FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

My first reaction upon hobbling into Benji's home was "Oh God, don't touch anything."

The front door fed straight into the living room, the carpet plush and white, the walls black with elegantly detailed molding in ivory shades; a glass-topped coffee table with a steel base was surrounded by a cushy white sofa that tucked into one corner of the room. A matching love-seat picked up where the sofa ended, blood-red pillows popping out in vibrant contrast to the white of the furniture, black knit blankets tossed casually over the backs of both. A flat-screen was mounted on the wall opposite the couch, a series of polished white cabinets sitting beneath it then rising up the wall to the left side and extending over it as well. The usual sat atop the cabinets: DVD player, cable box, stereo system and speakers. Movies were tucked into the shelves over the media center, as well as quite an assortment of books and magazines. The black walls bore paintings in white, but with red eye-catching designs set to one corner. Tall, steel lamps rose up from the corners of the room with boxy white shades over them, providing comfy light that made you want to curl up on the couch and nap.

Benji's personality was crystal-clear upon seeing where he lived: Stylish, creative and functional, but with a hint of richness. The room seemed to balance itself by pure elegance, and I wondered if being a waiter was just a side job for him. I mean, everything looked really expensive. He could easily have been an interior designer.

He laughed when I halted and asked if I should take off my shoes, telling me not to worry and this isn't grandma's house. Still, I wiped my feet before treading lightly through the living room toward the kitchen with him.

When going to someone else's house I always feel incredibly awkward. I mean, I had good reason to feel awkward this time, but under normal circumstances it's the same. I think it's seeing their photos on the wall or sitting about that does it to me.

All of Benji's were framed in the same aluminum frames but in varying sizes; most of them hanging perfectly straight across the living room wall, going from smallest to largest and then repeating the same pattern. There were (what I guessed) family photos with him and his parents, a few of a grinning Lani, other relatives, and old school portraits. There were also a few of him and another guy, a cougar - to my surprise. They were embracing, laughing, and one was even a strip of photo-booth snapshots ending in a kiss. These were deeply personal and intimate moments that I didn't feel I had the right to see. As commonplace as they were, the memories captured in the pictures were to sincere for me, a series of portraits of families as a whole - something I didn't have since I was eight.

I tried to keep my eyes forward.

The kitchen was just as lavish as the den. All stainless-steel appliances, the same black and white color scheme but in tile, little red accents here and there. Benji went up to the bar that surrounded the sink and tugged out a tall, black stool, patting the seat and ushering me onto it. I sat as he placed the plastic bag he'd been carrying on top of his dinner table, then removed his coat and hung it on the back of one of the chairs.

"You're home is gorgeous," I said, a clock on the wall above the oven chiming ten o'clock.

He slipped around the bar and began running water in the sink, a thick fog of steam soon wafting up and giving away it's heat, "Thanks. It's been an ongoing project since I moved here. There are a few rooms upstairs I haven't gotten to yet. Lean over for me."

He'd pulled a wash cloth from a drawer and dunked it in the steaming water. I leaned carefully over the bar, my head swimming a little, and held onto the edges as he began parting my fur and dabbing the cloth to my wound. It burned at first, stinging when he'd scrub hard at my scalp, but the pain was soon soothed by the warmth of the towel. At one point he gasped and told me to hold the towel on tight, then flitted from the kitchen, his footfalls barely making a sound. I guess the cut had opened up again, because he quickly returned with some gauze and a bottle of disinfectant. The cloth was rather bloody when he pulled it from my hands.

"You hit the steps pretty hard," he said, his teeth clenched as if biting back pain, "This is a pretty nasty cut."

"Will I need stitches?" I did not want to go to the hospital.

"No, I don't think so." He unscrewed the top from the disinfectant, "I've got some liquid-bandage. Hopefully it'll keep it good and closed. Lean over a little - good. This'll sting a bit."

He held the cloth against my head then poured on the disinfectant, catching the excess in it and keeping my hair and fur from getting soaked. He didn't lie; it stung. I cringed as I felt it work its germ killing magic, bubbling like sea-foam in the wound until it had done its job.

