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That Day, Part 5 - Making Amends

by Cyberklaw

Hangovers suck.

Yeah, its hardly the most original or ground-breaking of thoughts, but it is the main one occupying my mind when I wake up.

My head is pounding, like someone is attacking it with a sledgehammer. My whole body feels rough and sluggish. I'm generally feeling like utter shit. And that was before I remembered what happened the night before.

I turn my head to see there's no one in the bed beside me. I manage to spend a few moments hoping desperately that it didn't happen, that maybe I imagined it, or it was just a horrible dream.

But then the smell of bacon hits my nostrils. I prick up my ears and can hear someone in my kitchen.

Oh fuck, it actually did happen. I got drunk and slept with Marcus.

I spend a few moments considering my options. It's so tempting to just curl up and go back to sleep, ignore my problems for a little longer. I reject that idea quickly. Avoiding my problems will not help anything. Plus, the smell of food has started my stomach rumbling. I'm feeling ravenous. I can't sleep like that.

So getting up it is then.

I throw off the sheets and sit up. I instantly regret it as the pounding in my head increases. I wince at the pain. But I grit my teeth and endure it, swinging my legs out and sitting on the edge of the bed. I stay there for a moment, gathering my strength and my wits before I do anything further.

Any lingering doubts about what happened the night before are wiped away as I catch a whiff of my myself. The stale stink of alcohol, mixed with sweat and sex and Marcus' scent. I bury my head in my paws.

What the fuck was I thinking? Of all the bone-headed moronic things I could have done...

Of course I know why I did it. I was drunk and upset. But knowing that doesn't make me feel any better about the mess I'm now in. It doesn't make it any less of a God-damned stupid thing to have done.

And what does this mean for my friendship with the raccoon? Have I wrecked it by doing this? Well, he went along with it all willingly and if my slightly fuzzy memories are correct, quite enthusiastically. And the fact that he seems to be cooking breakfast would seem to indicate that he's not too upset about this development.

But we've never slept together before. Yeah, we were briefly a couple, but we never got that far. A part of me always thought that helped us stay friends. Now, I've changed that, changed the nature of things between us...

Well, sitting here isn't going to solve anything. Time to face the consequences of my actions.

I stand up. I stagger for a second, a little unsteady on my feet, briefly dizzy. But it passes quickly. I slip on some boxer shorts and head for the kitchen.

As expected, Marcus is there, cooking a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, his big bushy tail swishing happily behind him.. He's fully clothed and smelling fresh. He glances over me as I enter. "Good morning! I thought the smell of food might wake you up!" He's smiling brightly. "How are you feeling?"

My head is pounding more heavily the more time I spend standing, so the big speech I'd been preparing in my head about last night crumbles. "Ugh..." Is all I manage to say. I stagger over to the table and sit down.

A few seconds late, a mug of strong black coffee is placed on the table in front of me. "That bad, huh?" Marcus chuckles.

I savour the aroma of the coffee for a second before taking a sip. It helps a little and I try to speak again. "Marcus..." I croak.

But he cuts me off, chattering away. "Breakfast is almost ready. I've already had something because I need to get going in a minute. I need to get home, get changed and get to work."

He's so cheerful it's annoying, grating on my nerves. "Marcus, I..."

"You know, Harv," He says. "If I'd known you were that good in bed, I might not have broken up with you!"

Oh, I really wish he hadn't said that. It just manages to make me feel worse about the situation. I force out what I need to say. "Marcus, it was a mistake."

He stops what he's doing and stares at me for a second. He walks over to me. Here it comes, the hurt feelings, the wrecked friendship, the...

He hugs me, tightly and warmly. "Oh, my dear Harvey, it was not a mistake."

That was not the reaction I was expecting. "Yes, it was." I say it again, trying to be more firm, but failing miserably.

My raccoon friend pulls out of the hug and kisses me on the cheek. "Harvey, it was what you needed and I was happy to help. So to me, it was definitely not a mistake." He returns to his cooking.

That doesn't help me feel any better in the slightest. I'm still worried. "But our friendship..."

"Oh don't go stressing about that." He laughs, waving a paw dismissively. "We're still friends, that's not going to change. Now we're just friends with benefits. And I'm already looking forward to enjoying those benefits again some time..."

I really don't like the sound of that. "Marcus, I really don't think that..."

He returns to the table and puts a plate piled high with wonderfully smelling food, bacon, eggs, sausages, down in front of me along with some cutlery. The aroma hits me hard, setting off fresh rumblings in my stomach.

"You're just hungover, Harvey." Marcus says, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Give it a little time, you'll see this is a good thing." He kisses me on the cheek again.

This is really not going as I'd expected.

As I'm grasping for something to say, something made all the more difficult by my continual headache, Marcus releases me and heads for the door. "Anyway, Harv, I've got to get going. I'll be in touch!"

I let him go, accepting that I'm in no fit state to argue with him and wouldn't be able to convince him of anything. I'll have to try again later.

For the moment, I have a nice breakfast before me and I am extraordinarily hungry. I dig in, wolfing down the food eagerly. It is absolutely delicious, and is really what I needed to help me start to feel better. For a moment at least. Then my brain starts thinking.

Marcus has never cooked for me before. Not when we were together, not in all our years of friendship, even on the occasions when he has spent the night here before, crashing on the couch after a night out together. The worry sets in that this is an indication that our relationship has changed in some way that I'm not yet able to figure out.

But whatever it is, there's nothing at all I can do about it right then. I finish off my breakfast and sit back in my chair, thoughtful.

I should really get cleaned up and head into work, apologise to Chuck about yesterday. But then I think of Oliver, of how I need to fix things with him. Screw work, I have to...

Whoa! Where the fuck did that thought come from?

Screw work? It just popped into my head. I've never had an attitude like that about my job before and its kind of a shock to me. I do my best to quash that before it goes any further.

But still, I'm not sure if I want to go to work today. I tell myself its because unless I get things resolved with Oliver, I'm just going to be distracted and unfocused. It's not because I don't like my job or anything like that. That's what I try to tell myself.

I should call Chuck at least. But in order to do that I need to find my phone. It takes me a moment to remember tossing it away the night before. I sigh. That was a stupid thing to do.

Before I go searching for it, I swallow a couple of aspirin for the headache. The food and coffee have helped me feel more alive again, but the pounding in my skull hasn't abated at all.

