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Hey, folks! Free Association, Episode 15 fer y'all. I was hoping to get a lot of FA writing done on this break, but it's turned out I've ended up spending a lot more time on other writing projects. Oh well. That's why I write FA ahead of time, after all.

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_ Saturday. _

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Brad couldn't believe he actually intended to go through with this.

Seriously. Seriously. Actually walking down the stairs of his apartment, brow furrowed, actually climbing in his beat-up automobile, actually starting the engine, actually driving out of the lot, and then turning that way and that way and that way. Heading to...

Actually parking. Actually getting out of the car, after a few minutes. Actually walking down the sidewalk.

Actually pulling open that glass door. Stepping inside. It was quite cold out; the air inside was warm and humid, and felt strange around his leather jacket. Like an aura.

"Hi there! Just one, or are you meeting someone?"

The wolf looked at her. A short, fairly curvy equine girl with very straight headfur. Good public service smile.

"I... guess I'm meeting someone. And I'd... like to sit in the front, please, by the windows."

"Sure thing!"she chirped, grabbing a menu. He followed her bobbing tail back around the block of booths.

It was a gray day. Overcast and drab. The sky was gray, the trees were gray, the buildings were gray, the fallen leaves were gray. The interior of the restaurant had this black and white thing going on, and all the white was gray.

Brad was gray. His fur was gray, his mood was gray. His past was gray.

"Can I get you something to drink while you're waiting, or would you like to order?"

The wolf drew himself out of thoughts he didn't particularly enjoy having in the first place.

"Sure. Uh. Just a Sprite, please."

"7-Up okay?"

"Yeah." He didn't know why they always asked that. Of course it was okay. One of these days he was going to reply 'Oh, nope, 7-Up is against my religion, guess it'll have to be water, then. It doesn't come out of the same spout as the 7-Up, does it?'

Not today, though. He wasn't in the mood to make snarky comments today.

What the hell was he doing here?

There was a place setting in front of him. A lumpy, misshapen cylinder of white paper, metal, and glue. Brad peeled off the wrapper and unrolled the napkin, feeling the textured tissue between his pawpads. His fork clattered onto the table, a bent blob of shiny silver. Gray.

He couldn't even grab hold of any sort of comfort, in the form of Jonathon... because of last night. Because of the raccoon's nervous reaction, his palpable fear, his breakdown in that dark dormroom. It had been frustrating at first, that Jonathon had essentially performed a one-man cock-block, but Brad couldn't stay angry at a guy who was so torn up by his own anxiety. Maybe the wolf was a softie, or manipulable, but he could never stand up to honest tears.

It hadn't been anyone's fault. If it had been anyone's fault, it would have been his. Bradley's. For going too fast, for not asking if it was okay. But it hadn't been anyone's fault, and it had gone as well as he could have hoped something of the kind might.

Still. Poor Jonathon. Brad would have never let something like that happen to the raccoon, if there had been any way to prevent it. He didn't want Jonathon to feel like that, ever again.

Would it have been so hard to just ask?

He had asked, though! Jonathon seemed okay with the idea!

Rrrgh. It was frustrating, because dwelling on it wouldn't get him anywhere, and he knew it. So they'd suffered a little setback, and they'd decided to move more slowly and get to know each other more informally. Fretting and regretting was going to accomplish absolutely zilch; the only thing that could improve their relationship was time, and going through with it.

And being someone that... Jonathon could trust. He'd have to work on that, the wolf thought, as the horse girl returned with his beverage.

Furthermore, obsessing over last night was not going to help him deal with today. He'd texted Jonathon earlier, the raccoon really did seem okay with the bad experience and its aftermath. That had to be enough for now. He had other problems.

Like a dog who was either going to make him resort to violence or send him back into depressionland. Self-hate-ville, suburb of Futile Remorse, in the province of Bitter Anguish. No postage necessary if mailed with a sense of rejection.

The restaurant was quite empty. It was two in the afternoon, so he might have expected it. He got the impressions of a few other people back in the main part of the restaurant, behind the row of booths across the aisle from him... but his aisle was devoid. Just the seating podium behind him, and the little boyfur's room at the other end of the aisle.

When he'd been here with Jonathon on Wednesday, they'd been sitting up here. Down the aisle a bit, and in a booth. Apparently, this was Wallace's usual section, but there'd been a weird crew in on Wednesday because someone traded shifts and someone else called in sick, so the dog had been stuck in the back instead. At least, that was what he'd learned via a few extremely uncomfortable text messages.

Brad could only mutter thanks to whatever deity might or might not be listening for that. If he'd had to actually talk to the canine on that date... actually order food from him, actually have a semblance of a conversation... The wolf wasn't sure he would have been able to manage it.

Of course, that's what he was going to do today, wasn't it?

