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_Well you only need the light when it's burning low Only miss the sun when it starts to snow Only know you love him when you let him go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missin' home Only know you love him when you let him go And you let him go_

The winter chill always seemed worse on campus. Maybe it was the unforgiving wind tunnel effect. Too many buildings had been thrown up on every available square metre of spare soil as the university expanded way beyond the capacity of its meagre footprint. I am sure the campus was an urban idyll back in the 1920's, a mix of glorious faux English sandstone and quaint cottages for the academics. Those days were long gone; now ugly concrete or yellow brick boxes sprouted like deformed mushrooms and 30,000 inmates crowded into the few remaining patches of green each day to eat their lunch before the next freezing Southerly gust blew their focaccia away. Some days the South Lawns looked like a solid sea of furs.

There was some form of existential irony in the fact that the worst monstrosity of all was the architecture building. Allegedly designed by the faculty, it stood as a sort of testament to awfulness, its concrete façade now usually shrouded in scaffolding as the latest outbreak of concrete cancer threatened to dislodge large portions onto the huddled masses below.

The worst spot of all was a walkway under the main administration building. For some reason when they plonked this nine story rectangle down they decided to put it on stilts, leaving an open walkway underneath. As this now constituted the only substantial break in what had become a continuous east-west line of buildings, it acted to funnel any wind from the north or south into a howling gale that roared under the administration building and threatened to reach cyclone force on most days. Boeing should rent it out for testing.

In true university bureaucratic style, they placed notice boards under there with unimportant stuff like exam timetables. There is nothing quite as enjoyable as trying to decipher the timetable code while a hundred knot gale straight from Antarctica tries to simultaneously freeze you to death and slice you open with flying copies of the campus newspaper.

I huddled under my coat trying not to shiver too much as I peered at the board. As usual, the campus computer system had overloaded and crashed just as everyone wanted to check their exam timetable, so we were back to the old fashioned way. I was impatient, I guess, so I headed for the wind tunnel to learn my fate. Knowing how well they organised things, I would probably find I had three exams in two days followed by two weeks followed by two more obligingly timetabled at the same time. When this happened in my first exam period, and I went to find out what to do, the supercilious fox behind the counter let me know in no uncertain terms how much it was all my fault. As if anyone normal would want to study chemistry and geography at the same time. Plenty of times since I had found myself agreeing with her.

"Hey wolf! Chris, right?"

I poked my muzzle out from under the hood of my jacket, immediately regretting it as it felt like my nose spontaneously froze and might snap off at any moment. There was a bulky figure next to me, one I recognised.

"Yeah, Damien isn't it?"

"Yep, that's the one. So, when did we score? Let me guess, first week, at the Exhibition Buildings?"

I looked him over a little longer, my frozen nose forgotten for the moment. Something about the setting worked for him in ways that made me notice him. We had spent plenty of time together in Organic Chemistry lectures, and shared the same prac session where he was in the group next to mine. Watching him bustling around under a lab coat, or loaded down with a bag and notebooks, he just looked like another horse. Somehow under the wind tunnel, he found his place.

The wind still roared, gusting uncomfortably, but it didn't seem to worry him. He had the same gentle smile on his muzzle I had seen in the lab a few times, but his mane thrashed behind him like some sort of sea serpent, and the wind pushed his jacket tight against his body, outlining the bulge of muscles under layers of cloth. In my overimaginative mind, he looked like some ancient knight facing a horde of enemies from the battlements of his castle while a gale whipped around and yet remaining calm and impassive. I liked that idea; maybe I could be his squire.

"Sorry, probably didn't hear over the wind. I said, do you know when we are on?"

I blinked a few times, coming back to the here and now and realising I was still staring at the horse. He was still smiling, thank God.

"Ahhh, first week, on the Wednesday arvo, but in Wilson Hall."

"Sheeeeet...I was looking for a bit longer to study. Looks like I'd better get cracking then. Still...it's only Org, thank fuck. Physical isn't until week three."

We shared a laugh then, both nodding at the same thought. Organic seemed one of the easier ones really, at least compared to Physical Chem which made my brain hurt. I wasn't planning on revising for a while yet. Something made me want to strike up a conversation then, even here. I pretended it wasn't what I thought it was, but enough of me knew. At least the horse didn't seem to be anxious to head off; indeed, he almost seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"What other exams do you have Damien?"

"Some maths and Biology. What about you?"

"More Chem and Geography."

"No Shit! That's an interesting combo."

"So I keep being told. The faculty love it, I'm their favourite wolf it seems. First day I came here and went to get my timetable, the old tigress on the desk had an aneurism when I handed over my card. 'do you know what I've had to do for you today!', she totally screamed it in front of everyone like I was some axe murderer. Turns out the lectures for first year chem and geography were so conflicted they needed to just about break the system to get something to work. They finally made a new chem stream for me and a couple of bears from the states doing zoology. I've avoided her like the plague ever since; I even ran into the ladies toilets once outside the Masson theatre by accident when I saw her coming."

The horse was laughing now, a genuine musical laugh that made me feel all warm inside in spite of the wind. He was still looking at me, thought his eyes were shining a little now. They were blue, a nice deep blue the colour of the sea. Winter or not, I wanted to swim.

"Let me guess...professor MacAlpine?"

"Shit, how'd you guess?"

"She's my Physical Chem tutor."

Now it was my turn to laugh while the horse grimaced ruefully.

"Well...lucky you."

"Yeah...say, um...do you want to get out of this wind? I think my mane is about to freeze off."

I was kind of perversely glad he wasn't as impervious as he appeared. Even still, I looked at his mane flapping one last time, just to fix it in my mind.

"Yeah, hey, what are you doing now?" I tried not to sound too hopeful, or too interested, but I wanted. I knew what I wanted, and why, but I didn't let myself acknowledge that yet. Still, even if he was straight, a friend was a good thing to have, and a beer and parma and a game of pool was better than living inside my head tonight.

There, I had said it, named the nameless presence that had been stalking my subconscious all day while I tried to concentrate on lectures and failed. June 5th, a year after.

I couldn't face the dark alone, even if it meant spending it in the company of another horse.

*****

Staring at the bottom of your glass Hoping one day you'll make a dream last But dreams come slow and they go so fast

"Shit, the joint is crowded!"

My new friend was still grinning as we stood in the doorway of the back bar of the pub, in spite of the disappointment in his voice. I didn't mind the crowd so much, the din would make conversation less obligatory, and the back bar had a kind of warm familiarity. I wanted to put that familiarity on like an old jumper and hug it. This was my local, perched right next to the Earth Sciences building and full of my guys, with a welcome lack of awkward med students or pretentious arts types or even worse, wannabe law students gossiping about student politics and which firm they were doing a winter clerkship with. Just normal furs here, enjoying a beer.

"What'll you have mate?" I asked in classic Aussie style. The etiquette of buying rounds didn't need explanation, I would go first, my fellow chemistry sufferer next and so it would go.

"Coopers."

"Excellent choice," I said, though there was a slight catch in my voice I hoped he wouldn't detect. Still, I bought the beers, and placed my dollar coin in the queue on the side of the pool table. There was time for a chicken parma and chips and a few rounds before our turn came, which also suited me just fine. I was an infinitely better pool player with some beer on board and a feed.

We chatted easily, and by the time the food came I realised we were talking like old friends, laughing at each others jokes before the punch line came, as if we knew what the other was going to say. I hadn't felt this way...well, not for a while. The combination of that and the sight of a sexy stallion was making me a little anxious, so I gulped down my beer faster to try and condemn the feelings to a dark deep cavern. Damien eyed me a little warily as he followed suit, always careful to keep up. A mate doesn't let a mate get plastered without joining him.

By the time we were called to the pool table, I was pleasantly buzzed on Carlton Draught, though he seemed pretty unfazed by the Coopers. He was a horse though, and a big one. Draught probably; the thought made me chuckle a little. One more Draught I'd like to drink from tonight.

"What's so funny mate?"

