Selves, Wolves

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Living alone, anxious, and between thin walls, you're used to the unease of strange nighttime sounds. Water, muffled in concrete, runs through pipes behind your headboard, and floorboards creak under midnight visitors. No-pets-allowed, but dogs would bark all the same. You fall asleep to apartment building symphonies. You're just as used to ambient interruptions. Distant arguments, glass, car horns. But these were removed. Tonight, sounds are close. You pull yourself from the pillow and push off the edge of the mattress, peeking around the screen dividing your bed from your kitchen. You can't quite see the couch, but you can see the [[light from the bathroom]]. "Carter?"

At twenty-four, you've been a woman for some years now. April, now, though you knew that from the month of your birth. At-long-last never leaves you. You do your best to ignore the ghost of your teen years. They, too, never leave you. You think it must be easier for others. With no way to confirm this, you take comfort thinking that it might not be. Two hours until he arrives, but the bus should only take one to catch him. Standing mirror before you, leaning on your accordion divider you use to pretend your studio is a house, you appraise your standing. In the mirror, it's [[your face]], [[your shoulders]], [[your hands]], [[your eyes]], [[your chest]]. Your body turns to you. <<set $face to false>> <<set $shoulders to false>> <<set $hands to false>> <<set $youreyes to false>> <<set $chest to false>>

Sometimes, you see your face and surprise yourself with newfound cuteness. It's been years since you first noticed it, but the novelty of pride is still there. Today isn't one of those days. That you stayed up cleaning your apartment is plain in the shadows under your eyes, and that you haven't shaved in a day is plain in the shadows on your chin. You do your best to shake off [[the mirror]]. <<set $face to true>>

Old TVs consume rooms with sounding of high-pitched frequencies. You're reminded of these frequencies in moments where you hate yourself. You can hate yourself for being stuck in a room with a TV from thirty years ago just as easily as you can hate yourself for having man-shoulders. Stuck no matter what. You know it's dys-something, irrational, but once you know you're irrational it's hard to be anything else. Who are you supposed to trust when you can't even trust yourself? Facts as broad as bone, you hate that perception alone can make you hate at all. You do your best to shake off [[the mirror]]. <<set $shoulders to true>>

You learned to hate your hands from what you read online, scrutinizing knuckle size and wrist width. This is something you don't admit to many people. Your struggles are supposed to be internal. Once they're taught, it's all drama. Just unlearn it. Your nails are uneven, thanks to years of nail biting. It's a bad habit, you know, but not one adults could explain out of you in your young age. The feeling of the keratin giving way beneath your teeth never lost its appeal. It's better to put that energy somewhere other than the stew of your mind, anyways. You do your best to shake off [[the mirror]]. <<set $hands to true>>

Is it true, and alright, that women wish their breasts were bigger? You are a woman, you tell yourself, and you wish your breasts were bigger, so. The things you tell yourself struggle for confidence. If you have to say it to make it true, then how could it be? One plus one is two. "I'm a woman, now." You do your best to shake off [[the mirror]]. <<set $chest to true>>

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi! You both like furry. Stranger: <<linkappend "asfo?" t8n>> You: 18 f fox bi ^.^ Stranger: 26 m tiger straight Stranger: how are you doing <<linkappend "this evening?" t8n>> You: im okay, its late where i am so im kinda sleepy >.< You: u? Stranger: *gestures to my massive cock* i'm horny >:) <<linkreplace "Stop" t8n>><<linkreplace "Really?" t8n>>You have disconnected. [[New|internet2]]<</linkreplace>><</linkreplace>> <</linkappend>><</linkappend>>

Sixteen, gay, and confused, you spend your evenings lying on [[the internet]].

