Shine the Same
"You really doin' it today, Dandy?" she asked. From the other side of the platform. Beneath the rusty, metal awning. In the half-shadow. She was smiling, and ... was padding slowly toward him (the bench he was sitting on).
The honey-tan mouse looked up. Nodded quietly. "Yeah," was his reply. Full of uncertain certainty.
"Mm-hmm."
"I really am," he insisted.
"I said 'mm-hmm' ... " A toothy smile. The mouse-bat tilting her head. "I said ... "
"I know what you said," he replied. "But you don't believe me."
"I have no reason not to," was her whisper. And she stood, now, in front of the bench. Nodding. "May I sit?" she asked. Quiet. Poised. Perfect.
"Course," was Dandy's whisper.
And Akira sat. Right next to him. Sitting up straight, and ... taking a deep, stable breath. Closing her eyes. It was a hot, May day. Not like it would be, though. Not yet the muggy 90-degree swelters. Not yet ... still a cool breeze. Still the kind of breeze that, "licks at your fur," she said suddenly. "The breeze licks at your fur. Doesn't it feel like that?"
The mouse nodded. Breathing through his twitching, sniffing nose. "It does," he agreed.
Breathe. Oh, breathe ...
"It really does," was repeated whisper ... until his wispy voice trailed. Tail hanging between the wooden planks that composed the backside of the bench. Trailing to the concrete. Side-swiping ants.
The mouse-bat, shaded pink (with wings that, unlike those of a full bat ... could not be used for flight, but ... oh, they looked beautiful all the same ... all the same, velvety). With her angular, slightly swept-back ears, and her odd amalgams of mouse and bat pieces. She was so rare. So light. Bats and mice, though able to reproduce, rarely did.
The mouse, the product of two mice ... all mouse. All the twitches. All the earthy tones. All the innocence.
Akira took a breath. A lazy breath. Asking, "So, when does it come?"
He blinked. Looking to her.
"The train," she said. "When does it get here ... "
"Not for another ... ten minutes, I guess. I don't know." A pause. Looking out at the fields. The plains. The sparse trees. "It comes twice a day. Same time. Same place. You know that ... "
"Thought it might be late today," was all she said.
A shake of the head.
She eyed him. The mouse could be stubborn (when he so wished). Could be defiant.
"Dandy," she whispered.
"Mm?" A blink. Looking to her.
"What are you going to do up there? Where, exactly, are you doing? I mean ... Saskatchewan? Alaska? I just ... getting on a train and going. I don't understand ... why you want to leave."
"I don't know," the mouse confessed.
She stared at him. Trying to get him to say more. He would often speak of how he was, one day, going to go down to the station, just get on the train, and just go to the North. Just gonna do it.
She would always ask him why.
And he would always say, "I don't know."
And here they were again.
Where they'd been before: late-afternoon, nearing four, and the only furs at the run-down station. Next to the tracks that went for miles.
Waiting on the train.
The sky was blue. Was clear. The clouds like paper-weights ... or sky-weights, more like, keeping the blue from floating up and away. A surreal realism, the sky. The world. Wasn't it, though ...
"Are you running from something?" she whispered. Biting her lip. Her fangs showing.
"Mice don't run. We ... "
" ... scurry," she allowed, nodding. "Scurry," she whispered. "I remember."
"You said 'running' ... "
"Sorry," was all she could offer.
Silence.
And Akira swallowed. Looking to her sandaled foot-paws. Looking to the gravel and the dirt on the platform. Looking to the yellow and white dandelions that were growing around and between the tracks.
Dandy's whiskers twitched, making instinctual sense of the air and all in it. Twitch-twitch ... sniff ... tail still snaking behind him.
"Are you, uh ... running from ... " She trailed, sighing. Heart hammering. She closed her eyes and craned her neck upward, swallowing again. Sniffling. Looking back down. Opening her eyes. "Are you running from me?" was her barely-audible whisper.
The mouse looked ... hurt, maybe, or trapped, or ... what was that look? At her suggestion, that look ...
She waited for an answer ...
"You can come with me," he offered, not meeting her eyes.
"And just ... up and leave? Just like that? Everything? This is my home. Your home. OUR," she stressed, "home."
"I want ... "
" ... adventure?" she asked. "No, you don't. I know you too well. No, you ... bright lights and buildings be damned, Dandy. You want open air. Open fields. You want sky and wheat and land. Creeks, and ... you want THIS. So, you can't be running from this."
