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Paul

June 3rd

Reece slams the door behind him, and all the warmth that was once beside me, snuggling up next to me, disappears. I'm left with the gentle heat of the laptop over my thighs, my bare legs sticking out from behind the screen, and his words ringing in my ears. I haven't felt this alone in a long time, and it brings back memories of when I was a kid sitting in my room all day while dad was at work, hoping it wasn't overtime. Hoping he'd bring mom back with him when he came home late at night. Knowing that I was bound to be wrong this time as well. I can see it all so clearly now.

For some reason I thought he'd be excited. I had been cooking up this plan for a long time with my lawyer. I was going to spoil him rotten, like he'd never been spoiled before. I was going to get him everything he wanted. his own car, and his own place where he could do whatever he wanted. Stereo and home cinema, game consoles, books, a massive, cosy sofa to cuddle in. A huge kitchen where we could make dinner together. Everything. Except I wasn't giving him everything. I worked so hard that I failed to see how stupid the premise was. Deep inside, I think I always knew he wouldn't be entirely satisfied. He'd not get the boyfriend he deserves. He'd get a glorified prison warden.

Thinking back, I've been an idiot. I wonder if dad thought that the money would be enough when he disappeared off to work every morning and paid for everything I asked. I could never really get what I wanted from him, and Reece never got what he really wanted from me, even though he gave everything of himself. He never cared about the money or the fame, or the success I had on track. That was all me. It wasn't Paul the Racing driver he wanted when he asked if I was going to get out of Whyllis Racing. It wasn't Paul the Celebrity he hoped for when he wanted me to come out on the radio. It wasn't that wolf Reece fell in love with, it was the other wolf. The one I've always been ashamed of and tried to hide. He didn't even force me. He never pushed, because he believed in me. How could I even hold him to his word, and ask him not to leave me, when I've been pushing him away like this. I'm not sure I even deserve him; I feel so miserable.

I close the laptop and put it away, lay back and stare at my roof, like I've done so many times before. The light of a streetlamp outside shine through the foliage of a tree in my front yard, casting a dappled dark and light pattern on the roof of my bedroom. He'll be back. Where would he go? He must come back; all his things are here. Of course, he'll be back. I know he will, because I would. But he'll be unhappy when he returns. A nightingale in a cage.

An hour pass, then another. The pattern isn't going anywhere. The night grows even darker, and presumably colder. I can't wait here for him. I have to go out there and find him. He's all alone. I can't wait for this to sort itself out. I can't allow myself to try and find a solution to this. I have to be the other Paul. The Paul who I really am, despite my money and fame. I shouldn't try to act as if my wealth could fix anything. I shouldn't try to find a clever solution to things that require me to make a difficult choice. Already made that mistake once, and I suffered for it. If I make that mistake again, I'll suffer far more than a few broken bones.

Regret bubbles up in my throat and forces tears out. All he wanted was to express his pride in me. The pride which I've basked in the glow of, in private. I took advantage of him when I was in pain. I never realised how much pain he was in, how close to the edge he was. We were. I just hope I didn't push him away for good.

Panic suddenly sets in, and fear follows. What if he leaves? What if he just gets on a bus, or in a cab and takes off. Turns off his phone and leaves all his stuff behind? What did he mean about not being able to go on? I can't even begin to imagine myself without him, not now. Not after all we've been through. Not when I'm standing on the threshold of a new life, representing something I always wanted. I have to reconcile that with all that he wanted, because if I can't, I'll only have the life Paul the Racing Driver wanted, a hollow existence of fame and money but without meaning. I need to find him before he goes and makes up his mind whether he can live without me or not.

I run outside. I only just managed to get my shoes on, along with a morning gown, but not much more than that. The neighbourhood is silent and desolate. At this time of night, it feels almost abandoned. There's no spotty dog here, and I can't smell him clearly. His scent has blown around a lot. I don't know where he might have ended up, he can get really far sometimes. I try to text him, then I try to call, but there's no response. I know he likes just walking around with music on his iPod, so I can't call out to him, and I don't particularly want the entire neighbourhood to know.

Jesus Christ, Paul, what the hell kind of worry is that. God damn. Perhaps, one day, I won't feel so pathetically afraid of what others think. There's only one way to make sure I get better, and that is to challenge myself. It's my damn job, for crying out loud, I can't afford to be afraid, or I'll go too slow, miss my chances, and lose the race.

