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Intro: Just a nightmare

A paw rests firmly on a familiar neck. I can’t make out the face but it’s obvious that they’re in pain. The squirming, the sputters, the stillness. They protest and resist but it doesn’t stop. Somehow I can tell that they’re someone close to me, someone I care deeply about. There’s a startling flash of light that clouds my vision but I can still make out one thing. My paw, resting on the faint pulse of their neck.

I shoot straight up in bed, rubbing my matted headfur and trying to control my breathing. My paw occasionally presses one of my ears down as I try to stay calm. My round, bouncy ears just spring back up, probably faster than usual now that I’m awake and alert.

Wednesday. At least I’m up early. Throwing my heavy comforter aside, I myself down, realizing that everywhere aside from my head is dry. I stand up and stretch upwards, letting a meek, effeminate mewl escapes my maw. A moment elapses. I look around and wait but eventually shrug, just hoping Bervin didn’t hear that, knowing he would bully me for making such cute sounds.

Focusing back on my routine, I make a few steps towards my room door but end up getting distracted again. A decorated picture frame sits atop my dresser like it always does. The stickers “Middle Burrow” and “Best Friends” are peeling off, frayed at the edges. But the expensive wooden finish shines proudly in the peering sunlight. The picture is of a grinning polar bear pulling both a lion and a cheetah close to him. Not even three years ago since Levi, Tyson, and I were eagerly awaiting what life had to offer. I smile. I hope they think of me just as fondly as before. Probably not.

The smell of sizzling bacon fills the air outside my room. The narrow hallway is great at trapping in smells, which is usually a bad thing since there’s also a bathroom here, but this morning has me thanking Oobis for the house’s architecture. As if a deity would care what some cheetah is grateful for. I’m distracted from my mental tangent by the click of a nearby door. My assumptions on who it is are confirmed as I turn to the side. My caracal roommate’s prominent ears perk up and tilt my way, probably hearing the exacerbated sigh that leaves my muzzle. Bervin peers at me with an unreadable expression, seemingly a usual mixture of exhaustion and disappointment.

“Surely you did not expect to use the restroom first. That would be laughable, even for you,” Bervin comments before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door. I barely get the chance to see what expensive pajama set he has on before he disappears. If I didn’t move to Vorsay, I wouldn’t think much of it, but apparently indoor outfits are just as meaningful as outdoor ones? I’d have to ask Tyson or Marca to explain how that works again.

Moving along, I trudge down the dimly lit hallway and turn left. Now there’s the smell of eggs, which meshes beautifully with the already delightful aroma of bacon. My maw starts to salivate but once I take in the full view of the kitchen, I begin to hunger for something else entirely.

Tyson is energetically bobbing his head as he switches his focus between skillets. The surrounding mane follows close behind, remaining as one mass of hair with its iconic blonde streaks, shining as bright as ever. Shimmering and glistening the most, however, is my friend’s mostly exposed chest. Beneath the baggy white apron are the results of Tyson’s fitness, even more apparent with the slight dampness from his post-workout shower. His practically nonexistent body fat is shown prominently with those hardy abs. I’ve felt them before and it is everything a male-loving fur like me wants: dense and muscular but comfy enough to rest my head on. Just above that are those large, pillowy pecs. He shows me every possible angle as he turns and moves while he cooks. I feel a throb in my shorts as I imagine the two of us cuddling, me sighing dreamily as my head rests upon his chest, welcoming the surface beneath me. He would never date me though. I don’t even think he likes males like that anyway, pushing aside the whole breeder dynamic. But watching him put all his energy into making a meal for me—

“Morning Tyson. Move Purce.”

I flinch, turn around, and skitter to the side, almost falling over. Where the fuck did he come from?! With how pungent his pricey cologne is, it should have been obvious he was approaching. Bervin struts by me, wearing a satin green blouse (probably made for males?) and shiny black trousers.

“Oh, morning fuzz! I’m making the usual. This pork stuff though… you two should really stick with fish!”

Bervin scoffs in response to the lion, “My diet is perfect.”

“Not even fuzz! No fur is perfect but we all work towards it! As Levi says, my routine keeps my vessel clean.”

I watch Bervin’s ears flatten and twitch as I head back into the hallway, going to the bathroom. It should really be more careful about my fantasies; even mentally, the stigma towards those who aren’t “breeders” lives rent-free in my head. Not that the country hates male-loving furs like be but there is almost this unspoken rule that those who procreate are preferred, especially by parents. As I brush my fangs, clean my face, and generally freshen up, my thoughts take a more personal approach. I study my reflection, inspecting the markings and spots that surround my head. I ruffle my dyed headfur and smile a bit. Despite all that, things are good now, meaning things can only get worse. I start walking back to the kitchen.

“...And you can really attain more fiber from spinach over kale! They don’t really tell you that.”

Bervin is sitting at the table with his arms crossed, dialed in on the empty chair across from him as he listens to the lion. His claws frantically tap on his arm but his maw is completely shut, something unique to his interactions with Tyson. Is it respect or does he just hate me that much? As I get closer to the table, Bervin turns to me and forcibly relaxes, filling me with a sense of dread.

“Perhaps you have more experience in more protein-rich diets. Fats even, if I had to guess.”

“Maybe,” I reply, sitting down and glancing over to Tyson walking over with our plates.

“And here we are! A decorated kale and bacon omelet for Bervin and two slices of bacon, scrambled eggs, and a pancake for Purce!”

“Thanks, really,” I nod, gleaming up at Tyson. The lion sits down and takes off his apron. Oobis. Please. I have to eat and leave soon. This fur with his tempting ways.

“As I presumed,” Bervin adds, nodding towards my plate. He begins to eat and I do the same, knowing not to engage.