Suddenly everything came back to me.

Thinking about sea-foam made me think of the beach, which made me think of my walk with Deacon, which made me think of how - right then, he could still be searching high and low for me. I also thought about beating myself with one of the tenderizing mallets I saw on top of the counter.

"What am I going to do?" I whimpered.

The question was kind of aimed inwardly to myself, but Benji thought I meant it for him because he promptly replied, "The question is - what do you want to do? I know what I'd do."

What did I want to do? Of course, I wanted to find Deacon and apologize, explain what happened and then...My stomach ached familiarly like when I'd first seen him. I'd felt that blissful, burning, agonizing feeling for the past two years. I knew what I wanted to do. I'd been wanting to do it for a long time now: Tell the truth. I didn't think it would be that difficult now that I believed Deacon had feelings for me. I needed - no, had to tell him. If anything, my behavior tonight would've spelled my feelings out right before his eyes, so keeping on with the charade seemed pointless. That acceptance alone aided me in my confidence, and that burning infatuation in my belly turned to downright determination once I'd made up my mind.

Benji squealed as I suddenly jerked my head up, him in the process of laying on a thick layer of liquid-bandage. "I need to find him," I said determinedly.

"Easy!" he grumbled, his ears twitching backward and brow furrowing, his hand flicking the little brush from the bandage bottle into the sink, "Be glad it was dry!"

"I need to find him," I said again.

He crossed his eyes dumbly, "I heard you the first time. Why not call him?"

I did a mental face-palm. I'd forgotten about my phone. Although, if Deacon had been as upset as Benji had said then why hadn't my tried to call me? I hadn't felt the thing vibrate at all since I left the restaurant.

I reached into my pocket expecting to feel the rubber case of my OtterBox, but instead there was nothing. My fur and skin went ice-cold as I checked every pocket I had frantically, only to come up with my wallet and some sand.

Benji stared wide-eyed at me as I danced in circles patting myself down. I barely noticed when he gave a purposeful cough and grinned, "Why, missing something? Hold on a sec."

My heart was racing and I couldn't control my tail twitching as he dried his paws then went over to the bag on the table. It gave a plastic swish as he dove his hands into it and dug around, pulling something out and wiping it on his pants leg, his tongue sticking out, "It's a little greasy. Yucky."

I was frantic as he sauntered back over and handed it to me, "I guess you dropped it when you ran out because it was underneath the table. He tried to call, but I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to answer, so you've got a few voice-mails."

"Oh, God! Thank you!"

I knew my eyes were wide in terror. I didn't know what to expect to hear. Would he be angry? Crying? Would he tell me never to speak to him again, or that our friendship was over? My throat tightened and my heart started to flutter.

What if he told me he cared for me?

As much as I'd always wanted to hear that coming from him, I didn't want it to be born from a desperate situation. I didn't want to hear "Colby, I love you" from a voice-mail. If, I sighed, he even did.

Regardless, Benji was right. I had 10 missed calls, eight of them from Deacon and two from our friend Kelton. No doubt he'd called her to see if I'd answer when she tried to get ahold of me. I groaned, because that meant he thought I was choosing to ignore him. He'd left only four voice-mails, though.

I looked pleadingly at Benji as he emptied the sink, my tail and ears going limp, "I...I don't know if I can listen to these."

He leaned against the sink and looked me square in the face, his gaze made all the more serious by his striking eyes, "Them's the breaks. You chose to run off, now you have to deal with the consequences." He pointed to the phone clutched wearily in my trembling paw, "That's the first one. If you want to make up with - Deacon, is it?"

I nodded stiffly.

"If you want to make up with Deacon, then hearing what he has to say is the first step. You still need to call him, but you'd be stupid to not hear those messages first. You don't know what he could have said. It's best to be prepared."

I hated it, but he was right.

I simply stared at the phone for a minute, trying to quiet my mind to all of the static plaguing my thoughts. I told myself it would be alright, that I needed to calm down.