Once that's done, it takes a good ten minutes searching to find my phone. It slid under the entertainment unit in the corner of the living room and is out of my reach. I end up having to shift the thing out of the way to retrieve it. I curse myself for being so childish as to throw it aside like that last night.

I sit on my couch as I switch it back on, planning what I'm going to say to Chuck. But then my phone beeps. There's a text message from Oliver, from last night: Tried to call. Hope you're OK. I'm sorry about last night. Look forward to hearing from you.

A minute or so passes with me just staring at the message, taking it in. While it feels good to hear from the badger, I'm thrown a little by his message. He tried to call me and hopes I'm OK. Did me not visiting him last night make him worried about me? And he's sorry about the night before? Is he actually blaming himself for what happened?

I sigh. Of course he is. After all, he blames himself for what happened with his father. It seems to be in his nature to blame himself for stuff that isn't his fault. Of course he's going to blame himself for getting upset with me about Frank, even though it was entirely my fault for being too pushy.

A wave of guilt washes over me. On top of everything else, it turns out I've gone and made Oliver worry about me and feel guilty.

This just serves to strengthen my resolve to fix things with the badger today. I quickly call Chuck and tell him I'm very sorry, but I need a little time to get myself sorted out. He gives me the day off, even though I offer to be in that afternoon. But he's insistent, so I accept it. I end the call with the promise that I will be back at work tomorrow.

With that done, I head to the bathroom and take a long hot shower. It helps me feel so much better, reinvigorating me. And after a good bit of time scrubbing myself I'm smelling a lot better as well. I can no longer smell Marcus on me and can almost forget about what happened last night. Almost.

By the time I've finished showering and have got dressed, I'm feeling a hell of a lot better. I have a plan of action and I am certain I can fix things with Oliver. My pounding headache has even gone.

So, filled with determination, I leave my apartment, get in my car and drive to the hospital. Before long, I'm striding through the corridors leading to Oliver's room. It's a walk I have become strangely used to. I even seem to be getting used to the stinging anti-septic smell of the place.

I stroll into Oliver's room with a smile on my muzzle, ready to greet the badger warmly. But I stop short. The room is empty.

It's not just that Oliver isn't there. All his things are gone, his bag, his laptop, the card I got for him. Plus, the bed has been made.

I step out into the corridor and grab the first hospital employee I can find, a panda nurse. "What's happened to Mr. Reynolds?" I say. It comes out a little demanding.

She seems a little flustered. "Who?"

"The badger with the stab wound and the broken arm." I explain.

It takes her a moment, but she then remembers. "Oh him! I believe he was discharged, just this morning."

I let her go on her way and stand there for a few seconds, kicking myself, suddenly remembering Oliver mentioning he might be discharged on Wednesday. Another item to add to the 'Harvey is an idiot' list.

Despondent, I make my way out of the building. What do I do now? I know where Oliver lives, of course. But there's a big difference between visiting an injured friend in hospital and turning up on his doorstep. I don't know if I know Oliver well enough to do that without coming across as a bit creepy.

I'll have to call him then. It's not the ideal option. I would have preferred to do this face to face, but it seems that's not going to happen...

"Harvey?"

The voice hits my like a lightning bolt. Oliver's voice.

I've reached the hospital lobby at this point. I turn to see him standing there by the bank of payphones against one wall. I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn't notice him or his distinctive scent.

He's dressed in the clothes I fetched for him from his apartment, one sleeve of his shirt rolled up to accommodate the cast on his left arm, and he is carrying his overnight bag and laptop case. He's looking at me with a curious expression. "Harvey, what are you doing here?"

I falter for a moment. "I... well, I came to see you... but I forgot you were getting out of here today. I thought I'd missed you..."

"You almost did." He chuckles. "I only just finished the paperwork and was about to call myself a cab to take me home." He holds up a paw to show me he's holding his phone.

And right there, I see my opportunity. And I take it. "Nonsense! I'm here now, I can take you home. No need to spend money on a cab."

"Are you sure?" He asks. "I don't want to..."

"You're not imposing, Oliver." I assure him. "You never are. Let me help you with those." I step forward to help him with his things.

He tries to protest. "You don't have to..."

"Hey!" I cut him off. "Which of us isn't currently recovering from a stab wound and sporting a broken arm? I can carry your bags." I take them from him.

I lead him out into the parking lot toward my car. We don't say anything on the way, a strange awkward silence between us. I'm trying to figure out how to start with my apology. When we reach my car, I put his bags on the back seat. He gets in the passenger seat as I climb into the drivers seat.

I can't wait any longer. I need to say something, need to get my apology out. I turn in my seat to face him and am about to speak, but he beats me to it...

"Harvey, I'm so sorry..." He says. I can see the sorrow in his eyes and I know he really means it.

"Oliver..."

"No, let me speak, hero." He holds up a paw to silence me. "I just need to say, I'm very sorry for my outburst the other night. I'd had something of a bad stressful day, but that's no excuse for blowing up at a friend the way I did."

His apology just makes me feel more guilty. He'd had a bad day and... I suddenly remember him texting me earlier that day, making sure that I was going to be visiting. Oh God, was he doing that because he needed someone to talk to? And then rather than be there for him I push him to the point where he snaps and then I walk out? Fucking hell, I screwed up even worse than I thought...

"Oliver, I'm the one who should be sorry, not you." I tell him. "It was entirely my fault. I was the one who was too pushy, I should have respected what you wanted, not try to force you into doing something you weren't ready for. And I'm so sorry I didn't visit yesterday. I'd had something of a bad day myself."

"Harvey..." I can see he's about to protest.

"No, Oliver, I mean it." I say, forcefully. "Don't go blaming yourself for anything. This was my fault. As far as I'm concerned, you have nothing to apologise for and I don't want to hear any apology from you. I failed you as a friend, I'm very sorry and I hope you forgive me."

A small smile appears on his face. "Well, of course I forgive you..."

I nod. "Thank you, buddy. Now, let's not say anymore about it and move on."

"Well, if you insist." Oliver sighs.

"I do."

"Okay then." He chuckles.

I breathe a sigh of relief at the situation being resolved, and at having received Oliver's forgiveness. I'm suddenly feeling a hell of a lot better as I start my car and we set off.

After a few minutes on the road, Oliver turns to me and asks. "Hey, shouldn't you be at work right now?"