---

The trek outside is less suffocating with a distinct lack of Bervin’s snide or Tyson’s unintentional seduction. The gentle breeze and the glowing sun attempt to persuade me into thinking today will go well. Ha! I can’t be fooled by such methods. Every single day in Vorsay has the same mild yet bright weather throughout. Moving here with Tyson and Levi was an excellent choice though, especially with how dreary southern Dravíl can be. Tyson begins to fill my mind, stirring up a sense of doubt and guilt. Thinking such self-centered things about my best friend just feels wrong. His whole presence has always been comforting though. Maybe that’s why I like him? He knows how to make me feel at ease and damn is he a feast for the eyes. I could spend years trying to figure out how this happened but it wouldn’t change how I feel. Or the fact that he won’t date me. Who would?

Before furthering my diatribe, the third distracting smell of the day introduces itself to me. Sparkling yet deep, rich and inviting; Yeah, that’s Camtera’s alright. The decently-sized coffee shop ahead of me stands out amidst our typical architecture. Its blue and yellow theming with its modern and friendly design aim to appeal to everyone. Heading inside, the equally attention-grabbing interior decor is much more balanced with some relaxed choices. Wooden-framed paintings of popular Vorsayan landscapes, the traditional order bell, and the simplistic menus help stave off most of the other overwhelming aspects.

“Homo-G-Chee! Welcome back~!”

I instinctively shield my eyes and look either way. On my right, there’s a crowd of business furs speaking at a large table, specifically there for these type of meetings. They all wear matching suits and seem intent on whatever they’re talking about. At a nearby table is a fur who seems to be a parent, holding their tiger cub and staring out the window. Cute, and also not paying attention to me. I subtly survey the other side of Camtera’s. A spattering of multistudy-aged furs are all chatting and/or working on their laptops. One seal in particular is tilting their head, trying to identify me. My eyes widen and I face forward again, rushing up to the counter.

“Marca, please,” I plead, facing the hyena. She’s just giggling as her prominent headfur bang bounces a bit.

“Relax! I know them! They don’t know you. Unless…?”

“The usual, please,” I interrupt, shaking my head and facing away from the seal.

“How did breakfast go? Or did you already venture into The Dusty Place?”

Looking back over, Marca has her usual dark blue apron and yellow uniform on. Her short and straightened headfur is stylized so that her left eye is covered up, giving off a pretty unique look. Currently, she’s starting up the coffee machine, going about it with perfectly practiced movements. It’s great one of us has income that isn’t from the Nationwide Ordinance. It still blows my mind that, as long as you live here, you have a living income that helps keep you alive. Dravíl could never. Oh, right, she asked about breakfast.

“Good. No incidents. And it’s Malia’s Mysteries, not the… dusty place.”

“Sure, okayyy, but wait. Did Bervin not bully you today? Did Tyson not excite you this morning?” She challenges as she peers at me.

I roll my eyes and feel my fur stand up a bit. It’s hot all of a sudden.

“Or are you more excited by me~?”

The hyena chuckles and starts running her paws down her sides. She sensually slows her pace as she moves over her chest and hips, simultaneously lowering slowly behind the counter. With a playful growl, she ends up mostly behind the register. Time feels like it stops and the silence grows louder. It feels like everyone’s staring and I can’t take much more of this, even if she just started.

“No, no, stop, please,” I whisper shout. The hyena raises an eyebrow before she explodes into her usual contagious laughter. I can’t help but give out an amused exhale.

“I’ll have you one day,” she promises as she stands back up. Marca mutters a soft ‘really’ before turning to my coffee and adding more to it. The talking in the coffee shop has completely stopped, confirming my suspicions. I steal a glance at the furs my age, making eye contact with the seal. The look I’m given of slight annoyance has me turn back to the counter.

“What’s your educational punishment this time?”

“Uh, The Founding of Vorsay, two,” I mumble while moving closer to the counter. Conversation gradually picks back up in the background.

“Since when did we get a sequel?”

Smirking, I reply, “I know. Guess we’re that good.”

Ding!

“Camtera Black with one sugar, three creamers, and a vanilla infusion! Ready for slurping!” Marca shouts after ringing the bell, blasting through all other chatter. It goes silent again.

An exhausted sigh escapes me and my paw quickly grabs the coffee that she made. I set my Vorsas down, paying for the drink, and wrap both paws around the mug. The soothing warmth against my pawpads and the pungent scent… Oobis. Taking a small sip, my pleasure continues with its creaminess and layered taste. This is what coffee should be; a milky, comforting start to any day. Not that I need coffee or really care about its benefits but it just tastes so good like this.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice speaks from behind me.

Moving aside, a muscular beaver walks up to Marca. They wear a pink shirt littered with small drawings and a pink plaid skirt. I could never pull that off but I think that’s the point? I forgot to ask Marca about the fashion here.

“Hey Steve! The same spice this morning?”

“I’m afraid not. I fear what would happen if I keep that up.”

I tune out the beaver’s husky voice and wave goodbye to Marca. Pushing the door open and meeting the outside wind is overwhelmingly pleasant. The day loves to lull me into a false sense of security. The sunlight washes over me as I take another sip. Unfortunately with me being so preoccupied this morning, I forgot to bring my own mug. Tapping the bottom and feeling the bulge where the chip is, it reminds me that I’m not too used to returning containers. Hm, tomorrow then. Taking two mugs will be annoying.

I take another hearty drink. A shiver runs down my spine, recalling today’s events and how it started.

What exactly was that nightmare?

Chapter 1: I had hope before

It’s impossible to be scared when you’re this relaxed. The comfort of the park’s welcoming breeze removes all tension from my muscles. Its calming scent of dew and dirt cement my place in reality. No, there’s no real humidity. Just your average Palv morning. I melt into the bench but I’m still left unsatisfied, knowing worries never truly disappear despite the softening of their physical effects. Another multistudy lecture awaits me.

With a deep sigh, I place both paws on the bench seat and stand up. Looking around would accomplish nothing as the weak sunlight only reveals the general tones and shapes of the packed Gresna trees. After stretching my limbs and breathing slowly, I head towards the closest side exit. Palv Park is not the most dedicated in terms of infrastructure but its smooth, stoned trails are really useful for us furs with pawpads.

