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[This story is dedicated to Peanut Monkey, because he bought me a Christmas present to try to make me feel guilty... Hah, who's laughing now?](/?page=This_story_is_dedicated_to_Peanut_Monkey%2C_because_he_bought_me_a_Christmas_present_to_try_to_make_me_feel_guilty..._Hah%2C_who%27s_laughing_now)

Part 1

I'd never really been one for winter. I especially didn't care for the snow, or the hail, or the way it was almost always freezing cold. I hated the way the tiny flakes of snow clung to the rough bark of the evergreen trees, or the way it gathered into huge lumps and pulled the branches down, waiting for the slightest provocation to make it all come tumbling down onto your unsuspecting head.

It bothered me how every time there was a big snow storm, I was the one stuck shoveling everyone out of the apartment building. I lived in a three floor building, and I had two elderly ladies who lived in the apartment below me and above me, one a fox and one a wolf.

I'd always resented the fact that they'd ring on my doorbell at eight in the morning and ask me to shovel, just so they could go to the store. It obviously wasn't convenient for them that I always got home at four in the morning, freezing cold and soaking wet because I'd worked late and my car had broken several months ago, but I didn't have the money to repair it. The sad fact was that, given all the snow, it was easier to just walk because there was so much snow that the plows could never keep up on the side streets that we lived on. I sometimes wondered if they even tried.

Given all these facts, I'd still ended up moving somewhere that was always covered in snow when winter rolled around, and was almost always cold, and almost always made me miserable. I'd moved far north several years ago when my mother had told me that she was planning to, so that she could rekindle our old family roots, or something like that. Really, it was because she was sick of the family, as was I, so she wanted to be closer to parts that she liked, and farther from the ones she didn't. Which, for the most part, meant we were alone up here.

My aunt Sally had seen one too many catalogues with pictures of snow-capped mountains ranges, and frozen creeks, and the northern lights. So, when she moved here, she dragged my mother, myself, and my boyfriend with her. It wasn't until we got here that we learned the cold of the north was nothing like the peaceful winter nights in the far, far south where I used to live. I had been comfortable there. We had all comfortable there, but we had moved, anyway.

My mother assured me that it was good for us, because we were closer to our natural habitat, being polar bears, but all I really wanted was to be back on the porch, covered in twilight, drinking a beer and completely forgetting that snow even existed. Where I came from, an inch of snow was a blizzard and three inches was a complete disaster.

There were a lot of things I wanted back, and there were a lot of things that I'd do anything to have, but most of me was still struggling to accept the fact that I'd never have those things back, because this is where my everything is. Not that my everything is really much to begin with. I had a one bedroom apartment with a bed too small for me, a broken down Century, and about fifty-one dollars and three cents to my name. I only really had my mother every once in a while, and I didn't even have my boyfriend anymore.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into moving here with you," he grumbled disdainfully, burying his hands into the pockets of his almost comically large winter coat. It was funny to think he'd loved me such a short while ago that it could have been yesterday. I used to close the white fur of my hands around the black fur of his and we fought off the winter chill together, but, now, we stood isolated and colder than I thought possible.

"We moved here two fucking years ago, why is there a problem now?" I snarled, balling my hands into a fist quietly as I looked deeply into his hazel eyes, daring him to try and make my day any worse.

The light, and the warming fire in his eyes, had died out for me months ago. Perhaps it was still there, but all I knew was that I never actually saw it, even when I swore I did. He rolled his eyes with a scoff and looked into the window of my work, watching the bright amber glow of the lights against the pale grays of our outside world. I folded my arms across my wide chest and puffy jacket, feeling the cold nip at my exposed fingers despite my thick pelt.

"There's a problem now because I have no one left here!" he spat, looking at me, breaking his eyes away from whatever food the family just inside the window was enjoying.

I didn't even care if I got in trouble, because I'd been reprimanded for arguing before, but I wouldn't be fired now, especially with the holidays coming up. I'd just have to say I was sorry and it'd all be in the past. But every time I argued with Brian, it felt like it'd be the last time, so I'd always have to say everything that came to my mind.

"You would still have me if you hadn't gone and turned into a dick," I shouted, motioning toward my chest with an extended finger. In the reflection of the glass, I could see my black eyes burning with conviction as I tried my hardest to make him the bad guy. The thing was, no matter how angry I got with him, I always felt like I was the bad guy.