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi! You both like furry. You: hi! Stranger: Hey You: how are u? Stranger: I've been kind of having <<linkappend "a day" t8n>> You: a day? Stranger: Like in a bad way You: oh man, im sorry :( Stranger: Eh, it's whatever Stranger: <<linkappend "Asfo, btw?" t8n>> You: oh uh, 22 f fox bi Stranger: 19 m bull straight Stranger: ref: [[hllps://pawhost.org/r7ygl2|bull ref]] <</linkappend>><</linkappend>>

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi! We couldn't find anyone who shares interests with you, so we matched you with a random stranger. Try adding more interests! Stranger: <<linkappend "M" t8n>> You: m Stranger has disconnected. [[New|internet4]]<</linkappend>>

You're chatting with a random stranger. Say Hi! You both like furry. You: hi ^.^ Stranger: Howdy You: how are u? Stranger: I'm good! Stranger: <<linkappend "You?" t8n>> You: im okay You: tired lol You: im on cst so its like almost 2am Stranger: That's rough Stranger: What're you on here for? You: just for someone to talk to or maybe rp with You: lots of creeps on here though ;-; Stranger: Oof yeah people on here can be [[weird|internet5]]<</linkappend>>

You: it *is* the furry tag i guess lol Stranger: Lmao yeah Stranger: Speaking of, <<linkappend "asfo?" t8n>> You: lol You: 22 f fox bi You: u? Stranger: [[17|internet6]] M wolf gay <</linkappend>>

You: oh uh You: im actually 16 You: lots of adults leave when i say that though You: or their weird to me Stranger: Ah yeah I get that You: *theyre Stranger: Most people get on here for the same reasons lol Stranger: But I'm gay and <<linkappend "you're a girl lmao" t8n>> You: yeah lol You: u seem cool tho Stranger: You do too!! Stranger: Would you wanna [[keep talking somewhere else?|internet7]] Stranger: Like some other app or something <</linkappend>>

You: oh sure You: im coconutfactoryy#0903 on discord? Stranger: Sick I'll add you! Stranger: My un is kinda silly Stranger: blazewolf222 lmao You: i got ur message! You: ill see you on there i guess 0_0 <<linkreplace "Stop" t8n>>[[Really?]]<</linkreplace>>

You've seen enough pictures of muscular animal men to know the score at this point, but you think this may be the first bull. Your screen flashes dark with the imageboard. Why do sites like this feel the need to look suspicious? The bull is the same type of salacious they all are. He's cut, shirtless, and his shorts are tighter than they should be. Black fur and red eyes for maximum cool factor. The talent of the artist is obvious. That's enough, you decide. [[You close the tab.|internet2.5]]

Stranger: You got ref? You: no sorry Stranger has disconnected. [[New|internet3]]

You've always liked the color of your eyes, and how you could look at them without the rest of you. "Windows to the soul", or whatever, there was something in your eyes that was you more than the rest of your body. A friend, once, described the sensation of getting-outside-yourself through a self-staring contest. There's no way to win a game like that, with an object of self-reflection. You find yourself compelled to play more often than you'd ever admit. At least, then, it was your choice. You do your best to shake off [[the mirror]]. <<set $youreyes to true>>

Today calls for extra attention to your appearance -- not for the jetlagged audience of the airport but for Carter. Internet friends have this anticipation to them. If you dress cool enough, that's one less thing to worry about. For some reason, it isn't enough for him to have asked to see you. There's still something to prove. You don't dress, however, such that you'll be noticed on the bus. It wouldn't be crowded, not today, but you know from watching people on the bus yourself that people watch. You try not to give them a reason. You sit in the back of the bus. There's no need to sit near the doors when your stop is so far off. An [[older man]] sits next to his groceries on a seat behind the driver, your only companion at the start of the ride. Along the way, [[a pack of teenagers]] get on and make noise. [[Several people]] get on only to promptly get off two stops later. On buses, you notice that people sway like ocean documentary kelp. <<set $oldman to false>> <<set $teens to false>> <<set $people to false>>