No other furs this morning, which is strange for this time of day. Especially with the abundance of gym fiends that stop by; Cyclists and runners usually fill the air with their sturdy thuds and whirring metals but, today, only the kisses of leaves and affections of birds soundtrack the atmosphere. Maybe I should visit Bark Crush Gym soon. Both Levi and Tyson would be there, getting all pumped up and showing off muscle as they exercise. It’s easy to imagine Tyson that way since he hides nothing about his body but wondering how the bulky and wide Levi would go about it is a tempting thought experiment. Maybe he will be shirtless, showing off his generous belly and tough physique, coated in the most pale fur possible. I start to quicken my pace, aware of the bad idea it is to continue fantasizing about my friends.

Strolling past the tall “Palv Park” sign, the park begins to slowly transition into the rest of the city. There’s a bit more fervor as furs jog past me toward Palv Park or rush out their houses to grab a Hitch. It’s still impressive to me how much of Palv, and Vorsay overall, prefers and advocates for ride-sharing, something I would rarely see back in my home country of Dravíl. Luckily there are buses for those like me who have trouble starting conversations with strangers. Maneuvering past a few early morning Palvians leads me towards a familiar main road where the vehicles start to become more prominent as it gets later in the morning. I’m just in time.

Just ahead of me to the right is a quaint wooden building with untamed foliage surrounding it. Peeking out between blades of grass is the sign “Malia’s Mysteries” as it tries to expose itself. When I cross the street and begin walking its stone trail, it’s evident to see that the lawn has still not been addressed. It could be that no one has cared to bring it up but how does she get away with this? Does she have some sort of deal with the city? I just shrug to myself and open the door.

The subtle yet strange odor of dusty books and natural fragrances immediately washes over me. Coughing when entering Malia’s shop gets old quick. The bell above chimes, echoing as I kick my hindpaws to get rid of any excess dirt. Something as simple as walking in, stepping on the carpet, and looking around invigorates me. Shelves and cases of historical and peculiar items pack the building in an assortment akin to a candy store. Resold jewelry, decades-old books, and strange artifacts are the main attractions here. My giddy self can only smile as I let out a satisfied exhale. Comfortably delving into the first aisle, all there is left to do is browse while I await the inevitable appearance of the owner.

To my immediate right is a shelf with decorated lighters and metallic claw tips. There’s a set of silver claws tips that catch my eye amidst the others. It has chains attached to it and it has a striking yellow and green theme. Is this based on that one show? What was it, Murvay, or something? It’ll come to me later. Peering towards the other side, I see a section for lighters. They're all themed or patterned: Cardiola, Tumilis, a paw print, or some other unidentifiable design. None of them resonate with me so my interest moves on. Nearing the end of the aisle and towards another section of the store is… No way. A sturdy, stainless steel display stand is propped up near the bathroom door. It rests at an angle and, through its pristine glass shield, lies a fairly simplistic necklace with a thin gold string and a jarring centerpiece. Stepping closer, I can see that it’s a carving of a balled up paw that’s dark gray and made up of a strange material. It almost looks like stone. What a horrific item. It sitting here becomes even more perplexing given the general context. Malia never has just one jewelry item on its own like this.

“Mmm, welcome back~.”

My heart leaps and so do I. I curse under my breath as my body bumps into Malia.

“Sorry,” I mumble before stepping back from the bear. One of her heavy paws caresses the top of my headfur, causing the bracelets on her wrists to jingle noisily.

“Face me now, Purce,” Malia commands. The warm air dancing on the tips of my fur cause me to grow cold. She is going to ban me from shopping here ever again. Her first standalone display and I already ruin its value with my presence. Now it's time to make up for my stupidity. Collecting myself, I turn around and any worries I had dissipate. I even begin to smile.

In front of me is the brown bear who owns this shop. She’s wearing a flawless pearl-colored dress and a similarly shaded hat. The headpiece is about twice as wide as it is tall, decorated with dyed roses and artificial white leaves. She could be mistaken for a Nationwide Ordinance member with the sheer quality and sharpness of her outfit but I know better. She’s wearing this to tell the world that she is professional, organized, and values beauty. Unsurprisingly, Malia is also wearing real pearls that sit proudly alongside her usual six gold necklaces. She once told me that each represent a country she’s visited. This must be before I moved because she’s here anytime I stop by. When would she be able to travel otherwise?

“Do my goods excite you Purce?” Malia whispers. She has her sleeved arms at an angle as each brown paw rests upon her hips, wrists adorned with more colors than a flag could reasonably portray. The bear lets out a lewd coo and slides her paws up her boisterous form, eventually leading me to her eyes.

“When did you get the necklace? It wasn’t here Friday.” I deny her the flirtatious eye contact and turn back to the display stand.

Malia’s smug laugh echoes behind me before she walks back into my line of vision.

“Oh, this? I could not imagine you being so enticed by something so… gaudy.”

She’s absolutely right. The dull luster of the centerpiece boldly competing against its gold captor is almost frightening. Its existence is like a bad idea purposely continued until its completion. And yet, it has my full, undivided attention. Every limb and strand of fur of mine is facing this monstrosity, taking in its form. It shouldn’t interest me at all. When I come here, it's never for jewelry or expensive taste; It's for the history, the quirks of these long forgotten items. Or even the weird marketing strategies some of these companies pull with the keychains and claw tips. But this necklace would be the only necklace I’ve ever owned. An otherworldy voice speaks from behind me.

“A hundred Vorsas.”

---

“一 And as an esteemed graduate of Vente, he would go on to quell the pre-existing fears of the populace by furthering the Principles of Peace.”

I stare blankly ahead as my thoughts replay this morning. My digits trace over the centerpiece of my necklace. What else did I buy? Was this really enough to warrant the trip, and only this? Buying one item is fine but why would I wear this? Looking down at my decision, I watch the necklace dangle against my dark green shirt. It can always be returned. Malia is more than lenient with me on returns and this being my first one would make sense. The money from this could go towards other things if I do return it.