"I've got the day off today." I explain.

He seems a little shocked. "You? You, the ultimate workaholic, have a day off work?"

I shoot him a quick sheepish grin. "It's... kind of a long story..." I say. "But the upshot is that I am free today if you want some company."

"You don't have anything else you need to do?" He asks.

Do I? I think about it for a few moments before replying. "Well, I should probably get to the gym at some point, but other than that, I'm all yours. If you want me to hang out with you today, that is..."

"Sure, we can hang out together for a while. Sounds like fun." He smiles at me warmly, which raises my spirits even further. "I had nothing planned today beyond resting."

We chat casually a little the rest of the way to Oliver's place. Now that I know where it is, it takes me less time to reach Oliver's apartment building that it did before and soon we're strolling in and taking the elevator up to his floor. I'm carrying his bags again, as I insisted.

He unlocks the door and we step inside. As he closes the door behind us, he motions towards the couch. "Sit down, make yourself at home. Coffee?"

"Sure." I nod, putting down his bags by the door and heading for the couch.

Oliver heads into the kitchen. Just as I'm about to sit down, I hear a cry from him. "Ugh... yuck!"

A stab of concern hits me. "Oliver? You okay?"

The badger sticks his head out of the kitchen doorway. "Yeah, I'm fine, hero. It's just the stink of the trash kind of hit me. My sense of smell is still kind of messed up, but even I could smell it. Hang on a sec, I need to deal with it."

He ducks back in and I sit down, settling myself into the big leather couch. The living room is exactly as I remember it, the big TV, the bookshelves of books and DVDs, the old theatre posters on the walls.

Oliver comes out of the kitchen carrying a tied trash, the smell of which causes my nose to wrinkle in disgust. He shoots me an apologetic look. "Be back in a moment." He heads out the front door, carrying the bag at arms length.

I chuckle slightly and relax on the couch. A few moments later, Oliver returns, having disposed of the bag. He heads back to the kitchen. "Right, I'll get that coffee."

It's a little weird seeing Oliver in his home like this, doing ordinary domestic things. Up until now, my experiences with him have been him bleeding in an alley and him recovering in a hospital room. This is new and different, but in a good way. It's nice to see more sides of the badger.

"Umm..."

Oliver's voice causes me to turn to see him sticking his head out of the kitchen doorway. "Something wrong?" I ask.

"Is black coffee okay?" He says. "Turns out my milk has gone sour sometime in the past few days. I'm probably going to have to go out and get a few things later..."

"Black is fine." I assure him. "And I take sugar, if you have any."

He looks shocked, but in a smiling, playful kind of way, which is damn adorable. "Of course I have sugar! I mean... unsweetened coffee? Yuck!"

I laugh and he returns to the kitchen. I sit back, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm glad to find there's something else the two of us have in common, even if it is something small.

He eventually returns to the living room with two large mugs of coffee, passing one to me before sitting down beside me. I take a small sip and nod my approval. It's very good. Nice to know Oliver has good taste in coffee.

"So, anything you want to talk about?" I ask, guessing that there is probably something.

He frowns. "Like what?"

I see I need to be more specific. "Like your bad day the other day? You want to talk about it?"

His expression drops. He doesn't say no, but he doesn't seem all that eager, either. But I'm determined. I may not have been there for him the other night, but I'm there now and eager to make amends for my previous failure.

"Come on, Oliver." I say, gently. "Whatever it is, talking about it might help, and I'm here and ready to listen."

He's hesitant, unwilling to meet my gaze. "Well.. okay..."

He proceeds to tell me about what happened to him Monday, about how a couple of his co-workers paid him a visit, and about how one of them read the message in my card talking about a date. He tells me how he's afraid this co-worker, this fox named Felix, might now know he's gay. He's now afraid its just a matter of time before everyone at his office knows and life at work becomes difficult. Having met his manager Frank, and experienced his homophobic attitudes first hand, its a fear I can understand.

And suddenly Oliver's behaviour Monday night when I visited makes perfect sense. I can just imagine him spending the day alone in his hospital room, the worry and stress just building and building. And then Frank shows up and make it worse. Then I turn up and am no help whatsoever.

My feelings of guilt swell inside me. I really messed up badly.

"Oh God, Oliver, I'm so sorry." I say, sadness in my voice. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you to talk to about this before..."

He pats me on the shoulder. "It's okay..."

"No, it's not." I'm adamant. "You needed a friend to talk to and I wasn't there as I should have been. I screwed up."

"You can't do everything, hero." Oliver reassures me. "Everyone makes mistakes. But you're here now."

"Yeah, I am." I nod. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure what advice I can give. It is a difficult situation." I think about it for a moment longer. "I mean, you could try to talk to Felix, see if he knows for certain, what he plans to do. But you don't have his number, so you'd have to try and catch him as he's leaving work or something, which might seem a bit suspicious if you're seen by your other co-workers. And if he hasn't figured out you're gay, you risk giving yourself away."

He nods along as I talk, looking thoughtful.

I sigh. "As tough as it might be, I think your best course of action is to wait and see what happens, and don't go expecting the worst while you're waiting. That will not help in any way. And even if he has figured it out, he might be fine with it and willing to respect your privacy. You never know, people can surprise you now and again." I pat him on the shoulder. "But, even if things do ultimately turn out badly, you will always have options on how to deal with it, and I will always be here to support you in any way I can. I promise you that."

"Thank you." He smiles. "And you're right, I know I need to just wait, I know I shouldn't expect the worst. But knowing that doesn't stop this whole mess preying on my mind in the meantime."

"Yeah, I imagine it wouldn't." I agree. "So let's see if we can talk about something else, take your mind off it..." I glance about, looking for inspiration for a change of subject. The framed posters on the walls give it to me. "So, you like the theatre then?"

He chuckles. "You figured that out, huh?"

I shrug theatrically. "Well, I did used to be a cop. I have some detective skills..."

He laughs at that, his face lighting up. "Yeah, I like the theatre." He pauses, then hurriedly adds. "I mean, I like dramatic theatre. I'm not into musical theatre, I'm not a stereotypical gay guy like that..."

"I can tell." I say with a smile. "You're not exactly the 'flamboyant' type."

He sniggers. "I'm such a failure as a gay guy. I'm not flamboyant, I don't like musical theatre, I'm not promiscuous, I'm not effeminate, I have no fashion sense..."

