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I can't get rid of the smile on my face as I wash myself in the shower.

It has been a while since I felt like this. It wasn't too long, but it was long enough for me to miss it. I don't even remember the last time we've had this much time to ourselves, and just thinking about that thought messes me up a little. Things have gotten a lot hectic lately, it seems, and we barely had time to see each other. Every time we meet, there's always something going on, with one of us having something to do or plans never coming to fruition, so all of our meetups or dates lasted an hour at most. So when we both had a free night all to ourselves and at the same time too, we didn't hesitate to spend that time together.

We went all out. Romantic dinner, movie, played a game. All the things that we wanted to do but never got around to, we did them all. We could stay up the whole night if we wanted to, and we almost did. The sex wasn't planned, though. It just happened, like most of the times we did, and it turns out I missed that, too. I forgot what it's like to run my hands up and down his body without having to worry about the time or having him touch me at his own pace. The way he looked at me the whole reminded me why I love him in the first place. So when we were done, I got out of bed and into the shower feeling like I could just soar if I jumped and I still feel that way in the shower. I savor it while it lasts.

As soon as I'm done, I grab the towel and turn on the drier. I'm still high on the afterglow so I laugh at the fur flying around. I don't bother with fixing my fur since I don't have to be anywhere right now. And because I don't have to be anywhere right now, I put on some boxers and go out the door.

The first thing I look at is a fox sleeping on my bed. My fox. He hopped in the shower before me because he had a track record of falling asleep immediately after sex. It seems like he can't stay up too long, because he's splayed across the bed, his body facing the windows and the covers tossed over his waist. I wouldn't have been surprised if he dropped and fell asleep before he could sleep properly.

Smiling, I walk over to the bed and sit down, being as careful as I could so he won't wake up. The last time I let him sleep in his boxers without covers, he got a cold for the rest of the week. And that was in the middle of summer. So as I lie down, I pull the covers over us, then I slide my arm beneath him as slowly as I could, and he stirs awake. He rubs his eyes and turns around. When he sees me, he smiles.

"Hey," I say. "Sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine," he drawls. "I'm not going anywhere, anyway."

He turns around so his body is facing me. Then he snuggles my arm and presses his hand against my chest. There's a wistful smile on his face as he does that. Or maybe he's still half-asleep. I'm not complaining, either way.

"Besides, I wanna be here." He moves closer until the rest of our bodies touch. "I wanna sleep like this."

I chuckle. "Me too"

I wrap my arm around him and keep him close to my chest. He's warm, and his fur is so soft. I missed this a lot. We never get to hold each other like this, and now that I can, I get to savor every moment of it.

"By the way," I start.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we got to spend time together like this."

"Yeah, me too." He hums. "And..."

I wait for him to continue, but it drags on for too long. At first, I assume he fell back asleep again, but I can never be too sure. "Yeah?"

"Do you... do you sometimes wish that we could've been doing something other than this?"

I hesitate. "Where did that come from?"

"Out of my mouth, out my ass, who knows?"

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Something... I don't know. Something else other than this. It doesn't have to be this all the time."

"All the time? But we haven't done this in a while."

"Yeah, I know that, but it's just..." he sighs. "Fine."

He might sound tired and emotionless, but "fine" isn't a good thing whenever it comes to him. I wrap my other arm around him and I kiss him on the forehead. "Hey," I say. "Hey, I'm sorry. We'll do what you want next time we have the time to ourselves, okay?"

"All right, I'm sorry, too." He hugs me just as tight. "Promise me we'll do something else next time."

I kiss him on the forehead again. "I promise."

"Thanks." He nuzzles my neck. "I love you, Eric."

"I love you too, Gav."

***

I jump awake, the way I usually do with a terrible nightmare. There was no nightmare, though, and there was no feeling of dread that stayed until I was awake. But my heart is pounding in my chest, and I place a hand on my chest to calm myself down, reminding myself that I'm still in my room, and nothing new has happened yet.