"Would you feel better if you listened by yourself? I know it's rather private."

I nodded, agreeing while prolonging the situation at the same time.

"Can you walk?"

I glanced hopefully at my feet, then around the room. I shook my head to see if I got dizzy, and sighed in relief when only my cut stung a little. The stool rocked as I slipped off of it to stand firmly on my own two feet.

"Go on into the living room," Benji said, "I'm going to clean up a bit here and change clothes. If you're going to call him then tell me. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of hearing you ended up here, but it might be best if I'm there to prove it."

I smiled. For someone I barely knew, Benji was a good friend. Why he'd decided to help me so much I didn't know, but I couldn't help but wonder if the guy in the picture - the cougar, had caused him to go through a similar ordeal as mine.

"I'll try not to get anything dirty," I said innocently.

He grinned and shook his head, waving me away, "Shut up and go on, you turd."

He called after me before my feet touched the carpet, "Hey, Colby?"

"Yeah?"

His mismatched eyes twinkled with sincerity, tail wagging, "It'll be alright."

I hoped so; God I did.

I decided to just play all of the messages straight through, then sort out Deacon's reaction once I'd heard what he had to say. Sighing, I hit the voice-mail button on my iPhone screen and braced myself for Deacon's words:

"Colby, I don't know what I said to make you so upset, but please - I'm sorry, Bo. Please call me back. I need to know that you're okay."

"Colby, if you're mad at me, I'm sorry! You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, you know it! I'm scared, Bo. I've never seen you this way, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. Please, please, please - if you get this, let me know where you are so we can go home."

"Bo, I'm serious; It's nearly eight o'clock and I'm worried about you. Why aren't you answering? If you're mad, please - we can talk about it! You're...you're my best friend. Please, Colby. Please..."

"Colby, I'm not going to beg anymore. I think I know what this is about, and I was terrified that you'd react this way. I...I honestly thought that...that it would be okay. I just...*sighs*...I just don't know what to think right now. I don't know what to do...*silence*...Everything has just - dammit! This isn't what I wanted to happen! Colby, you've got to understand; I didn't mean to do that to you. I didn't mean to put so much pressure on your shoulders; It was selfish of me. I just...I just couldn't take it anymore...*silence*..._Please, Bo. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry...*sniff*..._At least let me know you're alright. Maybe...maybe we can still have that talk...if you don't hate me...*silence*... Call me. And, Colby - I...I l...*cuts off*..."

I hated it, but tears stained my eyes again.

Through each message he didn't get the slightest bit angry. He was just worried, overwhelmingly so. I'd never heard him sound so pitiful, so hurt and frightened. It was just to much for me to bare. I'd caused this to happen. I'd made Deacon, my best friend and the guy I loved, feel a pain that he should never have had to endure. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I'd only ever wanted to make him happy, and now I'd done the unforgivable opposite. He'd sounded beaten, like how I'd felt when lying out on Benji's steps with my head busted open. After hearing his voice breaking I knew then that Deacon had only ever cared for me, and my heart twisted in my chest as I thought of how I may have broken his.

I quickly wiped my eyes as I heard footsteps softly bumping on the stairs down the hall, and, after pulling off my shoes, pulled my legs up onto the sofa.

I felt like a big dirty smudge as I sat on that pristine white couch sitting on pristine white carpet, in a house that was to pleasant and orderly for my current state of being. It didn't seem fair. I didn't deserve to be here getting help from someone as nice as Benji. Who was I to him? A charity case? Well, sort of, I guessed.

I snatched one of the red pillows sitting next to me into my lap and snuggled it, needing something to hold onto while everything else I cared for seemed to slip away. Another framed picture sitting on the glass coffee table caught my eye. It was the cougar guy again, but this time he looked completely different. I checked to make sure Benji wasn't about to sneak up on me, then gently picked up the picture so I could look more closely at it.