"Scurrying! I'm not ... running. I'm ... "
" ... whatever!" she said, a bit upset. Pausing to breathe. Breathe. "Alright," she said, taking a breath, lowering her voice. "I just don't understand why you have to go. I just ... the only thing," she confessed, "that I can think of, you know, that would cause you to be sitting here day after day after day is ... "
" ... not you," he insisted. "I'm not scurrying from you."
"Then why haven't you said it?"
"I just did. It's not you." The mouse's blue-grey eyes met her mauve ones. Her purple-pink ones.
"That's not what I meant. Why haven't you said," she whispered, "it. IT," she stressed.
The mouse swallowed. Large, dish-like ears swiveling ... listening for the breeze. The birds in the nearby, scattered trees. All around, fields. Woods a few miles to the east. And, yes, the creek. They both lived near the woods.
"Please," she whispered. Wanting to hear it. Wanting to know. If he was really gonna go, she had to know. Had to ...
... know.
They didn't know, when that day (five weeks ago) had begun ... they hadn't known.
They had always been good friends, really, but ... nothing more. He would wander the fields. She would join him. They would throw rocks between the lines of barbed wire strung between the crooked fence-posts.
They'd gone to the same school (but were no longer in school). Both of them in their early 20's ... and both of them mate-less. Working jobs that got them by.
It was too obvious.
That was their justification when either began to think about ... getting 'involved' with the other. "It's too obvious."
But Dandy had always kept to himself. And Akira ... well, she was rare. A hybrid fur. Hybrid furs were rare. Especially in such a rural region. But she was beautiful. Oh, she was beautiful. He felt so. She wasn't slender like a model, no. But nor was she overweight. She was just the right size ... with enough fur and flesh to ... not be bony. She had substance and a warmth to her body. And ...
" ... you're staring at me," she'd said.
They'd been at the creek. Beneath the sycamore.
"Mm?" she prodded, poking a paw at his slender side.
The mouse squeaked, blushing. "I'm not," he insisted. The mouse trim and slender. As most country mice were. Maybe too slender, sometimes ...
"Hey, it's ... it's okay," she whispered, "if you are." Truth was, she was flattered. She liked the mouse. She liked mice, period. Shy, innocent things ... full of doubts and fears, and so fragile. They needed nurturing. They needed care. And she was half-mouse, so ... but she was also half-bat. And bats were confident aerialists. Were strong-willed. And dominant sorts. Her mousey and batty sides had mixed to give her such an even-pawed understanding and temperament. She could relate to Dandy. But she also had the ability to ... not be caught in his vices. So, she had the freedom to help him ... and she wanted to.
"I'm," he whispered, "not."
"You're not staring at me?" she asked. She tried to probe his mind. Being only half-bat, she couldn't read thoughts at all. Just ... emotional sensations. Emotional states. And, though she had the fangs, she couldn't use them to bite through fur and flesh.
The field mouse took a slow breath (through the nose). "What if I am ... "
"If you are," she said quietly, slowly, trying to calculate her move. "If you are, I would ... would ask why you don't do it more often."
A giggle. A shake of the head. "No, you wouldn't."
"I would, too!" she insisted.
The mouse swallowed, still smiling slightly. Looking to her. "Mm ... well ... " He trailed.
She opened her muzzle to say something. Shut it. And sighed.
Dandy squinted. Nodded. "The meadowlark."
"Mm?" She followed his gaze (and his pointing paw).
"Meadowlark."
She nodded. "I guess I should know more about birds, huh? Being that I have wings ... "
"I can teach you," was his quiet offer. "I have lots of bird books."
"I know. I've seen them."
"Oh ... yeah. But, still ... "
Akira nodded. Eying him with such ... lust? Was this lust? It couldn't be. It felt too gradual, too natural ... to be lust. It was love. She was sure of it. And, though her mind was telling her, "You'll get hurt ... you'll get hurt ... like you were before. Remember? Remember the other furs ... what they did to you ... remember what you lost?"
Dandy's heart pounded. Her eyes were boring into his neck. She couldn't bite him, but ... she still fixated on his neck. Maybe it was an instinctual bat thing. He didn't know, but ... he couldn't look her in the eyes. He was falling for her. Had been. In his weakened state, he was falling for her. Oh, Lord, help me fight it off ...
