"...I'm sorry, I-I know you...prob'ly don't feel the same way," I said, eyes still to the floor. "I don't...I don't want to ruin what we have, to lose your friendship over...this. I've been so, so scared to say anything...because that means a lot more to me. But...this morning I...I realized I could have been too late to...to tell you anything."

Sam looked down to the floor as well, his mouth pulled into an awkward expression. I couldn't help but get the feeling that he couldn't look at me for some reason or another, but most likely out of embarrassment.

This was what I was afraid of.

"...I'm sorry, Daniel, I-I just...I don't feel the same way," he inevitably said. "I've never...desired that kind of relationship with other males, modifications or not, regardless of the th-things my father claims."

The world around me continued to spin, but my mind was completely blank like a wiped slate. Any thought of the future, any hope I might have had for the next day, was gone. I admit I had been hopeful beyond everything that maybe just once something could work out in my favor...

...Just once.

I wasn't young anymore, now in my mid-thirties. I'd never had an easy time making friends, most people too intimidated by my size and stature to humor me. This, along with not being the best-in-shape individual out there, more or less sealed my fate. It didn't matter how nice you were, how accommodating you tried to be, as most interests and attractions still first occur due to physical features. This wasn't new to me, though it wasn't something I, myself, experienced. A horrible tug-of-war between how my head worked and how the world worked did well to keep both entities forever separate.

There was just no space for someone...something like me.

"...I understand," was all I could muster, slowly rising from my chair.

His gaze finally caught mine, but my eyes instinctively shifted aside. I didn't want to be seen, to be looked at by anyone.

"...Let's get you back inside," I followed up, stepping toward the door.

"Daniel?" he softly called from behind me.

I kept walking, pretending not to hear. After finally pouring my heart out to the only one I'd ever harbored feelings for and being turned away, the last thing I wanted or needed was pity. The chance had been taken and subsequently wasted.

My arm extended forward, hand tightly gripping the handle and opening the door. I turned my head just enough to see the small man from the corner of my eye, still well behind me.

"Come on," I called back, doing my best to rein in my emotions.

He didn't reply, but picked up his pace in an attempt to meet me at the door. The closer he got, the further I shifted away, holding the door open to escort my employer out of the infirmary and back outside. Closing the door behind us I didn't bother locking it, knowing I'd be coming back out before too long.

Reverend stood in wait for me while I closed the door, my stepping forth toward the home. I didn't bother checking for him at my side, his sticking some distance behind me instead. With this awkward tension I didn't want to face him; I didn't want to be seen or to see him. My head was awash in static, any other thoughts lost in white noise. Before I knew it I was back at the front door of the home, my pushing the door open and letting the smaller man inside before letting myself in.

After I closed the door I took a brief look around the lobby-- the dark wooden floor, peach-colored walls, and big glass front window. I felt my lips twist into a little smile, but couldn't say why. Past that smile I could see the moisture welling up along the bottoms of my eyes, but I tried to blink it back if only to avoid questions I did not need thrown in my direction.

Not now. Preferably not ever.

Reverend looked back to me again, presumably waiting for me to accompany him back upstairs. With a little irritated sigh I conceded, walking after him down the lower hallway and back up the stairs to his two children and terrified staffmember friend. It took a lot to ignore the blood from his assailant, splotches and small puddles of red adorning the stairs and upper hallway floor. After returning the man to his family I turned away to head back downstairs to acquire a cloth and disinfectant.

"D-Daniel, where--"

"Downstairs," I curtly replied, cutting him off.

A voice I used to find so soft and pleasant only irritated me in this state. I didn't want to cause a scene, especially in front of others, so I continued on my way without anything else said. Reaching the kitchen I grabbed what I went there for, mopping up the blood spills with an old rag and alcohol. To my chagrin he was still standing in the hallway as I worked.

"I-I could help--"

"No."

"But--"

"Please just leave me be."

I was in no mood for this. While I didn't like making people upset there was little more I could do in this state, my attempt to nip the issue in the bud instead of potentially getting more upset by our working together.

