FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_ Samuel _

My eyes immediately dart to the clock on my phone.

7:54 AM.

Frustration surges through me as I furiously scroll through my group chat, desperately hoping for a message that would lead me in the right direction. But alas, my hopes are dashed as I realize no one has bothered to reach out to me personally. "Just my luck," I mutter under my breath, annoyed at myself for not paying attention to the earlier messages. With a reluctant sigh, I start scanning the chat for any mention of "Literature," determined to find the information I need to locate my first class.

And there it is.

"Oh, the right wing," I whisper to myself, adjusting my path accordingly. As I step further into Everest Harmony Hall, its true grandeur unfolds before my eyes. The interior looms larger than my initial recollection. Upon entering, I find myself in a student lounge adorned with vibrant artworks, a fusion of contemporary styles and timeless beauty. It's not the most spacious of spaces, but it comfortably accommodates a sufficient number of students.

Continuing my journey towards the right wing, I'm captivated by the embellishments adorning the halls. Glass vases and intricate Greek key cornice carvings catch my eye, adding a touch of elegance to the modern surroundings. Despite my momentary enchantment with the college atmosphere, I remind myself that the academic life ahead won't be all glamour and glitz. High school fantasies fade away as I refocus on my mission, determined to reach my destination: classroom 1.1.3.

After what feels like an eternity, I reach the classroom door. "Finally," I mutter under my breath as I carefully swing the wooden door open, letting out a sigh of relief.

But, to my surprise, the classroom is devoid of lives.

"What?" And doubts begin to creep in.

Do I remember wrong? __Did I see it wrong? _ Did I read the wrong message?_

I instinctively reach for my phone, frantically searching for the keyword "Literature." With a quick tap of the search button, the word illuminates on the group chat. My heart sinks as I realize my error. Intro to Literature is scheduled for tomorrow morning, not today.

"You gotta be kidding me," I groan in frustration. As a knot tightens in my stomach, anxiety takes hold. I scroll through the group chat, discovering the cruel twist fate has played on me. The course I should have attended today is Writing and Composition, located on the third floor in room 3.1.4., on the left wing of the building. And to add insult to injury, there is even a message stating that the lecture starts at 7.55.

When I check the time on my phone, it is already 7.57.

"I'm late..." I mutter, a sense of resignation washing over me. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and step out of the empty classroom. Visions of the other students from my class, the ones who ignored my pleas for help in the group chat, flash through my mind. I can almost see their judgmental gazes as they pretend they never saw my messages seeking guidance to find the classroom. The image of the instructor, whose profile picture on WhatsApp depicts an angry ox, berating me for my tardiness in front of the whole class; haunts me.

These thoughts...

These thoughts torment my mind, and I feel my hands trembling as I make my way through the corridors and into the lobby where the main staircase is located. My breathing becomes shallower with each step, and the overwhelming images intensify. As I reach the student lounge near the stairs, I look to my left and notice a stream of students beginning to fill the entrance, likely heading to their classes in a matter of minutes. As their faces draw nearer to mine, I suddenly feel the furs on my tail stand on end, and a shiver sends down my spine. When I meet their gazes, I can't help but question the intent behind their piercing stares. Why are they looking at me like that?

"What the fuck, Sam?!" Tyson bellowed, staring at his torn varsity jacket, then at me. I could feel their eyes immediately boring onto my back.

"I-It's not what-" But before I can explain, their voices started filling my ears.

"Is that the freak?"

"Heard he's gay."

"What the hell's his problem?"

"I heard his parents are problematic. I mean, like, just look at him."

"I kinda feel bad for 'im, you know?"

"That's the guy you almost wanna be friends with?"

"Did he really just piss Tyson off?"

No matter which way I turned my head, I was surrounded by the same scathing and pitying look. The conviction that it was all my fault was etched on everyone's faces, and the worst part was that I was also starting to believe they're right. I shifted my gaze to Tyson's; his eyes and expression mirrored the same judgment as the others.

And the longer I stare at their faces, the faster the sense of unease washes over me. Their expressions mocking, their mouths seemingly whispering malicious words about me. No matter how hard I try to divert my attention, their voices only grow louder, piercing through my flattened ears. In a desperate attempt to act normal, I steal a frantic glance toward the entrance, only to be met with the intense gaze of a stranger, someone who has no connection to me, someone who couldn't care less about my existence, yet her eyes are very keen on following me.

Everyone believed it was my fault.