Old people are a constant on public transportation, especially for you, someone who freelances and so has no consistent hours. It's possible you've seen this old man before. Much of the elderly busgoing population is habitual, riding the bus at the same times they have for years. You wonder if this man has been going to his grocery store for just as long, if his shopping list is the same. Maybe you'll have these habits, too, when you're old. Before you know it, you're [[at the airport.]] <<set $oldman to true>>

It's someone's birthday, or at least one of these kids is wearing a birthday hat. Maybe it's some trend you missed, but you think that's unlikely with the amount of time you spend online. Since when did kids get so loud? They get off somewhere downtown. A bunch of them yell "thank you" towards the bus driver. Maybe you shouldn't be too hard on them. Before you know it, you're [[at the airport.]] <<set $teens to true>>

Some stops are hotspots, usually when they're between tall buildings. Here, people spill on to the bus only to get off within three stops. Who knows where they're going? You've never been the type to get on the bus for just a few stops. Before you know it, you're [[at the airport.]] <<set $people to true>>

Sea of a crowd -- the hazed confusion of airports is inescapable. Straight lines to get lost in, you thank heaven that you're only here to find your friend. On the bus ride over, you had the foresight to [[ask what he'd been wearing.]]

Standing up, it's clear that Carter isn't on the couch. Must be in the bathroom, then, you think. But there's [[a shadow]] in the door, large, and decidedly un-Carter.

From the bathroom: inhuman noises. Something hard taps against stainless steel, and soft whimpering. The shadow takes on definition: large, with elbows bent thinly and closely. A trick of walls and doors keeps you from seeing into the bathroom, but you already know it can't be human. Approaching, you discover a dog appraising itself in the mirror. Paws in front, resting on the edge of the sink, like it's about to ask for something. You stop your footsteps. A dog at first is now a wolf, and so you have something to fear. You see its face in the mirror: [[grey]], with slanted snout and yellow [[eyes]]. Reflected, [[you]] are there, too. <<set $grey to false>> <<set $eyes to false>> <<set $you to false>>

You count in your head the number of times you've given a stranger a way to contact you like that, and then count the same number of regrets. But it's late. Curled in bed, phone-light in your eyes, and happy someone believes you, you don't take the time to wonder if you've made a mistake. Your phone screen goes black. You can see your outline in the glass: teenaged, boyish, and wishing you were neither. The [[insides of your eyelids|tomorrow]] let the hallway light through, red.

blazewolf222 Today at 2:37 AM &ensp;&ensp;<<linkappend "Hey!" t8n>> coconutfactoryy Today at 9:03 AM &ensp;&ensp;hi! &ensp;&ensp;sorry for not responding i got sleepy blazewolf222 Today at 9:03AM &ensp;&ensp;No worries &ensp;&ensp;But I thought for a sec you were dodging me &ensp;&ensp;I just realized we didn't do names! &ensp;&ensp;I'm <<linkappend "Carter" t8n>> coconutfactoryy Today at 9:07 AM &ensp;&ensp;oh you can call me April &ensp;&ensp;carter is a nice name! blazewolf222 Today at 9:08AM &ensp;&ensp;I think April is a nice name, too [[:)]] <</linkappend>> <</linkappend>>

The wolf is the color of stormclouds, of concrete and mountains. Its fur ruffled, you remember when you read that wolves could have manes, too. You see the fur in its neck shift, the wolf twisting itself towards you. [[Maybe it wonders about your colors, too.|Pushed away]] <<set $grey to true>>

Your father once told you that dogs don't cry when you noticed tears in your beagle's eyes. Something about it being the way they keep their eyes clean. If you hadn't known this, if you didn't know better, you might think that the wolf was crying. Portraited in the mirror, the teary-eyed wolf seemed painterly. It turns to you, and suddenly it's not alone, framed. [[And you're with him.|Pushed away]] <<set $eyes to true>>

You catch yourself, appearing just past the animal in front of you. You notice your pajamas don't seem to fit before you think that thought seems ill-timed. The wolf turns to mirror-you then to you-you, and its eyes widen, pupils big. Though you were in the mirror with him, now you are [[real with him.|Pushed away]] <<set $you to true>>

