Recovery, Step Three
#3 of Recovery
So *ahem* college has been an absolute soul-killer. Fortunately, I've run into a shaman and he has restored my writing spirit to me to produce this (hopefully good) chapter. If you were waiting for this, I appreciate your patience. If you haven't, then thank you for taking the time to read. Anyway, I'll stop wasting your time. Recovery Step 3: GO!
Recovery, Step Three - by Koryn
I don't like feeling helpless Chris. It makes me feel like a weak little brat who's not getting his way. And nothing's ever made me feel more helpless than remembering that night you walked out of the restaurant, face wet with rage-induced tears. I also don't like feeling stupid. Trust me Chris, stupid is a concept I felt in abundance after what happened. I don't understand how I froze up so easily. Maybe because it was you, but even that seemed ridiculous since you were putting yourself down again. Any other day, I would have denied all of the criticisms you mercilessly threw at yourself. But when you asked me to confess feelings that you didn't actually think I had, I suppose I needed a minute to sort out the possible repercussions of what I said next. The problem being that you had much less than a minute of patience remaining.
They say that you're supposed to look on the bright side or life is difficult. I've always found that statement to be flawed. Life is always hard and a positive attitude won't change the difficulty that it often presents us with. Take now, for example. You thought I wasn't attracted to you, you were out in the cold, dark autumn night while still in the process of recovery from your suicide attempt, and you were obviously more likely to act on those urges given the emotional stress. So far, the bright side of things was replaced with a blanket of shade.
That night was the second time in my life where I had pulled an all-nighter. The adrenaline I felt as I was hastily throwing money at the waiter so I could chase after you wouldn't be inaccurately described as a heart attack. In retrospect, I might have tipped him more than the bill was actually worth. Thankfully, he returned most of it. I think he understood, given my twitchy body language and the fact that your outburst had pretty much been the evening's entertainment for the furs around our table with their pesky, prying eyes.
I called you several times as I drove. I didn't give a shit if it was legal or not. I was worried out of my mind. If you got another urge, it would be my fault that it sprung up. I couldn't bear to think that. So I hit your name on my iPhone, again and again. Each time I did, I heard the same answering message without a single ring.
"This is Chris. Leave a message."
Even your answering machine sounded bored. One would think that with so many opportunities, I might have left a heartfelt message confessing all my love for you and declaring it proudly. I froze up again whenever I heard your recorded voice. I don't know why I was so squeamish. Recalling your face when you thought I was pitying you was a grim explanation. If I told you, you'd find more evidence for that patronizing theory.
I didn't know how I was going to do it, but I was going to fix this. That was one thing I was sure of. I began the slow process of checking your usual places. I went to your dorm. Only Rob was there (and to his credit, after I told him, he got in his own car to help the search. I liked Rob). I visited your workplace, this time not getting as lucky. You were off for the week since Jeanette Harper from the hospital had called since then to let your bosses know of what happened. They were more than happy to give you a week off. In an act of desperation, I found myself back at the restaurant where you had stormed out to see if you'd come back. The hyena waiter who served us reported that you had not. In yet another act of desperation, I went back to your dorm, called several more times, and even checked if you had come to see me at my apartment after you calmed down. No dice.
After scouring my building's parking lot and front lobby to see if, by some chance, you were there, I gave up and went to my apartment, staring at my phone the whole way up the elevator in hopes of a text, a call, or anything from you. I didn't care if you sent me an unrelated picture of something funny you found on Facebook. I just wanted some kind of confirmation that you weren't lying in another alleyway, freezing, bleeding and alone. This was the first night in my life where I found myself consuming an entire bottle of wine. Oddly enough, I still felt sober. I sat by my phone for what felt like a century, when in reality, it was just a few hours. However, it was a few hours of heart-wrenching torture. The beating organ was sure to bust out of my chest if that waiting kept up for any longer than it did. It wasn't as if I could sleep. And I didn't want to distract myself in case I missed the ringing phone. So I sat on my couch, like the idiot I was, staring at my phone, resisting the urge to blink as much as possible. I changed positions on my couch, made a sandwich, and hummed to myself occasionally if only to make the time go by, my paw still clasped around the slab of technology.
Until, at last, when the clock struck three, my eyes feeling heavy, it rang. I snapped to attention, fingers flying to answer the call within seconds. I didn't even look at who was calling, I just brought it to my ear.
"HELLO? CHRIS?" I shouted into the receiver, the fur on the other end letting out a sour grunt upon hearing the volume in my voice.