It's dark inside the room for some reason. I turn to the window to find the blinds pulled back. Behind the blinds are the city lights and the dark. I only put up the blinds when I take an afternoon nap. It takes me a few seconds to figure out why I have the blinds up at night. I went home at five, feeling really tired and sluggish for some reason. Then I stripped into my boxers and slept. Seems that I woke up later than usual. I reach for my phone on the bedside table to check for the time and curse under my breath when I see the number ten and the thirty beside it. I have a shift in half an hour. I scramble to my feet and to get to the door.

But it turns out I have something else to worry about.

The world spins and my head feels like it's light and being crushed on both ends. My body is heavy and sluggish and it's already telling me a lot. My rushing to get up must've made it even worse because my stomach cramps from the momentum and something is threatening to come out. I'm already heaving when I get out the door, so I force myself to rush to the bathroom. Door slammed open, light turned on, I collapse into the toilet and my body forces the vomit out of my mouth.

It's not a pleasant experience, your body pushing out the stuff in your body without your say in it. At one point, I'm sure something's gonna break in me, or my guts will start coming out of my mouth as well. It doesn't, thankfully, and the worst comes to pass. I look at what I puked out on the toilet as I flush it out, and it tells me that, yes, I am sick.

Hopefully, it's not serious. I have been stressing out over things lately, and I've done a lot of unhealthy stuff--more than usual--so this is bound to happen. I get up and trudge to my bedroom. I grab my phone and call in sick before tossing it and lying down on the bed. Gently this time, I wrap the covers around myself and go back to sleep.

Except that, I don't right away. Something's been bothering me, and I can't tell what it is. I toss and turn for a few minutes, but it doesn't help. My head feels like it's crushing itself and my body is heating up. It doesn't help that I feel absolutely terrible, and I can't tell why. I just wish it would go away soon. But I fall asleep before it ever does.

I wake up again, this time, I wake up to knocking on the door. I ignore it and further, wrap myself with the covers. There's another knock on the door, and I almost get up and get the door. But I still don't. Another minute, and there's another knock on the door. That gets me to finally unwrap myself off of the covers and finally get up. I am still sick, I realize, and that makes me lose my morale a bit. What gets me is the fact that I was hopeful enough to think that this fever will go away after another short nap. I check the time on the phone to see it's already midnight.

Who would need something from me this time of night? I think.

Another knock tells me that they're not going anytime soon. With a sigh, I force myself out of my bed, calling out to the person on the door to wait a bit, and that I'm under the weather so they have to be a little patient. I take my time to grab a shirt, put it on, and reach for the door. It seems like whoever is at the door feels disrespected by me not answering the door sooner because they've knocked two more times before I get to the door. I tell them one more time that I am sick, then I open the door. I'm greeted by a red fox in a button-up shirt and jeans. The green scarf and green eyes are enough to tell me who it is.

Danny waves at me. "It's me."

"Hi," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were sick. So I came to check in on you," Danny says. "May I come in?"

"Uh, sure. Go ahead."

I gingerly move to the side to let Danny walk in. He looks around for a bit, making a slow spin as if to take in his surroundings. "I like your house."

"Thanks," I say. "You can drop your bag there, by the way."

Danny looks to where I'm pointing and places his sling back on the coffee table. I close the door and I compose myself. "How'd you know where I live?" I say.

"Dev wrote me the address and the directions and detailed instructions on how to ride the bus or the train to get here." Danny rummages through his bag. "Those were some really detailed instructions."

"That's a first for Dev."

"He was a very good host, by the way. Thought I'd tell you. When he saw me, he brought me to the bar and had a little chat with me. He even gave me something to look at because he's still on the clock, he says. Then I asked where you were and Dev said you called in sick. Said you sounded like you fully died inside and said that I can, and I quote, 'Kiss it better.' With a wink and everything. But I was gonna go here anyway, so here I am."

I sigh. "Dev and I are going to have a long talk when I get better."

"Go easy on him. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here to take care of you."