He drops his paws from the sink and slinks towards you, paw after paw after paw. Your feet, backwards, match his pace. Step after paw after step. You know you can't do this forever, the apartment only being so long. Paw after step after paw, up against the wall. You put your hands out to stop it, eyes closed. You feel the familiar wetness of animal nose against your hands before he shoves them aside. Refusal. His footsteps trail back to the bathroom. You open your eyes from a safe distance. The wolf's tail swings in time with steps. From behind the wolf, the intensity of expected death behind you, Carter comes to mind. Whatever remains must be the truth: [[this wolf]], now kneading the bathroom carpet with his front paws, must be Carter.

coconutfactoryy Today at 3:14 PM &ensp;&ensp;hey &ensp;&ensp;what r u wearing? &ensp;&ensp;not in a phone sex way lol coconutfactoryy Today at 3:17 PM &ensp;&ensp;oh wait ur on a plane and can't text back &ensp;&ensp;nvm lol blazewolf222 Today at 3:20 PM &ensp;&ensp;Oh I actually do have wifi &ensp;&ensp;In-flight &ensp;&ensp;Kinda nuts &ensp;&ensp;We're living in the future fr &ensp;&ensp;I have an [[orange hoodie]] on? That's probably the most identifiable thing about me <<set $orangeVisits to 0>> <<set $orange1 to false>> <<set $orange2 to false>> <<set $orange3 to false>> <<set $orange4 to false>>

<<if $orangeVisits == 0>>At five minutes past 4PM, you look up from your phone to find him. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 1>>At six minutes past 4PM, you wonder if you should have worn your glasses today. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 2>>At seven minutes past 4PM, you tap your foot to stay in the moment. <<elseif $orangeVisits == 3>>At eight minutes past 4PM, you start to question if you ever knew the color orange. <<elseif $orangeVisits >= 4>>At nine minutes past 4PM, you notice the buzzing of [[your phone]].<</if>> In the crowd, there's <<if $orange1 == false>>[[orange|orange1]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange2 == false>>[[orange|orange2]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange3 == false>>[[orange|orange3]]<<else>> orange<</if>>, <<if $orange4 == false>>[[orange|orange4]]<<else>> orange<</if>>.

You follow signs for coffee shops and watch for waving hands, wondering why airports never seem to have maps. [[Your phone]], again.

blazewolf222 Today at 4:08 PM &ensp;&ensp;My arm got tired T_T &ensp;&ensp;The shop has a yellow sign &ensp;&ensp;It's just called [[Coffee Shop]] &ensp;&ensp;Kind of a suspicious name lol

Stepping between your phone and the airport, you look for a yellow sing and an orange man. He's a dental hygienist, you remember, and you forgot to floss your teeth this morning. Is that something someone can notice? If they're a professional. "Coffee Shop", written in serif capitals, giving off the soft glow of tube lights through plastic. Under the "C", a pillar, and next to the pillar, an orange bag-of-a-garment over the slim frame of a man. The moment thrills. It can't be anyone but Carter - you would have noticed another store this bland, and another hoodie this bright. Still, your heart beats like you're about to approach a stranger. "Hi, um, Carter?" The man looks back at you and smiles. "Oh! April?" "Yeah." He smiles again, bigger. [[White teeth]].