I realised I had unnerved him slightly by chuckling under my breath, so I felt I had to come clean. A little.

"Nothing Damien, just a stupid internal joke about how much I like draught and how that is probably why I like you."

I saw him blush a little, which made him outrageously sexy, and his muzzle settled in a slightly pleased grin he tried to conceal. My heart skipped a beat.

"Well, you got my breed right at least. Part of it anyway. I'm a shire, mostly, bit of Percheron too. Chestnut."

He looked in my eyes then, and I saw his blue depths twinkle a little as he looked, seemingly enjoying me sizing him up. I began to wonder again, really seriously for the first time. I didn't want to get too hopeful though, so I played a straight bat.

"Chestnut hey? What's with the mane then?" His mane was a wonderful golden colour, sort of like the head on my beer, with his coat more like the beer itself. It was a delicious combination, that was for sure.

"I take after my dad, he has this colouring. Mum is more Percheron and darker. I've got feathering too...see?"

He peeled back one sleeve of his jacket, revealing his forearm feathering in all its golden beauty. I reached out and touched it before I could stop myself, the soft warm feathering so good to touch. Memories returned, and I shook my head sadly.

"Why did you have to be a Shire..."

"What?"

"Sorry...just daydreaming, don't worry. Hey, ready to whip some ass at pool?"

"Sure! I always love whipping some ass! I mean...I...oh...um..."

I broke up in hysterics then, watching him blush scarlet under his coat. I managed to pull myself together, though I did give him a mock whip sound that made him shoot daggers even while he grinned, and we headed for the table and the incumbent pairing. They looked like serious competition.

The secret to pub pool is position. Don't be afraid to take a shot designed not to pot the ball but snooker your opponents. We went three balls down early, but Damien and I fought back hard by being bastards, as you do. We were going quite well, and I took the opportunity to check out his ass as he leaned over to have a crack at a ball in the top corner pocket.

My equilibrium lasted until I faced the same challenge with two balls each to go. Looking back to make sure nobody would be in the way if I wound up and gave it some serious force, I saw him leaning on the wall staring at my ass, just a hint of pink tongue protruding from his lips. He saw me looking and gave a sort of double take, and managed to drop his beer on a passing waitress who was decidedly unimpressed. I couldn't control myself then, laughing like a hyena while he tried to hide in a corner. Of course I buggered up the shot completely, and we were soon beaten by the pool sharks who treated themselves to another round before facing their next victims.

I motioned to my stallion to join me outside for a smoke, and we huddled under our jackets in the beer garden quietly puffing into the night air. His kind grin was back, still with a hint of embarrassment. I decided it was long past time for coy.

"So Damien...what mark do you give me?"

"Your pool? About a seven."

"No, my ass."

He almost choked on his smoke then, and I had to slap his back a few times before he could breathe normally.

"That obvious am I?"

"Well, kudos for waiting until I'm bent over the pool table."

"Yeah, that was the problem. I was imagining you bent over the pool table...but there were a lot less clothes involved."

I reached over to him, pulling his muzzle to mine and we locked lips. It was hesitant at first, just a brush of skin on skin, then his lips opened and I followed and we kissed until we were in each other's arms body against body. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, I rested my nose on his. It was warm, and his huffing breaths warmed my muzzle and tickled my fur. I wanted so much, but I had questions.

"So Damien, as we seem to have progressed a little; talk."

"Um, well, I've been watching you in class all semester to be honest. I thought you might be, but I wasn't sure and I was too chicken to ask. You always seemed so serious, never smiling."

"Well, what do you expect in prac class? Are you with anyone at the moment?"

"No. What about you?"

"No. All alone in a cold world."

"That's a shame Chris. Would you like some warm company then on a cold night?"

"Mate, you must be reading my mind."

The 'your place or mine' conversation didn't take long, and I didn't mind. I lived close by, walking distance even for a slightly drunk wolf and a slightly less drunk shire stallion. My housemates were out tonight, attending a vigil for something or other. Land rights for gay whales, the usual. The nice lesbian cheetah girls who I shared a house with since I came to uni were earnest but still great housemates, and apart from a determined campaign to turn me vegetarian they tended to live their politics outside the bubble of our run down terrace. That suited me fine too.

We exchanged nervous banter all the way, the reality of what we were planning as always hitting home sometime before the front door. This one was made of stern stuff though; he never wavered, never seemed anything but totally into it. I was glad one of us was, and if I wasn't being totally up front with him, I excused myself by saying I hadn't really offered anything concrete either. He could take me as he found me, in all ways.

The nervousness evaporated almost as soon as we got in the door though. I found myself suddenly seized, firmly but not roughly, and pulled into a breathless kiss, the successor to what we started in the beer garden. He tasted good. He smelt good. He even sounded good, when my paws roamed over his muscled butt, cradled nicely in the firm embrace of his 501's. His long tail flicked excitedly, the soft hairs tickling my forearms, and he held me close rubbing our bodies together in a long slow dance that traversed the corridor and ended up in front of my bedroom door.

"Um...this the one?"

"Yeah Damien...I...would you like to come in?"

"Is the Pope a fucking Catholic?"

I grinned, taking that as a yes, and he rubbed his snout on mine before taking my paw over his and letting me lead him inside. It was kind of touching, almost like he was placing himself in my paws in all ways. I wanted to treat him right, even with everything going on in my head.

There were a few of candles on the mantelpiece over the old fireplace, and I lit them, warming the room with their multi-coloured glow. His grin was still there, and the light reflected in the deep pools of his eyes, almost an unnerving look. He seemed lit with some internal fire, but it was only a trick of the light. I didn't want to believe in the possibility that I had lit something inside him, something I wasn't really ready for.

He watched me fuss around the room for a moment, shaking his head a little as I tidied, removing dirty washing from the bed, consigning yesterday's pizza box to the bin, hiding a couple of week old coffee cups in a cupboard, and finally turning on the little portable radiator to take the chill off the Victorian shabby genteel. Then I waited, naked emotionally if not yet physically. I tried to speak, but he took a step towards me and pressed a finger to my lips.

"Chris...do you want...do you want me?"

Do I want you?...ahhh, how many ways. And yet, maybe not how you think.

Unable to speak, I let my body talk. It was always more reliable than my brain, or my muzzle. The kiss returned, hungry this time, and we let our paws roam harder and everywhere, under clothes, along fur, against nipples and sheaths and asses. I was inside his jeans, massaging one butt cheek and jacking his cock while he cooed like a bird. He scraped fingerhoofs along my chest, rasping over nipples and down my belly. It was time. Clothes melted away, flung around the room. I took just enough time to make sure none had covered the radiator before kissing my way along the naked expanse of his chest, all smooth curves and lean muscles. The chestnut fur of his body danced and writhed, and his head leaned back, muzzle open in pleasure. My paw circled the thick mass of his cock, weighing its bulk and preparing.

Why did he have to be a horse? Why...why did he have to be so like him?

"Chris I...do you want to...do you want me inside or..."

I rested my muzzle against his and looked into his eyes. Need, hesitation, and something else. I put it out of my mind for now. Now was the time to forget.

"Please. Often; as often as you like..."

"You're more beautiful than I ever imagined Chris, I...well, I want to be good for you and..."

That drew a kiss.

"I know you will be. Let me help you."

And he was.

Hours later I lay spooned against a stallion, gently snoring on every second breath. We had done it all, devouring each other like we were starving, and yet savouring each morsel even in our hunger. He took his time, preparing me with tongue and fingers, arousing every spot on me, trying everything until he found the ones that worked the best. When he eased inside it took an age, long waits and sighs after each new inch until he was sure I was ok, then a little more. That was how he was, gentle and yet when the time came, sure and eager. I responded in kind, taking everything he had to give until we both were exhausted, a sheen of sweat covering both our coats and evaporating in the suddenly warm room.

We talked about everything and nothing under the watchful gaze of the candles until my stallion fell asleep, so innocent in his slumber you could almost do a double take, amazed by the contrast between the wild rutting sex stud of the last hours and the very young looking horse curled up beside me. All he needed was a teddy bear.

