toru and Marty. Toru, and Jayce seemed incredibly uncomfortable and even a bit nauseous at the hellscape backdrop that framed Daren, but the Akita had the worst of it, quivering in his orange running shoes in total fear of the dark forces. Rob stood unamused, clearly regretting that time he dragged Daren into the cursed bathroom and hoping this would just end. Marty seemed blissfully aware that there was anything off kilter about the bathroom at all, and Scott looked exhilarated, arms pumping up and down in excitement.

"No problem, bro! I love scheming in inappropriate areas!" the Polar Bear announced, his voice echoing and slowly distorting into a guttural garbling noise in the cursed airspace of the bathroom.

"Doki Doki Literature club is actually a jump-scare series! Oooohhhhh!"

"let's just hurry before the ghost spoils a series that I actually care about..." Rob muttered, sticking out his tongue in disgust as a house centipede scuddled by him.

"I think I'm about to jump out of my skin, aw geeze, somebody just relay to me what the plan is when you're done," Toru lamented in a fit of panic, promptly nopeing out of the bathroom after the bloodstains on the wall shifted into letters that spelled out his name.

"Aigh't I'll keep it quick for you chickenshits before y'all lose your nerve," Daren mumbled. "So I'm sure y'all remember Chris is running the October 5k with the Cross-Country team. He got some sort of bet with Lachlan on whether he can get first place. He's been training hard, but he also stubborn as hell and refuses to admit that he hurt his ankle and now there ain't no chance he can win."

"Wait, Chris injured his ankle? How dire is the injury?" Jayce asked in his oddly charming know-it-all drawl.

Daren shrugged. "I ain't know how serious it is. He say it ain't nothing, but I have a bad feeling it ain't gonna fully heal in time for the 5k. Based on how much he seems to care about Lach to run again, there probably ain't no chance of convincing him to not run, either. So the way I see it, we need to help and even the playing field for him."

"But, what can we do about it?" Rob objected like the spoilsport that he was. But at least he was a cute spoilsport. "It's not like we can magically heal Chris' injury!"

"True, maybe we ain't able to do much for Chris... But we can still do the opposite of helping to other runners," Daren offered deviously. The Rottie stuck out his index fingers, one slightly higher up than the other, and then lowered the higher one until it was level with the other. Everyone's eyes widened and Daren's insidious implication, well, except Marty's. The Bull just tilted his head. "That's why I brought in some help!"

"Hey, booooooys." Rang out a nasally, androgynous voice from behind, complimented with sloppy masticating noises. A very familiar Badger entered the tainted space, wearing a Fuchsia pink and blue dress tied together at the waist with an oversized ribbon. She wiggled her fingers at the group, strutting over to kiss Marty on the cheek, causing him to wobble in his shoes in delight. Following Pesto's entrance, a willowy Squirrel in bright red dungarees entered the bathroom, smacking her lips as she chewed an unholy amount of bubblegum. "Howdy doo, campers," Allie gleefully greeted, dragging in Toru by the scruff of his neck. The poor Akita looked like he was about to cry at the thought of re-entering the cursed bathroom.

Clearly Pesto and Allie's entrance was a red flag that crazy shenanigans were about to ensue. Scott began giggling to himself, and rubbing his paws together in anticipation. Jayce on the other hand, brought his paw up to his temple in chagrin. "Allie and Pesto? Hold a moment... You're not conspiring to...?"

"Yup." Daren responded matter-of-factly. The Rottweiler smirked with just a pinch of evil deliciousness. "We gonna sabotage Chris' competition. Secretly."