The two young furs, listless, sitting quietly ... fearing love. Knowing its power. And neither fully believing they had the capacity to make it work.
Neither believing they deserved it.
But one of them was going to have to make a move. One of them was going to have to bend, or ... lest they snap. Snap in half. Brittle, broken, like bones without calcium. Hearts without love had no structural integrity.
And it was the bat-mouse, of course, who struck first. Of course, it was her. Of course. Akira's paw reaching out. Fingers splayed, extended, and her paw running down the length of his arm. Through his fur. To his paw. Slowly working her paw ... until it was holding his.
And he quietly (with increased breathing, from both nervousness and anticipation) accepted it.
And she nodded, exhaling. As if a great hurdle had been crossed. As if indicating, "Now, it's your turn ... "
Squeezing the paw now clutching his, the mouse shifted from his sit in the grass, leaning a bit awkwardly. Pressing muzzle to hers. A bit too fast. The kiss coming a bit too quick. A bit sloppy.
But it was a kiss. And weren't fumbling first kisses the sweetest kind?
The mouse had kissed before. She knew as much. And she, too, had kissed before ... but neither had kissed the other. They were, with each other, without experience. And for the best. All they had learned about making love had ... come at a dear price. Had come with such pain and loss and lack of fulfillment. Had left a simmering yearning.
And, pressing her muzzle back to his, the bat-mouse turned the simmer up a bit. Up, up, up a bit.
They'd both been, at various times, in shambles. Blown to bits by their struggles. But, through them, they'd been more. Made into more.
They were both survivors.
And their desire for love, affection, companionship ... was a force. Oh, a force. Biology overrode fear.
What was HONESTLY holding them back?
What had been holding them back?
Her head tilted, and ... she started to lean a bit. Eyes closed. Breathing through the nose.
The mouse's arms and paws wrapped round her back. Her sides. He kept her from leaning too far.
She broke the kiss to breathe. Her lips a bit wet. Panting slightly.
"I, uh ... " The mouse licked his own lips. Eyes half-open. "I, uh ... "
She, pink-purple eyes open and soft and welcoming ... she nodded lightly, saying nothing. Showing that she understood whatever it was he was trying to say.
Kisses. From him. Shy, mousey nibbles. His whiskers brushing hers (though hers were shorter, being only half a mouse).
Little, ravenous suck-sucks from her. Her fangs grazing his cheeks as he tried to mouth and suck at the fur on her neck.
Both of them panting in the shade (out of the sun).
Both of them in the relative open.
Fields and pastures before them. And, further behind them, the woods.
"Someone will see," Dandy realized, tensing. Starting to pull away.
But her paws clutched to his sides. She kept him from retreating. "They won't," she assured. "We're safe ... "
"Someone will see," he repeated.
"Dandy," she whispered. With patience. With ... a plea. As if saying, "Please, take this chance with me. We've come too far to turn back now." She pulled him into a hug.
And the mouse sighed. Closing his eyes. Breathing of her. And the rural air. Feeling her paws very softly unbuttoning his shirt. His plain-colored, short-sleeve t-shirt ... a button-up. With a pocket on one side. The sleeves frayed from having washed it so many times.
One button, two button. Three button. Four.
Until she slid it away from him. Revealing all of his chest, and letting the shirt fall off his arms.
She swallowed. Put her paws on his chest. And just ran them around a bit. And put a paw over his heart.
He stayed as still as he could (not easy, for a mouse).
"Your heart," she whispered. Fascinated. She'd never really done that before. Put her paw over someone else's heart. Felt their heartbeat. Such a simple thing. Why hadn't she done it before? Oh, the heart ...
The mouse twitched a bit. Shy. But shivering at her touch. And sagging a bit (from the heat and want of her).
She withdrew her paw, swallowed, and nodded, raising her arms and yanking off her own shirt. Tossing it aside.
And he reached his paws behind her back, helping her to remove her bra. Their noses touching ... eyes darting.
Both of them now bare from the waist-up.
A hesitation.
She nodded at him. "You first," she said.
"Me?" he asked. Voice a bit squeaky. Eyes darting. Trying not to stare at her breasts, which hung, furry, soft ... he wanted to cup them with his paws.