He was a handsome fur, very attractive, and almost pretty in a way while still remaining masculine. They must have been at the beach when the picture was taken, as he was in a pair of long purple board-shorts, the background an enormous and empty blue that could only be a cloudless sky over the ocean. He was waving and grinning happily at the camera, his fur much shorter than mine and showing off the athletic definition to his body. I reckoned he was a runner, being one myself, as his legs and thighs were much more robust than the rest of him, his cream-colored stomach flat and toned, his shorts pulled down and playfully revealing a vascular lower abdomen. That wasn't to say the rest of him wasn't worth looking at. His arms, chest, and shoulders were in good harmony with his physique; sandy-blonde hair cut short and tousled to one side like a model from a Hollister ad. There was only one flaw to his otherwise gorgeous complexion.

It was difficult to see as it blended into his fur, but once I squinted it was all to obvious. I gasped, catching myself and trying to keep quiet.

A horrible scar began a few inches above his collarbone on his right side, ran down the length of his torso, and then ended at the top of his hip. It was almost three inches wide, the edges frayed as if something ripped him open. It wasn't the only one, though. He also had one that sliced across his eye like a villain from a Disney movie and - although I couldn't tell from the picture - he may have been blind in it. You could see that the scars were old, as the skin was a pale pink, but they were still gruesome no matter the age.

"Oh my God," I sputtered.

I jumped, nearly dropping the frame, as someone spoke, "Yeah. You should have seen him fresh from the accident, though." It was Lani, leaning casually against the threshold from the hallway beside the sofa where I couldn't see her walk in. She eyed me coolly with her ears perked, "Doctors didn't think he'd make it."

She didn't seem as riled as before, to my relief. Simply observing me in a curious manner with her head cocked to the side.

"Who is he?" I asked, expecting her to bite my head off without warning. Women frightened me that way, in being so touchy so often.

"His name's Jessie. He was my brothers last ex."

She surprised me by coming over and sitting next to me on the couch. I wasn't sure, but she looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, which made me wonder where their parents were. I wasn't even sure how old Benji was. I'd be afraid to guess.

She motioned for the picture and I passed it over, her wiping some dust from it with the sleeve of a baggy hoody she'd thrown on, "We loved him. He was practically another big-brother to me."

She leaned out and sat the frame back onto the table. "What happened?" I asked, dying to know but trying not to be to obvious about it.

She smiled sorrowfully, "Drunk driver came into their lane while coming around a tight curve; hit them head on. Jessie's airbag didn't go off, and the guy hit'em so hard that his seat belt snapped and he got thrown through the windshield."

I couldn't find my voice. It took me a minute until I could speak, "He...broke through the windshield?"

She shook her head, "Not like that. It got smashed when the guy hit them. He just broke through. All of that," she pointed the scars along Jessie's body, "was from the glass, but they think he may have gotten the bigger chunk from hitting a piece of metal on the other guys car."

My skin crawled along where Jessie's scar was, "Geesh. Where is he now? I mean, what happened between him and your brother?"

Her shoulders bounced as she chuckled, "Benji was an idiot, that's what happened. He moved out here, got a job, got a boyfriend; He didn't tell mom and dad, though, that he was gay. He and Jessie had been together for almost a year when the accident happened, and - naturally, mom and pop had to come to the hospital since Benji got pretty badly hurt, too."

She shook her head, short raven-black hair falling across her face, "Imagine their surprise when all Benji would say was 'Where's Jessie!? Where is he!? What happened to my boyfriend!?' They, well..." She brushed the hair across her eyes away, the blue in them seeming to swim, "They didn't take it well."

I found that I was clutching the pillow I had much to hard. If it had been someone's hand it probably would've turned blue and fallen off by now. Why was I so anxious? Well, because I knew what she was going to say next even before I asked. It was any homosexual furs nightmare.

"They...they abandoned him?"

She looked on the verge of tears, something that didn't seem fitting to her rebellious and strengthened nature, "Yeah. They left him in his hospital bed, got back in their car, and drove home without saying a thing. I didn't understand it, how they could just brush him off when he was so hurt, like he hadn't existed."