"Do you have caller ID?" The feminine voice on the other end smashed my hope to pieces.
"Hi Ellen..." I said, disheartened as I imagined the face of the mouse before me as she spoke.
"I'm sorry you're disappointed."
"No, no, my bad. Sorry about that." I don't know why I was making hand gestures to thin air. It's a weird habit I have. "It's just... I'm hoping for a call."
"No kidding?"
"Shut up. Just tell me what you want."
"Just wondering when you plan on getting your cash in."
"My cash in-?"
"Focus Vicky. Remember? Big celebration for making so much moolah on that last week of performing Chris' short stories. Hawaii trip, remember?"
"Oh... yeah... right." I responded as I dug my face into my free palm. My head was abuzz from lack of sleep and I wasn't quite equipped to deal with money issues. Those always give me a headache. "Yeah, I'm good for it don't worry. Sorry, Ellen, but can I get back to you? I need to-"
"Y'know, if you want to talk to Chris, I can hand my phone to him."
My ears perked.
"He's at your place?"
"No. I went down to the theatre to meet the delivery guys who needed to meet me at this ridiculous hour. Needless to say, I'm glad I planned my sleep schedule. Chris was already here. Do you know why he looks so down?"
"It's a long story."
"Hasn't stopped me from listening to you before."
"You're a riot Ellen. Can I explain later?"
"Sure, sure, whatever, leave me out of the loop. Anyway, Chris? Someone wants to talk to you." Ellen's voice waited for a response and I heard you mumble something in the background. "You sure?" Another mumble from you. "Uhh... Vicky did you do something?"
"Yeah. That's why I want to talk to him."
"Uhh... well... it appears he doesn't want to talk to you." My heart sank. "And... he says he's sorry."
I facepalmed. Of course you were sorry. For what, I can't imagine since what happened was entirely my fault.
"Keep him there would you? I'm coming over there now."
"Got it. Bye."
As I barreled into my car again, Ellen was busy taking care of you. The mousey manager hung up, sauntering over to you with a smile on her muzzle. You sat in the first row of red padded seats, paws between your legs, tail hanging limp down the side of the chair. You stared blankly at a spot on the floor as if the attractive and colorful castle set pieces were not on the wooden stage directly in front of you. An occasional creak echoed from the catwalk above, the theatre's age attempting communication.
"So," Ellen started, climbing down from the stage. "What miraculously terrible thing did Vic do to you to make you show actual emotion?"
You didn't respond. However, unlike me, Ellen had a way of dealing with that. She marched over to you, arched her brow, and plucked one of your whiskers.
"Grrr-" You instinctively growled, your face burning red as you teared up in sudden pain. Ellen stood above you smugly, arms crossed across her white tank top, covering her brown-furred torso. Her skinny jeans were snugly pressed against her thin legs. I'm surprised she stood on those twigs given their lack of muscle.
"Every time you ignore me, I pull off another one. You know I will."
She pinched another one of your whiskers, tugging on it threateningly.
"Point taken." You sighed, defeated. You avoided Ellen's eyes, focusing on a light fixture that was far more intriguing. "Mark broke up with me."
"Wait, wait, wait... he broke up with you? Are you sure you didn't mix that up?"
"It was pretty clear he didn't want anything to do with me when I showed up at his apartment and told me about his new boyfriend with the generous endowment. I didn't think that last part was necessary, but I guess he thought differently."
"And... what exactly did Vic do in all that?"
"He was a great friend and tried to cheer me up."
"That rat bastard." She said, totally deadpan.
"No," you shook your head. "It was me. I don't want to talk to him because he did nothing but try to help and I did nothing but whine-" Ellen yanked out another of your whiskers. "-GRR! I didn't ignore you!"
"No, but you annoyed me." Ellen explained as she flicked the piece of hair away. She then glanced at you, placing a paw on your shoulder. "So... what's with the bandage?"
She nodded towards your arm, genuine concern flashing across her for the first time that night. You snorted sarcastically, staring at a speck of dust gliding downwards towards the stage.
"Nothing worth the time of explanation," you said, removing the traditional amount of emotion from your voice.
"I'll be the judge of that."
"If you insist," you replied, not risking another whisker removal treatment.
Reluctantly, you explained the events of the last few nights, being excessively careful not to look her in the eyes. You recited the events as if you had a hundred times, not revealing the motivation behind your actions. Ellen listened intently, not interrupting, but eyeing you with a sneer when you started talking about our dinner together. You continued, regardless.