I swallow hard and try to prevent my breathing from turning into whimpers, but it's futile.

"Reece?" I call out, at an indoor volume at first. But it feels liberating to call his name, even if I'm afraid. The sense of how right it feels overpowers my fear.

"Reece!" I call it out again as if in triumph, because I dared to. I call his name again, and again. But there's no reply. Running from street to street, I move further away from my house, deeper into parts of the suburb I haven't been to. Calling his name hasn't worked yet, but that doesn't stop me. Pressure builds in my throat. Emotion pours into it, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm howling. A long, pure tone, undulating and decreasing in pitch as it cuts through the night air. I don't care about my neighbours. I don't care about the quiet reputation of this damn neighbourhood. I need him, I only care about him, and all the sadness I feel at his absence is poured into that howl. Even with music on his headset, if he's here, he can't have failed to hear it. In the absolute silence that follows, I hear the faintest sound. The crunching of a shoe on a slightly dusty sidewalk. My ears snap around to where the sound came from, and I head towards it as quickly as I can.

In a clearing, down a dead-end street at the other end of the neighbourhood, where the road ends and a big black forest begins, I see a figure walking by itself away from me. It's him!

"Reece!" I call out, and he stops walking, but remains with his back to me. When my scent reaches him, tainted by fear and sadness, he turns. He looks cold in his thin sweater and chino pants, and not just because he's shivering.

He has the smell of tears on him, that salty, melancholic smell. They're my fault. I've made him cry. The only one I ever cared about, and I've made him cry like how I used to cry after I lost my mom. He looks around but there's only us. I can tell that he'd rather be left alone, but he stays. This is it, Paul. You need to prove that you're worthy of him.

"Reece, please come home... let's talk, okay?"

I want him to know that it is his home, he can have a home with me. He's safe with me. But it wasn't safety he wanted from me. I stop a few feet away from him, as if he's a wounded wild animal. I don't want him to run away, I want him to come to me so that I can help him.

"Paul?" he chokes out, "I s-said I was going for s-some air, there's no need to m-make so much noise."

I sigh heavily, it breaks my heart to see him like this. Trying to act as if he's not in tears. Keeping a lid on his heart for fear that his emotions will annoy me. To hear his frail voice and think about all the pain I've caused him because of my own ego.

"Let's talk, Spot."

"What's there to talk about, wolf? You want to live your life of blissful ignorance. I can't stop you."

There's fire in his voice, but it's shaky.

"I don't intend to stay in the closet forever," I concede. "Okay? Can we go home and talk?"

"When?" he cries out "When can we be together like a real couple? I need to know."

"We are together Reece!" I try to protest but I really shouldn't. I don't deserve to talk back to him. I don't get to pretend it's some discussion. If I can't do this. I've lost, no matter what I say.

"It doesn't feel like it," he cries. "It feels like I'm giving up everything, and you just keep getting things your way. But what about what I want, Paul?"

"I said, we can talk about it," I try, hopefully. His voice has calmed a little. "I'm prepared to-"

"You're deflecting again, Paul," he cuts in, his ears flicking forward, confrontationally. "I don't want you to wriggle out of it. I don't want another talk. There's nothing to talk about. I don't want some fucking agreement. I want to hear you say it, because you need to say it."

"Say what?"

"You said you didn't want to come out because of work, and that's not an issue anymore. You said you didn't want to come out because of Walt, and now that's not an issue anymore. You say your dad is the reason you're not coming out but your dad shows you more love now than my dad ever did. I have no idea what you're so fucking scared of, Paul. He loves you. For god's sake, just tell me why. Tell me what it'll take." Tears are flying from his face as he barks out the words. I'm stunned. I can't find a single word to say. But Reece isn't done.

"I am proud of being your boyfriend, Paul," He cries, with a voice hoarse from bitter emotion. I know my ears flick, but I can't even bring myself to worry about what the neighbours might think. He's earned the right to shout at me, and I deserve nothing more than to stand there and take it. Paul the Racing Driver is nowhere to be seen. "I am happy to go along with a lot of stuff, but not this. I'm ashamed that I have to hide how much I love you to the public because of your inability to tell the truth, to be open to the world about who you are. And you know the worst part? I can't leave, even if you refused everything I asked. Even if you said you were never coming out, I'd be back in that apartment with you tonight. I can't go back to being alone, because I'll never find someone like you ever again. That's what I'm scared of. So there. Happy now? You can do what you want with me, because I'm god damn stuck with you."