When I put my paw on my chest, my heart was already racing. "Fuck fuck, not now!" I hiss under my breath, my voice faltering. I instinctively sprint towards the side of the stairs, away from the prying eyes of the students flooding the hallway, refusing to be another spectacle for everyone to watch. Not on my first day of college.

Once hidden from curious glances, my composure crumbles completely, and I succumb to a full breakdown.

"Stop shaking!" I curse at myself, delivering repeated punches to each of my trembling paws. "Stop! Crying!" I slap at my eyes where uncontrollable tears continue to stream. "It's! Fucking! Nothing!" But everything only gets worse. No matter how many times I curse and punch myself; no matter how hard I try to force my mind to find humour in the situation, my body remains in autopilot mode. Accepting defeat, I scurry behind a nearby sculpture, acknowledging that the only way to bring an end to this overwhelming turmoil is to let it all out, no matter how exhausting it may be. No matter how stupid it may be. No matter how lonely it may be.

Pressing myself against the wall, I curl up into a ball, embracing my knees and burying my face in the crevice. As tears stream down my face and transparent snot leaks from my nostrils, I quickly shift my face into my paws instead, disregarding the snotty mess, despising the idea of having snot staining my clothes. Hoping that my sobs are muted enough to go unnoticed by the students approaching the stairs atop, I pray for my presence to blend into the surroundings and that the universe becomes the sole witness to my vulnerability.

But my prayer goes unanswered as I hear the sound of hesitant footsteps approaching me, causing my body to freeze in my curled-up position and my heart to stop for a second.

A mix of curiosity and fear fills my mind, tempting me to lift my head and reveal myself to the approaching fur. Yet, the overpowering desire to remain hidden persists. I resist the urge to look up, knowing that once they catch a glimpse of my face, they will feel a sense of responsibility to check up on me later. While I am open to forming connections in this sea of strangers, I cannot bear the thought of having to introduce myself in this vulnerable state.

The awkward silence between us is immediately shattered by the stranger's voice standing before me, a deep and gruff tone revealing his gender. His words hang in the air, filled with worry as he cautiously asks, "Are... you okay...?"

Realizing that whether I decide to acknowledge or ignore his presence will result in the same level of awkwardness, I take a moment to compose myself amidst the snotty mess. I snort back the slime, wipe my tears away, and manage to regain some composure, although my paws still tremble slightly and my breathing remains erratic. When I feel like my cheeks are free from tears, I finally look up to the stranger.

My heart skips a beat as our eyes lock, and a surge of emotions rushes through me.

Tyson Bowyers, with the familiar face and emerald eyes, is standing right before me.

I find myself staring at him, unable to comprehend the unexpected encounter. Tyson seems taken aback by my intense gaze, but as he studies me, a glimmer of recognition dawns on his face.

"Wait... Sam?" Tyson cautiously utters, his expression displaying a mix of concern and confusion. I remain speechless, still grappling with the surreal sight before me as questions about whether going to college is the right thing rack my brain.

"It's me, Tyson. Just... uh, a bigger version of me...?" he continues, his voice filled with uncertainty. I stay silent, caught in a whirlwind of shock and astonishment at the unbelievable plot twist of my life.

Suddenly, a surge of anger replaces the trembling and tears that were just consuming me moments ago.

"Wait, sorry, but... are you... Samuel?" Tyson asks cautiously, sensing a flicker of doubt in his own recognition.

Tyson is on the verge of offering an apology, assuming he has mistaken me for someone else, but before he can utter a word, I sharply interject, "Tyson." The unexpected interruption catches him off guard, and I can see the surprise etched on his face. The way he acts as if we have been close friends throughout these long, taxing years of my life almost makes my claws curl. It appears that instead of answering my desperate prayers, the universe has been busy orchestrating a cruel joke, determined to make my fledgling college life yet another punchline.

"O-Oh. Well, hi, um, Sam..." Tyson stammers, unsure whether to proceed or make a hasty retreat. As my spiteful glare cuts deeper into his gaze, I notice a throbbing pulse in his Adam's apple. But in the end, Tyson decides to roll the dice.

"Do you... Do you need any help?" His hands fidget nervously, and it's clear that he's aware of the irony in his question.

Overwhelmed by bitterness, my voice quivers as I spit, breaking our eye contact, "Go away, Ty."

But Tyson doesn't comply. Instead, he takes a step closer and hunches down, leveling his head with mine, urging me to return my gaze on him. "Look, um-"

But I cut him short. "I'm late for class." My words are sharp and hoarse as I abruptly stand up from the floor, causing Tyson to instinctively take a step back. His eyes follow my movements as I hastily wipe away the remnants of snot and tears from my face. Offering a brief, "Excuse me," I clench my fist and sweep past him, leaving Tyson frozen near the sculpture, his expression burdened with guilt.