"Vic told me to shut up when I started talking about myself like that and... I... I don't know what I did. It was so stupid of me. Something set me off and it... Vic didn't deserve it. So I just wandered off."
"Well, you're right about one thing. Vic didn't deserve you wandering off. You know how frantic he sounded on the phone?" You opened your maw to say something. However, Ellen pinched another whisker, resulting in your quick and immediate silence as well as a whimper. "I know you're just gonna say something bad about yourself so you don't get to speak."
You nodded meekly.
"Good boy. Now, I don't know what you've had in mind while we were hanging out the past few years, but I've sort of thought that we had our own little family here in this crappy theatre. And no matter what you say Chris, you're part of it. We don't like seeing you like this." She released your whisker and gave you a friendly smirk as she placed both paws on your shoulders. You met her eyes and she leaned in, planting a kiss to your forehead. "I say this with no hyperbole. Mark was the biggest douche in the universe. And I'm not saying that cause he broke up with you. That's the general opinion on him. He was a complete moron to let you go."
"You're just-"
"No, I'm not just. And keep your mouth shut while I'm speech-ifying. What I'm trying to say Chris... is... you're not alone. And we all love you. Some... differently from others..."
"Wha-?"
"Speech-ifying here! Mark didn't make it clear, but you're the most attractive guy there is. And before you freak out like you did with Vic, let me make one thing explicitly clear." She leaned in next to your ear, whispering for the next bit. "If you were on the other team... you'd need a ten foot pole to keep me away."
Your ears perked as Ellen stood tall above you and smiled kindly. When Ellen told me that you smiled, I think a fuse in my brain exploded. But here was Ellen's grandiose tale of you experiencing a positive sensation; the climax of which being the tips of your lips peaking in a bashful, unhindered grin. The mouse smiled back, an enthusiastic giggling squeak emitting from her.
"That's a new face. Hope to see it more often." Ellen sat down next to you, amused as could be. Almost gloatingly, she ruffled the top of your head as if you were a kitten. "Better?"
"I... think I will be. But... I have a favor to ask."
"Shoot."
The Abercromby apartment complex was a shoddy place just on the fringes of town. I remember going there once with a friend during Halloween as a kid. It was one of the scariest night of my life, if only for the fear of the ceiling caving in above me. The thin wooden floors were as sturdy as the ceiling and I swear the walls weren't insulated since the temperatures inside and out of the building were always identical. The exterior was rather fitting with dead or decaying grass growing through the cracks of the steps to the front doors. If anyone lived there, they were either broke, desperate, or so cheap that they deserved such shabby conditions. The mere act of looking at the place was painful.
You stood outside its front doors, your tired eyes reflecting the minimal lights from the lobby. You glanced over at the buzzer, locating room 212 with a hovering clawed finger. You hesitated for a moment before cautiously pressing the button as if it were on fire. You swallowed hard, your eyes shutting in anticipation.
You jumped to attention when a response came a mere instant later, as if the fur on the other end had been waiting for it.
"HOLD PLEASE!"
Or not.
You pulled back meekly, your tail coiling around your left leg. You stared blankly at the intercom as the angry, fearful voice continued to blast noise out of it.
"BRIAN, DON'T! WHAT DO YOU WANT? I CAN PAY YOU! ANYTHING, PLEASE-"
Your eyes widened at that name.
"This isn't healthy for either of us." Another, much calmer and deeper, voice spoke up. "Least of all for you. I suggest you put that money to finding some help."
"WAIT! STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW-!"
A tiger palm slammed down on the buzzer button again, ceasing the conversation. That tiger then focused on the front doors. The coiled tail squeezed the leg currently in its grip as the tiger stood with bated breath. Inside, one could get a good view of a single red-plated elevator.
If you showed emotion at the time, your jaw would have dropped when you saw what emerged from the double doors. It was a towering male of a Rottweiler, at least 6'3 including the floppy ears and messy orange head fur. His round face had a broad and friendly smile just above an orange scruff of beard fur. The rest of him was a deep moonless midnight (not including some brown portions around his muzzle), not that one could tell under the crimson padded vest, navy blue T, and black jeans. His frame, on the other hand, left nothing to the imagination. This one was built, his exposed arms having biceps the size of footballs. And I'd heard of muscle guts and he fit the description nicely with the way he filled out that T of his. An earring sparkled in his left ear and his right wrist bore a spiked arm band that wouldn't look out of place in a punk band.