I laugh out loud heartily. "Well, if it helps, in those terms, I'm also a failure as a gay guy."

He shakes his head. "I really hate that gay stereotype..."

"That makes two of us..." I say with a nod. I decide to get the conversation back on track. "So, do you get to the theatre often?"

A strange look crosses his face. Almost as if he's slightly uncomfortable talking about this. Which confuses me. It's one of his interests. Why would he not be comfortable with it?

"Not very often, no." He replies. "In fact, its been several years since I last went. No one to go with. And even when I did have someone, they were never really that into it. I'd just end up feeling guilty dragging them to something I knew they didn't enjoy."

I wonder if that is the reason. My instincts tell me no, there's something deeper.

"Sorry to hear that, buddy." I tell him. "Have you been into theatre stuff long?"

"Yeah, since I was a cub." He smiles slightly, face brightening a little. "I was always interested in being in school plays. In fact, I..." He suddenly trails off, that uncomfortable look returning.

I look at him, concerned. "What is it?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. It's silly, don't worry about it..."

"Hey now." I interrupt. "I can see from the look on your face that it is not nothing. Come on, Oliver, you can tell me anything. I'm here to listen. I won't judge you or laugh or anything..."

He stares at me for several moments, considering this, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust me with whatever is on his mind. He reaches a decision to do just that and carries on. "Well, it's just that... when I... when I was a cub, my dream was to be an actor when I grew up. I fully intended to pursue it as a career well into my teens."

"Sounds good to me." I say. A part of me feels good to have Oliver trust me enough to share this information with me. "Did you ever try to pursue it?"

"No." He says simply. His expression is suddenly a lot darker.

So that's it. As much as he likes it, talking about the theatre reminds him about his failed cub-hood dreams. It's obviously a sore spot for him, so I decide not to push any further for details. I want to help him relax and feel better, not make him think about whatever bad stuff stopped him from pursuing his dream career.

But still, the theatre is one of his interests, so maybe a different approach. "I've not ever been to the theatre myself ."

He looks at me, his face showing surprise. "Really? Never?"

"Nope." I reply. "Closest I ever came was studying Shakespeare at school."

"And? What did make of it?"

I squirm a little, suspecting he's not going to like what I have to say, but I'm determined to be honest nonetheless. "I found it to be kind of boring." I shrug. "And quite hard to follow and understand."

He sits back, and takes a long sip of his coffee before saying anything. "That's fair, Shakespeare can be kind of like that to most. But that's to be expected of plays that are centuries old." He's thoughtful for a second. "Did you ever see it performed?"

I shake my head. "No, just read it."

"That always bugs me." He sighs. "They make you study Shakespeare at school, but usually only make you read a play or two. But its not meant to be simply read, its meant to be performed! Trust me, Shakespeare performed by good, or even mildly competent, actors works so much better. They can make the whole thing come alive, despite the archaic language..."

I sit there, drinking my coffee, watching his face as he talks, loving the way it lights up as he talks passionately about something that's clearly important to him.

He stops himself suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm probably boring you..."

"Not at all." I say, with complete honesty. "It's interesting hearing about it from a different perspective."

He gives me a strange smiling look, and I guess he's trying to decide if I'm being truthful or not. He then shakes his head, the smile remaining in place.

"Okay then, but enough about that." He says. "In fact, enough about me. There's still so much I don't know about you."

I pause, my mind racing. Is he going to ask about my time as a cop, why it ended? I had been so ready to talk to him about it yesterday, and I suppose I still am, I still want to tell him and talk about it with him. But now doesn't seem like the right time, with him just settling in back home from the hospital and us having a nice friendly pleasant conversation. If he asks, I'll tell him, but I can't help but hope he doesn't ask...

"Sure, buddy." I tell him. "What would you like to know?"

"For starters, something very important..." He says, fixing me with a serious stare and for a moment I'm almost certain I know what he's going to ask and am convinced the conversation is about to stray into the unpleasant subject of my past with the police.

"Are you free Saturday night?" He finishes, taking me by surprise.

Caught off guard, I stumble over replying for a few seconds, before managing "What?"

"Saturday night, are you free?" He reiterates. "I told you I was going to take you out to dinner to thank you for saving my life. So... are you free Saturday?"

Relief washes over me as I answer. "Yes, of course I am." I'm unable to stop myself grinning broadly, both in relief and at the prospect of having a date with the badger at the weekend.

"Good." He nods, smiling back at me. "Now the second important thing... what kind of things do you like to eat? Any favourites, any dislikes?"

I chuckle. "Well, I'd prefer it if we avoid sushi. And anything too hot or spicy. But aside from that I'm fine with most things."

But it seems that's not enough to satisfy him. "C'mon, Harvey, help me out here. This is me thanking you, I want to be sure you I pick a restaurant you'll like. Can't you be more specific?"

He's looking at me with such eagerness. He really wants this to go well. Of course, I want to help him out with that. "OK then... I suppose I'm a guy who really likes my meat. Burgers, ribs, the occasional steak. But I'm also not adverse to pizza or Italian."

"Thank you. That gives me some ideas." He gives me a thoughtful look. "You really don't like talking about yourself, do you?"

I frown at him. "What makes you say that?"

"We've now talked a fair amount since we met." He explains. "But I still know so little about you. You used to be a cop, you now work long hours as a mechanic and go to the gym. But that's about it..."

That is true, but I never really thought about it in terms of me not wanting to talk about myself and can understand how Oliver could think that. Well, it's easily rectified. "Feel free to ask me anything you might want to know, buddy..."

"Beyond the gym and your job, do you have any interests?" He asks. "Any hobbies?"

I have to shake my head. "The long hours I work tend to leave me little time for hobbies. Its tough enough fitting in my trips to the gym."

"Huh." He says with a shrug. "You must really love that job to spend so much time at it..."

He stops to drink more of his coffee and I'm suddenly thoughtful, his comment reminding me of earlier, when the thought of blowing off work had come to me so quickly and easily. It's quickly joined by the memory of Friday night, of the stuff going through my head after I saved Oliver's life.

Do I really love my job? Before that Friday night, my answer would have been yes. But as I told myself that night, I can't delude myself anymore. If I'm brutally honest with myself, I don't love it. So why do I spend so much time there?