He brings his shaking paws up to his muzzle, sobbing into his shirt sleeves. Watching his earnest tears flowing, because of what I did to him, brings it home to me. I've damn near ruined him. I come up to him, but he turns away. My heart aches with pain. He says he can't go on like this, and I feel the full force of those words when I see him shying away from me. I wrench his paws from his eyes and push him into my chest fur, where he starts sobbing again, his whole body shaking. I pull him tight to my chest, and he quickly soaks my fur with his warm tears. I'm sure it looks strange to whoever happens to catch sight of us, but I don't care anymore. I don't care because he loves me, and because he doesn't care who knows it. Why do I still need to care so much? I don't want to care about who knows, because it hurts him, and that hurts me. It's time to take that risk, which I've shied away from for so long.

"Spot. I promise I'll do right by you," I whisper into his ears, and I can't hold back my own tears. "Come with me. I'm ready... I promise."

I'll do whatever he tells me, I'll do whatever he wants. Because I trust him, and if he thinks it's the best for me, then I'll risk everything to make sure it is done. Just let me see his smile again, god, please don't take that away from me.

June 6th

Dad's office has changed. He's taken down all the pictures of me in my black and gold race overalls and replaced them with a few pictures of me in civilian clothes instead. They're all from when I was young. I don't know where he's gotten them from, I don't think I've ever seen them before, and I can barely remember being in them. Some of them have a layer of dust on them. I also don't know where he got that large cigar from. I've never seen him smoke before.

We're seated in front of dad's desk as if we're in a police interview. Reece is bothered by the strong smell of the smoke, but he hides it well. I've had tire smoke and fuel fumes in my lungs since I was four years old, so I'm not bothered. And yet, my eyes are watering, my throat feels like it's about to close up, and I find it hard to breathe.

He had still been glowing with pride since that radio interview went live. He smiled when I told him how I'd screwed over Whyllis legally. I told him that I was guaranteed a contract with Sharp-Sinclair, and he told me Dazza's real name is Daniel, and he was an old friend. I'm going to Bathurst next year, and Dazza tells me I'll have a place on the grid if I do well. I found a house in a good area in Sydney. Reece had agreed to come and look at it with me, and we're not planning on going back. Everything was set up, everything was perfect. There really was no better time to tell him. So, after some hesitation, I said the words. I explained to my dad who I am, who I've always been.

And he kept smiling.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd bring someone over to show them to me," he rumbles after lighting his cigar, leaning back in his office chair with a loud creak. A large cloud of cigar smoke trails from his muzzle. "Didn't know it'd take so fucking long. This thing is almost turned to dust." He pats the cigar, shifting it from the front of his muzzle to the side, as he smiles. "I expected something a bit special, Paul, I really did. You've always been a bit different. I think you've found someone worthy of your name. Too worthy, perhaps."

"Thanks, dad," I manage to squeak out under my fragile voice, my heart still beating frantically. "I guess I should have told you sooner, huh?"

"You sure as fuck should have, you lil' shit," he growls. "About ten years sooner, from what I hear. I would have understood, Paul. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was just afraid that... you know..."

I feel ashamed. I don't want to tell dad that I had a moment of weakness and fear, but Reece nudges me, and I remember my deal with him. I promised I'd tell my dad everything. He promised me it would be okay. I swallow the lump in my throat and let the words out. The words he finally managed to get out of me, which I'd had buried so deep that they felt like a part of me.

"I-I miss her still," I breathe, tears start welling up behind my eyes, and I lower my muzzle to look at the picture of us on his desk. "I didn't want to lose you... like mom. I was scared, dad."

That makes him sit up, he almost inhales the entire cigar. Coughing violently, his smile dies on his lips. He comes around the desk in a flash, and pulls me off my chair, wrapping me in a tight hug. A hug unlike anything we've shared for over twelve years.

"Your mother loved you," dad growls into my folded ears. "That was all she ever stood for in this world, Paul. She didn't leave you, and I'm sure as fuck not going to, either. I promised her that I'd give you everything you needed. If you think I'd ever. EVER. go against her wishes-"

"Sorry dad," I say, instinctively, parting from the hug. My ears are pinned against my skull, and I feel like they'll never come up again. "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I really felt-"

"Don't you dare be sorry," he growls. "You spoke from in here." He slaps his chest, and makes himself cough some more, "I should be sorry. I couldn't see what you needed most of all. Not until Reece here came around and showed me what it really means to care. I know you a little better now, Paul, you're still a stubborn piece of shit sometimes. But you'll do right by him, damn it, or I'll come around and kick your arse. Because that's what your mother believed in."