"Well, I ... " She faltered. "Would just make me more comfortable," she told him, "if you went first." She'd been used before. By a former mate. Used ... and the thought of baring herself first ... she didn't want to make herself that vulnerable and that exposed ... unless she was CERTAIN he was willing to do the same. She dreaded the thought of baring herself ... only to have Dandy suddenly, so close to the prize, be scared of the thought of intimacy, and ... back out of it. Leaving her feeling the fool. Or, even worse, to have her bare herself, and ... be leered at. Lustily. To be JUST something physical. To be nothing more to him.
Whatever the case, she ... looked to him. Waiting. Pleading quietly.
Dandy nodded. "Alright," he whispered. "I'll go first."
"Thank you," she mouthed, cheeks flushing beneath her pink fur.
Dandy nodded again. Whiskers twitching. "It's ... not a problem," he managed, on his back now, legs raised in the air. Foot-paws dangling there. As he unbuttoned, unzipped his jean shorts. As he wriggled in the grass, and ... pulled them up to his knees. Kicking them off, and ... then rolling to a lie-down on his side.
Her pupils dilated.
"Um ... " The mouse fought the urge to cover himself with his paws. "Um ... "
"Oh, it's ... beautiful. You're a handsome mouse," she assured, swallowing. Words stumbling out. "Um ... well, my turn, I guess."
He nodded shyly. Watching ...
... as she unbuttoned, unzipped her own shorts. As she slid out of them. Shorts and panties slipping off her foot-paws.
"Well," the bat-mouse whispered ...
"Lovely," Dandy whispered into her ear. Seeing her soft thighs. The femininity buried between. "You're lovely ... all of you. Your body, your heart," he told her. "Your mind. Everything ... "
She flushed at his words. Heart beating faster. "Thank you," she managed, fighting the lump in her throat. "I mean it ... thank you," she whispered.
He nodded quietly, nuzzling her neck with his nose. Both of them lying down.
Paws rubbed.
Paws caressed.
Fingers trailed.
They touched and breathed and nosed in the grass. In the shadow and sun-dappled light. Beneath the sycamore. Beneath the flight trajectories of the meadowlarks.
"Dandy," she whispered, her voice nearly carried off with the breeze.
"Mm?" he went. A soft, airy sound. A mousey sound.
"I ... I don't think we can, uh, do ... all the way, you know ... "
The mouse, even with eyes closed, looked (suddenly) hurt. His tail jerked.
"Oh, no," she whispered, seeing he'd gotten the wrong idea. "Baby ... " She put a paw on his cheek. "Open your eyes ... "
He did so. Whiskers twitching.
"No, it's not that I don't want to," she explained. "I just ... I'll enter my heat soon. I ... my cycle. And I don't take any pills, so ... and I don't wanna take any chances, so, uh, we would need a ... "
The mouse flushed hot with utter embarrassment. Nodding, understanding. "I would need to wear a condom ... I, uh ... I," he stammered, "don't have one. I don't have any, I mean. I ... "
"No," she agreed, trying to soothe him. Whispering, "I figured you didn't ... " She ran a paw up and down his side. Neither was about to destroy the moment by getting dressed, going to the nearest town (seven miles away), going to the drugstore, buying a box of ...
"Well ... "
"This is going to sound silly," she started.
"What?"
"I've ... we could, uh, do a ... sort of sixty-nine thing."
A flush. "That's not," he whispered, "silly ... "
"I think," she confessed, "it would be nice to ... "
"Darling, you ... you don't have to try and persuade me," he breathed. "I need no convincing. I ... it's okay. I'm ... I'm ... "
" ... ready," she guessed. Heart pounding.
"Are ... are you?" he stammered.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah. Sure. Yeah ... " Speaking too fast. Too nervous.
The mouse sat up for a minute, to breathe and get his bearings. And then lowered back down. To his back. Spreading his legs a bit.
And Akira, the pink bat-mouse, ran her paws over his belly before inverting her direction. Before crawling over the top of him. Her knees and paws on the grass.
He reached his paws up ... to grip at her hips. To gently lower her down.
She lowered.
Until their bellies were touching. Their fur meshing. Their warmth transferring.
And no more words were needed. And the nervousness ... they channeled it. Funneled all the anxiety into their actions. Into their needs. Their wants.