An arm brushing against me causes me to look up, a bit panicked. Furs are standing up and the professor is packing up his thing, putting his laptop into its dedicated case. I follow suit, standing up and grabbing my notebook, looking at the few notes I wrote down. As long as I have something.

Making my way out of the classroom, through the packed hallway, and eventually outside is a major relief. Having more space to witness the world and its grandiosity is good for me I think. Either way, this is my favorite part of any multistudy day. The sheer variety of furs and their outfits all saying something about them. For instance, there’s a bat with a toolbelt and a stylish pink and red outfit talking on the phone, wanting to show that they’re capable of being both playful and serious when needed. Further down but not too far away is a beaver holding two metal rods with bases seemingly explaining something to their compatriots, wearing all white to show their professionalism. One of the members in that group is a purple fur wearing all black, a sign that they don’t have much they’re willing to share. They’re also glaring at me, making me a bit more self-conscious. Okay, looking away.

I head into a more open area of The Specialty Spot. There’s a tigress with— oh, that’s Yoletta. She’s repping the Growl aesthetic with her black stompers, dark grey denim outfit and elbow…spikes? Next to Yoletta is Marca, wearing a cyan knee-length skirt and a thin pink sweater with the words “Best Chest” written, well, on the chest. Cyan, the color of...support, friendship, and I think something else. Wait, Marca is an art major. Would she know more about those spikes and the Growl movement? I start to ponder until the two eventually notice me.

“It’s Pretty Purce!”

I roll my eyes after Marca’s shout, seeing the hyena run over to me. She hugs me, which I begrudgingly return.

“Hey Purce,” Yoletta mildly greets as she trudges over.

“Hey. How was class?” I ask.

Marca scoffs at the question, separating from the hug and facing the tigress, “Couldn’t he design a better question?”

“Let’s walk to food,” Yoletta commands, immediately posturing herself as the leader, “It was dumb, Purce. This ‘Shapes, themes, color, and design’ class is sluggish.”

We follow behind Yoletta as she starts walking, giving me a moment to study her outfit a bit more carefully. She has tight, grey denim pants and a jean jacket to match, both perfectly suited to her form. The stompers she wears are massive and go all the way to her knees. How much do those things even weigh? How strong are her calves? I glance down at my bare hindpaws as they step along the flat concrete, then at my legs. It would take a lot of getting used to for me to wear those things. When I look back up at the tigress, they land on the elbow spikes attached to leather black straps around her arm. Those straps scrunch up the jean jacket, creating a ripple effect of wrinkled denim. What is the purpose of those? Why is she wearing something that looks so uncomfortable?

“...and it would be really cool if you knew that color code too.”

That’s Marca’s voice but it doesn’t register for me as I study those spikes. Wait, right, that’s Marca’s voice.

“What color code?” I question, facing the hyena.

Marca jabs my side and grins, “Got you out of your head. Don’t worry, my king, it was artistic babble. When’d you get the necklace?”

I frown and protect my side. The necklace feels hot against my neck but I feel more hurt emotionally. These jabs usually don’t make me feel this sad. She didn’t mean it but it still felt really mean.

“At Malia’s this morning.”

She gasps and puts her paws up in agony, shaking them, “When will it end? More tomb raiding and now he’s checking out my friend instead of me?!”

“I wasn’t,” I protest, turning back to Yoletta. She continues marching on as our path becomes more congested. Various crowds of furs shuffle out of buildings, creating most of the traffic. The gathering chatter is almost mind numbing as it continues to get louder. Would I even be doing this alone? Crowds are manageable but this is another level. Turning my gaze upwards, I see the looming behemoth that is Hunter’s Hub. We’re not even close enough to really take in its height but the disgusting dark green and the silver accenting it is still visible.

“I bet it was those nice, supple breeding hips, huh?” Marca guesses, using her paws to mimic the shape of Yoletta’s waist.

“No, it’s not that,” I sigh, “Just, what are those spikes for? And what is the point of the Growl thing again?”

“Oh the spikes are for protection, but you would have to ask her what from. I thought you’ve seen them before? I tried them on once but my arms are too skinny to fit them on,” Marca smiles as she makes eye contact with me, “Not that I would wear them! That whole Growl thing, King Chee, is just like… It’s almost like, uh, a cool anti-fashion statement. Like, rahhh, I’m not following your rules. You know?”

I face forward and look at the furs around us. They’re all wearing outfits that express something but always in a playful or relaxed way. Then, turning back to Yoletta, there’s the aggressive lack of color, the harsh edges, and the spikes. She feels bigger than she is even but, with the backdrop being the rapidly approaching Hunter’s Hub, the tigress seems like every other fur, small in the presence of our surroundings. Why wear this then? What does she even need protecting from? Her strength surpasses both Marca and I combined.

“Did you sleep with Tyson yet?”

I almost trip and my fur bristles. My eyes and ears don’t know which way to face as they try to look around for who might have heard, which is impossible in this crowd. Yoletta is still charging vigilantly towards her destination, getting closer to the entrance. With a sigh of relief, I glare at Marca.

“Whaaat? It’s an honest question and she can’t hear us anyway.” Marca responds, her smile widening.

“I have not slept with him yet. We’re still friends.”

“You can still be friends! Just with added benefits— wait, yet?!”

I cover my face. My necklace burns against my chest and the crowd chatter increases. I let my fantasies become a goal, which is bad. Very bad. Tyson wouldn’t have me as a mate even if he was like me. Why did I even say that? Hopefully Marca forgets but, judging by her immediate intrigue, I doubt it.