Sitting next to someone, you can be aware of how they move without looking at them. You feel his arms crossed beside you through your glancing shoulders, his eyes fixed on the rolling bag pinned between his legs. It's hard to know how to talk to friends in the presence of strangers. Luckily, you saved your best questions. "So, what brings you to Chicago?" Carter looks up from pondering his knees. "My, um, boyfriend lives in Rockford, so that's why I'm in Illinois," he pulls his backpack to his chest and his mouth makes that shape people show when they think it might be love. "As for Chicago, this was the cheapest airport. And, also, you're [[here]]!" "Long distance, huh? Have you met before?" Carter shakes his head, his shaggy hair swaying a second behind his nose. "Nope. But we've been dating for three months online." "Oh. Gay shit." "Yeah dude. [[Gay shit]]." The road swings through space between heads of sitting strangers. <<set $gay to false>> <<set $here to false>>

Your keys make metal noise as you slide them back into your pocket. Using them next to Carter, you wonder for the first time how your keychain got so cluttered when you only live here. "So, this is my place." You open the door and gesture like a magician, rehearsed, head bowed. "After you." He catches on awkwardly, and claps. "Thank you, thank you. I'm [[excited to be here]]." Your studio isn't much, and is even less to share, but you're happy to all the same. Shuffling through the two-foot gap between your couch and desk, you turn around "Here are your accommodations. Um," you grab a pillow from your bed, divided crudely from the rest of the room by a folding wall, and toss it onto the couch. "Are you hungry?" "[[Absolutely]]."

Tension runs through you to the bathroom door, taking care to keep noise low. Carter wouldn't eat you, at least not normally, but there's no harm in trying to keep things easy. You sit on the couch, lowering yourself with soft pressure on the left side armrest. Seated, you begin to pat in a rhythm of nines. A habit you picked up from living with cats. "Hey, Carter? Do you want to come out here?" Your register slips sweet, a type of voice reserved for animals and small cousins. He perks up at the name. Surprised to be recognized, maybe. "It's okay. I promise." The wolf — Carter — pushes up and shakes his shoulders. He barks once, on the fourth beat of your rhythm. [[Long nails on polypropylene fibers]] stop short of clicks. He shags towards the couch.

Is it weird to want to pet your friend? If he's a dog, and that dog is a wolf, but that wolf is also a person. If there weren't a person in there: no hesitation. But it's different, and in difference you find more difference. He fell asleep next to you, after you put something on the TV to try to fascimilate normalcy. In his sleep, you get your first good look at him. As good a look as you can get in the shifting light of television, anyways. His [[fur]] is matted, darker around his eyes. His size was obvious from your encounter, but even more apparent as he takes up enough of your couch for you to need to curl up against the armrest. His [[ears]] point up while sleeping, too, ready for something. He lays with his [[paws]] crossed, claws sharp. Dogs never look comfortable when they sleep — they don't have the bodies for it. At least, you were never a side sleeper. <<set $fur to false>> <<set $ears to false>> <<set $paws to false>>

Fur on most animals reminds you of brushstrokes down their back. Extending the metaphor, this wolf is impressionist, messier to your eye but just as deep. Something in you twitches your hand. You wished that you could pull out the mats for him, something to make it easier. Were those tears in his eyes, in the mirror? There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed]]. <<set $fur to true>>

Ears are to dogs what hair is to humans. At least, you think so. For the first time, you see that one of his ears flops lower than the other, only slightly. Wolf ears are pointed, after all. A young man's haircut, you almost reach out to fix it for him. There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed]]. <<set $ears to true>>

Paw beans are so frequently abstracted that seeing them in real life is always a surprise. Through either socially-engineered desire, or lizard-brained instinct, your nerves itch to poke them. There must be something wrong with you. The sun is rising. You know you should go to [[bed]]. <<set $paws to true>>

Dog snores take you to sleep. When you wake, the sky is setting. This would feel normal if the sun weren't rising out your window when you fell asleep. Groggy, you repeat your wakeup from just hours before. Part of you is sure you'd dreamed, that the wolf didn't appear in your house. But you remember a full movie in flashing colors — shocking clarity for a dream. Maybe that part of you wasn't sure, but wishing. You peek, again, around the screen dividing your bed from your kitchen. You can't quite see [[the couch]].

blazewolf222 Today at 4:04 PM &ensp;&ensp;Hey I'm by an elevator. There's a [[coffee shop]] here too &ensp;&ensp;I'm just gonna stand here and constantly wave

In the early summer, you wish that petals would float by your window the way that leaves do in the fall. Anything to tell you that the days are passing. The sun peers in through the blinds. It's time to get up, midday, but lethargy keeps you — at least until you feel bad enough to fight it. In morning shambles, constructed from tired bones, you take stock of you. [[Your reflection|Mirror]].

