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The Life of Another - Chapter 35

© Jake Atkinson

P.O.V. - Nick

I crossed my arms in mock seriousness. "You know I'm starting to pick up on your little tricks, changing the subject like that."

Roger gripped me by the shoulders melodramatically. "Please, no more touchy feely stuff! Ms. Thurlington and Mr. Forester have been grilling me about that crap all day."

"There's nothing wrong with psychology!" I said sharply before lowering my voice. "If you'd stop fighting your emotions you might figure out how to control your aura, or how to project music and feelings to other people, or... who knows what!"

"Oh great!" he said, throwing his hands in the air with exasperation. "I could turn into a musical version of Ms. Thurlington or worse yet, end up like the Mule!"

I tipped my head to the side. "The Mule? You mean that Asimov character? That's just silly."

Roger waved his hands like an old-time magician and stared at me intently. "You're feeling horny... verrryyy hooorrrnnnnyyy."

"Hey," I said, leaning forward to lick his nose. "I think it's working."

He grinned and play-tackled me, pinning me down on the sofa with a powerfully graceful maneuver that left him straddling my hips. "About time Coyote-boy!"

With my wrists held down on either side of my head, I felt thrillingly vulnerable. Nonetheless, something seemed off. "Not that I mind, but what's gotten into you?"

He flashed a mischievous grin. "Well I was kind of hoping to get into you."

Next thing I knew he was thrusting his tongue in my mouth and squeezing my hips between his thighs. Gasping from his sudden surge of passion washing over my empathic senses, I was forced to bite his tongue to make him pull back. "Roger! I don't mean to be a prude but something seems different about you. Are you sure you're ok?"

He let go of my wrists and sat up straight. "I don't know. One minute I'm mister reserved and the next I'm barely able to keep from tearing your jeans off. I think I'm just exhausted... and horny... definitely horny."

His passion surged anew but then I caught it, the faintest sign of his emotion stifling trick.

"Stop!" I cried, just in time to break his concentration. "I didn't mean for you to shut down."

Roger angrily climbed off me and paced in front of the sofa. "Then what I am supposed to do?!"

I cocked an ear. "Most people can't turn their arousal off and on, or any other feelings for that matter. At least, not for long."

He turned a nearby chair to face me and sat down. "So I'm supposed to walk around with a stiffy all day?" Although he was still frustrated, a sense of amusement brought a half-smile to his muzzle. "I mean, do you have any idea how distracting you are? I've got to do something or every other thought I have will be about that sexy tail of yours."

My tail is sexy? I thought to myself. I never really thought of myself as sexy before. I know Roger's been attracted to me since the moment we met but it's weird how hearing it said aloud makes me feel.

I refocused on the conversation and looked up at Roger with a sense of disbelief. "So you really don't have any idea about how else to deal with being aroused?" I asked rhetorically. "You've never uh... taken matters into your own hands?"

Roger lowered his ears in embarrassment. "Let's just say that it's been so long that I can't remember the last time I did."

"Well no wonder you're so worked up!" I exclaimed. "You know most guys our age do that, like, every day... right?"

His eyes wandered down to my crotch. "Yeah, but why? I'm obviously horny and your pants are practically bursting so why don't we, you know, help each other out?"

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed. "We met all of a week ago! It's not that I don't want to, it's just..."

"There," said Roger. "The way I'm guessing you're feeling right now is the same way I feel about wacking off. It's so... humiliating. Look, this is getting nowhere and I'm really burned out. Can we _please_do the psychotherapy session another time?"

"Ok, ok. I was only trying to help." I replied, pulling a paw up under myself to sit straighter.

"I know." he said with a note of depression. "And I appreciate it. But I don't want to do any more heavy lifting, emotional or otherwise." He rested his elbows on his knees and perked his ears. "Everything doesn't always have to be about me. How was your day?"

"My days always seem so boring compared to yours." I said with a shrug. "How about your test results? Did you get into any advanced placement courses?"

"Heh, almost forgot about that." he responded. "Looks like I'll be doing some tutoring in the mornings and, assuming I keep the windows closed, playing the cello in the afternoons. Well, at least I hope to be. Dr. Tamner's afraid I'll pass out again so she insisted she be around the next time I practice. I tried to convince her that it was just a fluke but..."