The sofa cushion sank as she pulled her own legs up, crossing them and grabbing a pillow of her own, "I couldn't leave him, though. I love Benji. He's my brother and, even though we fight sometimes, that won't change."

Her demeanor shifted, like when her brother had yelled up to her in the window, and she squeezed the pillow in her hands until her claws punched little holes into it, "I was so angry," She snarled, "I stopped them before they left. I yelled, screamed, and tried forcing them to see how fucking ignorant they were. They cried, but it wasn't because of what I'd said. It was because I broke them. I told them I hated them, and that I never wanted to see them again."

"Was that true?" I said, thinking out loud.

"After what they did to him? You bet I did. But, you'll never guess what happened afterward."

I felt like I was at a slumber party chit-chatting with some girlfriends, "What?"

"When it came time for Benji to checkout of the hospital, the bill had miraculously been taken care of. And then, when Jessie could leave, his was payed for too. The hospital staff said it had been done by an 'Anonymous donation', but I knew I'd slapped some sense into my parents after all. Kind of a final act of love to the son they didn't want anymore."

"After that, Benji tried his hardest to get them to change their minds. Not so much for him - he would've been fine without them."

"But you..."

"Yeah, they'd tossed me too. I didn't care, though. What kind of parents would abandon one kid while treating the other like nothing had happened?" She shook her head, "Not the kind of parents I wanted. Although Benji did convince them to support me a little, even though I moved out here to live with him. But by the time he'd gone to Arizona, pressured them into helping me out, and come back Jessie had moved on."

Oh shit. I both thought it and said it and the same time.

I was confused though, "When did they break up?"

She looked at me blankly for a minute, then her head bobbed as she realized she hadn't told me that they had stopped dating.

"Sorry. Benji ended it when he left because he knew Jessie wouldn't want him to go. He felt that he'd be holding him back." She held up a dainty paw, counting off fingers, "Yeah, he was gone for nearly eight months. When he came home Jessie was together with Terry, this big Siberian tiger that he'd known forever. Him and Benji are still friends. He comes over a lot."

It was weird how much Lani had changed since before. I didn't know what she was up to, filling me in on her family's quarrels, but it made me even more nervous on the inside. I'd told my mother and step-dad that I was gay already, but Deacon - well, I highly doubted it. I just didn't want something like what happened to Benji and Jessie to happen to us. I still couldn't help but ask what was going on, though.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

Her tail thumped against the sofa as she grinned at me sweetly, "Benji told me happened to you when he went to change. It made me feel really shitty for being so mean before, so I thought I'd come apologize and I saw you with the picture."

Oh. Well, my view of her made a u-turn.

She shrugged, "Plus, I thought you'd want some company after all of that happened. I would have. The rest just came out, I guess."

I grinned at her, "Well, thank you. I'm actually glad you did come. I was about to either break down sobbing or just break down period. I needed someone to talk to."

She giggled, her tail starting to wag and give Benji's stiff competition, "You needed a distraction. Well, golly."

"Still," I whispered, "Thanks."

"Well, don't you two look just plain adorable there with your feet on my couch?"

At Benji's voice, both Lani and I jerked sideways, flinging our feet back onto the floor.

He sauntered out of the same hallway that Lani had appeared from, smirking as he took us by surprise. He'd shed his suit and shoes, being barefoot and wearing a pair of glossy, black athletic-shorts and a red tank-top. I hadn't been able to see how he looked before with all of those formal clothes, but now that I could see, he reminded me of myself.

His body was naturally thin with long, elegant limbs and lean muscle. He had just the right amount of tone to stay slim without being considered skinny, but he lacked the definition that Jessie had had in his picture. His hips were wider like mine and shapely, and when he walked the motion carried more through them than his legs, so he swayed gracefully like a dancer.

He sat in the loveseat next to the couch and crossed his legs, then eyed me and Lani gingerly while crossing his feathery-furred arms, "So, I'm glad to see you two like one another after all."