"But didn't you say you were going to go here anyway?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have come prepared."

I give him a look, and I shake my head. "All right," I say. "But what if I say no?"

"Eric, I'm gonna be completely honest with you. You look like you're gonna collapse and die any moment now. I know those muscles aren't just for show, but I won't believe you when you say you're fine right now."

Before I can say anything, Danny walks closer to me, so our chests almost touch. He tiptoes and presses his palm on my forehead. I don't know why he'd do that because he can reach my forehead just fine. Our faces are close, though, and his snout is pretty close to mine. I look at him, but he's looking up at my forehead. It lasts for too long, then he pulls back.

"Yeah, you're sick. Temperature's pretty high, too. How are you even walking?"

I shrug. "I still have some energy left in me. It can keep me going for a few hours, maybe."

"And if you run out of that energy? Are you gonna pass out and die on me?"

I shrug and Danny sighs, which is something I should be doing. "All right," he says. "I'm taking care of you now."

"Don't I get to have any say in it?"

"No. You are sick, so I am the man of the house now. I am going to take care of you and there's nothing you can do about it. Now go back to your room and get some rest."

"Whatever you say, boss."

I walk back to my room. Danny looks at me, sighs, and pushes me when I was apparently too slow for him. I laugh and tell him that I'm taking things slow because I feel a little dizzy. He's having none of it, though, and urges me to walk faster, so I do. I get in the room, take my shirt off, and wrap myself around the blanket like I did earlier. Danny walks into the room and notices the shirt I was wearing on the drawer beside him.

"Shouldn't you be wearing something more... well, warmer?" he says.

"It's fine," I say. "I'm not cold and I prefer being like this when sleeping."

"All right. Whatever makes you comfortable."

"And sorry for the mess," I say. "I didn't get to clean in time because... well, as you can tell."

"I understand," Danny says. "Besides, you've been to my room. I don't have the right to judge."

"You get to if you clean your mess in less than two weeks."

He snorts. "That doesn't change anything."

"Well, isn't that a comforting thought?"

Danny shuffles back to the doorway. "Anyway, do you have some paracetamol? Ibuprofen, maybe?"

"I think I have some in the bathroom, but I haven't bought them in a while."

"Good thing I brought some just in case." Danny opens the door and is about to head out, but then pokes his head back in the room. "By the way, do you have warm water at the ready?"

"I don't think I can get up and warm some water right now."

"Just making sure." He laughs and goes out of the room. Just when I'm about to miss him, he comes back in the room with a pitcher in one hand, a glass with medicine in the other, and two damp towels on his forearm. He closes the door with his foot and places all of them on the drawer beside my bed. Then he walks closer to me. "All right. Lie down properly."

"Is there even a proper way to lie down?"

Danny sighs, and I've never seen him so done with everything before. "You know what I mean."

"All right. All right." I do what he says and lie down on my back. Danny then places his hand on my forehead and combs my fur back. Then he places the towel on my head. It's warm, and it fits rather snugly with my forehead. It already makes me want to sleep, which is what I should be doing, considering it's half past midnight and I still feel like vomiting again.

"When I was a kid, Mom would put a cold towel on my head," I say. "The logic was that the cold will cool out the heat on the forehead."

"Well, my mom would put a warm towel on my forehead. No disrespect to your mom, but this is what I grew up with."

I laugh. "She wouldn't be offended by that."

"Now that's something that'll help me sleep at night." The fox grabs the other towel and holds it by the middle, so it covers his arm. "Does your mom also use cold water for the rest of your body too?"

"Oh no, she uses warm water for that."

"Got it. Now take off the covers."

I do as he says and peel the covers off of me. Danny sits on the bed beside me and adjusts the towel in his hand. Then he takes my arm and begins rubbing the towel from my fingertips to my shoulders. He's surprisingly meticulous and thorough about it. He covers every part of my arm and he rubs it like he's massaging me in a way, and when he moves on to my right arm, my left arm is rested and brand new.