I kissed his mane and snuggled up against him, but sleep would not come. Instead, the memories came anyway, though I had brought him here partly to escape them. Proof positive I made a lousy scientist I guess; hypothesis, experiment, results, conclusion. Abstract; wild hard sex with a stallion was evaluated as a method of forgetting trauma. Results indicated complete failure. Next.

Why did he have to be a horse? Why...why did he have to be so like him?

Probably that was the problem. If he'd been a tiger or something, I'd probably be ok. Instead here I was, unable to escape it when I most needed. Life really gave you a kicking when it could sometimes.

The stallion stirred, gripping me tighter and surrounding me in his warmth and his scent. That was different at least, somehow muskier but lighter. I nuzzled against his bulk and gave in to my memories. They would not go away; maybe they would be easier to take in this one's arms.

Why did he have to be a horse? Why...why did he have to be so like him?

Yes, he did remind me of him, though there were differences. Watching a candle flicker, I thought about the differences. For if this stallion was different to him, so was I now, compared to the wolf I had been.

You see him when you close your eyes Maybe one day you'll understand why Everything you touch surely dies

*****

Two years ago

I had just lit the end of the joint and taken an experimental drag. It felt good. I felt good. For the only time that day, I could clear my head and just forget everything, all the shit and all the fucking consequences.

Then I saw him, the colt. I knew something was wrong, something was up. His uniform for starters. I knew the school, they were in the same association as us, but they were a hundred miles from here, literally. At 4:30 on a school afternoon, there was no logical reason for him to be anywhere but his own city.

The other tell-tale sign though was that he was here; I mean here, on this platform, not here, this city or this railway station. Platform four ran express trains only this time of day, every single one barrelling on through to the station two down the track before stopping. If he wanted a train, platform one or two were his only choices this time of the day. A big fucking neon sign at the head of the station would have told him that.

Of course, he was from out of town, and initially I thought that might account for it, but I soon decided I was right the first time. It was the way he stood, hooves right on the edge of the platform, looking at the direction the train would come, steeling himself, then looking at his hooves and trembling. I knew that look.

"Hey!"

He tried to ignore me.

"Hey, you, horseboy. From Carlington Grammar. Come on, we're the only ones on this platform, you must know I'm talking to you."

He still ignored me, eyes widening a bit but otherwise he didn't flinch. I could hear the sound now, the metallic screaming of the rails that told me a train was coming.

"Horseboy! For fuck sake, don't do it. You are too cute to lose!"

That got his attention, and mine. He turned around, staring at me with those fucking big wide eyes I saw coming down the ramp to the platform. Empty eyes, ones that have given up. Exactly zero shits given. Once it was out of my muzzle, I realised it was true, he was too cute to lose. Beautiful white mane, long limbs, knockout ass. Cute as shit.

He stared at me for an age as the sound of the approaching train grew to a roar, a fresh gust of wind stirring his mane. Still he stared, eyes wide and haunted, muzzle moving as if trying to say something but unable to form the words.

Two loud bellows from the train horn and it was there, a rush of silver and blue and noise as it flew through the station. Probably running late; they always were. The wind gust became a gale, flapping his mane in front of his face and blowing dust and leaves around the platform. One yellowed leaf caught in his mane, gold against the white, and he reached up absently to pull it out, staring at the wrinkled mass as if it might contain the answers to his questions.

The stallion seemed to deflate a little then, his shoulders sagging and head dropping to look at his hooves. He didn't move, a stallion statue on an abandoned railway platform. Well, abandoned except for me.

"Bastard," he finally found voice, just enough for one word. I didn't know which was the greater shock, the sound of his voice, or the word.

"Hey, that's not very nice!"

"Bastard. Bastard bastard bastard!"

His voice grew louder with each new epithet, and he strode towards me with purpose, eyes blazing. I backed up a little into the brick enclosure, wondering what this mad horse might do and if I had bitten off more than I could chew.

"You bastard! I was ready....I was ready. Why did you have to stop me?"

"Well, I meant it. You are too cute to lose. Come on, it can't be that bad?"

He reached out and grabbed my blazer and lifted me effortlessly against the wall. Somehow I knew not to fight back, that I was in no real danger. Maybe this was what he needed, something to rail against.

"How could you possibly know? How could you even...you don't know a thing wolf."

"I know you're cute, and whatever you were about to do, it wasn't worth it. I'd rather have you alive and cute. I bet others would too."

He deflated again, releasing my blazer and slumping against the seat. I smoothed out my uniform and sat next to him, just waiting calmly though I was going a million miles an hour inside.

Suddenly he sniffed loudly a couple of times, and I turned to see his nostrils working, flared wide as he sniffed the air. He turned with a suddenly curious look, and I realised he was staring at the joint still clasped in my paw. He gave a slight nod, and I grinned and handed it over. He took it with the casual grace of a hardened smoker and leaned back against the bricks, sucking in lungfulls of smoke as my joint disappeared centimetre by centimetre. I didn't complain; talking, smoking, it was all better than what might have happened.

"I'm Chris, by the way."

He pulled the butt from his lips long enough to exhale a long stream of smoke and a single word.

"Joseph"

I reached out a paw, and got a firm shake for my efforts. He seemed to relax a bit, though his tail twitched erratically and his ears were still flat. This was a horse who still had problems.

"So Chris; do you really think I'm cute?"

I had to laugh then. It had come out without thinking, but it had been the truth.

"Yeah, well, more hot than cute, I mean, equine and all, and that ass, well..."

I knew I was taking a bit of a risk, after all he could be one of those straight guys who turn to violence when a guy tells them they are hot, but my horse just got a sad smile instead. I began to wonder a little.

"That's what he used to say. Always talking about my ass, you'd think I was just an ass with extraneous bits."

"Hey I'm sure your extraneous bits are hot too don't get me wrong mate."

Now he was laughing too, and he stubbed out the remains of the joint still chuckling.

"Hey, my extraneous bits are hotter than hot."

"Sorry. My mistake."

"That's ok, I'll let you off this once wolf."

"So Joseph..."

"Joe"

"Ok, Joe, what's going on?"

He eyed me warily then, before nodding almost to himself.

"You first Chris. What's a jock wolf prefect from Caledonian Grammar doing on a railway platform at 4:30 smoking pot?"

"Hey! How'd you..."

"I know you're from Caledonian just like you know I'm from Carlington. I can read your blazer too; house colours, full School colours, first XVIII football, school athletics, school prefect. Everything I'm not, so don't bother denying it. Makes it easier for us to talk, we have nothing in common so you have nothing to lose in talking to me. So, I repeat, what's a jock wolf prefect from Caledonian Grammar doing on a railway platform at 4:30 smoking pot?"

Something about him made me talk, and I still don't know why. The way he spoke, like he could see inside me, but I didn't sense hate or judgement. Just curiosity, and maybe something else.

"Maybe I just like pot."

"Maybe you just like deflecting my questions."

I sighed a long sigh that came from deep inside, and suddenly I was spilling my guts to a stranger. Maybe it made it easier that the said stranger had minutes before been about to take a one way stroll in front of a train. There didn't seem to be a lot worth keeping from someone that close to the brink.

It all tumbled out, my first boyfriend the sexy enigmatic and fundamentally cold bull William. I had been besotted though, as you do when you don't know any different. He was my teammate and fellow jock and prefect, more popular than I could ever be and with rich parents. The world was his oyster, and yet there he was hanging out with little old me. I knew I was gay, as much as it terrified me, and I had an enormous crush on him but I assumed nothing would ever come of it.

Then came that first night, the night we kissed. It was such a surprise, I almost didn't believe it happened, but he did it again the next time we got together, and suddenly I had his cock in my paws and he was moaning my name and there was bull cum everywhere and he kissed me again, still sighing my name, and then I felt his hand on my cock and I came before he even jacked me I was that turned on.

I made the mistake of thinking it would always be that magical, life turned up to eleven.

"So what happened?"