I know the answer to that of course. But I'm not sure I'm quite ready to admit it yet, not even to myself...

"You okay, hero?"

Oliver's words break into my thoughts and I realise he's looking at me with mild concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine..." I quickly tell him.

"It's just you went all quiet and had a really serious look on your face there for a moment..." He says.

"I was just thinking about some stuff." I say. "Maybe... maybe I should look into getting some hobbies, try and be less of a workaholic..."

Oliver's face seems to brighten at that, like he's pleased. "Really? Got anything in mind?"

"Nope." I say with a laugh. "I really have no clue. It's something I'll have to think about."

"What kind of things are you interested in?" He asks.

I think about it and find I have serious trouble coming up with anything. Which kind of shocks me a bit. For so long, my life has revolved around work on the gym. What the hell might I want to do with myself beyond that? What hobbies have I had in the past?

I used to go fishing with dad back when I was a cub, but its not something I ever really enjoyed. I only really did it to spend time with my father. He really loved his fishing.

Also, a good part of my cub-hood was spent collecting comic books. But I kind of left that behind in my late teens. It holds no attraction for me anymore.

I was on the wrestling team in college. I think maybe it was just the idea of grappling guys in tight outfits that originally drew me to it. But while it was fun, it's not something I could see myself doing regularly. Beyond that, my college days were spent doing pretty standard college things, studying, drinking, partying, the odd boyfriend here and there.

That just leaves my days since leaving college, most of which were spent focused on my career with the police. But that said, I did have a few ways to unwind in my down time...

"I used to read a lot." I say. "Mostly mystery and detective fiction. And I used to watch a lot of movies, especially action movies. As long as they're not cop films, I hate those, can't watch them without all the police inaccuracies bugging me."

After a moment's thought, I add. "I also tried learning to play the guitar at one point, but that was back during police training, which ended up occupying most of my time, and I kind of stopped and never got back to it. I eventually just sold the guitar."

Oliver is smiling at me, apparently pleased with what I've had to say, at having opened up and told him a little more about me. "That sounds good to me. And they're things you could start doing again, if you want."

He's right of course. And the idea of doing more with myself beyond work and the gym is suddenly rather appealing. "I'll think about it."

"And if you ever feel like trying something new, let me know." He says. "I'll be happy to help you out and offer some suggestions."

"Thanks, buddy, I'll keep that in mind." I tell him.

We talk some more, about various trivial things. I'm feeling so relaxed and happy in Oliver's company. Before I know it, well over an hour has passed, the two of us simply chatting and laughing.

He suddenly yawns and its only then that I realise that he's looking a little bleary eyed. "You OK, buddy?"

"Just a bit tired." He replies.

"Really?" I say. "After spending the past several days resting in a hospital bed and then that coffee? Talking to me isn't that exhausting is it?"

"No, of course not!" Oliver chuckles. "But well... I haven't been sleeping well. Since the attack I keep having these nightmares..."

Although its not really unexpected that he'd be suffering from something like that, it still takes me by surprise. I can't stop myself and reach over and pull him into a comforting hug, and I'm glad when he doesn't resist, but simply relaxes into it.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, buddy." I say, consolingly. "But just remember, it will get better with time. The nightmares will pass eventually."

"I know." He says, simply, hugging me back.

"So you hang in there." I tell him. "It will get better. And I'm here for you if you need to talk about it at all."

He pulls out of the hug. "Nothing to talk about. They're just dreams..." He yawns again, despite his best efforts to stifle it.

Suddenly, I'm feeling like an idiot as the realisation hits me. He's tired and needs to rest and I'm here taking up his time and stopping him. Why the hell can't I stop screwing up with Oliver?

I pat him on the shoulder. "How about I leave you to get some rest, buddy? You need it..."

He tries to reassure me. "You really don't have to, I'm fine and can..." He's cut off as he fails to stifle another yawn.

As tempting as it is to stay, he really needs some rest. "It's OK, Oliver, I'll get out of your way and you can take a nap." I stand up to leave.

"Hey." He says, standing up as well. "How about you come back later this evening? We can hang out some more..."

He says it with such eagerness and hope that I'd have to be heartless to turn him down. Plus, it helps that I really do want to hang out with him more.

"Sure!" I say, my eagerness seeming to match his own. "What time would be good for you?"

He considers this for a second before replying. "How's six sound to you?"

I nod and smile at the cute badger. "Sounds good to me!"

We say our goodbyes and I leave his apartment. On the way back to my car, I can't help but ponder how well that went. I managed to fix things with Oliver, get his forgiveness and get invited back later. I'm feeling so good.

But then the memory of last night and this morning comes back and threatens to bring my mood down again. I force it away. I'll get things straightened out with Marcus some other time. Today is about making things up with Oliver and hanging out with the cute badger and that's more important.

It's at that point it hits me. Oliver is already more important to me than Marcus, my friend of many years. I'm not sure why that is, how that has happened. I only know that it feels right.

I put that thought out of my mind for now and focus on the rest of the day. I'm feeling good and looking forward to seeing Oliver again later...

* * * * * * * * * *

I'm not sure I'm looking forward to seeing Harvey again later...

Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy and I do love hanging out with him, and I am absolutely certain I will enjoy spending more time with him.

But I can't shake the thought that I'm just making things more difficult for myself in the long run. The more time I spend with the bear, the more any feelings for him are likely to develop and the more painful it's going to be when eventually he doesn't feel the same about me in return.

Despite that worry gnawing at me, I can't seem to stop myself wanting to spend time with him. When he suggested it after showing up so unexpectedly at the hospital and taking me home, he looked so hopeful, I could hardly turn him down, could I?

Especially as I feel the need to make things up to him. Even though he assured me he was the one to blame, even though he didn't want to hear otherwise, I know I was really the one at fault. And so my guilty conscience led me to spend time with him today, even though I knew it might cost me later.

And yet, I don't regret it, although that might come later when the heartache arrives. But for now, I am very happy. I actually managed to get Harvey to open up some, which was fantastic and amazing. It was so great to finally learn a little more about him.

It was just a shame that it had to be cut short by my tiredness getting the better of me due to the damn nightmares, even if it did give Harvey another chance to show how considerate he was, insisting that I be left to get some rest. But still, I didn't feel like I'd spent enough time providing him with company on his day off to fully make up for what I did, so I invited him back.