After he's done with both my arms, he does the same to my chest. It is then that it truly feels like a massage. I close my eyes and let out a groan that hopefully he doesn't notice. Then he moves on to my belly and I resist the urge to laugh.

"Have you done this before?" I ask.

"What I'm doing right now or taking care of sick people in general?" Danny says.

"Both. You seem pretty good at this."

"I had some practice. When I was around fifteen, my parents were really stressed, and sometimes they'd ask for a massage. I eventually started practicing it, and I know that if I start practicing something, then I've done it for far too long and too many times to count now."

I chuckle. "And it seems to pay off."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Danny moves onto my legs, starting with the right and I don't dare look down at him. "As for taking care of sick people, did everyone around you get sick all the time so you practiced taking care of them?"

"That would be a nightmare." Danny smiles. "No. I did this around four times, give or take. I asked more experienced people and searched some stuff up and I figured my way through. People say I'm a natural."

"You could've become a nurse."

"I've considered that. But I had a friend who did become a nurse, and based on the stories he told me, I dodged a bullet because I don't wanna take anyone's shit any more than I have to. Metaphorically and literally."

I laugh at that. "Should've used a reason like that for my math classes."

"That would go a few ways... and none of them would probably end up good."

"Yes, but I still think I should've tried. That would've been something."

Danny shakes his head. "God, you really are sick."

That makes me laugh again and this time I hope this isn't some ploy of his to get me killed. Luckily, he won't do that. Once he finishes, I feel a little better. I'm still lightheaded and sluggish, but I feel better than before at least. Danny then goes over to the window and fumbles with the blinds before successfully lifting them. "This is pretty gloomy, even for you," he says.

"I shut the blinds when I take naps. I overslept, so it's still closed."

"So you didn't have dinner?"

I shake my head. "No."

Danny nods to himself. "I see."

"I'm sorry I'm a mess."

"No, it's fine. We're all messes one way or the other." Danny makes his way to the door. "All right. I'm cooking dinner for you. How does soup sound?"

"Anything's fine, really," I say. "You can even get me some instant noodles if you want. The spicy ones, specifically."

"Noted, but I think you need something that's... well, more nutritious."

"Why do I get the feeling like you're treating me like a little kid here?"

Danny shrugs. "That's how I usually take care of sick people."

"If you say so. Okay, soup it is."

Danny gives me a thumbs up, then disappears from the doorway again. He's going to stay out of sight this time because I can hear sounds from my kitchen. He's pretty efficient from the sound of it because the sounds he makes there are much softer and lighter compared to the noises I make whenever I cook. To be honest, it does feel a little strange having Danny in the house and moving around like he's lived here for as long as I did. It is a nice feeling, though. I could get used to it.

Danny comes back to my room twenty minutes later with a bowl on top of a plate he used as a tray. He places it on the drawer beside me along with the other things he's brought to my room. The soup smells a bit sour and rather savory. That's when I turn to look at it. The soup has some fish, peppers, and vegetables, and there is a translucent yellowish-brown color to it. I've never seen that type of soup before, but it looks interesting.

"You took full liberty of my fridge," I say. "Without my leave, too."

Danny scoffs at that, a smile on his face. "Don't worry about it. Your precious vegetables in the fridge were used for a good cause, which was feeding you. That's their only cause, really."

"Well, I can't argue with that." I look at the soup again. "What soup is that?"

"It's something I learned from one of my neighbor's mom when I was twelve. They usually eat it with rice--they eat most meals with rice, now that I think about it--but the soup should be fine on its own."

I nod, grabbing the spoon and scooping some of the soup. I take a sip. The taste makes me scrunch my face, but it's a nice taste, and I have a hunch that the face I'm making is supposed to be the desired effect.

"Hey, this is pretty good," I say.

"Yeah," Danny says. "I could tell from the look on your face."

So I was right. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"Yes. Now you should eat it while it's hot."

"Why? What would happen if I don't eat it in time?"