The mouse, back flat on the grass, her hips and groin lowered onto his muzzle, her clumsy, rope-like tail (thicker than his own, and shorter) ... swishing and bumping into his ear (the sound combining with the huff-huff that the breeze was making as it ran around his lobes) ... the mouse, he gently kissed and nibbled at her vulva. Tongue weakly snaking (as best it could) between her labia. Her delicate, pink pussy-lips. The fur stopping when it reached those lips. The fur on the perimeters ... so short, velvety, and so soft. As if this were the softest part of her. The most delicate. And he, eyes half-open, worked his tongue into the raw, wet pink ... and ran his tongue up the length. From bottom to top. And then top to bottom. Poking his tip at her vagina. And then moving up (again). To flick his tongue's tip at her clitoris ...
Akira sighed at Dandy's slow, myriad motions. His ministrations. In the meantime, taking a taste of him. Nibbling, for a tiny bit, on his furry ball-sac. Her fangs taking little nips. Making the sac to tighten. Drawing the swelling balls closer to his body. And she quickly turned her attention to the entrée ... the meat of him. Kissing the sides of the shaft. His sheath-less, pink penis ... stiff and already dripping of pre (had been dripping of pre, she guessed, for many minutes ... but, no matter, cause she'd been wet for just as long).
They were both furs, and ... they were doing this because they wanted it. Needed it. Out of mutual care and need. Because something had (long) existed here, between them. Something they were no longer strong enough to resist the pull of.
Akira's lips, loosened, wet, went to the tip. She lapped her tongue at the sensitive, swollen head.
Dandy squeaked ... weakly. Squeaked. Lapping, in retaliation, at her clitoris.
Her turn to squeak. And chitter. She chittered. Lapping again, and ... sliding her lips over the head. Teasing the slit and the curves of his head with her tongue.
Causing him to squirm beneath her. Too sensitive, his actions seemed to stress. Too, too ... sensitive! He squirmed and squeaked as she continued to tongue his head. And Dandy began to whimper, and ... she gave him a reprieve. Sliding her lips, in a ring, down his shaft. Taking in as much of it as she could. And pausing, breathing, breathing heavily through her nose.
While the mouse huffed and sighed. "Oh," he breathed. "Oh ... " The warm cavern of her muzzle was completely enveloping him. And it made his eyelids droop. And he began to kiss and suck on her pussy. No rhyme or reason. No pattern. Just ... kissing, sucking, nibbling. And running his wet tongue all over. Further wetting her.
The bat panted, panted, and ... began to bob on his length. Bob, bob ... up. Stop. Down. Stop. Bobbing more. Her tongue sliding across the underside of his shaft with every motion. And her paws now on the undersides of his legs. Caressing his thighs. Her nose flaring with the earthy scent of mouse.
Dandy's paws, on her lower back, dug into her fur. Pushing down. Indicating that she should ... start some kind of motion.
And she huffed, chittering, and ... did her best to ... rise and lower her bottom half. Attempting to hump his muzzle.
Dandy squeaked and gurgled. Licking, lapping, huffing for breath. Absolutely drunk on her femininity. Her strong scent. So like a mouse (his own species), but ... with the exotic smell of bat. Fluid started dripping from her vagina ... and he allowed it to wet his face-fur. Swallowing, huffing, tasting of her ... prodding her, and ... going back to the clitoris. Sucking very briefly.
She squealed involuntarily ... before, flushing with embarrassment, she clamped her teeth.
Dandy retreated from her clit ... and resumed his varied tasks.
She bobbed, bobbed, nipples hard and on his lower belly, rubbing in his fur. Tail still whacking at his ears and then ... slicing in the air.
His own tail snaking in the grass. Own ears hot and erogenous, magnifying every sound they were making.
Everything fading away, and ...
... the mouse came first. Had hoped they could go together, but ... he came first. His squeaks going to higher, higher pitches (which signaled a mouse's oncoming orgasm). He panted, huffed out ... warm, moist air. Huffed onto her pussy. Hugging her lower back. Trying to grip and squeeze and massage her rump-cheeks. Groping at her rump, and ... " ... uh ... uhn! Huhnn ... huh," he huffed, squeaking. Squeaking. Squirming. Arching a bit, and ... falling limp. Falling limp and shivering hotly. Oh, so hotly. Shivering with a pleasure that simply shot through every nerve. That simply was FLUNG from his mouse-hood to all of his extremities. That simply GROUNDED him. Unable to move. Unable to think ...