I realised my new friend had been calmly sitting and watching, letting me talk it out. Now I had hit a wall, he prompted gently, but his face was kind. I realised I had come out to a complete stranger and it felt good. It felt liberating.

"It was all a lie. He was straight, just curious and horny. I thought...well, I thought he was the one, and told him things I never told anyone, but he was fucking girls the whole time, and telling them all about me. He never had any intention of going out with me, he was just playing around, at least in his mind."

"It's not uncommon, sadly."

"Yeah, but I thought I was special. Pretty dumb I guess. He was into pot too, and got me onto it. One thing I took from the relationship. When he dropped the beam and told me no more, I smoked up a storm trying to forget. Even started smoking at school. That's what did it; I got caught today, and well, the shit is going to hit the fan. I'm here because I'm fucked, and I don't want to go home and face my parents, so I'm hiding out. Guess I'm a coward."

"No; I'd never think you were a coward. I'm the coward Chris."

"Don't know about that. It sort of takes balls I guess to do what you were about to; and you were, weren't you?"

Now it was his turn to sigh.

"Yes. I want out so much. I know I'm a worthless waste of oxygen, I've known it most of my life, but I didn't think I deserved to get out this easily. Today though...today I was ready, because I knew I deserved to die at last. And you stopped me, you bastard. I don't think I'll ever forgive you."

He was smiling sardonically through that speech, the contrast almost brain snapping me. It was like he was casually discussing his favourite band or something, not pouring out self hate by the bucketload.

"I'm not going to apologise."

"I remember; I'm too cute to lose."

"Stand by it mate, even when you come out with undiluted shit like that."

"Fair enough. So do you still think I'm cute?"

"Yes, cuter than Will by the way. I'm a sucker for equines though, so you have that advantage. Now are you going to tell me your side or just smoke all my weed?"

He looked suitably chastened then, ducking his eyes behind his forelock even as he reached out for another joint. I handed it to him and lit up, figuring if he was mellow he wouldn't do anything stupid. Well, not too stupid. Finally he was ready to talk, though his first words made no sense.

"I don't want to go Joe."

He whispered it, almost too soft to hear.

"Hey?"

"Nothing...just something he said. Yes, he; like you, I'm gay. There you go wolfboy, two lost gay dudes on a railway platform smoking pot and skipping school, nice fodder for the religious extremists. We should probably do it right here on the platform just to complete the picture of moral decay."

"Hey, if you're offering..."

"Nice try wolfboy, I know I'm not in your league."

"Not from where I'm sitting Joe, definitely got this wolf interested. So, why here?"

He paused for a long time as I waited him out, puffing on the joint as if to give him courage. Eventually he pulled it from his muzzle with a mournful look and stared out across the station.

"I used to live here, not far. We went to St Marks, me and him...Andy. He was like you, though he was a husky, still...you canids are all alike."

"Hey! What would you say if I said the same about equines mate?"

"Probably smack you in the chops. Anyway; he was everything I wanted to be, and the best friend I could have. When he admitted he had feelings for guys, and me in particular, I thought all my Christmases had come at once. Maybe I wasn't so worthless after all. I should have known though. His dad found us together, and it didn't go down well. I was corrupting his son, and my dad was furious.

I have always been a disappointment to him, I know that, and he always let me know it too, but he was worse than normal then, he was in a big fight at work and he had been made redundant finally. All he did was drink whisky and swear at everyone, but mostly me. I am the problem, I am always the problem."

His bitterness had become toxic now, spitting out words like daggers into the air. I shuddered at the thought of what was still inside if this was what he let out into the open.

"So when this happened; well, he went ballistic. I was taken out of school, and we moved to the country, a long way from everyone and everything I knew, and I ended up boarding at Carlingford. Dad had been wanting to run away for years, ever since his work went to shit, but I guess I gave him the excuse.

I hate it there, as much as they hate me. I'm like an alien, the way I talk, the things I like, everything just causes people to laugh. I don't blame them, I hate myself just as much. So today I just walked out and got the train back here because...well, there were things I wanted to do, and then it was time."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because you stopped me, and I didn't want to make you watch. And, I'll admit, you intrigued me a bit."

"Do you still want to?"

"Honestly, yes."

"What if I asked you not to?"

He looked in my eyes then, haunted and dark.

"Please...I can't promise that."

"Then give me one more day then. Can you promise that?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Then each day, I'll ask again. One more day. O.k.?"

"Fine, but you have to do something for me Chris."

"What?"

"Come with me to see him; my Andy. I tried but I can't do it on my own."

*****

_Well you only need the light when it's burning low Only miss the sun when it starts to snow Only know you love him when you let him go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missin' home Only know you love him when you let him go Will you let him go?_

We walked for ages, but I didn't mind. I watched him, admiring him from a safe distance. He was tall, and his limbs seemed to have independent minds, all working at cross purposes with the particular gangly awkwardness of a tall teenage equine growing into his body. All I saw was the beauty though, the way his ass moved in the tight confines of his grey school trousers, the swish of his tail, the hint of feathering poking from the cuffs of his shirt. His white mane trailed behind, braided into four ponytails, each bobbing against his back, and I could see his muscles move under clothing as he negotiated the trail.

We had taken a path off the beaten track, an old train line converted into a walking trail, now mostly overgrown with grass and weeds. It wound through the middle of well to do suburbia, large houses in mock tudor backing on to this verdant snake of land. It was a far quicker way to traverse the suburbs on paw, depending on where we were heading. I still had no clue.

It wasn't until we popped out through a reservation across from the familiar high fence that I began to realise, and even then it took me a moment to register, even as he stood right by the fence at the point it bordered on a house. He was eyeing up the front fence of the house, a nice brick structure at perfect height to give access to the top of the larger fence surrounding our destination.

"Um....mate...what the..?"

"Just follow me wolf."

"Mate, it's getting dark. Wont we be caught or something?"

"Are you really a coward Chris after all?"

His scornful stare made me bristle. In the year to come, I learned to hate that stare. He had ways of making me do stupid things so easily with that stare, and I could always hear that contemptuous question.

"Are you really a coward Chris after all?"

I was to learn about his lack of any sort of self-preservation sense the hard way, even as I followed him sometimes. He was definitely no coward even though he hated himself for supposed cowardice with the heat of a nova. For right then, though, he got me to follow, and I guess that was the point.

We scaled the fence, something that wasn't really hard for a jock wolf like me. We did harder things in football training every week. For my uncoordinated horse friend it proved more challenging, but he threw himself at it anyway, though he managed to catch his hand on the barbs and tear a large gash.

When we settled on the other side, I expected him to cry out or something, but he didn't. He just stared at the blood and shrugged, as if it was his due. That too I was to find was his normal way.

I took advantage of the pause to try for some answers.

"Joe...why are we here? I thought we were going to see your friend?"

"We are. Follow me."

Now the sense of forboding was beginning to build to a crescendo. We walked quickly, the colt following his own path it seemed, around headstones and gardens and tacky mausoleums covered in marble. The memorial park was big, and confusing, but he seemed to know where he was going. I hoped he knew how to get out again.

Finally, we found the spot. A new grave, with the earth still fresh, a pile of flowers covering the disturbed earth, and a simple headstone in dark marble. Andrew Pollard, age 18, died a week ago. Mourned by his family and friends, but never forgotten.

"Joe..."

"I always thought he was the strong one. I'm weak, and a loser. He was so strong, good at everything and always laughing. I thought he was the strong one..."

"Joe..."

"I don't want to go Joe...hah!"

"Joe..what happened?"

"He took his dad's car and drove straight at a tree. No swerving, no braking, just head on, accelerating right to impact. Nice big Beemer, I think his dad loved that car more than Andy."

"Oh fuck mate, I'm so sorry..."

"After we were found...his brother found out, and told his mates, who told their mates, and suddenly it was all over school. I didn't mind, I was leaving for exile, but for Andy, well, he was the footballer and school hero and suddenly...well eventually he couldn't take it. If I was there for him, he'd have been ok, but I left him alone. And I killed him."