Upon reaching the classroom, I find that it's already 8:09. To my surprise, my imaginings of the instructor scolding me and the students judging me with their eyes were just that-imagined. Instead, the instructor simply questions my tardiness, reminds me not to be late again, and swiftly resumes the lecture as if our conversation never happened. The other students briefly glance at me with curiosity before shifting their attention elsewhere. Taking a seat in the middle of the ascending rows, I retrieve my binder notebook and pen and focus myself on the lecturer who's currently talking about the structure of a paragraph, comparing it to a cheeseburger. But not long after, the thoughts of my earlier interaction with Tyson resurface.

At that moment, I start to believe that my college years may only get harder from here on out.

*****

"Sammy! Finally! What the hell took you so long?" Matty greets me with extended arms, his face alight. A glass of some tea sits on a footed saucer right in front of him. I exhale the gyrating smoke from my throat and respond, "Sorry, I didn't like the urinals, so I opted for the toilets, but it ended up being comfortable, so..." as I flick the cigarette between my claws to dispose of the ashes. Taking my seat across from Matty, I place the cigarette back in my mouth for another puff. Curious about what he orders, I inquire, "What's that?"

"Artisan iced oolong. Less sugar," he answers, his eyes filled with pride as he immediately takes a deep sip from the glass. Setting the saucer down, he asks, "You're not gonna order anything?"

I ponder for a moment, then shrug, saying, "I'm not sure. Maybe later?"

Matty quickly recites a long list of diverse options, ranging from peppermint tea to fancy-sounding desserts. "You remember that I've told you I'm broke, right?" I quickly remind him, a chuckle escaping my lips.

"Yeah, I know. Which is why I'm gonna buy you something," he casually responds, playfully retrieving a leather wallet from his fanny pack as he waves it around. "My treat."

I throw him an unimpressed look. "You're just one random rich kid in a sea full of many rich kids. Let that sink in."

Matty counters, his voice filled with defiance, "Exactly my point: so what?" His movements are swift and purposeful as he defiantly returns his wallet to his fanny pack. Without missing a beat, he extends his paw toward me, a gesture that demands attention. Confusion washes over me as I stare at his outstretched paw, unsure of its meaning. Ignoring my perplexed expression, Matty persists, his voice now urgent, "C'mon, let's check out the menu." He beckons with his claws, the subtle movement emphasizing his invitation. With a final puff from my half-consumed cigarette, I release it from my grasp and carefully place it on the ashtray at the centre of the table.

"Fine, daddy." Accepting his extended paw, our palms connect briefly.

He threatens, a playful twinkle in his eyes betraying his true intent, "Don't ever say that to me, or I will stop treating you ever again."

"Yes, daddy," I rebel, playfully dodging his attempted smack on my back. We both share a childish laugh.

As we enter Coffeepedia, the tantalizing aromas of freshly brewed coffee, sweet confections, and warm buttery bread invade my senses. Noticing my contentment, Matty leans closer, his voice carries a soft whisper, "Smells amazing, right?"

"Very," I whisper back. Matty takes the lead, guiding me toward the cashier's counter where Lilac, a friendly gazelle barista, warmly greets us. Her smile radiates genuine warmth as she addresses us, her melodic and soothing voice adding to the welcoming atmosphere, "Welcome! What can I get for you?"

I peruse the menu, but then find myself overwhelmed with choices. "Actually, what do you recommend?"

The barista's chilled and welcoming demeanor matches her response, "For our coffee, our velvet cappuccino is a customer favorite. And for desserts, our viral spiced cherry and almond cobbler is pretty famous around here." Her words resonate with confidence and experience. My eyes meet Matty's, and he shares a whispered assurance, "My treat." I respond with a playful eye-roll, appreciating his gesture, and order the coveted cobbler with a refreshing glass of iced Earl Grey. Matty reaches out, handing his card to the barista, effortlessly taking care of the bill. With our order settled, we make our way back to the outdoor seating area.

Matty settles comfortably into his seat, a smirk on his face as he teases, "You really went all out, huh?" He then takes a satisfying sip of his oolong.

"Well, you were the one insisting, right?" With a sense of nonchalant rebellion, I retrieve the cigarette from the ashtray, resuming my smoking session.

"True, true."