The Rottie walked out the front doors, seeing your staring, blank face and courteously gave you a nod and a smile. He then walked away from the apartment doors. You wanted to say something. You opened your mouth, but your courage left you and you hung your head, glaring at your feet as if they were the cause.
You then clenched your fists and did something I hadn't been able to that night. Speak.
"'Scuse me!" You cried out a little too loudly at the bulky behemoth. He looked over his shoulder at you, that friendly smile on his face despite your outburst. Your face flushed red, but you continued. "Are you... Brian?"
He blinked at the question like a fascinated child before quirking his brow.
"Why yes I am. And you are?"
You didn't answer. You caught a good look at him and then quickly looked away, striding away as you waved the question off.
"Sorry to bug you."
"Are you Chris?"
You froze on the spot. A frown tugged at your lips, an emotion trying desperately to breach the barrier you had carefully constructed for its kind. You supressed it with superb skill, facing the canine again afterward.
"Yeah."
"Hmm, his portrayal of you was inaccurate. There seems to be a lack of horns and trident."
Your eyes widened ever so minutely.
"Wh...Whose portrayal of me?"
"The unbalanced fox upstairs."
"N-No. Please, don't... call him that..."
"Oh?" Brian asked rhetorically, tilting his head. "Now you really don't fit his portrayal."
"What does that mean?"
"He lied about you. I can already tell. Not that I would've expected more from him."
"What did he say?"
"You don't want to know."
Your eyes wandered, not falling on Brian in any manner. They stayed far away from the mutt's own unthreatening gaze.
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," you explained.
"Never you fear. I quite enjoyed it." You met his stare at that statement; at which point he winked at you. "You can feel free to interrupt me anytime, cutie."
Your eyes really widened there.
"Oh, now there's a reaction."
"I-I-I... um... I-"
"A big reaction."
"I should go."
"A fantastic idea." Suddenly, and with no warning as you turned away, Brian closed the distance between you two and threw an arm over your shoulders. You flinched at the touch and looked at him like he'd just stuck a knife in your stomach. He chuckled. "You look down, friend. Care for a drink?"
"...What are you doing?"
"Asking my new friend if he wants to hang out."
"We don't know each other."
"That's easy to fix."
"All I know is your name."
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
You paused and, in an act that was nothing short of miraculous, you sneered angrily and growled at the Rottweiler.
"Are you a creeper?"
Brian chuckled heartily, squeezing on you gently. Your fur ruffled itself in rage, teeth bared. Brian patted you on the shoulder roughly.
"Relax, beautiful. You need to loosen up. I mean, I haven't even started hitting on you yet and you're still getting defensive."
A light turned on in your head, a red colour effectively burning through the fur on your cheeks.
"You just broke up with-" you started.
"I rebound quickly," he finished.
"Look," you groaned, pushing the canine off of you. He kept the grin up, his eyes wandering over you like... well, let's be honest, my eyes. The act amplified the light red blushing into deep scarlet. You avoided those spheres like the plague, returning your gaze to the wobbly feet supporting you. "I-I got a lot of baggage, and trust me, if you get involved with me... you're gonna regret it."
Brian tilted his head again.
"Then it's my regret to have. And come on. Baggage is unavoidable. And in case you haven't noticed, I think I got the... capacity to lift a few suitcases. One drink. That's all I ask."
You sighed and found the courage to meet his eyes.
"One?"
"Just one. Cross my heart."
"Another round over here!" Brian ushered to the orca bartender. As techno music played in the background and dancing males roamed the floor. Brian turned to you on the next stool, handing you a tall, foamy glass of Coors Light. He cupped his chin in his paw like a philosopher in deep concentration. "So, how did he respond to your generous gift?"
The status quo had returned to normal. Your interest was held firmly on a display bottle of whiskey on the top shelf behind the bartender. Your index claw tapped the glass languidly, your chin slumped firmly in your paw.
"He said thanks," you replied, "and..."
"And?"
You sighed. "-and then he sat down and started playing Angry Birds."
Brian snickered. "Did he at least give you something back?"
You went red and sighed again. "...No."
"And this did not tip you off that he's an asshole?"
More sighing. "...No."
"Chris, you're cool, but I think you might just be the most oblivious fur I've ever met." Brian gave you a jab to the ribs and you flinched, massaging your eyelids with your free paw in a shocking display of embarrassment. "I mean, not including his general neglecting you, it was pretty clear that he's not that great, Chris ol' buddy."