Danny laughs. "You won't know until it's too late."

"Oh no. But I do wanna live."

"Don't worry about that. I want you alive, and so do the rest of your fans. It just so happens to be that I am your number one fan, so I am gonna take care of you." He gives me an innocent smile. "As long as you finish that book with a happy ending."

I roll my eyes. "Just do whatever you're gonna do."

Danny gives me a salute before walking out the door again, with that huge smile still fixed on my face. My mouth aches a bit. I touch it and I get this sensation I usually do when I smile too much. That gets me to laugh a little. It's been a while.

My fever gets worse for the next hour, as it usually does whenever I got sick. So Danny runs around to take care of me while I'm too bedridden to function. He checks my temperature, places damp towels on my head, reminds me to drink the medicine he gives me, and also feeds me when I feel like I will vomit all over myself if I so much as drink from the soup. It makes me feel like I'm seven. I'm not complaining, though. Being dependent like this again feels nice.

Eventually, Danny gets run ragged. I suggest that he take a chair and sit down, which he refuses the first two times. It takes a little bit of talking on my part to convince him that I am not going to die if he doesn't take care of me for more than two minutes. So he grabs a chair and sits on it, giving him the rest that he needs. I almost feel guilty for him. Almost.

"So, you always have the time to visit us, huh?" I say.

"Yeah," Danny says. "I make the time."

"You're not busy or anything? Job, friends, hobbies, things like that?"

"Well, my work is a nine-to-five, and my hobby isn't too time-consuming, and it pays me sometimes," he says. "As for my friends, we talk, hang out, things like that."

"Well, you probably have good time management skills or you have too much free time on your hands."

"A bit of both. I mean, I could just walk all the way there all over again and nothing will be lost."

I chuckle. "That's great, but please don't walk there."

"Listen, it was just that one time."

"And that will be the only time I'll ever let you off the hook. For your own health."

"I think I'm the one who should be saying that. You are sick, after all."

"Well, I'm not the one who's walking for miles to ogle half-naked men."

"What can I say? Sometimes I get a little too gay to function so I have to go there sometimes."

I laugh at that. "Nice one."

"Thanks."

We sit in silence, and the silence drags on. I clear my throat. "So, how'd you find out you were gay?"

"Wow, that's super subtle. I have no idea what you're trying to do."

"What? I got a little curious."

"Sure," Danny says. "But if you really want it, I have to say, it's not grand or unique, by the way."

"It's okay. I want to know, and I just wanna hear you talk, too," I say. "Now come on, how did you figure it out?"

"All right then."

Danny adjusts himself in his seat so his leg is propped up and his arm is placed behind him. The way he assumed a casual position is so smooth and casual that I'm impressed, but it was just too silly for me to take seriously.

"It wasn't a grand realization or anything. I just kinda figured it out. There were a few little hints, though. Like how I acted a little girly when I was a little kid or I had a bad case of a limp wrist or I was friends with most of the girls when the boys were all cooties or whatever. It wasn't a really big deal since most of my cousins are girls, and the boys were too young for me to play with, so that was that. It was when I grew older then I noticed things, like looking at the guys in my class and feeling funny while I never felt the same thing with girls. Then, sometime when I was twelve, I just had this grand realization that I was gay, and I was like, 'Oh... that explains a lot."

"And how did your parents react to that?"

"They were fine with it for the most part. My dad said he accepts me for being gay, but asks me not to go all flamboyant which did kinda put me off at first. I did ask him about it when I was older, and he told me that he would be fine with it, but other people won't be, and he'd be worried about how people would treat me if I acted like that, so that was a thing."

"That's so sweet of him," I say.

"Yeah, that's my dad. Mom is also fine with it. She even suspects that I secretly wanted to be flamboyant. She kept telling me back then that it would be fine if I did choose to be like that. It got tiring after a while, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"I don't think I can blame her. You do bottom for big strong men. And I still remember how you walked up to me the first time. You were all swaying hips and limp wrists. Maybe there's something you're not telling me or her."