Come on, fucker, think positive thoughts. At least he wasn't trying to impress a cute coon boy this time. The added stress sure hadn't helped things.

Of course, he was still wondering exactly how their relationship would recover from the faux pas of last night... or whether it would recover at all.

Those are not positive thoughts goddamnit wuff.

At least Wallace was leaving him alone for a little bit, giving him a chance to steel himself, to grow comfortable with his surroundings. Probably, he just hadn't realized the wolf was here yet, or was busy with who knows what back in the kitchen. That was fine with Brad. Maybe if he sat here a bit and Wallace didn't show, he could just leave. Go home and play with his dick or something.

Brad felt a little ashamed for it... but he couldn't pretend he hadn't been disappointed that he hadn't gotten laid last night. He wasn't disappointed in Jonathon, though, at least... not in the end. What remaining frustration he had was more focused at himself, at his behavior leading up to the incident. However, his entire reproductive system had been extremely displeased with the teasing, especially after what had run up to almost a week without his regular pre-sleep beat-off session, in the interest of not being that kind of a creepy guy. Following the observation that his pent-up sexual urges had probably contributed to being a bit pushy with his new boyfriend, the wolf had reluctantly taken matters into his own paws, trying his damndest not to think too much about the cute raccoon he'd almost had sex with a few hours before. He didn't want to jerk to the guy he'd managed to make cry the very same night.

It hadn't even been a particularly good time; a fairly quick series of utilitarian motions with a nice lubed paw, a bit of a gentler approach than usual due to some hypersensitivity, and one fairly average-feeling, if extremely squirty, orgasm. He didn't draw it out and enjoy it; it was more to get all the extra testosterone out of his system, than anything else. He sure didn't feel very sexy, after what had happened. Pawing when you don't feel much like pawing is probably the worst sex act conceivable - lonely and distasteful and rarely satisfying on more than a purely physical level.

There was probably something fairly creepy about 'I have not masturbated since we met! I'm saving it all for you!' too, now that he thought about it.

Oh well. That wasn't an issue, now. Brad slurped on his Sprite / 7-Up / bubbly whateverjuice, and shivered a little bit. It was warm inside, but he still felt cold. Maybe it was the drink. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around himself. Days like this, he would have preferred to curl up on the futon and watch a movie, or work on homework, or take a nap. Maybe go out on a man-date with Marty. The boar had been really good about that, in the months following Dillon's departure. He'd seen firsthand how the wolf went to pieces after Wallace and started sleeping with anything that had a penis. Giving the wolf emotional support was his way of trying to prevent that from happening again, and Brad saw through it. He needn't've worried, though. After some of the things Dillon had said to him, Brad hadn't been feeling very much like having sex with anyone at all.

But having dinner with a friendly boar guy was always nice. He didn't especially need the surrogate, now that he had Jonathon, but neither did he have a particular reason to forgo the occasional guy night. Why were Brad and Marty roommates, aside from the fact that they enjoyed each other's company? It wasn't like the boar was ever going to pose a threat to Brad's romantic partner.

They'd had that conversation, after Dillon, too. It wasn't the first time they'd discussed it - Marty wasn't a looker, but he was nice enough. Brad had learned a lot more about his friend that time, though. Watching the slow, agonizing disintegration of the wolf's relationship made the boar empathetic enough to warrant... an honesty and openness atypical for him.

Being best friends with a gay guy had to be rough. Like opposite-gender best-friend-ship, in normal people. Complicated, and sometimes demanding of more effort than one would expect. It had been a little more difficult than Brad had expected, for sure, for a while after Dillon. But he didn't think he could have gotten through the ordeal without that complicated friendship.

Wallace, on the other hand... how the hell had he managed to get through that one?

Christ. Wallace. Wallace was in this building, and was going to come meet him, and they were going to talk. He'd almost forgotten that fact, in his blissful (hah!) musing.

The wolf gulped his soda. What was he going to say to the dog? 'Hi'? 'How've you been'? 'We sure had some good sex'?

Damn dog. Why did he have to put the wolf through this, anyway? What the hell did it gain him? Revenge for some unknown transgression? Hadn't he punished Brad enough?

I hope he's turned into a real slut, Brad thought savagely. Someone I can't possibly respect. Someone I'm better than. He deserves it.

Brad wasn't a real slut. At the moment. Monogamous, bitches. Suck my tail.

He heard footsteps, and fixed his eyes just left of his fork.

Scraaaaape, went the other chair across the floor. Brad's claws dug into the napkin.

A sense of... presence. A feeling, an impression.

This was going to be hard.

The wolf gulped. Drank a bit of soda.

Glanced up.

Wallace grimaced at him.

Brad looked down at the table, and took a breath. Then, he looked up again, and held the look. Grimaced back.