"I'm the dick?" he grunted with a hollow laugh, leaning backwards as my words hit him, "you're the one who's changed! For the last few months, you've barely spent any time with me!"

"Why the hell do you think that is, Brian? I only get to see my mother on Sundays now, if I can even manage that, and I work the other six days of the week!"

"Just like you to always make excuses, Kurt," he stated, his jaw clenching as his teeth dug into his lower lip, it looked painful, but the cold had likely numbed him so much that he didn't even notice, "I'm sure your mother could go a week without seeing you, and, if she can't, spend time with me after work!"

"How am I suppose to do that? I get home and you're already asleep. I wake up, and you're already gone!"

"Then change your hours!"

"What?" I laughed, clasping my hands on top of my head as I tried to plead him to see some reason, but he'd always been so stubborn, just like myself, "are you serious?"

"You put everything before me now!"

"It's my mother and my job, Brian! We were struggling for money as it was and I felt bad that we couldn't get anything you wanted, so I picked up more hours. I did it for you!" I said, my voice now pleading as he seemed to place impossible standards on my shoulders. I should have felt more angry, because he didn't try to change his schedule either, yet he was reprimanding me, but I just didn't have the energy anymore.

"I didn't want things, I wanted you," he spat and I could tell that he wanted to cry, but he held it back. I did the same as my eyes became unfocused and they seared in the freezing cold.

"There really is no pleasing you, is there?" I grumbled, clenching my jaw as I forced all my emotion to the back of my throat. My chest was palpitating painfully and my stomach was sinking further and further down, likely melting holes in the snowy sidewalk, "I can't just change my hours back now!"

"Don't worry about it," I heard a sickeningly familiar voice say after the restaurant door chimed open. Brian and I both turned to see a squat little badger standing in the door way, the warm light covering him in a halo that made me shiver, "both of you get off my property and don't even bother coming back."

"What?" I managed, feeling my tears instantly dry up as my throat closed. My hands dropped to my side and I could feel Brian looking at the side of my face above his folded arms. I felt my knees wobble and my back twitch as the cold seemed to rush in on me with one debilitating blow.

"You're fired! Now, go!" my boss shouted before returning back into the comfortable building, leaving me to freeze in the cold of Brian's company. Now I knew for sure that I probably wouldn't have my apartment for very much longer, and my car would probably never be fixed. Even the simple things like warmth or food would become laughable as I tried to figure out where I could go, all the while trying to find another job.

"Kurt, I'm - " Brain started, placing his hand on my straining bicep, but I flung him off and glared at him. He cowered slightly under my pain filled eyes, but he didn't speak, probably because he hoped his expression would calm me, but it just angered me even more. Innocence was not the response I was looking for right now. I didn't even know what I was looking for; pity, sympathy, maybe him groveling at my feet.

"Get the hell away from me," I shouted, backing away from him in the cold snow that was seeping into my pant legs and the open neck of my jacket. The snow that melted on my hot head ran down my spine, but I ignored the cool trickling as I took one step back, then two, then three, "this is your fault, anyway. You may as fucking well just go home, since it's obvious you don't care about my life anymore."

When my eyes left his and I left him to look at my back, I just walked down the sidewalk emptily, knowing he was waiting for me to slowdown and apologize. I wanted to punch one of the many brick walls that surrounded me, or kick in the doors, or shatter the windows, but I couldn't, because I wasn't even sure if I was really mad.

Even more than that, I wanted to turn around and run to him, and hold him close once again. I wanted to look into his eyes and ask for his forgiveness without even saying another word, because, after four years, we knew everything about each other. The good, the bad, the ugly and the embarrassing.

Burying my hands in my pockets, I squared my shoulders and tried to hide as much of my muzzle as I could inside my jacket. I was pretty sure that he'd taken the hood to my coat when he moved out, but I didn't care, even though I knew for certain now that I wouldn't have the money to buy a new one. I also knew that I didn't hate the cold enough to ask him for it back. I'd just have to put up with the cold for two more miles.

I'd never really been good at breakups, but I suppose no one really is. If you were good with them, would you really be the kind of person who wanted to be in a relationship in the first place? Being the big guy I am, I never really had many chances for dating as most people, because most people wouldn't equate my physique with a love of men. It wasn't until we moved that I told my mother I was gay, but it was a long time before that when I admitted to myself who I was.