"Hey!" Danny leans forward, pointing a finger at me. That means he's serious. "Hey! In my defense, all of you liked it, and it works every damn time."

"Kinda speaks more about your taste in men than anything."

"Speaks about your tastes in men, too. I now know that you like twinks that act kinda feminine."

"Use that information wisely."

"That I will." Danny goes back to his previous, flashy but casual position. "How about you? How did you find out you were gay?"

I lean against the headrest. "Well, it's quite the story."

"You're the storyteller. Come on, show me what you got."

I chuckle. "All right. So, I grew up the whole time thinking I was straight. I loved cars when I loved any video game that had guns and shooting, hell, I did some wrestling when I was a kid. I even had a 'girlfriend' when I was in third grade. I mean, I never really had feelings for her, but she liked me and I was like, 'I guess this is happening.'"

Danny laughs at that. "She's gonna be bummed anyway. Why didn't you tell her sooner?"

"I didn't know what to do. Anyway, I was very straight at the time, or so I thought. I had a few girlfriends even. Real ones this time. The one I kinda hurt the most was the one I had in college. Her name was Emma. She was a cheetah and might've been the healthiest person I knew at the time. I think she was the reason I'm..." I gesture to myself. "Like this. Emma loved me a lot, and I guess I loved her too, just not the same way. She loved parties, and she loved bringing me to them when we started dating. It didn't matter if it was hers or a friend of hers. If she was invited, she always brought me along.

"Now, there was this one party. It was for Emma and her group of friends, but they decided significant others were fine, too, so it was mostly her friends and a bunch of guys who didn't know anyone else but their girlfriends. I was one of those guys. So while everyone else was mingling, I was at the table looking around with a cup in hand."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Danny says.

"Being a fish out of water will do that to you," I say. "And I think they realized that too because around midnight, Emma and her friends brought me and the other guys they brought in with me to the living room. It's clear that they had a few drinks, but they're still coherent. But I guess they're tipsy enough to say that we should get to know each other, and by knowing each other, I mean we should make out in front of them."

Danny makes a noise that is a mix of a scoff and a choke. "How'd they convince you to do that?"

"It was a mix of it being the late 2010s, them being very tipsy and constantly pestering us to do it, and us guys just wanting to get it over with. Also, they convinced us by promising to make out themselves in front of us."

The fox nods. "Of course."

"Yeah. So we took turns. The girls would pick two guys and they would make out in front of them for seven minutes. It was pretty wild. I think there was one guy that might've been bisexual, but the rest were completely straight. You never could've told that by the way they were practically making out and grinding one another in the living room."

"Must've been quite the scene."

"Yeah." I hug the pillow a little tighter. "Anyway, I played this game with this linebacker on our university's football team."

"I always had a hunch that football players on defense were gay."

"You watch football now?"

Danny winks at me. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I chuckle. "Sure you do. But he was straight, so your point is moot. Back on topic, he was a deer, very bulky, and very tough. I've seen a bear tackle him once at full speed and he didn't even flinch. But when he held me, he was very gentle. He said I would appreciate that, and that made me laugh. He also let me take my time, and it was very nice of him. If he couldn't be any more of a perfect guy, he was a very good kisser, too, and me, him, and everyone watching enjoyed it.

"But I guess I enjoyed it a little too much. Somewhere along the line, I got too into it. I loved every second of it and I wanted more. It was a bit of a daze after that, I didn't remember much of the party after that. It took me a while to realize I loved it more than I should. Much more than when I did the same things to Emma, or for the rest of the girlfriends I ever had. That stuck with me. I couldn't sleep at night and that was the only thing I could think about. After that, something kinda clicked and I realized that I might not be into girls. I started to feel things when guys flex or take off the shirts that I should've with Emma. It took a while to come to terms with the fact that I never really loved Emma like that, or with any other woman ever."

The smile disappears from his face. "I'm sorry to hear that. How'd it go?"