When the air around me starts to cool, I uncover my face to find that we’ve entered Hunter’s Hub. It overstates its importance as its size and existence make it seem like the heart of Vente Multistudy. The lower floors contain admission for Vente registration and at least a dozen places to eat. The upper floors are dedicated to the ever-expanding library and the multitude of soundproof presentation rooms. And it will continue to grow as it gets new construction every couple of years. But, looking around as we enter, seeing the clusters of furs filling the interior, watching the professors plan lectures and converse with students, anyone can be concinved that this is the heart of Vente Multistudy.

“Good afternoon! Velve cover us!” A cheerful blossom bat from the admission desk greets everyone walking in. It’s always nice of them to do that but our species is usually more aligned with Oobis. I at least wave as a sign of respect but Yoletta traverses on like they don’t exist.

Yoletta finally stops to acknowledge us as we arrive at the restaurants.

“Marca, how hungry are you?”

“We can hit a medium! Anything that can put some needed muscle on this cheetah while letting me keep my form!” Marca answers with a small giggle.

“What form?” I softly but defiantly ask, earning a push from the hyena. A smile finds its way to my muzzle.

“At least one of us goes to the gym! I see Tyson there more than you, scaredy-cat~.”

I roll my eyes and feel my smile leave again and the peculiar pendant sting my neck. Tyson this, Tyson that. Why is she so curious about this? I brought up my crush to her only to free this pent up feeling of longing and desire. It’s not something that makes me feel good, especially with the way my parents are. Why would they be happy knowing their only son isn’t a breeder? Having offspring is so important to them but with how I am and Marca being so insistent… I don’t know. I grasp at my nape and tug on my warmed fur. Am I having a panic attack? I don’t think my neck was this warm this morning.

“Purce? You look like you’re going to cry.”

I jump at the sound of Marca’s voice and look her way. She was snapping her paw at me but now she’s studying my face. Looking even higher up, I spot the sign for ‘Pignosen’, a pork-based eatery. So lost in my head, not even realizing that the pushing of the crowds has turned into a polite, single-file line.

“It’s just, why do you keep asking me about him?”

“Purce, you talk about Tyson like he’s Oobis.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“That you want to make your mate,” Marca adds. She cocks her head, making her headfur bang to move, “Be real fuzz. I can tell how much you light up every time you verbally daydream about him.”

This earns a slight turn from Yoletta but thankfully she’s soon distracted by the cashier calling for her.

I sigh, glancing down, “He’s just thoughtful and kind. Maybe it would be nice to be with him but I just want him around.”

Marca leans forward, smirks, then whispers, “Around you as he’s buried inside while you cuddle~.”

“Marca, I—,” I start, frustrated and flustered before covering my face, hot to the touch. All the confidence I had is washed out with Marca’s statement. Would she even get it? I don’t just want to mate with him, though that’s still something I’d like. Tyson has been with me for most of my life. The lion has brightened my sour moods and helped ease my worries. Any struggling fur would want him by their side. He makes everything better by existing. He’s my…wait.

“Marca, he’s you, and I’m Yoletta. It’s balance,” I explain, moving my paws away from my face. My revelation isn’t realized as Marca isn’t here anymore. In fact, the only thing ahead of me is a cashier calling for the next fur--- me.

“What can I get you?” The gray hedgehog hurriedly asks. They have a really cute dark red apron with a logo of a pig’s nose on it. Do the cashiers cook too? Right, now is not the time.

“Sorry. A veggie-wrapped Bacon Sword with pork cutlets and crisp potatoes.”

“11 Vorsas please.”

They scan my card, give me my receipt, and call for the next customer. They walk up without an issue, wearing a red and white suit while giving me a look. It seems that everyone else is less distracted than me. With a sigh, I head over to where Marca and Yoletta are both hovering near the pick-up counter.

“Lost, heado? Usually Yoletta is the one for all that!” Marca grins, earning a grunt from the tigress. The insult would sting less if it weren’t so true.

“He’s my Yoletta,” I mumble, shrugging my shoulders. Soon after the words leave my muzzle, a sharp claw threatens the middle of my chest.

“You don’t have what Marca and I have,” the tigress snarls, leaving some spit on my chin. She emphasizes this by pressing her claw further into the middle of my shirt, threatening to rip it. I put both paws up and lean back. What does she mean by that?

Marca starts laughing before stepping closer to us, “Oh, woah~?”

She seems to have the same thought I did. It’s almost surprising how quickly Yoletta retreats, turning away and lowering her arms. She goes back to pretending not to notice me. Maybe there is some truth to my assumptions? And did her cheeks redden some? When I look over to Marca, she just winks at me before following the grumpy tigress. In their paws are cloth bags, presumably with their food. Somehow I didn’t notice that.

As the crowd swallows them up, I'm left to my own devices again. Time to satiate my boredom by looking into the crowd. The comedic tees and vibrant color combinations furs wear aid in lifting my mood. Peering towards the other end of the building, however, quiets my amusement. In the distance is that same purple-coated fur from earlier. The same fur that I saw right after leaving class. Staring at me. My ears ring and my heart picks up. Should I know them? What would they want? Do they not have anything better to do? Maybe I should tell someone. The worst part is that I can’t recognize the species, especially with a strange color like that, it’s just—

“Cheetah! Your food!!” Someone shouts.

My hindpaws leave the ground and I swirl around, my paws up. There’s a dark blue skunk shaking a cloth bag, frowning at me. For the second time within minutes, most of the furs in line stare at me. I must look like an absolute idiot to them. My paws go to my side and I try to casually walk up.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumble while grabbing the food. They just nod and disappear into the kitchen. Even with the sounds and smells returning to me again after my panic, I still feel unsettled. And my neck keeps burning too. I look down and just see my necklace, same as before. I look up and back over to the end of the building I was staring at to see no purple-coated fur. They probably were never even there. That's fine. My mind is prone to wandering and imagining things. They could just be a side effect of a mental issue. I’ll tell my therapist.

“...and then who would I date?” I hear Marca ask as I get closer to the table. It's a decent distance away from Pignosen, more towards the middle of Hunter’s Hub but still in this section of the building.