They didn't say anything. Just spent a long moment looking at each other, grimaces fading into soft looks of discontent. Mournfulness on Brad's part, regret on Wallace's.

Brad wondered what Wallace was thinking about.

The wolf's eyes were roving over that dirty-hued fur, all blackish grayish on his face and tawny elsewhere, touched with a hint of caramel. Long and scruffy, on the sides of his muzzle. He used to tug on that bit when they kissed, it made Wallace chuckle.

Little triangular ears. Brad must have a thing for cute little ears. It was something he only noticed by observation, not by personal acquaintance. Current boyfriend had cute little ears, past boyfriend had cute little ears... Dillon didn't have ears, on the other hand, not the external kind, at least.

Todd... cute ears. Big ones, though. Big, adorable ears, upright, but so heavy they were incessantly almost-almost-almost flopping down.

It was always those damn three. What about that hunky panther guy he'd dated for a little while? After the slutfest, but before Dillon, what was his name... Bryan, that was it. Big guy. Big romantic guy. Football player, the serious kind. It had lasted a month or two, before they both decided to part ways. No hard feelings, the memories were nice.

He'd had pretty small ears, yeah.

And there had been a couple others. Brad didn't remember them very well; they'd happened and then ended too quickly to leave a mark. Unlike the mark that certain other males had left on the wolf.

And he really shouldn't generalize to 'male', if he was going to talk about marks.

"Hi, Wallace..." Brad rumbled, finally, well after it was socially appropriate to do so.

Wallace gave him one of those grimaces that were coming to define the conversation. "Hey."

Awkward silence.

"...Sorry about this," the schnauzer said. "I imagine you don't really want to be here."

Brad sipped his drink. "Well, can't say I'm glad to see you, no."

"Heh." The dog looked down at his paws.

Wallace was tall. The only guy Brad had dated who was taller than himself, albeit by only a half an inch. He was more slender, though, particularly in the shoulders and hips, and was built more delicately. He didn't really have the body to be a manly hunk sort; he was much better suited to the swishy look he was more often found in.

Funny, how that worked out.

His hair was shorter than Brad remembered, and his features were... almost different. He looked like he'd lost a bit of weight, and he'd never been particularly robust to begin with. Unlike Brad, who had been almost chunky when they met, though he was losing weight continuously all through that first year. Dad had always been too lazy to cook, so dining center food was actually a fairly healthy diet compared to Brad's previous subsistence on fast food, TV dinners, and pizzas.

Wallace, on the other hand, was an excellent chef. Brad wasn't surprised to find him working in a classy restaurant, though he would have expected the canine to be cooking the food, not serving it.

Hell, he would have expected Wallace to be decorating fancy restaurants, making triple what he no doubt was working in one. What was going on with that?

Not that the wolf actually wanted to know. The less he thought about the guy sitting in front of him now, the better.

Jonathon probably had no idea what he'd gotten himself into, poor guy.

"You want to order anything?" Wallace asked wryly. "I can run it by the kitchen."

Brad shook his head. "Not really hungry," he said. He was feeling a little nauseated, to be honest. His eyes darted to Wallace's paw, before flicking away.

He could distinctly remember having that paw in his own, feeling its warmth, its little flat pads, its gentle, affectionate squeeze.

He could distinctly remember having that paw around his cock. Feeling its warmth. And so on.

He wondered if Wallace could remember the last time they'd had sex. Brad could. It had been a few days before they broke up. A few months after Brad knew they were going to break up. Knew it was only a matter of time.

He'd been so damn torn up, those last couple months, as it became more and more of an obvious thing. A certainty. An unsightly, unspoken spectre looming over their every interaction. Brad hadn't wanted to break up. He'd wanted to be with Wallace for... maybe not forever... but a good while yet.

He'd tried so damn hard to get the canine to love him again, after the fire had clearly gone out. He just hadn't known what to do. He felt so powerless. So... unwanted. Undesirable. They had sex and it was good sex for Brad and it was boring, for Wallace, and that was evident. Obvious. Wallace didn't want him. It was just too much work, too much emotional effort, to tell the wolf to go away.

Until it wasn't.

"What've you been up to?" Wallace murmured. Neither of them wanted to have this conversation, so they danced around it uncomfortably, waiting for whatever unknown purpose the canine had to present itself.

"Work. School. You know." Brad growled. "Usual."

A few days before they broke up. Wallace had come over to his dorm. They'd fucked. Brad had been clingy, Wallace had been mechanical. The sex had been mediocre.

Wallace didn't smile at him or say his name, before, during, or after. The dog left afterward. Brad had gotten used to that by that point. It had been a while since Wallace had actually slept with him.

Just about the end of his first year of college. They'd broken up toward the beginning of finals week. Brad didn't like to blame his academic mishaps on his ex, but the timing certainly hadn't contributed positively to his test scores.