"Joe, you didn't. It wasn't your fault!"

"I thought he was the strong one. I don't know anything, clearly."

The colt began crying then, and I held him as we stood in front of the grave. A soft drizzle started, but he didn't seem to notice.

"They tried to keep it from me but I found out. One of his mates sent me an email, asked if I was proud of what I had done. I was told not to come to the funeral, but I couldn't stay away. I waited over there all day, watching from a distance behind the silver birches, and saw them put him in the ground, and I couldn't get any closer. I'm weak. So I headed for the station, and that's where you found me. I guess I should thank you for coming with me, but I'm not sure I can thank you for stopping me."

We stood together for a while, as the light finally failed and darkness stole over the memorial park. I shivered a bit, part from the cold, part from the location. I hated cemeteries at the best of times.

"Joe...its getting late and cold, maybe we should go?"

"Great. Where to?"

"I dunno..."

"You want to go home wolf?"

"No."

He snorted, impressed with my lack of foresight. Not that I had much thought capacity left, stoned, cold, depressed, and in a graveyard with a suicidal pony in the dark. Whatever was in charge of my mind tonight, it wasn't common sense.

"Well, how about we head over here. I promised one night; you deserve a reward."

He headed off to the left, and I followed a little dazed, my eyes still focussed on that swishing long tail. He moved with purpose though, and soon we stood before a small building.

"It's a store room I think, the main chapel and function room is over there and this is where they keep their stuff."

"Um...so?"

"So, lets break in. Its probably warm, and dry, and better than being out here?"

"Are you mad?!"

"Yes. But you are going to come with me anyway. Not going to go chicken on me again Chris?"

I stood speechless while he looked at the door. He reached for his pocket, and pulled out something I recognised as a Swiss army knife, and began working on the lock. There was a clunk, and suddenly the door creaked open.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry...just, let's check it out."

The storage room was large, and thankfully dry and warm as he said. There were chairs, and benches and tables and couches, and various kitchen stuff like urns. Over on one wall was a small upright piano.

While I discarded my damp blazer and shook out my fur, the colt headed for the piano. He sat down almost in a trance, lifting the cover over the keyboard and running his fingers over the keys. Then he began to play, softly at first, the music light and airy in stark contrast to the location or our mood.

"Hey, that's nice, what is it."

"Song for Chris."

"Hey, someone wrote a song about me!"

"Yes. Me."

"Come again?"

He was preoccupied now, the music lifting and soaring then going quiet again, but always happy, even with darker undertones.

"This is for you, my view of you. I'm glad you like it."

"You mean...you're making this up now?!"

"It's not as hard as it sounds. Improvisation is one of the things you learn, and you inspire me anyway wolf. F major, just the right key for you, warm and happy and dependable, with occasional forays into the relative minor, but always returning."

"Oh, and what is your key?"

"Hmmm...probably C Minor. Dark, conflicted. I'm poison wolf, for anyone who comes near me, but I can sound good on the surface."

He stopped playing now, and looked at the wall, as if trying to see through it to what lay beyond. He seemed to shake himself for a moment, leaning over the keyboard.

"Is that what you want to do at uni...music?"

Now he looked at me, and the same sardonic grin from the station was back.

"No, I'm going to be a structural engineer and redeem my father. He was the most brilliant in his day, and should have led the department, but he got shunted into a corner and they got rid of him when they had a round of budget cuts. Now I get to live the life he wanted to make up for it."

"What do you want?"

"What I want doesn't matter. Now, enough questions, time for your reward wolf."

"I thought the song was my reward?"

"No...that was just for me, because...well, I wanted to give you something else. This is what you need though."

And suddenly, he took me in his arms and kissed, hard and hungry. I had discarded my blazer, and I could feel his body close through the wet cotton of my shirt, and he couldn't help but feel the thudding of my heart as we kissed. His hands went roaming, under my shirt and playing with the hair on my chest, ruffling the small patch of longer hairs between my pecs, then playing roughly with my nipples as I cried out. I was on fire everywhere, my senses on overload. The scent of stallion filled my nostrils.

Then his hand reached for my groin, sliding between skin and clothing to cup my sheath and slowly stroke once, enough to draw my cock to full aching hardness in an instant.

"You are the cute one wolf. Your bull was a fool."

Before I could stop him, he had me undressed, my shirt and tie over an urn, my trousers and boxers on the floor. He knelt before me, and I ran fingertips through his mane as he rested his snout on my balls, huffing warm breaths that were enough to make me shudder. Then he took me into his muzzle in one long stroke that went through me like a knife, and all I could do was lean back my head and growl out pleasured sighs.

He didn't stop, didn't slow down, only increased the pleasures until I was on the edge, one of his hands gently squeezing my sack, the other holding my paw as I gripped tight. Then it happened, a glorious release that made me see stars. It was like my first time with Will, and yet infinitely better. And seeing his smile was the best of all.

In a daze I held him, my muzzle traversing his body. I had finally undressed him too, wanting to see the body I had imagined when I first saw him on the platform. He was all long limbs and lean muscles, a sleek black coat with white mane and tail and feathering, and a gorgeous pink mottled cock. We were both hard as steel, and the musk of sex built as we writhed and touched.

He gently laid me on a wide couch, and I felt his fingers stroking my tailhole. I moaned and whimpered, and he pressed until I felt his finger slide slowly into me. With his other hand, he took some saliva from his muzzle and coated his cock, the thick pink flare looking so big.

Suddenly, I realised what he intended, and I shivered.

"No!...wait...I mean...hold on..."

I wanted it so much, but I was terrified too. Will and I had done everything else, but never that, and the colt looked huge. All I could imagine was pain. He seemed to understand though.

"Shh...it's ok wolf. Here, let me..."

Then he was sitting beside me, with his hands on my waist, and I was suddenly lifted and repositioned, now kneeling between his legs on the carpet. My cock throbbed, precum still drooling from the tip, but now I was inches from his tailhole, and I could see the dark circle under his balls as he lay back, inviting and incredibly sexy. Still, I wasn't convinced.

"Joe, wait. I don't have anything...wont it hurt?"

"It's ok Chris. It isn't my first...and it will be ok. Please, do this for me?"

"But..."

Then he reached out to grip my butt, pulling me in close. My cock touched him, nudging under his balls. I groaned, loud, as my body fought for control over my mind. It was an uneven contest.

His hand circled my cock and drew me in, and instinct took over. I felt the warm embrace of his tailhole, and my hips bucked almost in reflex and suddenly everything felt tight and hot. I knew I wanted more, and I thrust again, this time sliding in deep. His body tensed, and he hissed, but he reached up to kiss me and draw me in deeper until I felt I couldn't go any deeper as my knot kissed his crevice.

We kissed for ages then, not moving, just kissing as his hands roamed over my back and ass, then he looked into my eyes with that deep haunted look and begged me to fuck. I could not resist.

I tried to take it slow, but he kept grunting out commands.

"Harder."

It wasn't sexy, it wasn't a warm sigh filled with pleasure, more a pained screamed order. I tried to ask a question, but he just repeated it, and I obliged, ramming in deeper and harder as he wanted, and feeling his body shudder for my efforts. It wasn't enough though.

"Harder!"

"Joe, wont I..."

"Harder damn you. You owe me!"

I tried, and I tried to make it last. It felt amazing, and though it was probably the drugs dulling my mind, it was as close to pure sex as I ever experienced. For a first time, it was earth shattering.

"Harder!"

"Fuck you pony!"

"That's it, harder!"

I gave it to him, growling and snarling and biting his neck and his nipples and pounding pounding pounding until I cried out and filled him with my cum. I didn't care about anything then, except the warm tide of pleasure that engulfed me like a tsunami. Wherever it chose to carry me, I was going.

When I moaned and recovered enough to lean back and look, I was horrified to see there were tears on his face, though he appeared to be smiling. I pulled back, which made him grimace, and suddenly I was out, followed by a spurt of cum from his open ass. My cock was still swollen, and glistening with cum, and something else.

