{"sf1_id":1679565,"sf2_id":"A1pKbDzn","title":" The Leaves of Fall Act 3: Something That Matters (Part 8)","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":2331,"posted_at":"2021-02-01T14:54:43.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Alternate Reality","Anon","Boy","Brother","Bunny","Classroom","Couple","Emo","Fight","Girl","Green text","Greentext","HMOFA","Halloween","Heterosexual","High School","Hmofa/","Human","Kissing","Plot Development","Rabbit","Siblings","Slow burn","Young Romance","anthro/human"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1679565-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-8","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/A1pKbDzn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/ca/6b/ca6b56b3-b883-4ee1-b896-ae3a073f6c1a","description":"You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.  \n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  \n  \nAbout this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.  \n  \nCover: [https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q](https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q)  \nSam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) [https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT](https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT)  \nFan art collection: [https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv](https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv)  \nAccompanying playlist (WIP): [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410\\_nI-0J](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J)  \nAlternative link: [https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078](https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078)  \nTotal word count: 147,552 words","content":"\\\u003eHe?  \n\\\u003eHe has no?  \n“Are you a eunuch?\" You say  \n\\\u003eWhere's his dick lmao  \n“Sam? Do you hear me? I'm- I'm trying- where is your dick, man?\"  \n\\\u003eSam isn't hearing you  \n\\\u003eHis face is pulsing bright red, his jaw heavily slacked downward  \n\\\u003ePowerful tremors shake through him and dislodge words and thoughts from the hollows of his skull  \n\\\u003eAnd even though he looks like he's just been shot, he doesn't move to cover himself   \n\\\u003eAnd neither do you, because there's a block in your ability to process things right now  \n\\\u003eYour eyes mindlessly flick between his bare groin and the way his eyes explode out of his face, and then to a circular scar encrusting his right shoulder, like a vivid burn mark  \n\\\u003eYour brain is doing the analytical equivalent of 2+2=5  \n\\\u003eYou open your mouth to ask him where his dick is agai-  \n  \n\\\u003eSam plummets backwards like a statue cleaved off of its stand  \n\\\u003eYou watch him crash, unable to will your body to move and try to prevent his oncoming concussion  \n\\\u003eAll it takes is one heartbeat  \n\\\u003eYou hear his skull bounce off the floor with a dampened \\*pomf\\*  \n\\\u003eAnd you stand there like some kind of leaden idol, feeling nothing but your heart pounding  \n\\\u003eLooking at nothing but the pile of poofy pirate pants and Sam laying on the floor, unconscious  \n\\\u003eAnd thinking nothing except “where's her dick?\"  \n  \n\\\u003eYou drown in the pinks of your eyelids, eyes shut, as if to reset your nervous system  \n\\\u003eWow  \n\\\u003eIt's roomy behind your eyes and above your throat  \n\\\u003eLotttaaaa empty space  \n\\\u003eMaybe the distant echo of your inner-self pounding his head against an imaginary wall  \n\\\u003eDunno  \n  \n\\\u003eDid that really happen?  \n\\\u003eYou bend your fingers inwards, squeezing them into a weak fist  \n\\\u003eThen you wiggle your toes  \n\\\u003eYou can… move  \n\\\u003eYeah  \n\\\u003eWhen you open your eyes, Sam is still there in that pile of himself(herself?)  \n\\\u003eStill dickless  \n\\\u003eYou creep over to him(her?) as if your feet were made of fragile glass  \n\\\u003eHe(she?) still has his(her?) right leg halfway into a pair of canvas-white pirate pants  \n\\\u003eYour eyes travel upwards from the pants  \n\\\u003eYou know that's only a distraction from the real investigation you're trying to conduct  \n\\\u003eSteeling yourself, you let your gaze settle on his(her?) crotch  \n\\\u003e…  \n\\\u003eYep  \n\\\u003eThat's EXACTLY what you think it is  \n\\\u003eYou swallow hard, and your mind feels like it's trying to rebuild itself after being reduced to a chunky, dysphoric slurry  \n\\\u003eSo… the whole time… Sam has been a girl?  \n\\\u003eHe- shit, SHE has kept it under wraps this whole time? Why?  \n“Why the hell…? What's the point of hiding this?\"  \n\\\u003eYou want to wake her up  \n\\\u003eYou want to grab her and shake her and ask why she'd keep this from you, and what it put you through  \n\\\u003eInstead, you do the next best (and right) thing  \n\\\u003eYour feet barely touch the ground as you tip-toe to the opposite side of the dressing room, all the while keeping one eye on Sam  \n\\\u003eShe still has shock pressed into the lines of her young face, which looks more feminine than before — less angled and softer at the cheeks and at the jaw  \n\\\u003eBut her eyes are clamped down and her mouth is screwed shut, and, thanks to the her decision to strip bare, you can see her meager chest rising and falling with unconscious grace  \n\\\u003eIt's like watching a very small and weak balloon inflate and then deflate  \n\\\u003eIt takes everything in you not to try to stir her awake  \n\\\u003eWatching her fall unconscious was hard enough  \n\\\u003eBut this… this was like standing by, helpless, while a beautiful bird with broken wings struggles uselessly to take flight again  \n\\\u003eYou want to rescue her  \n\\\u003eBut you don't. You do what you think you should  \n“Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up,\" you beg the unconscious bunny, whose eyes scrunch together and whose brow furrows  \n\\\u003eShe looks like she's in pain  \n\\\u003eYou hover over her, holding her ratty old hoodie  \n\\\u003eSweat beads from your forehead and down the bridge of your nose, threatening a high-dive onto Sam's own forehead  \n\\\u003eYou drape her ratty old hoodie across her rounded hips, hovering over her body like a crane trying to defuse a small bomb  \n\\\u003eAnd all the while, you keep flicking your gaze over to her bare crotch and the pink slit that is her sex  \n\\\u003eYou still can't believe it  \n\\\u003eYou swear, the next time you blink, you're going to wake back up in your bed on Friday night of last week  \n\\\u003eAnd all of this is going to be a dream  \n\\\u003eThere will be no horrible plot to destroy the earth  \n\\\u003eMike will be normal  \n\\\u003eYou will have never have fought  \n\\\u003eYour house will have never been destroyed  \n\\\u003eYou will have never made that pact with the goths  \n\\\u003eYou will have never stolen Sam  \n\\\u003eIn fact  \n\\\u003eWhen you wake up, you'll still hate him… her…?  \n\\\u003eYou layer the hoodie gently across her lower half\u0026nbsp; as she begins to stir  \n\\\u003eWhen will you wake up?  \n  \n\\\u003eYou don't wake up  \n\\\u003eShe does  \n\\\u003eLittle slivers of rusted gold peer up at you, shuddering with dim recognition  \n\\\u003eHer mouth starts to move, and you freeze, hovering over her, obscuring her in your shadow  \n\\\u003e\"I'm s-s-sorry.\"  \n\\\u003eYou take a safe step backwards, face burning with hot blood  \n“I don't understand,\" you say, trying not to look at her. You direct your eyes anywhere but at her  \n\\\u003eSam props herself up on her palms, still shaking  \n\\\u003e\"P-Please…\"  \n\\\u003eShe makes a spinning motion with her fingers  \n“Oh, right! Christ, I'm such an idiot.\" Berating yourself feels like the only sensible thing you can do right now (other than turning around)  \n\\\u003eYou do a sharp spin and face the corner like a child who's being punished  \n\\\u003eSam pulls on her boxers first, then hoodie, and then sweats — none of which are done with anything resembling speed or urgency  \n\\\u003eMostly just defeat  \n\\\u003e\"O-O-Okay, y-y-you can turn a-a-around.