A serene stillness blankets us as we soak in the gentle warmth of the summer afternoon. Matty breathes in the cool breeze, savoring the enveloping tranquility. Meanwhile, I hold the lit cigarette between my claws, its wisps of smoke inexplicably wafting in Matty's direction. Observing his bashful wave of the paw to fend off the smoke, I swiftly shift the cigarette to my other paw, a sense of guilt rushing over me. "Shit! Sorry, I didn't notice!"

Matty's laughter resonates through the air, diffusing any tension that lingered. His words, spoken with a lightheartedness, reassure me further, "Nah, it's fine. You're not the only person who smokes in front of me."

Without skipping a beat, Matty steers the conversation, his curiosity evident in his next question, "So, how's your first day of college?"

The weight of the question settles on my shoulders, and I choose to be candid while withholding a certain detail. "I ended up being late for my first class, which was a bit embarrassing. But the rest of the day went smoothly. Still kinda afraid to talk with others, though. Cause, you know, I'm that type who is approached first and not approach first."

A knowing smile graces Matty's snout as he responds, "Well, you're an introvert. I wouldn't be surprised."

I chuckle at his remark, appreciating his understanding. "Har har. What about you, though? How's your day?"

Unexpectedly, Matty's hand gently slams the tabletop, causing his glass of oolong to tremble momentarily. I squint at him, half-expecting one of his playful antics. His subdued words, delivered with a touch of excitement, cut through the air, "I. Met. A pretty girl!"

I take a moment to process his words, my expression turning slightly judgmental as I cast him a knowing look. "If you ask me, if we delve into societal standards of beauty, I'd say many of the girls here fall into the category of 'pretty'."

Matty dramatically recoils, leaning back in his seat and pushing himself against the backrest, his disbelief evident as he clicks his tongue and gestures emphatically. "But look at me, dude! I'm the epitome of standard!"

Feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement, I let out a tired groan and facepalm. "Dude, you're, like, a solid 7.5 out of 10 in the handsome department!"

Upon hearing my assessment, Matty seizes the opportunity to perform his mischief. Leaning closer to the table, he raises an eyebrow, a playful twinkle in his eyes. The impish expression on his face seems to taunt me, and it's getting on my nerves. I blow a puff of smoke from my cigarette in his direction, attempting to deter his antics. However, his determination remains unyielding. Frustratingly, his irritating face manages to maintain its power over me, evoking a desire to give him a firm punch on his snout.

"So you think I'm handsome, huh?" Matty teases, his voice laced with amusement. I wave my paw around his snout, signaling him to retreat to his wicker chair, a gesture that he ultimately complies with. Yet, that mischievous expression still lingers, unabated.

Exhaling a sigh of resignation, I find myself compelled to defend my previous statement. "If I'm being completely honest, Matty, you're very annoying."

"A very annoying handsome dude, that is," he teases once again, his words eliciting a subtle warmth that tingles my cheeks. Determined not to let him have the upper hand, I swiftly counter, "'Very annoying' is the keyword here." I fix him with a challenging glare, prompting Matty to break his gaze and burst into laughter. Thankfully, my cheeks no longer harbor the desire to blush.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," Matty concedes, then takes a long sip of his oolong. As we resume our lighthearted conversation, our attention is momentarily diverted by the sound of the cafe door swinging open. A server carrying a tray, adorned with my order, makes their way towards our table. With careful precision, the server places the cobbler and tea in front of me. I express my gratitude, to which the server responds with a meek, "You're welcome," before disappearing back behind the counter inside the cafe.

Immersed in the warm aroma before me, I conclude my smoking session and gently place the cigarette on the ashtray. With anticipation, I reach for the utensils, ready to indulge in the cobbler. As the first bite of the delectable treat touches my tongue, the harmonious goodness of cinnamon and dough unfolds, instantly melting in my mouth. A contented moan escapes me, prompting Matty to inquire, "Good?" I respond with repeated nods of satisfaction, unable to contain my delight. Matty releases a triumphant sigh, asserting, "Thank goodness I spent my money on something worthwhile."

Engrossed in the pleasure of the dessert, I lack the energy to silence Matty's words. Instead, I let him revel in his victory. Besides, as I steal a quick glance at him, his expression hints at satisfaction, as if he's genuinely enjoying the sight of me relishing the treat he treated me to. Amidst my pure enjoyment, I offer a heartfelt expression of gratitude, "It means a lot you do this to me, Matt." His gaze fixates on me with a touch of longing, and he softly responds, "My pleasure." It has been far too long since I've experienced such a sensation, and I feel grateful that Matty's kindness has granted me this opportunity once more.