One major reason is that I want to try and find out about the bad day Harvey mentioned he'd had and see if he wants to talk about it, see if there's anything I can do to help. After all, he did that for me. I'm not sure I'll be able to manage that, though, given how difficult it is getting the bear to talk about himself. And I don't want to push to hard and risk screwing things up again.

After Harvey leaves, I lay down on my bed and fall asleep for a few hours. I have no dreams and wake up feeling refreshed. I'd really needed that.

I'm left with several hours before Harvey is due to return, which is fine by me as there are a few things I need to get done.

I head to the local grocery store to pick up some things. During my stint in the hospital, a lot of stuff in my fridge had gone bad, so I need to stock up again.

While at the store trying to remember exactly what I needed, my thoughts turn to this evening. Harvey's going to be there. The thought crosses my mind that maybe I could cook him dinner, that it might be a nice thing to do for him. But after a few minutes thought, I reject the idea. I've only just got out of the hospital this morning, I'm not sure I'm up to cooking dinner. We'll just order a pizza or something.

With the decision made, I finish up getting what I need, which ends up being more than I realised. Carrying several bags of groceries while one arm is in a cast turns out to be more awkward and challenging than I'd thought it would be, but I manage. I have to get used to it, I suppose, since it would be many weeks yet before the arm is healed enough for the cast to be removed.

Once I'm home again and the groceries put away, I proceed to clean my apartment a little, as it really needs it. Then I take a quick shower, put on some fresh clothes and settle on my couch with my laptop. I have a few things I want to do.

I pull up the list of restaurants I'd previously researched and go through them again. With my new knowledge of Harvey's tastes, I'm able to narrow down the list, rejecting ones that I now know aren't suitable. When I'm done, I'm left with only a few.

I look up these few again, reading reviews of each of them before finally settling on the one I feel seems the best. Then it's a simple matter to grab my phone and call them, making a reservation for Saturday evening.

When that's done, I feel good, like I've accomplished something. I now definitely have a dinner date with Harvey. I mean I knew I did after asking Harvey if he was free Saturday, but making the reservation solidified it, suddenly made it feel more real. It made me realise...

I have a date.

I try to tell myself that it really isn't. It's just a thank you dinner. It's not a 'date' as such. But I don't do a good job of convincing myself. For all intents and purposes, it IS a date. One that I'm not expecting to be repeated, but a date nonetheless. It's been quite some time since I last went on a date...

I shake off that thought. I know it will just make me nervous. There's plenty of time to do that to myself between now and Saturday.

In an attempt to distract myself, I return to my laptop and set about my other task, researching possible gifts for Harvey, which I'm now able to do now that I know some of his interests...

I stop myself, realising that I don't really. I only know of some hobbies he used to have and might be considering taking up again. He didn't make any actual decisions.

I sigh and sit back. I guess the gift will have to wait until he does settle on something.

But it is kind of pleasing that Harvey seems to now want to move away from being a workaholic and explore some interests. I'm not sure what might have caused it though. Another item on on the list of things about Harvey I don't know. But at least its something I'm hopeful he might actually reveal to me at some point.

I stare at my laptop for a few minutes, unsure of what to do with myself now.

Fuck it, I can still look at possibilities, can't I? I just can't settle on any gift until I hear more from Harvey. With that thought, I'm back working away at my laptop, looking at guitars and books and DVDs

Just before six o'clock I put my laptop away and watch some TV while I wait for Harvey to arrive. I find myself looking forward to his arrival.

The knock on my door comes just a few minutes after six. As I approach the door to answer it, a familiar smell reaches my nose. Not Harvey's, because that's there as well, but something else. But with my sense of smell not fully recovered, I can't quite place it...

I open my front door and as I expected, Harvey is standing there. The familiar yet unknown smell is stronger. It almost seems to be coming from the plastic bags the bear has with him.

He smiles warmly at me. "Hey Oliver."

"Hey, hero, come on in." I say, stepping aside to let him in.

As I close the door behind him, I take a big sniff of the air, trying again to place the smell. Then I realise what it is...

I turn to Harvey and look at the bags he's carrying. "Is that...?"

"Yep." He nods, guessing what I was about to say, holding up the bags. "Chinese food! I hope you didn't already have plans for dinner. I thought about calling to check, but... I kind of wanted it to be a surprise..."

"No, that's great!" I say. It's a very nice surprise. I love Chinese food. Did Harvey know that somehow?

I motion him over the couch and he sits down, putting the bags on the coffee table. He starts unpacking them. As I sit down beside him, I notice the logo printed on the containers...

"Jade Dragon?" I say, taken aback a little. "That's my favourite Chinese take-out place..."

He laughs and grins one of his wonderful warm grins. "I know."

"How?" I ask, perplexed.

"I was here a few days ago, remember?"He explains. "Picking up a few things for you. I happened to notice the menu you have on your refrigerator. From how worn it is, I guessed you'd had it a while, suggesting it was a favourite of yours."

My scepticism must have shown on my face as he took one look at me and explained further. "I said earlier that I used to be a cop, I have some detective skills. I meant it. I sometimes pick up on little details like that."

I shrug, accepting his explanation. "OK then..."

Harvey goes back to unpacking our food. "OK, I got you some spring rolls, friend rice, sweet and sour pork and some Peking roasted duck. Whereas I... What?"

He's noticed my stunned expression. "That's my favourite order!"

"I'm glad to hear it!" He puts on a obviously fake expression of innocent surprise.

"How the hell did you know what I like?" I ask, more than a little stunned.

He flashes me a winning smile. "I have my methods."

I fold my arms and glare at him. "How did you know?" I demand.

"I asked them." He explains with a shrug. "You're a regular there and they remembered you."

"And they told you what I usually order?" I'm still a little suspicious. "Just like that?"

He looks at me sheepishly. "Yeah... kind of... after I slipped them a twenty..."

That really takes me by surprise. "You bribed them twenty bucks just to find out my favourite order?"

"Well... yes." He replies, as if that explanation is perfectly normal.

"Harvey..." I begin to say, shocked that he'd do that.

"Oliver, let me put it like this..." Harvey interrupted. "Was it a nice surprise? Has it made you smile and feel happy?"

I nod. "Yes, I suppose it has..."

"Then as far as I'm concerned, it was worth every penny." He grins a wonderful grin at me. "Now, let's leave it at that and eat!" He pushes several containers in my direction.