"Holy shit! You're bleeding!"

"Shhh...don't worry wolf. It happens sometimes..."

"The hell are you doing Joe?"

"I wanted it Chris. I deserved it."

"You fucking made me dryfuck you harder until I hurt you! What kind of fucked up twisted sonofabitch are you pony?"

"Just that wolf. I told you I was poison, but you didn't believe me. I needed it though...you made me feel again, and I needed that. Please...it's my fault Chris, don't blame yourself."

I fell onto the carpet and he held me until I relaxed against his body, my emotions in turmoil. I realised he was crying again, his body shaking softly against mine.

"What the hell am I going to do with you Joe?"

"Nothing. Just hold me; you wanted one more day remember? So blame yourself."

We held onto each other, with a large white tablecloth as our improvised blanket, our heads propped against the couch as the night wore on. We smoked the last of my weed, and in between we explored each other again, and I finally persuaded him to let me go down on him, the thick mass of horsecock almost more than I could handle but eventually I found a rhythm and had my reward, a loud screaming whinny of pleasure and a flood of horse cum I couldn't hope to deal with. Thankfully there were plenty of paper towels amongst the storage.

Eventually we spoke again, talking about school and teachers and neutral subject until curiosity got the better of me.

"What did you mean when you said 'I don't want to go Joe...you said it twice already'"

"It was sort of a private joke, between me and Andy. Whenever we had to go somewhere, he was always late and I was always running early, and I'd be going mad at him because I hated being late and I thought he was being irresponsible. So he would start up with a chorus of 'I don't want to go Joe.', and I'd tell him all the reasons why he had to go, being quite logical as I am, and thinking he really was running late because he didn't want to do whatever it was we were doing. Going to the library, school, catching the train, going to the doctors, bloody double maths on Tuesdays, it was always 'I don't want to go Joe'"

"Of course, he always did want to go, he was just stirring, and he knew if he got me arguing and trying to be rational I would forget being angry and leave him to get on with it. Really, he was just a bit lazy, but he knew me enough to know how to take my mind off things and stop me stressing. He knew me too well, did Andy."

"Sounds like it."

"When I saw him the last time, we met in secret in the city. I was heading back to boarding school, and I had to catch my train. I wanted him to forget me, and I was in a hurry, and he just looked at me with that old grin but he was crying, and he said, 'I don't want to go Joe.' I thought he was having a laugh, trying to take my mind off things like he normally did."

"Maybe he was?"

"No. He really didn't want to go, but he knew he had to. He was trying to take my mind off it, but it wasn't the same. And I missed it, totally, because I wanted to. I thought he would finally find someone good, someone worth it,one of his fellow footballers or something, and he would forget me and be happy at last. I was jealous, and alone, and I turned away from him when he needed it. Now I deserve to pay for it."

"No you don't mate. And I will always remind you of that, don't you worry. This wolf will annoy you all the time, you will be so sick of me I guarantee it. Besides, I always run late too, I'm notorious."

"Groan! Another one, what is it with you canids? It doesn't take much to be on time."

"I'm lazy. Just like your mate."

"Must be the pot."

And suddenly we were rolling round on the floor laughing, healing a little as we wrestled amongst a tangle of now quite soiled tablecloths. It was mad, totally and utterly mad, and I couldn't really blame the pot for it all. It was something I got used to with Joe, that sense of living on the edge of madness.

Maybe in a bizarre way he made me come back to life too.

Finally, reality dawned, and I faced up to it like a wolf.

"Joe...we cant stay here forever. I should go home and face the music, and take whats coming. I can do it now though, thanks to you. I want you to come with me too though. We can call your dad from home, and I'll be there when he comes."

The haunted look was back, and a slight look of betrayal, but I could see he knew I was right. As much as he couldn't be objective about himself, he knew when I was speaking sense.

"Will you hold my hand Chris?"

"Absolutely. Just don't stick it down my pants in front of my parents."

"Spoilsport."

We managed to find a way out of the cemetery, and I headed for home on remote control, my mind in a million places. There was a colt beside me though, and he never left my side. Eventually, we reached my street, and I got to within fifty metres of home when I stopped. There was a police car outside, and the lights were all on, and the shitstorm about to come down on me began to hit home. Apart from everything else, coming clean meant coming clean on all of it, including my sexuality. I had never been ready to admit it to myself let alone my parents. The unknown loomed like an abyss. I stood, my breathing suddenly laboured, and the colt stopped beside me, waiting for now.

"Um... er...I don't want to go Chris."

I gave the grinning colt one last kiss before steeling myself for the last leg home.

*****

_Staring at the ceiling in the dark Same old empty feeling in your heart 'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast

Well you see him when you fall asleep But never to touch and never to keep 'Cause you loved him too much And you dived too deep_

The stallion beside me stirred in his sleep. He was bulkier than my colt had been, and his colouring was different, but I couldn't escape the similarities. He even had his mane braided into four.

I turned to hold him close, bathing in his scent as I rested my muzzle against his chest. I gave a tentative lick, drawing a sexy groan. That did it.

"Joe..."

"Huh? Hey...morning...uhhh...who's Joe?"

I gave a sudden start as I realised the stallion was looking at me, still a bit sleepy but mostly awake. He reached out and stroked my cheek.

"Nothing...no one. Just a guy...another horse..."

He looked hurt but tried to cover it up. I couldn't deal with that on no sleep, so I got up and headed for the bathroom. A residual smile from the evening's wild sex still played across my muzzle, and as I whistled softly draining my morning piss hard-on in the toilet, a cheery chuckle from the bathroom told me I wasn't the only one up.

"Morning Siobhan"

"Morning Chris, or should I say stuuuuuuuuud!"

Heading into the bathroom to wash my paws, I found the cheetah doing her toeclaws. She always liked them a kick ass red, and they needed a lot of maintenance.

"How was the sit-in protest vigil sing along whatever?"

She bared her teeth and punched me quite hard in the shoulder. I just grinned back, determined not to show her how much she actually hurt. Freaking pump training had her punching like a middleweight.

"The action meeting for social justice you fascist oppressor."

"Sorry, my mistake. Long live the revolution!"

"You know, it's going to be a shame having to execute you when the revolution comes. You aren't that bad for a fascist beast!"

"Thanks comrade, you're all heart."

"Don't mention it stud. So, sounds like someone got lucky last night."

I blushed a bit, wondering what she heard.

"Meh, well..."

"Oh don't be shy Chris. Camille and I have been so worried about you, with the anniversary and all, we were a bit surprised but totally happy as shit when we got home. You are one fucking loud wolf when you fuck, I'll give you that. And boy, did it go on and on. I had to frig myself silly thanks to you two, thanks for that. Some serious butt pounding there. Good on you Chris, it's probably just what you needed."

"Err...thanks, I guess."

"So, who is he?"

"Um...his name is Damien, he is in my org Chem class, and he's...well...."

"...here, actually. Hey..."

I jumped a bit as the stallion suddenly announced himself, walking into the bathroom scratching his balls through his boxers and yawning heroically. He had the stupid grin back though, and it made him sexy.

The effect on Siobhan was impressive. Her jaw dropped a long way, as she took in the sight of the big equine.

"Ahh...nice to meet you, Damien. So...Chris...an equine...and a shire stallion eh?"

"Ahhh yeah..."

The stallion was clearly a bit nonplussed by this exchange, reading the signs and finding them troubling.

"What's my breed got to do with anything?"

The cheetah looked me over with a significant arched eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Nothing mate...don't worry," I tried to sound reassuring.

"Was this...Joe, another stallion like me?"

"Not like you hun...well, some ways, but not others, at least I hope," piped up the cheetah. Siobhan had reached out to stroke his mane, intending to be reassuring too. She tended to be over-touchy-feely did Siobhan, part of her Earth-mother routine. It was not a good choice though. The stallion was starting to bristle.

"So what am I...a replacement part? Rebound?"

"Hey don't get shitty with me hun, it's wolf boy you were banging last night."