“Me. You can rely on me,” Yoletta declares in a low tone. Marca lets out a sigh, seeming a bit sad. I drop down in a seat, causing Marca to perk up immediately.

“Uh, Purce! Do you have a date for me? I heard Alton is throwing his couples party and I really want to go!”

Right, Alton, the Pawball champion. A heavy exhale leaves my body. That fur can turn anything into a party. I’ve only slightly turned my head towards Yoletta before catching sight of the fire in her eyes. I decide not to look her way or even suggest her.

“Who are you interested in?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Marca starts, resting her chin on her paws, elbows on the table, “A certain carnivora~. One with a nice maw that I rarely get to see the inside of.”

It takes a lot of restraint to stop me from facing the tigress. Doesn’t she fit that description? Marca was never really specific on who she dates, since she flirts with both Yoletta and I.

“Do you need to see the inside of their maw?” I ask while I unwrap my food.

“Purce, how can I know a fur without seeing what’s on the inside?”

My fangs sink into my veggie-wrapped bacon and all stress fades away. The crunch that follows paired with the explosive flavors that fill my cheeks is euphoric. This is what the afterlife is if I get my act together. This and so much more. Each chew sheds away another layer of mystery this food could possibly contain. This is phenomenal. Through all this enjoyment, I think I let out a moan.

“Someone really needs a good pounding,” Marca snickers.

I am lost in my bliss and swallow what I've chewed. But, when the words settle, I set my food back on its wrapping and stare at the hyena. She widens her grin.

“What? Am I wrong?”

My shoulders droop and the noise around me gets even louder. I grieve my appetite and stare down at my food. Is she wrong? It’s just a jab but it hurts so much, burning more than the fur under my necklace. On any other day, it wouldn’t. Any other day but I just can’t today. Why does she keep asking? It’s not going to change the reality of me being unlikable. Unlovable. Unmateable. Even with my vision getting blurry, the truth is crystal clear. Nothing will happen if I stay like this. This routine is isolating and the furs around me are so far, no matter how close. Maybe Marca says something else but I’m not registering anything. I take my food and get up to leave. I can’t be here or be me anymore.

Chapter 2: But they’re right there

_ Purce _

The trek to the front door takes every ounce of energy left in me. There’s a high likelihood both of my roommates are inside awaiting my arrival. It would be silly to think otherwise and even sillier to ignore them. With a sigh, I place my paw on the cold doorknob and prepare myself. Here goes nothing.

It doesn’t take long for the smell of salmon to hit my nostrils after opening the door. I take a step forward, entranced by the scent. Unfortunately, my slight rise in mood is interrupted as I meet Bervin’s glare. He’s seated at the living room couch seemingly working on something on his laptop. He makes sure I register the discontentment on his face before turning back to his work.

“Is that Purce?!” I hear Tyson call out. Without a moment to properly respond, the lion’s deliberate steps make their way towards me and I’m pulled into a hug. It’s almost unsettling the speed of it all but the warmth of his embrace is everything. Especially after today.

“Hey,” I manage to say as I return his affection. Daring a glance towards the couch, I notice Bervin studying us for just a second before he whips his head back towards his screen.

“Fuzz, you HAVE to try my sandwich! I’ll make you one, okay?” Tyson asks, separating from the hug and gazing at me.

“Okay.”

He’s going to make me one no matter what I would have said. He grins, claps his paws together, and excitedly scurries back to the kitchen. My eyes tear up; I have to get to my room soon.

“Did you know Levi got a date?”

My ears perk up and I follow Tyson towards the dining room. I already knew Levi wasn’t like me but my curiosity gets the best of me.

“Who is it?”

“Another bear apparently! We were doing our reps this morning and he was telling me all about her. I’m so pumped for him! He definitely deserves a great date. I might even get to meet her at Alton’s party!”

I sit down at the dining room table. This is too much. Both of them are going to Alton’s party. I pinch the bridge of my nose and lean back. This is something I really can’t handle, knowing how much I’ll be missing out.

“I suppose it makes sense that Tyson is going to the couples party,” Bervin butts in. I exhale slowly and start to turn to the couch before realizing how close the caracal is. He sits right across from me at the dining table, smirking with his arms crossed. He’s wearing an off-white, diagonal-cut top with similarly colored pants, all dressed up for getting things done. What does he know? Is he assuming something because of earlier? Did Tyson tell him something? My brain starts to work overtime even with the exhaustion from earlier. I can’t handle another breakdown.

“Oh yeah, I love Alton! I always get invited to his parties. That champ can organize an event!”

My soul weakens at the word ‘love’. I know it’s Tyson being enthusiastic but it hits differently now. When have my emotions been this raw and vulnerable? Did something change today?

“Purce, are you perhaps going? Or is dating too complex for you?”

I squint at Bervin after the question is asked then turn away. There’s no use answering that. The silence that ensues is only broken with the crackle of fish.

Bervin shrugs, “Oh, well, pity. Tyson, does Alton have a date?”

“Always! Let’s see… I think he’s with Kurala.”

I tune them out. My fists ball and my neck fur is stinging underneath my amulet. Right, I’m supposed to be a new me. Change is what my goal is. Someone who doesn’t stagnate like this and fall into the same cycles of despondence. Whatever was controlling me has no hold on me now. Or at least I think so.

“I’m not going,” I blurt out as casually as I can, stopping whoever was talking. I think it was Tyson.

“Really? You could just stop by and we all could just hang out!”

Tyson stands in the kitchen, wearing a pink and black striped jumpsuit with an apron covering most of it. His disappointment was visible as he made the offer. I focus on his outfit. Pink, playful. Black… what’s that again? Neutral? My gaze lifts but the look on his face is ruining me. Back to his outfit, I tell myself. Back to what he wears, I state as my claws dig a bit into my pawpads. I want so desperately to go but a couples party?! It would be the most embarrassing thing to do alone. Finding a date this week or even a reason to go alone would be impossible. It would make matters worse, no matter how much I can change. Back to what he wears now.