"But, Harvey..." I'm still wrapping my head around what he's done.

He lets out a sigh. "If it helps, Oliver, think of it like this. You've just spent several days in hospital following a traumatic incident. You deserve a little treat. And as your friend, I've giving you one."

I open my muzzle to say something more, but stop myself, deciding to just go with it and accept Harvey's wonderful surprise.

And it is wonderful. My favourite food from my favourite place? How could it not be? And it really is rather touching the lengths the bear went to in order to do this for me.

I lean over and give him a quick friendly hug. "Thank you, hero."

As I pull back again, I catch his expression. The affection and warmth in his eyes, the wide joyous smile. It's absolutely heart warming. "You're welcome, buddy. Now let's eat before it gets cold!"

I make a quick run to the kitchen to grab us a few beers from the fridge and we get to eating.

The food really is delicious. There's a good reason Jade Dragon is one of my favourite places. I have to keep reminding myself not to rush, but to take my tame and savour it as I eat.

Harvey and I talk a little while we eat, him asking me how my nap went and me asking him about his trip to the gym.

Before long, the food is all gone and we're sitting back on the couch, finishing out beers, letting our meal digest a little.

I'm thoughtful, considering what to do next. I am tempted to try and strike up a conversation about the bad day Harvey had, get him to talk about it. But after he provided a wonderful meal, I feel like it would almost be rude to take the conversation in a depressing direction immediately after. So something else then...

My eyes come to rest on my DVD collection and inspiration strikes me. "How about we watch a movie?"

Harvey seems to like the idea, smiling at the suggestion. "Sure!"

I wave a paw at the shelves holding my DVDs. "You're the guest, so you pick something while I clean up." I get up and start to gather up the empty take-out containers.

"Let me help you with that..." Harvey is almost instantly moving to help me.

"No." I'm insistent. "I can handle this. It's the least I can do after you provided the food. You focus on picking out a movie."

He doesn't protest further, although from his expression I guess he might have wanted to. Instead he gets up to take a closer look at what movies I own.

As I reach the kitchen, I call back to him. "Would you like another beer?"

He hesitates for a moment, looking uncertain before deciding. "OK, one more can't hurt."

In the kitchen, I quickly dump the containers in the trash and grab a couple more beers from the fridge. As I return to the living room, a ringing tone sounds.

Harvey seems to instantly recognise it, reaching into a pocket and pulling out his phone. It's ringing. He stands there staring at it's screen.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" I ask after a moment.

He looks at me, and his expression is odd. Kind of serious and reluctant and thoughtful all at the same time. Then he seems to reach a decision.

He switches off the phone and returns it to his pocket unanswered. "It's just this raccoon friend of mine. He can wait."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "It might be something serious..."

"I'm sure." His tone is hard and serious, giving me the impression it's definitely something he does not want to talk about. "He can wait."

I decide not to push it and move on. "So, did you pick a movie?"

His smile returns as he holds up the DVD he's selected. "Yep! This one!"

I look at it and frown. "Hot Furr? Really? I thought you didn't like cop movies?"

He shrugs. "This is one of the few exceptions." He explains. "It's a British movie, and I don't know enough about British police procedures to notice and be bugged by any inaccuracies. It also helps that it's a damn funny comedy."

"Yes, it is!" I chuckle.

We put the movie on and sit side by side on the couch as we watch. It's a good fun movie and we're often laughing out loud throughout.

But through much of it, I find myself having to fight the urge to shuffle over and snuggle up against the bear. I just keep imagining how nice it would be to be cuddled up with him. It would just be too inappropriate though, so I keep myself under control. But that urge doesn't go away.

Eventually the movie ends and as I switch it off I'm trying to figure out what to do next. Ah, screw it, Harvey helped me out by getting me to talk about my bad day, even if I didn't want to, I should really not be such a coward and do the same with him. What kind of crappy excuse for a friend would I be otherwise?

We sit back on the couch, I sum up my courage and go for it. "So, you want to talk about it? Your bad day?"

He looks at me and sighs, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry, Oliver, but I really don't."

While it is tempting to leave it at that, not push it and risk making him feel bad, I'm determined to try and help him. "Come on, hero. You listened to me talking about my bad day and it helped me feel better. Let me do the same for you." He still seems very reluctant, looking away from me, his shoulders sagging. I add. "Even if you don't want to go into many specific details, talking about it at least a little might help." I reach over and placed a reassuring paw on the bear's shoulder.

He takes a deep breath. "OK, Oliver, I... I'll try..."

I give him a minute and he composes himself. He then turns to look at me, his eyes full of emotion and begins his explanation.

"Yesterday morning I had to go to the police station." He says. "First time I'd been back there since... well, since my career as a cop ended. It really messed me up, brought up all sorts of bad feelings and memories..."

This is obviously tough and painful for him to talk about, so I'm not going to push him for specifics he doesn't feel like volunteering. Like why his career as a cop ended. The temptation to ask really does gnaw at me, but I ignore it as I don't think asking about it would help Harvey at all right now.

But there is something I am curious about. "Why did you go back there?"

"I had to go sign some paperwork." He answers. "My statement about the attack..."

Oh crap! He had to go there, go through this emotional pain because of me, because of what happened to me...

I guess Harvey must have read something in my expression, as he's suddenly looking at me with a combination of frustration and remorse. "Oh God, Oliver, please..." He pleads. "Please don't go feeling guilty about this! It was in no way your fault! It was just something that had to be done..."

Of course, its too late for me not to feel guilty about it, that's already happened. But my aim is to try and help him feel better, so there's no way in hell I'm going to tell him that.

"Okay, okay!" I say, trying to sooth him. "I'll do my best not to. You carry on, I'll be fine."

I'm not sure if he completely believes me, but takes another deep breath and proceeds with his explanation. "So yeah... going back there was rough on me, and it was kind of on my mind the rest of the day, just making me feel worse and worse. Screwed up at work pretty badly and got myself sent home. And then..."

He pauses. A minute passes and I start to wonder f he's going to continue.

"I made a big... a HUGE mistake with a friend." He says, finally. "Please don't ask for details about it, because it... it's seriously embarrassing. I shouldn't have let it happen. But I did."

"Was it really that bad?" I ask.

"Yeah." He replies, his voice full of regret. "The kind of mistake you wish you could just forget ever happened, but probably never will..."