He looked at me with slightly pained eyes. His voice was even more pained.

"Yeah, I guess that was all it was too. Just banging..."

"Damien!"

"Hey, don't get your well stuffed panties in a twist horse boy. Look, yesterday was a bad day for Chris, it's a year since...well, since he and Joe...so he needed someone to be there for him and from the noise you two were making last night, sounds like some good butt pounding was just what you both needed so..."

"Siobhan!" I couldn't believe she had gone there in front of Damien. That cheetah had no sense at all. I could see the stallion's eyes clouding over.

"Great. Well, I'm glad I could be of some use. Do you think I could have some privacy?"

Siobhan and I exchanged glances and headed for the door. I heard the shower come on, the water slapping against the rusting enamel as my stallion washed away all trace of our sex the previous night. If only it were that easy...

I still remembered the first time I finally took Joe inside me like it was yesterday. It started like this, uncannily like this. A fight, another in a long list, and my colt headed for the shower to wash the anger out of his mane. He had come up to my place to study for year 12 exams, his father having reluctantly agreed to it. I think he thought I could be a positive influence, after the initial disapproval of our first meeting.

As much as Joe's dad disapproved of me, I loathed him. When he got to our house that night after we came in, cold and wet and dishevelled, he had been in a rage. His first act had been to slap Joe across the muzzle hard enough to loosen a tooth, and he probably would have done more if the cop hadn't restrained him. He joined a long list of people I wished ill upon that night, preferably some painful chronic disease. Judging by his whisky breath though, he probably already had one.

I kept up contact though, in spite of everything, skyping and calling every day. I made him promise, one day at a time until it became a sort of joke. Eventually, his dad relented near exam time and let us study together on weekends. I had one thing in my favour; I was doing maths/physics/chemistry just like ole daddy wanted, and I wanted to do science. That was good enough for him, as long as I encouraged Joe in the same direction. None of this inferior arts or music nonsense.

On our first day studying together, I knew how much I was out of my league though. As scary as Joe could be emotionally, he was twice as scary intellectually. With no study and no interest he could still run rings around me. Our study sessions turned into brief tutorials for me, followed by Joe writing music in the margins of his notebooks while I sweated over the hard won knowledge he took for granted. At some stage he would get bored and start teasing me, usually by trying to get me horny. We argued, loud and often then, and I found he was even harder to argue with, taking no prisoners and sparing no feelings.

After one of our more heated arguments, he headed for the shower to prepare for bed. We always ended up sleeping together at my place, and it always ended in sex. Thank God his father never realised that I was gay, or he would never have allowed us to meet. I found I craved his body no matter how much he annoyed me. This time though, I was angry enough to follow him into the bathroom and try for round two, yelling at him through the shower curtain while he tried hard to ignore me. Finally he gave up and gave that sardonic grin, inviting me to say those things to him up close in the shower if I was game.

It was a ploy, and a damn good one of course. Before I knew it, he was soaping my fur and I had his erection in my paws. He pushed me against the wall, his touch making me howl in need, and I felt those fingers on me again, like I had the first time we met. This time I wasn't afraid; this time I was angry, and it perversely made me crave him inside me. Maybe I felt I needed that intimacy, the one we hadn't shared yet. Maybe I felt I was losing him, and this was the way to pull him back. Maybe I just needed cock.

It wasn't easy, and it took a few tries, but eventually, courtesy of a liberal coating of bath gel on his cock and in my ass and a lot of patient work, he entered me. The old fears returned, remembering the violence he had drawn from me that first time, but I need not have worried. He was slow and so gentle, waiting until I was ready for more, always caring and always giving until I came violently all over the shower wall, then again until I couldn't stand up any more. He didn't even cum himself, not until later in bed when he held me in his arms muzzle to muzzle and showed me the sheer joy and beauty of being with another male and having him inside you, seeing your own pleasure and his reflected in his eyes.

The memory of that magic made me feel unutterably sad right now, especially when I had caught sight of it again in the arms of the stallion I had managed to hurt without meaning to. In a way he was right though. I had used him to forget; I had also used him to remember.

I sat on the kitchen table, sipping coffee and not nibbling toast while it went cold on the plate. I waited, thinking about what I would say, but I didn't come up with anything good. A part of me mumbled in the background too.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe you aren't ready for someone yet. Maybe you did just want a fuck and to forget, and you're getting what you wanted

Maybe you're broken beyond repair wolf.

"Hey. I, ah, think I should go. You coming to lectures this morning?"

I looked at him, and the pain he tried to hide. It mirrored my own, but I was much better at hiding.

"Nah, think I might, you know, do some stuff here. You go though. I'll see you in prac tomorrow."

He nodded, still hurt, but he had the courage to walk over to me and hold me tight, his muzzle close to my neck. He gave a single kiss, and walked out of the kitchen and through the front door. I sat staring at the wall for a long time before I heard the patter of another, a cheetah but this one with lighter tread and a hint of French accent.

"Bonjour Mon p'tit."

"Bonjour Camille."

"Ca va?"

"Merde."

And then I fell into her lap while she held my head against her ample bosom. I knew plenty of guys who would kill for a close up of her bosom. Lucky for them they never tried it; Camille would have welded their ears together with her bare paws.

"I spoke to that fool Siobhan. That girl needs to get laid so bad non? She is becoming insufferable."

"You will forgive me if I don't volunteer Cam."

That got us both laughing finally, and broke the downward spiral for a moment.

"Will you go after him mon p'tit loup?"

"Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow. I'm going for a walk now."

"Where?"

She frowned when I told her, but didn't protest. Camille knew me by now, enough to know when to leave well alone. In that she had more sense than Siobhan.

My paws found the way on auto pilot, though it took a while. Before I really knew where I was going, I reached my destination, and walked slowly down the ramp to the platform. It was just as I remembered it two years ago yesterday, down to the leaves and dust. A little different from when I saw it a year ago, but that was a good thing.

The brick enclosure was still there, though this time I didn't have any joints. I just sat and watched the trains go past with unseeing eyes, ignoring the commuters, uni students, school kids, old grannies off to the library. I huddled in my jacket and remembered the bits I found the hardest. The last leg.

In true Joe fashion, he had gone against his father without thinking through the consequences. It should not have been a shock, I guess, when he turned up at my door just when I had moved in to the place in o-week. My first student dive, as I saw it then.

I never thought it would become home for two years, or that the weird cheetah girls who had placed the ad for a third housemate seeking a "Bi or gay guy, open minded, must be able to pay share of bills on time, no haters, rednecks or fascists!" would become such close friends. I thought I would survive their weirdness until I found something better.

When Joe turned up, carrying his possessions in a green army surplus duffel bag, they just shrugged and invited him in for herbal tea and apple slice.

He had a blazing row with his dad, one that got even more physical than any before. Joe had transferred to Arts/music, without telling him. His father threw him out, after rearranging some of his face, and my beautiful pony looked bruised and yet defiant. He wanted a place to stay, and my bed was a double.

"We aren't lovers or anything, not boyfriends. I am poison Chris, you know that; I cant love you, it wouldn't be right. I care about you too much. I will sleep here, and if you want to fuck someone I'll clear out to the couch for the night. If you want this pathetic excuse for a pony, I'll be there for that too."

I was used to his self-hate now, and a part of me thought he was taking the piss still. With all his talents, and all his brains, how could he truly think that anyway? I didn't believe it, not really. Nor did I believe the last bit. In my bones I didn't believe he really didn't want me, but it flattered me to think I would play hard to get. If I wanted him, I would have him because I knew I could make him want me.

If I wanted him...that was the question though. He still scared me in ways I couldn't put my finger on. The intensity, the depth of emotion. Like the time we first met, when he made me fuck him painfully just to feel alive.

Someone that addicted to pain might not be good after all. If only I had known the half.