“A puzzle has been solved,” Bervin comments, interrupting my thoughts. The sound of his paws stepping on the tile give off a chilling echo. He’s coming my way, snorting a bit as he talks. I tense up. Bervin pauses as he waits by the middle of the table, staring at me, “Your conundrum is that you have no one to bring. A tragic fate.”

I sink into my chair, trying to ignore the searing at the base of my neck. I reach up to touch my necklace but I flinch, recoiling at how hot it is. Isn’t the A/C on?

“Truly, who would not want a dust-riddled history buff to mope around with?”

Ignoring the sarcasm, I turn to face Tyson, now assembling sandwiches.

“Well, I mean-”

“No, sorry, I am not done Tyson,” Bervin denies politely as he peers down at me. He returns to his previous accusatory tone, “I can only imagine how wonderful your partner could feel. Oh, joy, Purce knows names and dates, walks around in nature, and still doesn’t know how to use Hitch.”

“Isn’t that a bit mean?” Tyson interjects, putting the sandwich he was working on down.

There’s a burning sensation welling inside me. It’s beyond just a hot necklace or the fur sizzling underneath. It’s a hurt like no other, a pain I want to stop. I want it all to go away. To be something new.

“Is it?” Bervin asks, feigning surprise, “Is it mean? I, wow, I had no idea. From what I understood, his existence is based on reveling in the past and things that already exist. Am I right Purce?”

I’m standing now, clawing the table with my left paw. My body is trembling.

“Are you scared? Scared of being alone?”

The question echos in my mind, piercing through the hatred I feel. Maybe I am. Maybe I am and maybe I was. I don’t think that’s quite right though. Even if I lost everything, it would still matter to me that I had it. That’s one of the few things that keeps me going.

With that question floating around, an eerie calmness takes over as I stare at Bervin. There’s no hesitation as my paw speeds towards this fuck’s muzzle. There’s a satisfaction that fulfills me as I do so. I feel….good? A sense that this is actually good for me and this will all be over soon. That the hatred and pain and burning will all be worth it. The second my paw actually makes contact, the brightest flash of white floods my vision. My ears are ringing and I can’t see. I stumble back and try to blindly find my chair. My head hurts.

---

_ Bervin _

Something was amiss the moment Purce arrived. His usual, subtle, woe-is-me demeanor was replaced with hurt. Betrayal. It benefited me quite nicely because it takes numerous comments from me to get him into this state. I begin to ponder what could have happened but truly do not want to care. As the conversation continued into this run-of-the-mill party that Alton always throws, it began to illuminate an aspect that I suspected years ago: this fucking history stric has a crush on Tyson. Annoying. My abilities to identify a fur who isn’t one of Vorsay’s beloved breeders goes unmatched. Unfortunately my one discovery led me to decipher another potential realization. Although the lion makes me nervous, which I only admit to myself, it should not be too difficult to get him in a casual conversation about this. The love interest best friend. Again, annoying.

The amount of thinking that will happen as my body is laid out on this tile floor will unfortunately be a lot. The pain, however, is not as much as I expected. As my first punch to the face, it went along rather smoothly. The intensity and speed followed by the form was admirable. He looked quite good and I---

Wait! Bastard. That cheesy cheetah should have no right to punch me! I make the ground rules around here and once my vision has returned, that fool will pay!

“What was that flash?!” Tyson shouts, his voice loud enough to make me cover my ears. While sitting up and rubbing my face, there’s a relief at the lack of any blood. My all white designer top is safe for now. I can move freely, I can hear, and my vision is coming back to me. Tyson is kneeling by me now, towering over like a parent waiting in anticipation. He wears this expression of sickening concern, surely trying to make me feel less than. I scoff and brush off my brilliant white pants.

“I have no idea but I am going to make him pay,” I admit, perhaps a bit too rashly. I glance over quickly to clock Tyson’s expression. I have to be careful discussing the brat, otherwise this conversation will go poorly for me.

“Are you hurt? Did he make contact with your eyes? There’s some swelling but no discoloration. Can you see me?”

Ugh, why does he have to know so much about health? Ignoring the lion, I blink a few times and scan the area. The smell of salmon still lingers and there’s two sandwiches on the dining room table. No Purce. The next time that inferior feline crosses my path, that’ll be my chance. This baffling romance will go on no longer and Purce will writhe in agony at what I will bestow upon him! There will be no escape. I hurry to stand up but a rush of fatigue hinders my graceful ascent.

“Woahhh, hey, you just wobbled Ears. Stay on the couch and I’ll go get some water.”

My jaw clenches and a frustrated exhale leaves me. Annoying. Now ‘doctor’ Tyson is wanting to pathetically return me back to normal. What I would do to just be in my room working on my laptop. With a fresh dissatisfaction, I return to my spot on the couch. The lion doesn’t take long to revisit the kitchen before returning.

“Thankfully I had this ready! Salmon sandwich and--- right, water and an ice pack,” Tyson cuts himself off as he sets down the plate of food and places the cold item on my muzzle, causing me to recoil and scoff.

“Fine, I’m fine! I-I can take care of myself!”

The dumb lion waits for me to take the pack, which I do. There’s a spurt of relief as the chill calms me down. It’s as if my energy gets even more depleted, leaving me more relaxed. What an annoying situation.

“Alright, but Ears? What did you do to make him so mad? I’ve never seen Purce harm anyone!”

An expected conversation topic and an unfortunately tough one to navigate. Concern painted on his face, Tyson calmly watches me as if to study my reaction. I cannot let myself falter here despite the unique circumstances. The thought of Tyson’s fury chills me to the core. Carefulness is what’s needed here.

“I suppose the mention of romance has bothered him to some degree.”

The fluffy-maned feline bobs his head and interlocks his fingers. Oh, he’s thinking. His serious pout is nauseating; not only does it imply more conversation but it also means he’ll be more aware. I take a sip of water. Annoying.