I jumped in. "Pass out again?"

He tipped his head noncommittally. "I was playing Mrs. Patterson's cello and got the dumb idea of trying a meditation trick at the same time. Safe to say, I won't be doing that again."

"Wait," I said after putting together a few unconnected pieces of conversation. "You mean to say that the music I heard was being_played_ by you?! I assumed it was an mp3 or something, like last time."

Roger's ears lowered in concern. "Yeah, I mentioned it earlier. Don't you remember?"

I unconsciously chewed at my lip. "Uh, I remember now. It just didn't sink in at the time. Still a little dazed I guess."

"Dazed... because of me." said Roger with a rush of anger and guilt.

"Oh stop it! I'm fine." I said reassuringly. "And to prove it, I'll fix supper. Er uh, is your kitchen stocked yet though?"

Roger brightened and stood up. "I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to explore my new place. Let's take a look."

He lead the way to the kitchen and eagerly threw open the fridge. "What the...?"

His bemused reaction had me more than a little intrigued. "What?" I said, my tail waving gently at his improving mood.

"I definitely wasn't expecting this!" he said as he produced a rectangular casserole dish and set it on the counter.

We both stared at it, dumbfounded, until Roger broke the silence. "It's a spaghetti and meatballs zombie apocalypse!"

"Wow, they really went all out! There's little zombie meatballs, tomato sauce blood... and look, there's a garlic-toast Cougar fighting them back with an edible crossbow!"

Roger removed a wooden popsicle stick sign from the corner of the pasta battleground and read it aloud. "Welcome to the end of the world! -Taylor"

"Oh I know her! She graduated last year." I said as Roger set down the sign and we glanced at the note attached to the side of the dish. "And it looks like you're invited to her Walking Dead party tomorrow tonight."

"Ugh, I don't want to be anti-social but I hate that gory stuff." Roger replied.

"Can't say I'm a fan of it either, but she did go to a lot of trouble to welcome you to the building."

He sighed and put the dish in the oven to reheat it. "I know. I guess I'll go and just close my eyes... for like, the whole show. I swear, some day all this social stuff is going to be the death of me!"

"Stop it!" I chastised playfully. "Besides, I have an idea. She's a total chatterbox once she opens up, so just get her talking. Before you know it she'll be blabbing her way through the whole episode, then you won't have to pay attention to it."

Roger's ears lifted and he licked my nose. "Sounds easy enough, thanks for the idea."

I bumped noses in return. "No problem. Hey, while supper is heating up tell me more about your schedule. You must have _some_classes."

He rolled his eyes. "I have talent training, with Mr. Burwell no less! And after that I get counseling from Mr. Forester for my math issues, among other things. Oh, and they tried to get me to sign up for a sport, to help with my_teamwork skills_, but I managed to talk my way out of that."

"Aw," I whined in disappointment. "With the way you move and the shape you're in, you'd be a top player on any team at this school. And what's up with Mr. Forester? I thought Ms. Thurlington was your counselor."

Roger gestured for me to follow and we worked our way back to the living room as he talked. "I don't know the details but she apparently had a meeting with Mr. Burwell. The result of which is that I now get to chat up Mr. Forester every day. Honestly, I never knew a school that was so concerned with counseling!"

He held up his hands defensively. "I know, I know... that stuff is important. But there's such a thing as too much! Anyway, can you really see me on something like the football team? It would be all of five seconds before someone picked a fight with me in the locker room, and you know how that would end!"

"I never thought of that." I said with a note of disappointment. "But I suppose you have a point."

Roger all but collapsed into the corner of the sofa and closed his eyes.

Poor guy. I thought as I moved to stand behind him. He really is beat. Considering he was waist deep in that stream with Steven just last night I suppose he has good reason! Feeling sorry for him, I leaned down and started to massage his shoulders.

"Ohhh!" He groaned in contentment. "That sure feels good." Shifting to press against my hands, he added "Mmm, I haven't had a massage in... forever."

Finally, he's starting to unwind. Maybe this would be a good time to tell him about Thad?

"Hey, have you had a chance to check the news today?" I asked nonchalantly.