The descent was quick, though it was gradual enough that each new stage was only an incremental move from the previous one. First the "nicer" drugs, ecstacy and GHB and speed. With his antidepressants it was a lethal cocktail, which could have him manic for hours on end, burning up like a torch, his skin too hot to touch. We would have incredible sex that went on for days sometimes, and it never seemed enough. He was always hard again, wanting again, close and needy, his eyes burning for me with a deep seated manic want. I got off on that as much as it terrified me.

We did wild, crazy, stupid things too while he was wired. Like breaking into the top level of the tallest building on campus one night, to make our way onto the restricted roof and sit there next to a satellite dish with our legs swinging over a two hundred foot drop drinking beer as we watched the sun come up. He made me feel alive, if a little terrified. I never knew what was next, but I knew it would be something I would never have done myself. That and the sex brought me close to the life I dreamed of that first time with Will, life turned up to eleven. The trouble was, the noise was as often discordant as it was pleasant, but at that volume, discordant was hard to take and it was often hard to tell the difference.

Then came his mates, the weird guys from arts or music, deep and morose, who would come around and eat our food and drink our booze. Joe lived on Coopers, always having a case handy, and could down bottle after bottle like it was water with his mates until they passed out and I would find him in the black pit banging his head against a wall intoning one word over and over. Worthless...it was always there, never far from the surface.

Then stuff started going missing. My ipad, Camille's jewellery. I never asked him, and he would look at me as if daring me to ask. I knew what he would say anyway. I had been warned.

The final straw was coming back to my room one night to find him there, passed out with another guy. There was cum everywhere, but that wasn't the worst. He had fucked around plenty before.The used needle beside the bed scared the shit out of me, almost as much as the identity of the other guy.

It was William, my bull from school. And it turned out when I managed to get him sensible the next morning, Joe had known and done it anyway.

We had a huge argument then, the last one. It was all painful, no holds barred. His anger scared me as did his look. The look from the platform was back, zero shits given.

"So what if I did? The way you talked about him, I thought he was some sort of superguy. He was just another loser after all Chris, just another lost guy needing cock and not admitting it. He loved H too, got the taste for it. I'm not addicted, so don't worry about that. I'm a worthless piece of shit but I'm not a druggy Chris. And your bull was an epic fuck."

I snarled like a wild wolf and we fought finally body to body, trying to rip and tear. So much anger and disappointment went into that, though not a lot of skill. We ended up on the floor wrestling with a few bruises and a lot of tears until we fell against each other crying.

I ordered him to leave, by the time I came home from class.

He looked at me with those deep eyes, and they were understanding. That was the hardest part.

"I told you Chris. I warned you. I'm sorry...I'm sorry wolf. I'm so sorry..."

He had stumbled out into the day, and I had headed for class not really thinking. I always headed for something concrete, something predictable when life got too much now. I had sworn off the pot, after seeing what shit did to Joe.

Not wanting to return home, I lingered with some mates after class, finally reaching the terrace late in the afternoon just as darkness was falling. The girls weren't in yet, and I headed for my room fully expecting him to still be there. I would persuade him to go into rehab, get him help, but it would be ok.

Instead, I found nobody there. His stuff was neatly piled into the duffel bag, and there was something left on my bed.

My paws trembled as I picked it up. I didn't understand it at first, but soon worked it out. It was music, a manuscript for piano. The title at the top said "Song For Chris", and I smiled. I had goaded him a few times to write down what he had played for me, even asking for it as a birthday present. He refused outright, but it seemed he had relented. There it was as far as I could tell, not being able to read music. Several pages, written in his usual scatty but legible hand.

I was still holding it with my eyes misting when there was a knock on the door. It was June 5th, and the afternoon was cold. As it had been exactly one year before on a railway platform with two lost gay dudes smoking pot and skipping school.

*****

"Hey"

My reverie was interrupted by an unexpected sound. I looked up, and there was the stallion. Damien had found me, though I didn't know how or why.

"Hey"

"Mind if I join you?"

"Ahh, no, go right ahead. Can't say I'm much company though."

"It's ok, I wasn't much company this morning after..."

I looked at him as he settled on the bench, his jacket still pressed tight against his body like it had been under the wind tunnel yesterday. He looked amazing like this. He looked even more amazing naked, but that was not a picture I wanted right now.

"So, I guess you're wondering..."

"Yeah."

"I left my backpack at your place, and it had my wallet and keys, so I had to go back. This time I ran into Camille."

"Lucky you. She is a lot easier than Siobhan at the moment."

"So I managed to work out. Anyway, Camille was worried about you, and me, and well...us, so she sat me down and talked."

I was a bit angry, though I knew I had no real right to be. Instead I just bristled, my tail swishing a bit faster and slapping against his jacket. He noticed, but didn't complain.

"She told me where you might be, so I came to see you."

"You didn't need to."

"Yeah, I did. Even if we...well, even if nothing more happens with us, I'd still like to be a friend, and you need that probably more than anything today."

It was so unexpected, and so welcome I couldn't help myself. I fell into his arms, and we held for ages, just two guys alone. It was all I needed. Eventually he spoke again though, as I knew he would.

"I guess this is where he..."

"Yeah."

When the knock came at the door, I had expected it to be Joe, back and wanting help. I wasn't ready then for the sight of two police constables looking solemn and a little embarrassed. I soon worked out the reason for their discomfort.

"What happened?"

"He walked casually down here, just where I met him a year before. There was a railways guy on the platform, and he asked if Joe needed anything because he was on the wrong platform. From what the cops said, he just smiled at the guy, and shook his head. Then he stopped and thought for a moment. 'Tell him...tell him, I don't want to go Chris...', and then he turned as the train approached, walked to the edge and jumped. Like it was the most normal thing to do."

My stallion held me tight as I shook, though the tears wouldn't come. I had replayed that day in my sleep, when I couldn't do it awake, and for some reason I never cried. The questions whirled round my head like toxic little bats though. What if I had come back earlier? What if I had stayed home?

What if I hadn't told him to go.

"It was my fault..."

"No mate. No. He did this all himself, it was his decision."

"But what if..."

"Shhh...enough of that. You aren't to blame Chris, even if you want to. From what Camille said, he was fucked up inside real bad, and you were holding on tight just to keep him above water. You did the best you could Chris. You didn't make him do it. He pulled this all by himself, and managed to slip through your paws."

"I wish I could have said something to him."

"What would you have said? What would you tell him now, if he was right here?"

I wondered for a moment, letting it boil to the surface after all this time.

"I'd tell him...I'd tell him I hate him. I hate him for leaving me, for going away like that and leaving me. I hate him for giving up. I'd tell him not to go...I'd tell him..."

"Did you love him?"

I realised with a shock that I knew the answer, though I had always shied away from it. Deliberately, and yet pointlessly. Inside I knew, I had always known even as I told myself not to let it happen, that he was bad news, that he could never love me back as broken as he was inside. It happened anyway. Finally I could admit it.

"Yes...oh God, yes."

And then finally the tears came.

My stallion held me while I let it all out, and I slowly stopped crying and looked over the platform again. Fallen leaves blew in the chill wind, and one golden leaf had blown against Damien, catching in his mane. He reached for it, holding it up to the light. I smiled at him, and he handed it to me. Another memory, but unless I was mistaken, it didn't seem to hurt so much.

Two lost gay dudes on a railway platform again, not smoking pot this time, though we are skipping uni. But something feels different I guess Joe; maybe I'm wiser and not just older; and maybe, well, maybe this one can help me find my way.

"I don't want to go Chris...well you did anyway my love, and I have to let you go. You joined him in the end, even if I made you wait a little while. I just hope...I hope you don't resent the time we had, I guess."

My stallion stirred, looking at me like I might have lost my marbles.

"What did it mean...I don't want to go Chris..."

"How long have you got?"

"As long as it takes Chris."

"Well, guess I had better start from the beginning then."

Several commuters gave us strange looks that day as we sat and talked, laughing and crying, but I didn't mind. As the day went on, I realised. I felt home.

_'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low Only miss the sun when it starts to snow Only know you love him when you let him go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low Only hate the road when you're missin' home Only know you love him when you let him go

And you let him go_