I'm still a bit stunned, and my ears feel like they've pulled a muscle. Reece takes my paw and squeeze it. Paul the Racing Driver might have pulled away, but I squeeze back, because I know I need him. I sniffle and sit back down in my chair, not letting go of his paw.

"I could've used someone to talk to, as well," dad says, seating himself back in his chair, and sticks his cigar back in his muzzle, patting at it contemplatively. "I was too damn stupid. Those were difficult times for me too. I didn't have someone like Reece here to help me. Maybe... maybe it's time for some changes. I could stand to get out there, again."

"It's... okay, dad. N-no worries, right?" I mumble cautiously.

He's still got it. Even after all these years, he can still make me cry. But these tears feel good to get out. I feel so dumb for thinking any of what I did before was brave. I look at my dad and the way he fights back his tears, as he accepts who I am and reconciles that with the love he and mom shared. Still share, from the way he's looking at that picture of us. I feel warm inside. We can be a family. I look at Reece, the way he pushed me to come here and have this talk, I realise I know nothing about courage. Sitting here with a lump in my throat, I also realize that that's not a problem. I'm allowed to not be brave all the time. I have to remind myself of that. Reece is allowed to be himself, too. I'll never try to surpress that again. I know to recognize now when it's time to be Paul the Boyfriend, and when it's time to be Paul the Racing Driver.

Reece has never seen dad like that. I've seen dad angry before, but never in this strange, passionate way. It is unsettling to me and Reece both, but he has this excited smile on his muzzle all the same.

"You're owed a father, Paul," dad says. "Perhaps one day, I'll manage to make it up to you." Dad steps over to Reece, walking straight past me. He extends a paw to my boyfriend and resumes his wide smile. "And you, son. You're in due for a father-in-law. Lord knows you've deserved one, and this time, I'll do it right, from day one. Give paw, boy."

I smile with the sort of delirious relief that comes from surviving a near death experience. I can't wait to find out what it means to have a proper dad. Reece stares at him astonished, shaking back limply.

"uh... Reece... Reece Thomson, s-son in law to be... I guess?"

"Go easy on him, dad, we've been together for a few months-"

"It's okay, Paul," Reece says quickly, and returns the shake a little bit more vigorously. "I think it's sweet!"

"You know, Reece. You lot can get married in Australia too," Dad says with a wink that is just a bit too clumsy. "We're not so backwards as you think. Cubs too, I believe."

"Dad, I-"

"I've heard," Reece cuts in, completely collected and prepared. "Mom would be happy to hear, I'm sure. I did some reading up on adoptions and stuff."

"Sweetie!" I say instinctively, ears flicking but still folded down. But it's okay. I can say that now. The lightness and relief almost distract me from the fact that he's totally talking about cubs with my dad.

"I think you'll like it down under," Dad says, grinning and patting Reece's shoulder. "You know, I want grandcubs. I don't care if they have spots or anything, as long as they've got what matters." He slaps his chest again, without coughing this time. "Strength, Unity, Pack, isn't that right Paul?" He scratches his chin for a moment. "Let's see. Strength. So that we can help those who can't help themselves. Unity. Because sometimes we need help from others who are strong in a different way. Pack. Any one member is as valuable as the others, and everyone must pull the same way."

The kindergarten mantra is embarrassing to hear out loud, but it takes me back to a purer time, when I lent more weight to my words. Now, I see the truth in it.

"Y-you left out a few bits, but that's broadly the gist of it, yeah," I mumble, finally able to splay my ears sideways instead of backwards.

"Well, it's more or less right." Dad shrugs and taps the ash from his cigar.

"I'll make sure they know, Pierce," Reece says, and leans over to kiss my cheek. "I'm sure Paul would appreciate you being there when that time comes."

"Heh," dad smirks. "I could stand to see the old country again, myself. Maybe the time is right to go down and hang around my old haunts. See if there's not a grandmother out there for the young-"

"Oookay, Reece," I intervene, "I think we've established that Dad's a cool guy. I think we should get going before he gets any more ideas. We have a lot of things to do!"