Roger grunted, his head lolling from side to side as I kneaded his tired muscles. "I've been running nonstop. For all I know, inter-dimensional aliens have arrived. Aliens bearing gifts of plaid underwear and fine cognac!"

He accentuated the latter by raising his hand with an imaginary brandy snifter. "To our new alien overlords and their soft flannel undies!"

"What?" I replied with a cocked ear.

"Well they're aliens." he said defensively. "How would they know what gift is appropriate for the occasion? They'd probably catch a random broadcast from some shopping network on TV, hand out some rainbow-infused crystal unicorn necklaces, and call it a day."

His sense of giddy mirth had my tail gently swaying. "You _must_be exhausted."

I got down on my knees and wrapped my arms around Roger's neck in a hug, our heads side by side. "You want me to postpone the Fallout 4 party again?" I asked.

He rubbed his cheek ruff against mine. "Nah, a few zombie meatballs and I'll be fine. So what's in the news?"

"You don't have to worry about Thad anymore." I replied with a tinge of guilt. "I mean, not that it's good to celebrate someone's murder but..."

Roger jumped up and spun around. "Bullsh#t! Don't tell me that little f#cker faked his own death! God damn it!"

He started to tamp down on his anger, thought better of doing so in my presence, and settled for throwing a couch cushion across the room. "F#ck! Typhon's going to absolutely eviscerate him!"

"Take it easy!" I said, stepping towards him. "He died at a press conference, on live TV. Trust me, people don't get any deader."

Roger fell into an eerie silence, his aura smoldering between electric blue and fathomless black.

I tried to reason with him. "There's footage from a dozen different angles and it's all over the internet. It's all anyone's been talking about."

In response he only seethed, his gaze distant.

"Here, see for yourself." I said as I frantically pulled out my phone. "I bookmarked it."

Roger suddenly jumped back. "Keep your phone away, I don't want to fry it! Just... go out in the hall for a minute."

My tail curled. "I'm sorry. I thought..."

The light distorting waves from his aura wavered sickeningly. "I'm not mad at you. But you've got to get out, NOW!"

Torn between fear and concern, I hesitated. But only until Roger grabbed me by the shoulders and all but threw me into the hallway.

The door slammed behind me and I half expected to hear a muffled explosion. Instead there was only silence.

Unsure what to do, I hovered expectantly outside his door until I was distracted by a voice from across the hall.

"Uh, you ok?" said Taylor.

Recognizing her voice, I turned. "I think so. Roger's just... having a moment."

I hadn't seen her since last year's graduation ceremony and her appearance initially caught me off guard. She must have read my reaction. "Heh, guess it has been awhile since we last spoke. So uh, I guess I'm done deviating! What do you think?" she asked as she twirled around. "Personally it's starting to grow on me, no pun intended."

I quickly tried to gather myself and act casual. "Guess you've moved passed all the 'Catmodo Dragon' jokes."

"That's for sure!" she said, accenting her words with a flick of her forked tongue. "I mean, I'd still rather be my old Serval self but the in-between stage was awful. Now that I'm a full-on anthropomorphic Komodo Dragon it's actually a lot easier. Heh, at least I know I can use big words like anthropomorphic around you."

As anxious as I was to be friendly with Taylor, I couldn't get my mind off Roger and only managed a feeble smile. "I didn't even know you were still on campus. Have you been here since graduation?"

She shook her head. "I went back to my parent's house but... things didn't work out. Thanks to the William Lachland fund though, I've got a home here. Really my only problem is that, now that I'm cold blooded, winter's a bitch. I'm stuck spending most of my time under the heat lamps in my apartment. Want to come in and see my heated rock?"

"Uh..." I stammered.

"Just kidding." she joked. "I don't have a rock. But they're working on a thermal suit so I can get out more during the colder months. It's still pretty beta though."

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of Roger's door opening behind me. Turning to face him, I felt as if I was addressing a corpse. I knew he'd do that trick again, now I can't feel any of his emotions. "Hey Roger, turns out Taylor lives right across the hall. Are you ok?"

Roger nodded and, to his credit, seemed completely unfazed by Taylor's reptilian appearance. "Hi Taylor, good to meet you. Sorry about all the commotion. Oh and thanks for the supper! I can only imagine how much work that must have taken! Nick and I were just about to dig in. Want to join us?"