"Yeah..." You smacked your forehead against the counter with a nasty thud. "...I'm an idiot. As usual..."
Brian's smile widened and he shook you, making you look up at him. He placed an arm around your shoulders again. His scent and his breath bore down on you as you groaned. You looked at the clock on the wall, seeing that it had just struck five am.
"I... just realized I've been up for twenty hours." You explained, yawning and placing your paw around Brian's invasive arm and shoving it off your shoulders. "Thanks for the drink... and the talk. Realized that... I'm more pathetic than I thought."
His arm returned to constrict your shoulders again. His head hovered near yours and you got a stronger whiff of his breath. It was minty.
"Aww, come on now. Don't leave on that note. Haven't your friends ever teased you before?"
"Look, I appreciate it, but... I'm not worth the effort. Trust me..."
"No, no, I'm serious, Chris. From what you've told me, you're a very charming, sweet, caring, loving, and most importantly-" He moved in close to your ear to whisper. "-handsome little kitty cat."
Your ears perked and your eyes widened again. But you refused to relent. You looked up at him again.
"Why are you doing this? Did someone put you up to this?"
"And you're feisty. That's something I like in my man. It's fun to play hard-to-get sometimes."
You clenched a fist. "Bullshit."
"Sorry?"
"No one has ever hit on me before. No one has ever even taken interest before." You scowled, growling at him and raising your voice. Your face burned red and the anger from our dinner resurfaced as frustration and rage rushed to the surface. "And now you come along, this fucking hot, fucking nice, fucking funny, muscle hunk to sweep me off my feet. Thanks, but I've already had one boyfriend who had me fooled, I'm not getting another!"
"Hot, nice, funny, and a hunk? Really?" He smirked smugly, winking at you. Your jaw dropped, but you quickly shook it off.
"Shut up, it's what you are! You know it! You're beautiful..." you stared at your feet, tears beginning to form at your eyes and fists curled. "... and a beautiful fur always gets another beautiful fur. That's the way it goes. And unattractive furs like me end up alone. Because they're fat, they're ugly, they push everyone away, and-"
Brian moved in closer to hear you as you were beginning to speak softer and softer with every word.
"-and... and... they're too stupid to see when someone is taking advantage of them."
Brian blinked like an owl in thought for a moment, that grin still plastered over his face. His arm squeezed you tight as he used his free paw to grab your chin and tilt it to face his.
"I think you're almost right. Take out the ugly part, the pushing everyone away part, and the stupid part and you've got it."
You scowled. "And the fat part?"
"Ahem," Brian replied snarkily, patting his gut once or twice.
"That's different," you tried to look away, but Brian held you firmly. "You're... muscled."
"Maybe I like meat on my man's bones."
Your growling lessened as your eyes stared right into Brian's hazel orbs. His scent was strong now. He must have been awake as long as you, and he certainly smelled like he hadn't showered since the previous morning. His musky scent plunged into your senses, rendering you slightly more relaxed. His honest and friendly smile made you relax further, sending soothing sensations down your throat and into your center. The tears continued to form, but not in sync with furious growls. Now, they moved to the rhythm of your quickening breath as his head moved in closer.
"I'm gonna make you a deal." Brian whispered, mere inches away.
"...What kind of-?"
"I'm going to count to three. On three, I'm going to give you the most manly, passionate, romantic, breathtaking, toe-curling kiss of your life. Then I'm taking you to my place or yours, your choice, and I'm going to make you feel as wonderful as you fail to realize you are. I'm going to take you in my arms and give you all the love you deserve. However, if you tell me to stop before I hit three, I'll drive you home and you'll never have to see me again. Ready?"
"Wh-What? W-Wait, wait, wait!" You spluttered as your paws unclenched and shook in sudden anxiousness.
"I'm not hearing 'stop'. One."
"I-I-I'm not- I mean, I'm just gonna end up... hurting you too-"
"Still not hearing the magic word. Two."
You looked deep in his eyes and realized what he was saying. A wad built up in your throat as the tears breached the flood gates. Your nose nudged his and you sniffled. His smile grew wider and he coiled his arms tight around you. Whispering to you and only you, he did what you wanted, what you needed...
...and what I had failed to do.
"Three."
_So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. All comments, votes, and favourites help me become a better writer. All criticism is appreciated, and I hope to continue writing for you all if you enjoy it. And if you don't, let me know so I can improve. Thanks so much for reading. _