"And this friend..." I say, putting two and two together. "A raccoon is he?"

He sees what I'm getting at. "Yeah, the guy who tried to call me earlier."

I take a moment to think, wondering how to tackle this. Without any specifics, I'm not sure what advice I can give. But God damn it, I want to do or say something that will help him. Harvey's such a great guy and friend, there must be something I can...

Inspiration strikes me. I recall some advice my father gave me when I was I cub. Before I came out to him. A part of me is against using anything the homophobic bastard might have said to me, but its good advice, whatever the source. Although there was no way in hell I was going to tell Harvey where it came from.

"Nobody is perfect, we all make mistakes." I tell him. "To think otherwise would be stupid and foolish. And yes, sometimes, those mistakes are going to be big and bad. But what really matters most isn't the mistakes we make, but how we deal with them afterwards. Do we run away from them? Or do we face them, learn from them, accept and deal with the consequences of them?"

Harvey takes that in, staying silent and looking thoughtful.

I'm thoughtful too, thinking about my own mistakes. About Justin. Calling him was a mistake and what am I going to do about it? Just run away from it, not call him, ignore him? Or maybe it was time to finally talk to Justin properly and resolve things honestly?

What it really comes down to is am I such a big hypocrite as to give my friend advice that I myself won't follow?

And thinking of Justin gives me another idea of where to lead the conversation with Harvey. "If it helps." I tell him. "You're not the only one to make mistakes with friends recently. I made one too."

"Oh?" He looks at me quizzically, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah." I nod. "I'll even tell you about it if you promise not to blame yourself and feel guilty about it. It was completely my mistake."

He thinks about this. "I can promise you I'll try my best not to feel that way."

"Good enough, I suppose." I shrug. "Well... in a moment of loneliness after you and Frank left Monday night, I called a friend. He then took a day off work yesterday and spent it with me to keep me company."

A look of utter bafflement crosses Harvey's face. "You're going to have to explain that one, buddy. That qualifies as a mistake?"

"It does." I sigh. "This friend... Justin. He's a great guy, a lovely fox, but... he's an ex-boyfriend. One I was with for years. We've tried to be friends, but it didn't really work, it just led to heartache for me. I hadn't talked to him in more than a year. Then in a moment of feeling bad I made the mistake of calling him..."

The bear's face takes on a pained look. "Oliver, I..."

I cut him off. "Hey, you promised you'd try not to feel guilty about it!"

He stops and hold up his paws. "You're right, I did. Sorry."

I nod and continue. "It was nice to see him. But I still... I still have very strong feelings for him. And its ultimately tough trying to be friends with someone when you feel that way about them... but they don't feel the same way..."

A weird sort of dark and thoughtful look crosses Harvey's face for a moment. "Yeah. I suppose it would be..."

I realise the conversation is heading in a potentially depressing direction. I try to turn it towards something more productive. "But it was my mistake, so I have to deal with it. What are you going to do about yours?"

He looks at me and a small smile appears on his muzzle. "I guess if you're going to face and deal with yours, I should do the same with mine."

"Is that a promise?" I say, returning his smile.

After a brief pause, he nods. "Sure, I promise I'll deal with my mistake if you deal with yours."

"It's a deal then!" I chuckle.

"I mean it, buddy." Harvey is solemn. "I take promises very seriously."

That comes as no surprise. Harvey had always struck me as an honest and honourable guy. "I don't doubt it, hero." I assure him. "I promise I will deal with my mistake, too."

It's only after the words have left my muzzle that I realise that means dealing further with Justin. But strangely, that thought is not accompanied by the usual sense of dread. In all honesty, now that I've determined to do it, I feel like it might turn out okay, I might end up helping myself feeling better in the long run.

Or maybe that's just a hope I'm clinging to now that I've made a promise to Harvey and am going to have to do it. The idea of breaking a promise to the bear is one I just don't even let into my head.

A moment later Harvey has pulled me into an affectionate hug, his big arms around me. I relax into it. It always feels so damn good when Harvey hugs me.

"Thanks, buddy." He says, a trace of relaxed happiness evident in his voice. "For getting me to talk about it. It has actually helped me feel better about things."

"I'm glad I could help." I tell him, honestly.

We hug for a few moments more before pulling apart. After that, we chat for a bit more, but it isn't long before it's the time for him to get going.

"Wish I could stay longer." He says, as he gets up to leave. "But I really need to get home and be sure to get a good nights sleep. I've got work tomorrow."

"I understand, Harvey." I say, getting up to see him out. "We'll see each other again soon. Saturday evening."

"Of course!" Harvey smiles. "What time should I come by?"

"No." I state, firmly. "This will be me treating you, so I'll pick you up. Just text me your address, OK? It will be interesting to see where you live..."

"If you say so." He laughs. "But I should warn you, it's nothing special."

"I'll judge for myself." I say. "But it's where a very good friend lives, so that makes it automatically interesting."

The bear lets out a hearty chuckle at that, which in turn makes me smile. We reach the front door and I open it for him.

"So, I'll come by and pick you up around 7pm." I tell him. "Dress smartly. I'll take care of everything else."

Harvey pats me on the shoulder. "I'm already looking forward to it, buddy!"

"Me too, hero!" I grin back at him

"And if you want to chat at all between then and now, don't hesitate to give me a call." He says, an edge of seriousness creeping into his tone.

"Don't worry, I won't!" I assure him. "Goodnight, Harvey."

"Goodnight, Oliver!" He flashes me one final smile and then turns and leaves.

As I close on the front door, I reflect on the day I've spent with Harvey. It's been good....

No, it's been very good. I had started today thinking all I'd accomplish this day would be leaving hospital. Now, I'd done not only that, but also spent a good bit of time with Harvey, made things up with him, helped him feel better and learned some stuff about him. I was feeling good.

That lasts all of five minutes. Then a cold worry starts niggling at me. I was liking Harvey more than ever and I could only see myself liking him more and more. If that happened, and he just wanted to be friends, it could be very difficult having him in my life...

I push that thought away. This has been too good a day to let such negative thoughts ruin it. If it happens, it happens. Right now, I can look forward to a date, or non-date, or thank you dinner, or whatever the hell I end up calling it, on Saturday with a handsome and wonderful bear.

Right now, I can cling to the hope that Harvey will be part of my life for a long time to come...