"Everyone was okay with it, of course. But Emma... she cried a lot when I told her. She understood, but she still cried. We talked it out, I hugged her, and ended the relationship, fortunately on good terms. We didn't talk for two months after that before we both moved on, though. But eventually, we moved on and became friends."

"That's good," he says. "It's good that things got neatly resolved."

"Yeah," is all I could say to that.

"And I feel like I'm kinda in on something I really, really shouldn't be."

"I think we've already established that we've shared too much to suddenly be too shy to talk about things like this."

"Oh yeah." Danny chuckles to himself. "Forgot about that."

Gavin was there, too. I forgot about that. He told me he was gay back in 7th grade, which was how I properly learned about gay people in the first place. I found it so weird back then but eventually came around to supporting him. When I first thought I might be gay, he was the first one I came to. He was very supportive of me, and he didn't push anything or rush me. It took me a while to come to terms with it. It turned out I had feelings for him all this time, too, and when he confessed to me as well, we became a thing. We were so happy when we got together. I could still remember how he was jumping up and down when we finally became a thing, and how we both promised to do so many things together.

"What about your parents?" Danny asks.

I shrug. "They just laughed and said, 'We kinda knew for a while now.'"

The fox laughed at that, a genuine, loud laugh as if I told him the funniest joke he's ever heard. That got me to smile as well. I probably would've laughed if I wasn't sick.

"Oh, parents. Gotta love 'em."

"And they love me back, thank god. It was great when they said they accept me, but then the sinking feeling after that was the worst. Because I was just thinking over and over again, 'How the hell did they know?'"

"Oh man, I remember that. Did you ask them how they knew?"

"I did, and their answer was pretty much, 'We're your parents. We just know this stuff.'"

That got Danny excited as he can't help himself from bouncing in the chair. "Oh my god, that's the same answer they told me, too! It's such a non-answer but it works."

"Yeah." I laugh a bit. "But they're fine with it, and that's all that matters."

"True." Danny nods. "And friends, too."

"Yeah, them too. I forgot how we take them for granted sometimes."

The fox chuckles. "Yeah... that too."

I'm about to say something when my head spins. Then there is a throb in my head that feels like two hands crushing it. The sensation of throwing up is when I know that I've done enough sitting for tonight. So, slowly, I lie down on the bed. That gets Danny to stand up and be on ready.

"Are you all right? Do I need to get anything?"

"It's fine," I say. "Just need a little sleep is all."

"All right then."

I make myself comfortable. Danny pulls the cover and places it just above my shoulder. I'm about to insist, but I let him anyway because it gives him peace of mind in a way. That, and having someone care for you like that, even in the little things, makes me feel better already. So I wrap myself using the blanket and feel like a little kid again.

"By the way, thanks for being here," I say. "I would've been miserable alone."

"No problem," Danny says. "If a friend gets sick, then I'll be there."

"That's good to know." I snuggle the pillow as well.

"Also, so what I said might be a lie."

"Oh?"

Danny scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah. I just decided to take care of you when I heard you got sick. Just felt like I needed to, you know."

"You don't have to. You know that, right?"

He nods. "Yeah. I know that."

"Well, do you have a reason you went here?"

Danny looks at me, then he looks away. He mutters something under his breath as he stares out the window. I could see that he has long given up the casual position he was going for and he looks so, so tired. The fox then looks down, crosses his arms, and sighs. "Say," he says. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I don't tell," I say. "I promise."

Danny smiles incredulously, then nods. "All right. So... before the four people I took care of when they were sick, I wasn't like this. When they get sick, I'm kinda like everyone's acquaintances where they just wish you to get well or something like that. But I remember when I was fifteen, a close friend of mine got sick because I dragged him all around when it was raining and kept him busy so he was sweating and under the rain. He got sick afterward and I didn't come. I said I was very busy, and I kinda was, but to be honest, I didn't want to. I forgot why, but I just didn't. Either way, I saw him again when he was getting better. He told me he almost had tuberculosis and he was taking medicine. He looked so hurt and that stuck with me. I realized that I should've been there for him, but I wasn't. And even though he doesn't remember that anymore, it still stuck with me."