"Oh, don't worry, Pierce," Reece says with a laugh. "When the time comes for cubs, or pups, I'll let you know."

Reece, who was clutching my paw just a moment ago, is laughing alongside my dad about stupid dad things. Reece, who was crying along with me when I dredged up my memories about mom just two days ago. Reece, who held me as I let it all out. Reece, who helped me come to this office and have this talk. Reece who set me free. His laugh is pure, innocent, and full hope, the sort of laugh I can only be grateful for, along with the smile for which I risked it all. And won. I can't help but laugh alongside them, from the wild relief.

But I promised him more than just coming out. I promised him a lot more. And those things no longer feels like an obstacle to be overcome. I've got Dad on my side. I have Reece on my side. I can do this. I want to do this, with him, because of that smile. As we step outside his offers and out onto the shop floor, I lower my shoulders.

"Alright, that went well," I conclude, breathing in the familiar industrial scents of the big, workshop hall, through which we have to go. "Apart from some embarrassing stuff, I guess."

I take another deep breath while preparing. Reece grabs my paw. He looks at me, and I look at him. And then we start walking together. He squeezes my paw slightly, swinging it lazily back and forth as he walks next to me, in plain view of dad's many employees. I notice people turn as we walk by. There's a wolf whistle from somewhere, but the guy who whistled smiles and waves. I wave back, as I walk. I don't feel a need to run away, I don't feel afraid at all, even among all these tough, grown guys. I notice that junior engineer who Reece talks about sometimes, clasping his paws to his chest and sighing as we walk past his workstation. Everyone seems to be looking. But then again, I'm Paul Courage. I'm a famous racing driver. I've been the talk of the town for the last three days. I'm their boss' son. I'm done hiding, they all know me. They may as well know who I am. All the hidden recesses in my mind where the darkness lurked have been aired out, and my love for Reece has rushed in to fill the gaps. He knew all along what was best for me. I'll never doubt him again, because this rush is better than any victory I've ever felt.

"Embarrassing, was it?" Reece says after a while of walking, a nervous, but excited giggle disrupting his speech. "I thought he was charming. If you met my mom, she'd be way more insistent, and she'd be dead serious besides."

"You mean when I meet your mom?" I ask, and nod to his phone, which he's pulled out to check the time. "Where are they at, now?"

"They landed an hour ago." Reece pads outside to where my car is parked. "Thanks again for flying them up here on such short notice."

"Well, yeah. I've got some spare change, and we'll need most of the next week just to pack all your dresses and shoes. You absolute fashion victim you."

"You're the victim here," Reece snickers, and gets into the passenger seat, "once you see my Christmas wish list. Where to, driver?"

"Remember that restaurant where it all started?" I ask, offering my paw to him. "We're not going there. That's our spot. We're going to a proper one."

"With waiters and wine and white tablecloths?"

"One of those," I say and kiss his forehead. I tap out a quick message on my phone. "I'm sending your parents the address now. Shall we take the slow route, or the fast route?"

"The fast one!" He buckles up and prepares for one of my spirited drives, which he doesn't want to admit that he likes. "We have to show up before them and select the right wine to pair with our announcement."

"Well... By taxi," I say, checking my watch, "they're probably twenty minutes or so away from the place. We're forty minutes away, at least."

Reece wags his tail and squeezes my paw. "Show me why they call you the number one underrated racing driver."

"But what if I'm caught?" I ask, sticking my tongue out playfully. "What if they deport me?"

Reece laughs. I know he trusts me. I kiss him and turn over the engine. My car barks into life, and we pull out of dad's parking lot. I'm not going to leave black lines on the tarmac here, while my dad's watching us from his office. But I push my foot down once we get onto the highway, and Reece giggles with delight as the car pushes far north of the speed limit. Forty minutes? We arrive after seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds, brakes smoking and exhaust glowing red hot. Averaging 135 mph is nothing. I can make this car go around Laguna Seca in under 1:40. I am the first one to do that in this car. There's a lot of firsts I'll be claiming from here on out. I'll always be a racing driver at heart. I never changed really. I was merely completed; all the ingredients were already there. Because I'm still Paul Fucking Courage. I'm still young. I'm still a god damn excellent racing driver. I'm still from Australia. I'm still gay. I'm still intent on climbing that ladder all the way to the top.