With the last of the blood cleaned up and the areas disinfected I washed the rag in one of the bathroom sinks, depositing it in the nearby hamper once the water ran clear. I made the mistake of catching my own eyes in the mirror-- any light, any warmth I'd accumulated over the past six or so years was gone. Left behind was just a cold, empty husk of a man free of his dreams of what could be.

Just like years ago. Maybe some things just aren't meant to change, meant to be.

I quickly turned away from my reflection, the sting too much for me to handle at this point. Slowly I walked back out to the hallway, Reverend waiting for me close to the doorway. From the edge of my sight I could tell he wanted to say something, yet his mouth stayed closed, likely unable to figure out the words. I waited there for only a couple seconds, the tension biting at my throat.

"I quit," I said flatly, turning left toward the stairs.

"Wh-What?" he yelped, reaching out to grab me by the sleeve.

"Please let go of me," I said, putting everything I could into keeping my voice calm and low.

"But...y-you're my friend!" he pleaded. "My best friend! P-Please, Daniel, we need you!"

I took another step forward but his grip wouldn't relent.

"...I need you," he whined.

"...You'll be okay," I said. "Let go of me."

He still wouldn't, so I took my own hand and pulled his off my sleeve and kept walking. Miraculously he stayed put, allowing me the space to finally traverse the stub of hallway back to the stairs. When I turned to descend them his big orange eyes caught my attention, a horrible mix of fear and betrayal painted upon his grey face. It was something I never wanted to see and knowing I caused it made me feel nauseous. Regardless, I kept going, slowly taking each step down and looking all around me at the house I'd called home the past handful of years.

This would be the last time I saw this place. Might as well savor what I could.

Down the lower hall I continued my pace, ending up back in the lobby. A quick look over my shoulder assured me that I hadn't been followed, all of them likely far too terrified to try. For once in my life I was glad to be feared.

I walked back outside, the bright green grass and fresh salty breeze of the nearby ocean playing an awkward, misplaced juxtaposition with my thoughts and situation. I wound back up in front of the infirmary, taking a deep breath before opening the heavy door and stepping back inside. Closing the door I walked to one of my medicine cabinets, acquiring a bottle of mild painkillers and putting a small handful in another bottle. Grabbing a small piece of paper and a pen I wrote:

"Reverend,

Take one tablet every eight hours, or no more than every six hours.
Take with food.

-Daniel Gardens, CNP"

I folded the small slip of paper and grabbed the bottle, opening the heavy door and setting them both on the concrete slab just outside the building with the bottle on the paper. Given the incident this morning he would probably want these.

I closed the door again, locking it tight this time before heading back to the medicine cabinet. Pushing aside a number of bottles I found what I was looking for, grabbing the bottle and closing the cabinet door. Taking a seat in my chair I fumbled with the cap, finally getting it off the bottle, and set both items aside. For a moment I just stared at the bottle.

I didn't think I'd be here again.

With my pen back in my hand I took another small piece of paper from my desk. While one could write a lot on even such a small sheet I didn't think that would be necessary. Putting the pen to the paper I wrote a simple note:

"I'm sorry."

I clicked the pen and put it back in its holder before retrieving a tall glass of water from the infirmary sink. Returning to my seat I took the bottle, dumped the contents out onto the desk, and emptied the capsules into the water. Not the cleanest work, but I didn't care anymore.

It took the entire bottle, but I had the necessary dosage in my suspension for what I needed. I scooped up the spent capsule halves and dumped them back into their bottle, closing it and setting it aside. Glass in hand I tipped back my head and quickly downed the contents, the bitter concoction tearing at my esophagus with every gulp. It was hard to keep it down, but somehow I managed.

There was no turning back now, my finally correcting a mistake that should have been fixed years ago. Why I thought anything could change or improve, I wasn't sure.

Maybe it was things I read. Maybe it was stories I'd heard over the years, from place to place.