\" The sadness in her voice is almost as powerful as your shame  \n\\\u003eAnd your curiosity  \n\\\u003eWhen you face her, she's still the same old Sam you've known for years  \n\\\u003eThe Sam who you've grown to call a friend  \n\\\u003eThe Sam you care about  \n\\\u003eThe Sam that still furiously blushes when you so much as lay a finger on her  \n\\\u003eThis may be the same bunny, but you can sense a change  \n\\\u003eSo you've gotta know now  \n\\\u003eBut first, something very important:  \n“I'm… REALLY sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to barge in on you like that. I though you were in the room next to this one, and… I don't really have a good explanation other than the fact that I'm a fucking idiot.\"  \n\\\u003eSam points her eyes downward at her feet  \n\\\u003e\"I-I-It's okay. O-Or, I m-mean, it's n-not okay. I do-don't know. I do-don't kn-know anything.\"   \n\\\u003eThere's an awkward pause, where you're staring hard at Sam but she's focusing all of her attention into avoiding eye contact  \n\\\u003eGuess it's now or never  \n“Why?\" You say, and you think you know what to say next, but your tongue seems to swell in your mouth  \n\\\u003eNothing comes out but stupid noise and the hissing of your throat  \n\\\u003eShe forces her hands behind her back to try and abstain from pulling at her ears  \n\\\u003e\"W-What?\"  \n“Why. Why did you keep this from me? Does Jenna know?\"  \n\\\u003eAh, truth at last  \n\\\u003eShe shakes her head, sweeping her bangs into her eyes  \n\\\u003e\"N-Nobody kn-knows ex-except Dad.\"  \n“Just dressing and acting like a guy is one thing, but pretending to be one? Are you trans?\"  \n\\\u003eYou pause  \n\\\u003eWas that the wrong thing to say? Shit  \n\\\u003eWhat are you supposed to say when someone comes out to you  \n“Because I swear I won't be mad at you if you are. I'm just confused. Help me understand.\"  \n\\\u003eAgain she shakes her head  \n\\\u003e\"I-I'm not… no… I do t-t-this be-because…\"  \n\\\u003eHer eyes start to blaze in the light, and you can see the frustration pressed into her face  \n\\\u003eMaybe this was a mistake  \n\\\u003eActually, not maybe. This whole thing is predicated on your mistake  \n\\\u003eWell, you better make it right you fucking moron  \n“You don't need to tell me-\"  \n\\\u003e\"Be-Because m-m-my br-brother is d-dead-d-d-dead-\"  \n\\\u003eGentle sobs start to clip the last of her syllables  \n“I know. You must have really loved hi-\"  \n“Bec-c-cause of m-m-me,\"  \n\\\u003eWat  \n\\\u003e\"I k-killed him.\"  \n  \n\\\u003eWow  \n\\\u003eYou felt that one like a lead fist in the ribs  \n\\\u003eRight about where your dusty old heart shudders and pumps dried blood  \n\\\u003eShe looks like she wants to cry, but isn't allowing herself to  \n\\\u003eNot yet  \n\\\u003eShe wipes her nose with a snotty sleeve  \n\\\u003eHer voice plummets into a hoarse whisper  \n\\\u003e\"J-J-Jacob tried to m-make me tough a-and st-strong- so I could s-stand up for m-myself.\"  \n“You ARE tough and strong! With all the shit you go through-\"  \n\\\u003eNow you see something you haven't ever seen before:  \n\\\u003eAn angry Sam  \n\\\u003e\"GIRLS A-A-AREN'T STRONG!\" She blazes, chest heaving. “G-Girls are w-w-weak and I-I have to b-be strong. I-I h-have to b-be strong f-f-for J-Jacob… I h-have to be the s-s-s-son my d-d-d-dad d-didn't get to h-have.\"  \n\\\u003eShe doesn't strangle her ears this time around  \n\\\u003eInstead, she tightens all of her anger and remorse and sadness between her fingers and closes her fists around them  \n\\\u003eYou just stand there, feeling limp and useless  \n\\\u003eAnd more than that:  \n\\\u003eGuilty  \n\\\u003eShe looks at you, flush in the face, chest swelling with hot air that she pushes in and out with each ragged breath  \n\\\u003eYou're not sure if she's going to start yelling again  \n\\\u003eBut she doesn't  \n\\\u003eShe looks at you one last time with that fire in her eyes, and then…  \n\\\u003eShe slams her eyes shut — hard  \n\\\u003eShe shakes her head, throwing her dangling ears around violently, trying to dislodge her confusing and conflicting thoughts   \n\\\u003eHer fingers spread outward, and her body stops trembling, like a rocket struggling to fire off the launch pad  \n\\\u003eAll that's left between you two is silence, the sound of Sam trying to get her breathing under control  \n\\\u003eAnd outside the door, the muffled drone of Halloween music marches a steady beat  \n  \n\\\u003eNow is the time to say something, because this silence is worse than driving pins and needles into your skin  \n\\\u003eIt's selfish  \n\\\u003eYou know that?  \n\\\u003eIt's selfish to want to distract yourself from this pain  \n\\\u003eMaybe it's something you need to face, for yourself  \n\\\u003eFor Sam  \n\\\u003e\"I-I'm sorry,\" she says weakly. “I d-don't… I d-d-didn't mean to s-s-shout.\"  \n\\\u003eNow it's your turn to sigh  \n\\\u003eGod it's such a relief  \n\\\u003eYou don't know if you could handle Sam being mad at you  \n“The only thing you have to apologize for is not thinking you're strong. God damnit, kid, you're tougher than me and Mike and Alex combined. I don't know how you got it in your head that you're weak… that you need to replace your brother, or anything like that.\"  \n\\\u003eSam looks wounded, but you carry on  \n“I have spent my entire life up until Tuesday afternoon being a gutless coward. I don't see myself in you — not even a little bit.\"  \n\\\u003e\"B-But you s-s-saved me from m-my d-d-dad. Y-You d-d-did wh-what I couldn't,\" she counters. And it's a fair counter — if you leave out the fact that you were aided by a supernatural curse  \n\\\u003eYou shake your head  \n“That wasn't me. Or, it wasn't the real me. Everything brave and important I've ever done has been because I sacrificed Gloria Duchene to the goths. But not anymore. On Tuesday, I made that choice to quit living like a fucking coward.\"  \n\\\u003eYou pause, searching for a truth in the vacant silence  \n\\\u003eYou're not tough  \n\\\u003eNot an asshole  \n\\\u003eNot strong  \n\\\u003eYou only know one thing:  \n“I'm scared of everything,\" you say with a heavy sigh. You turn your eyes away from her. “Why do you think I haven't decided on my future yet, or sacked up and picked a college? Why do you think we're hiding in a church instead of out looking for your dad to confront him? Christ, Sam, there's a million things I wish I could say to you right now, but they die on their way out. But every day I get a little stronger. Every day I learn more and more what I'm capable of.\"  \n\\\u003eYou squat down and meet her height  \n\\\u003eHer eyes are still and fixed on your own  \n“I keep telling myself, if Sam can hit her dad with a baseball bat, then I can make it through until tomorrow — even if it kills me.\"   \n\\\u003eNeither you, nor the rabbit, say anything for awhile  \n\\\u003eYou stare into one another  \n\\\u003eAnd at one point, you swear, you traded brains for a second  \n\\\u003eAnd a brain is a private, intimate place  \n\\\u003eYou felt what it was like to have someone wander around in the garden of your thoughts and memories  \n\\\u003eFirst violation, then admittance, and then wonder  \n\\\u003eAnd you, too, spent what felt like an hour inside of Sam's mind, uprooting her pain, hearing distant rushes of train whistles felling forests and arcing blows of fists across your tender bone  \n\\\u003eAnd then the connection severed  \n\\\u003eYou retrieved yourself from Sam, and her from you, and you tried desperately to memorize all that you had seen or done  \n\\\u003eSam must have felt the yank of separation, the cascade of sensory data overwhelming her synapses, because at last she blinked  \n\\\u003eAnd then you blink, staring lucidly into one another's eyes, but seeing more than just your own reflections  \n\\\u003eYour eyes lock on her lips pink lips — the color of a ripe peach  \n\\\u003eAnd you lean forward  \n\\\u003eShe shudders, her eyes falling shut in resignation  \n\\\u003eOf mind first  \n\\\u003eThen of body  \n  \n\\\u003e…  \n\\\u003eYou pull back at the last possible second, your lips a hair's width from brushing one another  \n\\\u003eWhen you open her eyes, her lips are still curled, her eyes still shut  \n\\\u003eWaiting for you  \n\\\u003eAnd you are full of shame","series":{"name":"The Leaves of Fall","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1677757-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-7.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1682478-the-leaves-of-fall-act-3-something-that-matters-part-9.json"}}