Ok, this is just weird! I'm feeling nothing from him, and to top it off he's acting so... normal!

"Thanks, but I'd get too cold." she said. "And I really should get back to work. I've got some serious bug hunting to do." She smiled and flicked her tongue again.

Roger didn't miss a beat. "A little coding fun huh? I take it you work for the school?"

"Mostly, but I manage a bit of freelance when time permits. Hey I hate to cut it short but I've got to get back under my heat lamps. You're coming to the party tomorrow night though, right?"

For the first time since meeting Taylor, Roger faltered and my empathic senses finally detected something, anxiety. "Uh, yeah... sure."

Taylor's voice softened. "It's nothing to stress over. You know, this building is almost empty. If you show then there'll be a grand total of four of us! And among our group a little flickering fur is downright mundane."

At the mention of flickering fur, Roger's condition worsened and he visibly cringed. "I thought it seemed awfully quiet around here. Alright, count me in." He said while stepping back towards his doorway. "Have a good night and, again, sorry for the ruckus today. I'm normally a total recluse."

"Don't worry about it." she said with a wave. "I practically burned the place down when I moved in! Goodnight."

"She's really nice." commented Roger as we walked back into his apartment.

"Yeah, we shared a couple classes last year but I lost touch with her after she graduated." I replied as we entered the kitchen. "I had no idea she was living right here."

Roger pulled the casserole dish from the oven and set it on the kitchen table. "Hey uh, I'm really sorry about... earlier. With everything that's been happening lately I'm starting to get paranoid. I was afraid I'd put you in a coma or something so I did that suppression trick once I got you out the door."

I glanced around his kitchen, trying to guess which drawer might contain silverware. "I understand. And I'm sorry for bringing up Thad, I thought you'd be relieved. He really is dead by the way. You can see the footage for yourself, although you might not want to. It's beyond graphic."

Unsure where to find the proper utensils himself, Roger started pulling random drawers open. "It's alright. I would've found out about it sooner or later." After several attempts, he discovered the appropriate drawer and produced forks for each of us. "So how did he die?"

"You sure you want to be talking about this while we eat?" I asked.

Roger perked an ear and tipped his muzzle towards our zombie themed meal.

"Point taken." I replied, finding a seat at the table where I skewered the nearest meatball. "Hmm, I think this one's a zombie Skunk. Taylor put little cheese stripes on its back and tail."

I held out my fork so Roger could see it, then proceeded to bite the Skunk's head off before picking up the conversation. "So, getting back to Thad... he was giving a press conference and blathering on about how the video was fake, and about how he couldn't wait for the opportunity to exonerate himself, when suddenly he dropped to his knees and started screaming. I mean REALLY screaming."

Roger stopped mid-bite, the garlic-toast Cougar's life spared momentarily as he hung on my words.

Swallowing hard, I continued. "His back arched, his limbs twisted until his bones cracked... it was awful, and yet not a person moved to help him. And he just kept screaming... screaming until his voice was raw and blood frothed out of his mouth." I paused, suddenly repulsed as the images played through my mind.

Roger unconsciously crunched his toast. "What happened next?"

"Uh, maybe I should tell you that part after we finish eating."

Huffing impatiently, Roger replied "You can't have a build up like that and just stop!"

"Well uh, without being too graphic..." I said reluctantly. "He basically... exploded. Which is gross enough in it's own right, but what was really creepy was that the spatter from all the blood and gore formed into writing."

Roger went cold with fear. "What did he say?!"

"Nothing really, he just screamed and exploded. As for the writing, it was hard to read. It seemed to be in a lot of different languages."

"Give me your phone!" he said, practically lunging at me. "No, wait, I'm pretty worked up and I don't want to fry it. Just... do me a favor and see if there's any news about the writing."

Roger sat back down but didn't return to his food, choosing instead to stare off into nothing, obviously deep in thought.

I produced my phone and thumbed through several articles. "It sounds like they haven't translated most of it. Apparently the people that got sprayed didn't feel like standing around so everything got jumbled up pretty quickly. That, and it seems most of the languages are really obscure. So far they've only managed to decipher a repeating phrase, Forgive me Eric."