It was at the end of high school when I had my first relationship, even if it was something quiet that no one knew about. Even my best friend at the time didn't even know about him or my homosexual tendencies. It didn't really work out, but that seems to be the case with most teenage relationships, especially the secret ones.

After school, I really didn't care who knew I was gay, and not many people took me seriously when I told them, anyway. I didn't have many friends to speak of, but I had hundreds of acquaintances; the kind of people who were there if there was booze involved, but could never be counted on in a time of a crisis. Most of them spent their time talking about sports, or trying to pick up chicks in bars, but I was never all too social. I always just hung around the background.

I'd only really go out when I felt lonely, which had been happening a lot in the months that came after my twenty-first birthday. I spent a lot of time in bars, meeting random guys who only seemed to like me for my body. They'd date me for a few weeks, we'd sleep together, and they'd disappear. The last few months before I met Brian, I just cut out the dating all together, and, in the end, I'd be lucky if they remembered my name, or if I could remember theirs.

Then, just like all romance movies, along comes a knight in shining armor who whisks me off my feet and shows me what the world of love was supposed to be like. In reality, I threw up on his feet, but I think he was too drunk to really care. When we ended up in my room and finally ended up falling asleep, I woke up to find him still there the next morning. He took me out for coffee, and that's about the point when the cheesy romance started.

We'd been together for two years before my mother decided it was time to move. Brian was there when I told her about us being a couple, and after a few moments of confused glances, my mother told me that she'd always wanted a daughter, or something along those lines. Brian said something about me having the perfect chest for a dress and almost everyone laughed. I guess I'd kind of hoped that my mother would be more supportive, or actually say she'd love me no matter what, but she'd never been that kind of mother. She taught by apathy, and expected you to solve all of life's problems by yourself.

Brian had been so much sunnier then, but after two years of the endless nights and defining cold, he'd changed. We'd all changed. I knew that this place wasn't doing anything for my mood, or my paranoia, or even my very sanity. We were young, and naive, and we had thought we'd be together forever, but I guess we never took into account how much work it'd be. I'm sure we could still be together if I had tried a little harder, but I wouldn't let all the blame be placed on me.

I unlocked the front door after risking my life to get up the icy stairs, and I was greeted by nothing more than an equally cold hallway. Mrs. Webb from the first floor was home, because I could hear her television blasting behind the closed door. At least I wouldn't have to explain to her why I was home early.

My apartment door opened rather silently, or at least I didn't hear it because I was lost in my own little world. As I looked at my things strewn around the apartment, and all I could think about was how I'd need to start packing if I didn't find another job soon. I'd known this day was coming, but I hadn't wanted to accept it. You never really want to accept that everything you had could be taken away without warning. The old badger had never really liked the ideas of gays outside his restaurant, let alone inside of it, but he never fired me because he was afraid I'd shout discrimination, or something. Maybe he didn't fire me because I didn't look it, or act it; I didn't really know. I just knew that he didn't like what I was, or that my boyfriend came around while I was working.

I didn't really care that I'd lost the job, I only cared about the repercussions. He'd been looking for a reason to fire me, and I'd been looking for a reason to quit. He was rude, and bigoted, and cheap. He was never nice to anyone, unless there was something to be gained from it, like us working extra hours. He treated the busty waitresses, and me, the only waiter, the same way; like we were nothing more than the trampled snow outside his door. I was sure he hated everyone, even himself.

Hanging my dripping coat by the door, I dried my hands on the shirt that strained to stretch across my stomach as I walked to the thermostat and turned it up. Rubbing my eyes slowly, I knew I couldn't afford the gas it took to make the apartment somewhat bearable, but I needed something to feel almost decent right now. Perhaps I'd just sink even lower and go back to asking my mother for some kind of assistance, like an allowance. It would be almost like I was a teenager again.

Walking into the kitchen as I heard the heater kick on, I stopped in front of the fridge and opened my eyes so I could look for something to eat, or something to drink, or at least something to keep me distracted. I hadn't even told my mother that me and Brian had broken up yet, because I didn't have the strength to act like it didn't bother me, when in fact I still cried every time I went to lay down in my new twin sized bed. I'd been needing a new mattress for years, but what use was a full sized mattress now?