'Look, Brad,' the canine said, glancing out the window for a moment. He gave the wolf a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'I've been... thinking.'

This was it. Brad knew this was it. His chest was aching already, anticipating the wound it was about to receive. 'Yeah?'

He tried to give the dog one last look, with all the affection and feeling he could muster. As if that could fix everything. As if, if Wallace just saw it, he'd change his mind, and want to stay.

The schnauzer looked down, breaking eye contact. 'I... don't think I want to continue this relationship.'

"How about you?" Brad replied, trying to keep his mind out of his memories.

Wallace nodded. "Same." He folded his paws. "Been... working here a few months. Bounced around restaurants since I finished my degree."

The wolf nodded. It would have been more than a year now.

"Was supposed to be a temporary thing, just till I could find a design position, but..." He shrugged. His fur was dull and shaggy, the wolf noted, and looked a little... thin. Some part of him felt a sense of savage satisfaction, that his ex wasn't as attractive as he used to be. Another part of him found it curious, that the once-immaculately groomed dog would have allowed such a descent into middling appearance.

'What is it?' the wolf asked, reminding himself incessantly that he was not the sort of guy who cried. 'What is it that I'm not doing? What is it that you don't like about me, Wallace, please, just tell me and I'll fix it, I'll do anything you want, just please...'

'Bradley...' The dog stared at his feet, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He held Brad's paws, gently, but clinically. Sympathetic... but not romantic. 'It's not... not any one thing.'

'Then what is it?! Wally, c'mon, I love you, I... I want to... Just tell me what you want, what will make you feel better, just explain why you don't like me anymore, and I swear I'll find some way to - '

'I'm sorry, Bradley, I really am. I didn't want it to end like this, but... there's nothing to do.' He gave a helpless, sad smile. 'I'm just... not interested in continuing this.'

Brad was silent. There was nothing else to say.

'Maybe... maybe we can still see each other sometimes, as just... you know, friends.' Wallace's smile was pained and insincere.

'...Ok-kay...'

'Oh, Brad... Shit... I was really trying not to upset you. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be...'

"You couldn't get anything in this economy?" the wolf asked, voice rough.

"Yeah, that was... part of it." The schnauzer wiggled his pawdigits uncomfortably.

"At least you graduated on time," Bradley replied.

"Yeah, I heard you had some trouble getting into the program you wanted..."

The wolf snorted. "That and I'm a terrible student."

"Heh." Wallace looked down at the tabletop. Brad wondered if he was remembering the same things.

And it had only felt so bad... because it felt so good, before. That first year had been such a blur of happiness and romance and wild sexuality. The first time such an encounter with someone else had ever gone even remotely right for the wolf. His first honest-to-god relationship. The real thing.

He'd tried not to be clingy, but if he didn't cling, Wallace would slip away. He'd tried not to be overbearing, but if he didn't exert himself more, Wallace would continue to grow more and more bored with him. He'd tried not to care, so that it wouldn't hurt so much... but if he didn't care, why should Wallace?

And he did care.

Or... he had.

It didn't matter now. His feelings had never mattered, in the end.

"Look, Wallace..." Brad growled, expression pained. "This isn't about you want to get back together, is it?"

He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be.

"No," Wallace said immediately; just after he said it, Brad was sure that was the answer he preferred as well. "That'd probably be an even worse disaster than the first one, right?"

Brad hadn't thought it was a disaster. It had been one of the happiest times of his life. "Then what is this about? What the hell do you want from me?" he all-but-snarled.

The dog looked at him, and sighed. "Sorry. I know this has to be difficult for you. I shouldn't... drag it out. It's just... difficult to say. I'm... not sure how to begin."

Brad looked at the table. He wasn't going to say 'take your time,' or anything like that, because he wanted Wallace to take nothing of the sort.

"I just... need to tell you something. Sort of... closure, I guess. You meant a lot to me once..."

"Don't remind me," the wolf huffed.

"...and I guess you're still important to me on some level. So... so I feel like you need to know. I want you to know. I feel like... if I tell you... maybe I'll feel better, or something." The dog inhaled; a deep, shuddering breath.

Brad's gaze had flicked up toward the other canine's face, morbidly curious. Wallace wasn't looking at him, but at his paws. It occurred to the wolf, now, that Wallace had been stalling and dodging just as much as his poor tormented ex-boyfriend... and he was the one who had asked the wolf to come talk in the first place.

"Wallace... What's going on?" Brad asked, raising his head fully.

The schnauzer took another breath. Brad watched the way his skin flexed out, around his collarbones, under the collar of his shirt, and sucked back in, so the bones stuck out.

"Brad, I'm... positive."

The wolf blinked. "Of what?"

Wallace's green eyes met the wolf's blue. "I'm positive. I have HIV."

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See you guys next week.