An orange windbreaker, a child, streaks by, mother barrelling behind. You know Carter is older than seven and wouldn't bring his mother, so you turn your attention back to [[the crowd|orange hoodie]]. <<set $orangeVisits += 1>> <<set $orange1 to true>>

A woman in an orange safety vest passes on one of those cars they drive around the airport. You wonder for the first time what they're for, and then turn your attention back to [[the crowd|orange hoodie]]. <<set $orangeVisits += 1>> <<set $orange2 to true>>

You think about the color orange, and if the fruit came before or after the word. Orange. Noun. The fruit, the color between red and yellow. Or-ange. Adjective. Being of the hue between yellow and red. You put your spelling bee days behind you, and sift through [[the crowd|orange hoodie]]. <<set $orangeVisits += 1>> <<set $orange3 to true>>

Surveying the throng, you grow thankful that orange isn't a more popular color. Blues and greys and greens and whites and reds and blacks fill the space between hands, faces, and the occasional shorts-framed legs. You understand why the colors are so normal. The airport is the last place you'd dress garish. You wonder if you're even looking at the right [[crowd|orange hoodie]]. <<set $orangeVisits += 1>> <<set $orange4 to true>>

"It's nice to see you!" You remember the bus schedule. "I think the bus is coming soon. Can we walk?" "Definitely!" He blinks. "I like the outfit." "Thanks," and you blink. "We should go." Ahead, a sign: a silhouette of a bus and [[an arrow|The Bus]]. A moment, silent, to notice that he's already started walking.

On the train in the night time dark, you and Carter reflect off the window opposite your seating. Soft rain touches the sides of the car, makes drum noises. Sitting next to Carter, you're aware of how he's leaning aside asleep. Talking online, the silence in your conversations had different friction. Without presence, there was no expectation of speech. You'd each get to it eventually. But, for the first time, you and Carter are next to each other and the silence feels purposeful. Train tracks move underfoot. City lights fly past [[your ghosts|The End 2]].

blazewolf222 02/16/16 at 8:27PM &ensp;&ensp;Just got home from work &ensp;&ensp;Cold as shit outside today &ensp;&ensp;Fuck coconutfactoryy 12/16/16 at 8:37PM &ensp;&ensp;how cold was it &ensp;&ensp;? blazewolf222 02/16/16 at 8:38PM &ensp;&ensp;28 coconutfactoryy 12/16/16 at 8:40PM &ensp;&ensp;you *cannot* tell me 28 degrees is getting to you like this lol &ensp;&ensp;its like 8 out for me lol blazewolf222 02/16/16 at 8:40PM &ensp;&ensp;Wait [[where do you even live|the house]] &ensp;&ensp;Have we never talked about that?!! coconutfactoryy 12/16/16 at 8:40PM &ensp;&ensp;oh lol im from chicago <<set $here to true>>

coconutfactoryy 06/17/2019 at 11:03 PM &ensp;&ensp;I told my dad today &ensp;&ensp;It went okay I think coconutfactoryy 06/17/2019 at 11:12 PM &ensp;&ensp;I don't think he gets it though &ensp;&ensp;Thinking about what he said &ensp;&ensp;ugh coconutfactoryy 06/18/2019 at 12:23 AM &ensp;&ensp;And now I can't sleeppp &ensp;&ensp;Idk if this is regret or what but I feel awful &ensp;&ensp;Sorry for messaging so much blazewolf222 06/18/2019 at 1:26 AM AM &ensp;&ensp;Sorry sorry I was out of [[the house]] and didn't see! &ensp;&ensp;It's good that it went okay &ensp;&ensp;But I'm sorry it didn't go better :/ coconutfactoryy 06/18/2019 at 1:26 AM &ensp;&ensp;It is what it is &ensp;&ensp;Whatever's next is whatevers next &ensp;&ensp;I just watched like 6 episodes of lucky star lol <<set $gay to true>>