Maybe I thought such a thing could happen to something like me.

Stupid.

It didn't matter anymore.

I lay upon my desk, my head resting upon my folded arms. Only about a minute later I was already getting tired. The note was beside me, should anyone enter my final domain and find me here.

...Should anyone care enough to try, I suppose.

My blinking grew slower, tears welling in my eyes as I thought about what could have been.

The family I'd always wanted, a partner to call my own, and a life together.

Through these idle, stupid little thoughts I smiled a little to myself. My sensations dulled as though I were underwater, everything sounding strange and muffled. Past it all I could just barely make out knocks against the infirmary door and a frantic, discordant voice yelling my name. Though warped by the drug I could still tell who it was as I blinked one last time, strangely happy that his voice would be the last thing I'd hear.

"...I love you, Sam."

I smiled as my eyes finally closed, the world around me fading to black.

---

My eyes shot open as I gasped for air. For a moment I had no idea where I was, the dim room unfamiliar to me. I looked all around to the tall bookshelf, the dresser, and even to the desk on the far side of the room. There were pictures on the nearby wall, a small desk lamp lighting the room. I was on a bed.

I was at the foster home.

I was...home...?

There was a warmth in front of me. Looking down I saw a mop of ash-brown hair and short ears poking through it all, a snout buried in the front of my shirt.

...A dream?

My arms were wrapped around this source of warmth, moving slightly with every breath it took.

...It was all just a dream.

My head was spinning and I was utterly overwhelmed, remembering the place I'd been just a few years ago. Remembering how alone I was and how desperate I'd become for any and all hope for a better future. It had been long enough that those thoughts entered my mind, only recently resurfacing with these latest developments. My throat was tight and dry yet my eyes had started pouring, my whole body quivering under such strange and intense emotional strain.

The warmth in front of me began to stir, much to my dismay.

"...Daniel?" they softly called from below me, blinking open those big eyes. "...Wh...What's wrong?"

Those big, sleep-foggy eyes looked up at me, my own wide in confusion and terror. I felt as though I'd gone through whiplash despite not moving, my head going nowhere fast like sprinting on a treadmill. Tried as I might my mouth couldn't move correctly to answer, my vision blurred by all the hot tears streaming down my face.

I could barely make out a grey object coming toward me and resting against my cheek. It felt like a hand-- soft and comforting. By reflex my ears dipped back, no longer certain what was real and what wasn't. I tried to blink back the tears enough to see in front of me, Sam's grey face looking up at mine with worry. The right side of his face still harbored those four red lines from his assailant.

"S...S-Samuel?" I finally managed to squeak.

"Yes?"

My lips peeled back, my face twisting in confusion and pain. I wrapped my arms tighter, squeezing him against my front. It took all I had not to squeeze him hard enough to hurt him.

"I'm...glad to see you too," he quietly laughed, a touch of nervousness in his tone. "Please tell me what all of this is about."

"...Wh-What are we?" I asked.

"...I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Wh...What a-am I to you?"

He tilted his head.

"You're my best friend," he replied. "M-My partner."

"...Part...ner?" I slowly repeated, trying to remember everything and piece the fragments together.

He nodded, his grip on my shirt tightening.

"...I-It was...just this morning, w-wasn't it?" I asked further.

After a short pause he nodded again.

It was just this morning when the altercation happened. Samuel had been assaulted. I had told him my feelings.

He...reciprocated them. He wasn't afraid of me.

...Just this morning.

"...I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

He put a finger to my lips to gently shush me.

"Please don't apologize," he said. "What happened?"

"...Bad dream," was all I said after he took back his finger.

"What happened in the dream?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you this distraught before."

"...A different result of this morning," I answered. "Of...the confession."

"...What kind of result?" he responded in question.

"...You didn't feel similarly and...I did something about it," I said through my sniffling. "...Something I didn't think would come back to me again."

He wasn't quite sure what I meant, waiting for me to elaborate as he clung to my shirt.