I couldn't help but want to say something to him after Lani had told me so much. I felt like leaping up and giving him a hug. I had been right to trust him; it seemed almost fated that we had met. He was a guiding light in my sea of doubt and worry, and I knew that he could help me straighten things out with Deacon. He was also a ray of hope, as corny as that sounds. I mean, after all of the things he'd faced he still came out triumphant. He was happy. If he could endure so much and rise above it all to better himself, then I knew that I could do the same. The misunderstanding I had with Deacon was miniscule when compared to his past dilemmas, and I had no right to pity myself.

I had accepted what I had to do, and now I knew I had the strength to see it done. I breathed easier for the first time that day.

Benji averted his gaze and looked questioningly to me, "Were they bad?"

I played the voice-mails again, putting the phone on speaker so both he and Lani could hear.

"He's really torn up," Lani said once they'd played through.

Benji nodded, "Yeah, but he's not angry. He'll understand what happened when you call. It'll be fine."

Somehow Benji's positive outlook made me see that it would be fine. I still loved Deacon, and even though I saw my father in him - well, I thought, what's wrong with that? My father was a courageous and noble fur, one who went out of his way to make others happy, who cared to much for his own good and never stopped smiling. I loved my dad. I loved Deacon. But no matter the resemblance, Deacon was not my father. I could see it as a blessing that he mirrored my dad in so many ways, because that meant that my father hadn't died in vain. How he had lived - so happy, loving, benevolent, strong, and empathetic - it survived. It survived in Deacon.

It felt like the two holes in my heart were filled at once with that realization. The one that had been there since my dad died, and the most recent one which was torn open when I thought I'd lost Deacon for good. I felt whole again. Not empty, not lifeless, but how I should have felt: Loved.

Benji motioned toward the phone in my hand, "You ready? I'm sure he is."

"Yeah," I agreed.

I found Deacon's name in my contacts and dialed his number. My heart didn't race, and my hands didn't sweat.

It barely got to two rings.

"COLBY! For the love of God, where are you?! Are you alright?! Why didn't you answer me? I've been going insane because I thought something may have happened!"

I think I would have been overwhelmed if I hadn't been where I was, or if I didn't know what I did then. I was just happy to hear his voice, no matter how frantic.

"I'm fine, Deacon. Really."

"Oh, thank God." I could practically feel his relief through the phone. "Where are you? Why did you run away like that?"

I didn't want to tell him over the phone why I'd ran, that would lead into to much and I'd probably end up having to confess my feelings then. I wanted him by my side for that.

"You remember Benji? The waiter?"

"Yeah? Did you go back to the restaurant?"

I shook my head even though he couldn't see, "No, no, no. Believe it or not, I'm at his house."

I didn't have to see his face to know that it was frozen in disbelief, "What? How?"

"It's a long story, Deac."

"Then tell me."

I smiled painfully, "I will, but not over the phone."

I then looked to Benji, "Is it okay if he comes here?"

"Of course!" Lani stated firmly, as if the decision was up to her. Still, Benji gave an affirmative nod.

"Will you come here, Deacon? Please, I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."

My skin tingled as he chuckled, "Yeah, yeah - of course."

I handed the phone to Benji who then told Deacon his address. He looked to me as he spoke to Deacon a little afterward, giving reassuring nods, even a few thumbs-up to let me know everything was still going well. When he was satisfied he handed the phone back.

Deacon sounded much happier, "I almost didn't believe you. That's to weird how you ended up there."

I sighed, glad to know he was feeling better now, "Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Deacon, I have so much you need to know. I think that talk we promised one another is overdue."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I've got a lot to tell you too."

"I'm sorry, Deacon. For what happened," I rubbed my eyes, "It wasn't your fault."

"We'll talk when I get there, Bo. Don't worry."

I grimaced, letting those words roll off of my back like water. I was surprised how little they effected me now.

"I won't," I said.

"I'll be there in a bit. And Colby?"

"Yeah?"

He barked a pleading laugh, "Don't run off before I get there."

I nearly choked, coughing up a laugh of my own, "I won't, hon."

"Hon?"

"We'll talk about it."

And I hung up.