“Yeah, that fuzz never says anything about dating or mating,” Tyson responds with an exhale, “I wonder--- I wonder if he, like, doesn’t want to date.”

The power it takes me to swallow a laugh is intense. Blindness covers his sight. I can see, smell, and hear it. The most unabashed, repressed virgin I’ve ever met is clearly not one to dislike the idea of any romantic or sexual interactions. It only takes five, no, ONE minute to notice Purce drinking in the smallest sight of another male. I cover half my face and turn away, not wanting to reveal the amused smirk that has blossomed. My main goal is to not upset the lion and to end this discussion promptly.

“Tyson, I believe he is interested in dating.”

“Yeah… Yeah, he might be! Then, we should really help him with a date. But, you were kinda mean earlier about it. It was like you were making fun of him and, it was weird.”

I set the ice pack on the table, feeling colder all of a sudden. The stare the lion gives me quickens my heartbeat. This checkmate has me by the neck. I knew I went too far, I knew I was too obvious. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this! I need to retain the reins somehow as that’s the only way to prevent his anger.

“I, was mean? How? I apologize but my head is quite fuzzy right now. It might have been that white flash.”

“Oh, right. We can talk later! Just stay there and rest, I’ll get some tea as well. Do you need an aspirin?”

“No, no, I believe rest will help,” I respond with a small smile on my face as Tyson leaves to the kitchen. My lie successfully ended that conversation but it won’t last forever. Eventually the topic will return to Tyson’s mind when he starts to think again and I’ll have to talk about it.

Perhaps it wasn’t a lie. I am feeling quite tired. After this, I should go to my room.

---

Picking out outfits is a skill I’ve perfected as the years have gone by. The deliberate process of choosing colors and styles can be a cathartic experience. Though I prefer not to mingle with the preferences of others, there were times I’ve found myself assisting furs with fashion. Mainly one fur specifically.

As I’m sifting through the items in my closet, there’s a sudden knock at my door. It is dainty and inconsequential. My eyes dart to what I’m wearing. A cyan robe? I don’t remember putting this on and it will give the impression that there are friends to be made and that I want to talk. Annoying. Ignoring my rapidly beating heart, I walk over to the door and turn the handle. With such a delicate rap, there’s no clue as to who to expect.

A spotted face intrudes my vision. Purce. Disgusting. Strangely enough, he wears a salacious pink V-neck and red pants. Is there a date he’s going on? Ha, even that idea is amusing. There’s something on his neck but as I try to make out the form, my vision blurs dramatically. It hurts my eyes so I turn back to his face, which reveals something that has been foreign to me for a while. An expression of innocence, delight, and passion that’s focused and apparent. My heart almost erupts. This bastard has never shown this before yet it is weirdly familiar. Something is amiss here.

“Berv, can we talk?”

My fur stands at that airiness, that inflection, and that nickname. His expression doesn’t change and, Oobis, those eyes are dangerous! That seeping look of acceptance and anticipation that’s all too childlike. I have to say no. It can’t keep on like this with my defenses down from just the sight of him.

“A-as if I care, I, whatever,” I end up sputtering. My speech falters. It never falters. I turn around to hide my surprise. This is preposterous! My body takes a step back in an attempt to escape. I hear Purce take a step forward and close the door. I need that door open for my own safety.

It takes me a few moments to fight my panic and turn back to my intruder. The cheetah lets out an exhale as his head is hung low and his paws are in his pockets. He barely whispers, “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I scoff despite my discomfort. This creature didn’t mean to hurt me but threw a fist towards my precious face? Pain and violence were the only true solutions to his problems right as he entered the door this evening. What an absolute joke.

“Is that right? Nothing about your actions today show this.”

Purce, weirdly enough, winces at the statement. Is he that stupid? No, he usually isn’t so what was that?

The cheetah starts to nervously rub his arm and asks, “Can we talk? Please?”

The pure weightlessness of his tone surprises me. The question almost floats out of his muzzle seemingly devoid of an agenda. A lack of plan that is the complete opposite of how I operate. This cheetah must really think I’m of no sound mind to not notice this.

“What is there to talk about? You could not contain yourself and your unwarranted anger injured me. It would take an army for me not to raise your rent.”

“Would… that really help, Berv?”

My shoulders tense up. The air seems tight around us and it’s hard to process the situation. The nickname still alarms me but there’s no blatant reason why. It is as if there’s an ancient past that is warning me about this moment. Staring at the other feline, I notice his pleading face and those weary eyes. It’s aggravating that I seem to care because of this. I cross my arms and look away.

“It would help. What else did you want to talk about?”

It sounds like Purce steps forward again, closing the distance I purposefully left.

“Are we still friends? Is there something we can do to make us closer?”

The pounding of my heart echoes in my brain. Fear swallows my thoughts as control slips away from me. Purce is knowingly trying to peer beneath the mask. It’s uncanny how he’s behaving as if he is some deity’s assistant. There’s no world in which I make eye contact like this again. He is trying to whittle me away with sweet nothings and agh! The absolute thought to do this to me is outright unbelievable! What does he know?!

I eventually take a deep breath and ask, “What do you think?”

“Berv… I don’t want to pursue any other mates.”

The words are no longer weightless as an annoying certainty is tied to them. I’m stunned with worry as my breathing escalates and the meaning of his statement smashes into me. What does he mean? There is no way Purce thought we were… or wait. I’ve heard this sentence before. A paw rests slowly on my shoulder, causing me to flinch. It’s warm and kind and it does not belong to Purce. I am turned around and hear the thump, thump, thumping of my heart shaking my body. I’m faced with a capybara now.

“I want you, Berv,” Joey plainly states.

My stomach drops. I feel my eyes well up with tears. My limbs grow numb. There’s no escape as I’m faced with the ghost of my past.

“Or did you want Purce? I know you two are close.”

It’s getting much harder to breathe as the words suffocate me.

“We can’t be that similar, can we?”