At this moment, I can't help but acknowledge how much I've missed feeling this way.

As I reflect on the pleasant moments shared with Matty and savor the present, a glimmer of hope arises within me. Perhaps my college years won't be as daunting as I initially feared.

However, I find myself silently praying that the encounter with Tyson earlier in the morning was merely an isolated incident. The idea of facing Tyson for the second time fills me with apprehension. If life were to cruelly subject me to a similar mockery, I'm uncertain if I possess the strength to endure it once more.

Engaged in an extensive conversation that carries us into the late afternoon, it's around 4:30 PM when Matty excuses himself. Eager to explore the city with his new classmate, Brody, and a few others, he bids me farewell. More minutes pass, and boredom begins to seep in, prompting me to seek a change of scenery. It's a little after 5:10 PM when I decide to embark on a leisurely stroll, simultaneously searching for worthwhile places to witness the enchanting city lights. With my phone in paw, I quickly Google and come across Juniper's Edge Lookout Point, conveniently located a mere five hundred meters away from my current position. As I browse through captivating images of the place online, I can't help but mutter in awe, "Oh, wow..." A newfound sense of intrigue propels me to visit this spot. Lighting up another cigarette and securing my wired earphones, I embark on my journey toward the lookout point, anticipation guiding my steps.

Fifteen minutes pass, and after climbing several stone steps, I reach Juniper's Edge Lookout Point, feeling a slight perspiration forming on my underarms. However, the alum powder I applied earlier keeps any unpleasant odor at bay. Finding respite on one of the available benches, I select the nearest one to the cliff's edge and finally indulge in the breathtaking view before me. The thought of capturing a quick snapshot and then proceeding to smoke a little more before heading home by 6:00 PM briefly crosses my mind. However, a deep longing to witness the city lights compels me to wait patiently until nightfall, despite the long hours ahead.

Disregarding the discomfort in my backside, I immerse myself in the cool and invigorating afternoon breeze, relishing the tranquil ambiance as the sun gracefully descends on the horizon. Hours go by, and the Monteverde Glen's city lights begin to assert their dominance against the darkening sky. Glancing around with a pack of fries I bought from a nearby fry shack, other furs around my age start teeming in, taking their desired seats, some alone while others bring a loved one or group with their friends. Fixing my gaze back on the mesmerizing view, I photograph the enchanting sight and promptly send it to Matty, who is downtown doing whatever he is doing.

After patiently waiting, I reach a point where sitting idle becomes tiresome. Glancing at my phone, I am taken aback to see that it's already past 9:00 PM. The realization that I have spent my time doing nothing productive, merely gazing at the view and snacking on a small portion of fries, leaves me momentarily dumbfounded. "But it's worth it," I mutter to myself, acknowledging the immense beauty I have witnessed. Slipping my phone back into my hoodie pocket, the melodic notes of Vance Joy's "I'm With You" in my ears come to an end, prompting me to stand up from my seat. A slight soreness in my backside causes a wince to cross my face, but I alleviate it by stretching and cracking some joints before commencing my journey back to the dormitory.

However, as I take a few steps on the stone steps, cigarette in paw, I am caught off guard by the sudden presence of the same individual I encountered earlier this morning.

Shit!

My body freezes in place, mirroring the stillness of the person before me. Standing beside him is an elk, presumably his friend, whose gaze oscillates back and forth between the two of us, evident confusion on his face.

"Why... are you having a staring contest with that dude?" The elk curiously questions his mesomorphic friend, who responds by slapping the elk's hoof in annoyance. The Cervidae winces, bewildered by his friend's reaction, and then demands clarity. "Why did you do that?!"

Tyson takes a momentary pause before providing an explanation, his gaze cautiously fixed on my presence. "Because he's the guy I mentioned to you this morning, Foster," he reveals, his eyes lingering on me. Taken aback by this revelation, Foster freezes up and casts away his glance from me as the awkwardness between us unfolds. "Hi, Sam," Tyson finally greets, his voice carrying a hint of friendliness despite the tautness on his face.

Shit!!!!

Despite the discomfort and tension in the air, I choose to prioritize common decency and public decorum. With a brief but polite "Excuse me," I navigate my way past Tyson, pretending as if we had never met before. I continue on my path toward the residence hall building, determined to maintain my composure and act as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Just when I think I have finally found my favorite spot.

And I forget to get groceries! Great![]