Through the divider between the bed and the kitchen, you hear sizzling. Your nose wakes up later than the rest of you. Eggs. Stepping out, you see Carter over the stove, carton, butter, and salt shaker aside. You stop short of speaking first, and hover. The moment where speaking would have been normal slips past your wondering. What is there to say? Too late, he turns to face you. "Oh," deer caught in headlights, "hey April." He takes a second to glance back to the stove, like something might be burning. "Good, uh, morning." "Good morning." The hard things elude you. Pops and steaming on the stove, Carter turns around. "How do you like your eggs?" He turns back to you, feet unsure where to stand. "And sorry for not asking first." You shake your head. "All good. Thanks for making food." "And your eggs?" "Over easy, sorry." Mundane, though you know you both leave things unsaid. Soon enough, you're at the counter and are passed a plate. Two [[beautiful eggs]].

blazewolf222 03/28/2024 at 1:47 PM &ensp;&ensp;Hey! Long time no see &ensp;&ensp;I'm gonna be in your city soon (still Chicago, right?) &ensp;&ensp;Doing a visit to IL &ensp;&ensp;Could I stay with you? &ensp;&ensp;Totally cool if not!! &ensp;&ensp;Just thought it'd be cool to get to hang out coconutfactoryy 03/28/2024 at 8:33 PM &ensp;&ensp;Oh geez it really has been a long time hasn't it! &ensp;&ensp;Um, yeah ofc you can stay here &ensp;&ensp;If you're ok sleeping on my couch then yes 😅 &ensp;&ensp;It'd be really good to see you blazewolf222 03/28/2024 at 2:07 PM &ensp;&ensp;Yesyesyes!! &ensp;&ensp;I promise I'll make you [[food|restaurant]] or something

Over burgers and fries, you work up the courage to say something about expectations. Eight years of talking, on and off, but Carter still found ways to surprise you. "I didn't expect you to be so tall, you know," you say as though he would. His brow furls and head turns down. You know he knows you're right. "Am I really //so// tall?" "Yeah, man. //So//." And he laughs. Food fills the gaps in the conversation. In between bites, where the silence is most salient: fleeting worries that Carter might not like the physical you. You catch yourself laughing a lot. Inflated conversation. The sleepless day catches up to Carter, and then to you. Out the door, down the street, door and door and [[the bed|WokenUp]]. "Goodnight." "G'night."

blazewolf222 01/14/2020 at 5:43 PM &ensp;&ensp;I'm actually pretty good at cooking &ensp;&ensp;Not to brag or anything coconutfactoryy 01/14/2020 at 6:07 PM &ensp;&ensp;Lol &ensp;&ensp;I'm so bad 💀💀 &ensp;&ensp;I usually burn myself on appliances blazewolf222 01/14/2020 at 6:14 PM &ensp;&ensp;No appreciation for the craft! coconutfactoryy 01/14/2020 at 6:15 PM &ensp;&ensp;Listen listen &ensp;&ensp;I appreciate food in my mouth not [[food in my hands|restaurant]]

Carter eats his eggs, sunnyside up, yolk first. He pushes the side of his fork down the radius, letting the sunrise yellow spill over. These motions are acute to you. Eyes set on any sign that you can talk about the wolf. Your approach to your eggs is informed by his. Fork on its side, down the radius. Metal on fried whites recalls ice on glass, clearly heard over your discussion of nothing. "So," you pause — in moments like these, you can feel your heart regret that you're speaking your mind — then start again, "Is that why your, uh, fursona is a wolf? Because...?" Stainless steel hits ceramic; he puts his fork down and finishes chewing, hand over mouth. "Um, no..." He puts his hand down, rubbing his middle and ring fingers on the palmspace below his thumb. Circles. "Do you remember [[when I went to the ER]]? Like four years ago. A dog bite."