"But you weren't the reason he got sick. And you're not the reason I'm sick right now."

"I know, I know." Danny sighs. "I just have a lot of regrets, Eric. And I don't want another one."

Yeah, I know that feeling, too, I think.

There's a heavy silence after that, and we just sit there in silence. Danny breaks that by laughing. "Yeah, I'm a... I'm a bit of a mess."

"You wouldn't be the only one," I say. "There are a lot more of us out there, and they would like to meet you and me."

"God, no. My issues and your issues are already too much for me to handle."

"You think that's why we rarely see people like us? Because our issues are too much to handle?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if it did." Danny chuckles. "I mean, I am too much for me to handle. How about others? Now imagine that there were two of me. That would be hell."

I laugh at that. "I wouldn't mind another you."

Danny looks genuinely surprised by that. He tries to mask it by shaking his head and looking at me like I'm delusional, but I could tell already. "You don't know what you're wishing for here, Eric."

"Oh, I know. I've weighed my options, and I decided that I'm okay with that."

Danny smiles at that. I want to say something else when my head throbs again and I end up clutching my head. Danny is on me again and I gently push him away again. The headache is beginning to subside, but it's still there.

"Okay, now you really need some sleep," Danny says.

"Agreed," I say.

With that, Danny turns to the door. "All right, I'm gonna go out and let you sleep. Tell me if you need anything, all right?"

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "Actually, my head hurts a little."

"Well, aren't you very lucky I came super prepared? Be right back."

Danny closes the door and it's quiet again. I remember what I said earlier, about being miserable alone. Now that there's not enough noise outside from the cars outside, it really sinks in how right I would've been. Aside from having to walk around to take care of myself and also dealing with this headache alone, my thoughts aren't exactly the happiest when I'm alone. I don't know if I would've been able to handle that now, which makes me thankful that Danny's here. He makes the night much better.

I turn to the door when something catches my eye. On the floor, on the navy blue carpet is Danny's green scarf. The way it's just placed on the ground tells me that Danny took it off and dropped it to the floor by accident. I reach down and pick it up. I've seen him wearing this scarf a few times before. It's a bit worn, but I only notice it when I see it closely. It smells like him, too. It's that scent I usually smell from him if we've been walking for a while now, which tells me how much he walked here. I smile and place it on the drawer so he can take it later.

Danny comes back in a minute with some medicine and a glass of water. He places it beside the scarf. "I'm leaving this here," he says. "By the way, I'm gonna stay up for a bit in case you need anything else."

"Thanks," I say. "What are you gonna do in the meantime?"

He shrugs. "Just sit around and stare at the ceiling or something, and I'm gonna wait for a while in case you need anything. else"

"All right then. But if you get bored, feel free to watch some TV or read some of the books. Just be sure to keep them back on the shelf where you put them. Also, the couch in front of the TV is a sofa bed, so help yourself."

"Do I really have to sleep on the couch? Can't I just sleep here instead?"

"Well, you have three options. You can sleep on the chair and wake up refreshed and pretty great; you can sleep on the floor and get covered in my fur and maybe get back pains and probably end up sick as well; or you can get on the bed with me and you'll get sick and sweaty and you're gonna vomit on the toilet at four in the morning. Take your time."

"All right, I get it. I'm sleeping on the couch."

I laugh at that. Danny smiles and nods before gathering his stuff and walking out the door. I turn to the other side and face the window, where the curtains are slightly pulled back so I had a view of the city.

"By the way, Eric?"

I turn around to face the fox. "Yeah?"

"I wouldn't mind another you, too," Danny says. "With all your issues."

I smile. "Good to know."

Danny closes the door and leaves me alone in my room. But it never really feels like I'm alone. The fact that Danny's here, but just outside the room is enough to make it less lonely. I turn to face the window again and fall asleep.