"I-I had...killed myself in the dream," I finally said. "It was...It was so real I...I wasn't sure what was and wasn't when I woke up. I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, too."

"...Because I didn't feel the same way in your dream?"

"...Yes," I reaffirmed. "I'm s-sorry it's...stupid and weak."

That soft grey hand returned to my cheek, resting against my fur.

"Please, Daniel, don't apologize," he said again. "What...do you mean by 'coming back to you again', if I may?"

...My damn mouth.

"...I was...not in a good place not long before I came here, Sam," I quietly confessed, unsure how to tread these waters.

He pulled his face from my shirt to turn his full attention to me, his head tilted to the side in wait for my continuation.

"...I tried to work as much as possible through the week of my birthday to get my mind off it, otherwise I just...spent it alone," I continued. "If I couldn't work through it, especially the day itself, I'd just get drunk on cheap, shitty liquor and sleep through it as much as possible. Like I said years ago-- you're not the only one who ain't used to celebrating their birthday."

"...So that's what you meant," he replied, remembering back to my thirty-first birthday.

"...My thirtieth was almost my last, Samuel," I sighed. "So many spent alone or working until I could hardly walk and I'd just...I'd just had enough. You see so many people with friends or spouses, hear about them making plans with others, and to...never be part of that? To never know what that's like, just being 'that tall guy' or 'that strong guy' or 'that weird guy who makes candy' and hardly having a name or identity beyond what someone wants from you? Just like how people were just names and silhouettes to me, I was just someone who could reach upper shelves, restrain frantic patients, or deal with stubborn kids. Any progress I'd make at a clinic would be reset because I'd get moved elsewhere before too long. It was years of this."

Sam looked down, likely thinking back to his own treatment of me and hoping he hadn't done the same. He's always been the type to overthink.

"...On that birthday I'd grabbed my usual cheap, shitty swill whiskey and planned to down it with a bottle of potent sleep medication, enough to finally just...put an end to everything," I recalled, my eyes now red and sore from all the tears I'd shed. "I had the liquor in one hand and the pills in the other, but couldn't bring myself to do it. To this day I don't know what stopped me."

"I'm...I-I'm so sorry," he replied, pained. "I-I never knew or had any idea."

"You're...not the only one who has things to hide, Sam," I responded, exhaling. "The last thing I'd want is for someone to...humor me out of pity, out of fear of what I might do if they didn't. I guess that...caught up with me after all this time."

"...Do you think I'm doing this out of pity?" he asked.

My ears flattened and I couldn't choke out a response. It was likely that insecurity was the cause after riding such an emotional rollercoaster of a day, wondering if everything was even real after so many years of never being good enough for a second glance, or even idle conversation.

Samuel stood up on his hands and knees, taking me by surprise. Slowly he moved up above me and lay back down, pulling me closer with my head against his small chest.

"I promise you that none of this is out of pity," he whispered, stroking the long fur along the edge of my jaw. "You're a kind, warm, and wonderful person, and I feel nothing short of fortunate to have you here in my life."

"...Do you...really mean that?" I asked.

"I absolutely mean that."

"Even though I'm...this?"

"Gender doesn't matter to me, Daniel," he affirmed. "We both...seem to feel much the same way about that. You're perfect to me as you are."

A few more tears found their ways down my face as I whimpered and came closer, my arms once again around the sweet little man. His grip around me tightened in response as he brought his snout to my head and gently rubbed between my ears. I buried my snout into his chest just like he'd often do to me, his warmth the solace I'd sought for so long. He'd hold me close, nuzzling through my hair and stroking my face to pacify and relax me after such an agonizing nightmare, my finally beginning to drift back off to sleep.

"...I love you, Samuel," I mumbled into his shirt, making use of my final moments awake.

He poked his snout through my sweaty, messy hair and kissed my head.

"I love you, too, Daniel."

Those five words were the reassurance I needed to finally fall back asleep, that comfortable warmth holding me close as my vision faded through a field of soft red cotton.

***

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