You remember the wolf, his <<if $fur is true>>cloudy fur<</if>><<if $ears is true>>ears, even alert in sleep<</if>><<if $paws is true>> paws crossed like a gentleman<</if>>, and how <<if $grey is true>>his very presence screamed stormy<</if>><<if $eyes is true>>he looked at himself like a stranger<</if>><<if $you is true>>you were there with him<</if>>. You remember that wolf is Carter, and <<if $gay is true>>that he was always the first to know when things went wrong<</if>><<if $here is true>>how you'd laugh with each other<</if>>. You feel your <<if $face is true>>face next to his<</if>><<if $shoulders is true>>shoulders against his<</if>><<if $hands is true>>hands in your lap<</if>><<if $youreyes is true>>eyes shift in sockets<</if>><<if $chest is true>>ribcage shift with breath<</if>>, and remember that this all began <<if $oldman is true>>across from an old man<</if>><<if $teens is true>>surprised by the kindness of teenagers<</if>><<if $people is true>>on a bus full of strangers<</if>>. You look away from the reflection in the mirror, and to Carter, eyes closed and dreaming. Please know that when you worry, in eyes, in hearts: much love, much love, much love. <center>[[Begin again|Title]]</center>

coconutfactoryy 09/22/2019 at 9:44 PM &ensp;&ensp;Hey! How's it going? blazewolf222 09/23/2019 at 2:02 PM &ensp;&ensp;sorry for going mia &ensp;&ensp;ive been in the er &ensp;&ensp;im okay and everything but I just cuoldnt use my pho ne &ensp;&ensp;typing with oen hand rn sorry for rypos coconutfactoryy 09/23/2019 at 11:32 PM &ensp;&ensp;Wait omg do not be sorry! &ensp;&ensp;Are you okay???? blazewolf222 09/23/2019 at 2:02 PM &ensp;&ensp;no yeah iam &ensp;&ensp;dont worry! &ensp;&ensp;i got bit by a wolf &ensp;&ensp;which sounds bad but [[im actually ok i promise]]

"Ever since...well, you know." You follow Carter's eyes down to his yolk, leaking, pooling. "I'd wake up with my sheets all torn up, or halfway across my bedroom in a nest of my own clothes. I don't know. Part of me thinks I sound crazy but I also know you saw it too. And, um, no one else knows, I don't think. At least my parents never noticed while I was living with them." Unsure what to say, you watch him eat. Small bites, like he's full already. "I'm just not sure what, like, there is to do about it, you know? It's not like I'm hurting people when it happens it just makes me feel wrong." He chuckles the way you do when someone asks you questions you don't expect. "I don't know why it's so easy to tell you this. I'm sorry." There's a look people get when they want to stop talking but can't. You know it in the muscles on your face, but see it now in [[the wrinkles around Carter's eyes]]. You stop yourself from saying you know what it's like but you take it to heart that you do.

You dare to speak. "It doesn't sound easy." "It's, um, not," he laughs more. "It's not. But it's not hurting anyone else and it's not hurting me so what does it matter, right?" "Of course it matters." You sound clinical, and hate yourself for it. You don't mean to dissect his words for the "right" thing to say. "I don't like being somewhere between me and not-me. I can't control it." You know this feeling, measuring the distance from not-you and to you in years and days. He reaches over to your plate, half an egg still on it. "Can I get your plate?" Something about this conversation was done. Your hand goes through the motions of normalcy, even though you want [[more egg]].

You move to help him clean the kitchen. "Where does this—?" "Right cabinet, above the sink." Like nothing had ever happened. "What if we went somewhere?" You offer. "Let's do it." And you're out [[the door|The End]], again.