The Love we Hide (Gay Furry Romance/Thriller story) MA15+

C3P13 - things unwanted

Kevin POV-

Unwanted things piled the shelves. Cans of goods that had lost all goodness, as if it were time that had stained their stickers and thrown dents in their corners. Greens, whites, reds, all littered in pilings. They looked as if they felt wanted. They looked as though they were silently begging for me to reach for them.

In my paws I held death sticks. Rolled smoke, as few furs say. Cigarettes I was never going to buy. Still, the packaging was a good distraction for my tear factories. And warnings of lung cancer were somewhat entertaining to a consumer. Humorous, when a product begged you not to buy it.

That sensation reminded me a bit of Vince. The way that he couldn't be a boyfriend the first time I met him. The way he was too angry to be reasoned with. Too many bad habits. Too many warnings on his packaging. Yes, Vince isn't a fur to be fucked with, and I had been warned that as strongly and as clearly as the cigarette's. And I had gone ahead and fucked with him. Fucked him, been fucked. Smoked the cigarettes. And his smoke was still in my lungs, rotting away at them until I was just another one of the picture's on the back of the box.

The degrading lungs, the muzzle with blackened flesh dangling off of it. The fangs that looked like burnt marshmallows. All me, all spent. Lungs spent. Tears like heavy weight champions, and they won over my eyes. Hoisted my eyelids over their shoulders. Buckled my knees and tail when I walked.

Then there was this great leader of autumn fur standing next to me. And he held his own unwanted goods with chocolate paws. He didn't want them; he wanted me. To by off the shelf. To save me from that solemn boredom that's always a symptoms of corner stores in towns with no corners.

"Hey buddy." He was a true dad in the way that he said that. And suddenly I was tearing up again: remembering that he would never even get the chance to have kids of his own. Half wolf, half German shepherd, tormenting him in Dusk in their double bed at the crack of dawn. But there'd still be smiles, I'm sure of it. I sniffled. Dusk would be a wacky uncle of a father. Responsibly irresponsible.

I wonder what they'd look like, too. All grown up. When Fetch's chocolate fur was more an iced coffee in colour, when Dusk's jokes were finished off with a laugh that was dusty worn with age.

I wonder if I'll be half as happy as them. I wonder if I'll live that long.

"Didn't know you smoked." Fetch said, throwing a concerned eyebrow.

'Nah, pops, you've caught me at a bad time.' I thought, and of course I couldn't say that. Fetch was easily a father figure, even though he were a good year younger than me. But he was tall, and had a masculine build. He'd grown stronger in these past months, less skinny since I met him, more mature since we had lost Rust. And looking at his face, I suddenly felt this unwinding feeling in my chest as though I was nervous to lean over and kiss him.

Not gonna do that. Have too much respect for Dusk. I'd have to just appreciate Fetch from afar like the rest of us. Heh, the rest of us so-called skimmers - flying as good as rocks could when the pond was dried and the earth was cracked.

So, I just said: "Don't smoke."

He was quick: "They for Vince?"

I shrugged. Nice Segway you clever bastard, and I grinned toothily.

All he saw was the grin. "That a no?"

"That's a no fucking way."

His ears flicked back from the profanity, and there was that stinging sensation that I was a bad person. A shitty person, Stephen auto-corrected for me, A shitty, snot-nosed little kid, and you'll never be a doctor. I've seen you, little pup. I've felt you squirm.