... as his penis twitched, twitched, and then spurt, spurt, spurted steamy-white mouse-seed into Akira's waiting muzzle. To her tongue. Spurting. She gave a few sucks, milking him for all he was worth. Letting the semen collect. Briefly considering holding it in her muzzle until she could disengage ... so she could dribble it into his mouth, but ... that would be letting her yiffy state get the best of her. Keep it simple. Keep it going. Swallow. She gulped, swallowing, and ... suckled gently on him. To listen to his residual moans of pleasure and bliss, and to feel herself warming, warming, and ...
... cumming, too. She came. With spasms. Warm, fluttering spasms wracking her lower half. Pussy feeling like it was quivering. "Ohhh," she exhaled. "Ohh, ohh ... uhhhh ... " A gasp ... as she pulled her muzzle off his mouse-hood. To gasp and stammer and vocalize the physical sensation. Too good, too ... good ... oh ...
And the resulting discharge of fluid ... catching the mouse's muzzle. His lips. He took it, panting, eyes watered shut.
As they lay, fur lightly matted with sweat (as well as yiffy fluid and saliva).
They lay in their sixty-nine.
Panting.
Reeling.
Recovering.
Until Akira swallowed again, again, the taste still in her mouth, and ... slid off his hot, sated body. Slid beside him in the grass. Getting to her knees, turning around, and leaning over him. Nose above his own.
Dandy swallowed and took a deep breath. Clearing his throat. "Um ... well, uh ... "
" ... nice?" she breathed.
"V-very," he stammered, heart still hammering. "Oh, Akira," he breathed, paws reaching out. Going behind her bare back. Pulling her down to a lie-down atop of him. But, this time, lying in the same direction. And noses in each other's neck fur.
"Dandy," she whispered. "I ... does this mean ... I mean, do we ... " She wanted to ask if they were in love. Weren't they? Why would they have done this, otherwise? They were in love, yes. Yes. But ... so, were they mates now? Questions. Consequences. A lot, suddenly to deal with, but ...
"Can we just lay," he whispered, "for a little bit ... " He didn't want to talk. Didn't want to ruin this moment. He just wanted to lay with her. Smell her. Hold her.
She nodded. She didn't mind. Truth be told, she was just as content to ... lay and NOT think. For a change, to NOT think ... what a novelty!
And the pleasure ... what a treat!
What love they now felt.
What were they to do?
"Oh, Dandy ... "
" ... please, tell me something. I mean ... we ... we," she stammered, going quiet. Ears perking.
A whistle. The train. It was almost here. Another few minutes.
They'd yiffed more than that one time ... during the past month or so. But neither had yet uttered the three words that were needed to start any mate-ship.
Why?
Why was she so insistent that HE be the one to say them first?
Why didn't she just say the words ... and, once she said them, maybe he would relax and say them back?
But, no, the bat-mouse wanted him to say them first. Just like she wanted him to undress himself first.
Because she feared being left behind.
She feared rejection.
"Please, Dandy," she begged. "Please ... " Her voice was desperate. The train was coming closer. She wanted to cry. "Just SAY it ... please ... "
The mouse's lips quivered. Why was he so afraid to say those words? Was it because all the other times he'd uttered them ... he'd been lying? His past mates ... he would say it to them. Daily. Only, he never meant it. He'd been lying to himself. Telling himself it had been love. Just cause he'd been so young. Cause he hadn't understood what it meant. Cause he'd been so lonely. It didn't have to be love. It just had to be a warm, furry body. He was afraid of saying it ...
... because he had NEVER had it. Never had love. And he had vowed he would never again utter those words unless it was TRULY love. And if truly WAS love, then ... oh, mousey, what force of nature have you been swept away in?
He was scared.
The train was within view. The long, snaking train. Inching closer. Chugging, eying them from afar. Taking bets on the two furs. On if they would say it or not.
Dandy closed his eyes. Said a prayer ... asked God ... to pull the words out of his heart, through his throat. Give me courage. Give me ... confidence. Confidence. I don't wanna mess this up. What if I'm not good enough ...
Akira's cheeks were matted with tears, and she sniffled, and she stood, and ... started to pad away from the bench.
"I love you!" Dandy blurted out, eyes watered. Own teardrops dripping out and onto his fur. He wiped them away (embarrassed). "Akira, I love you," he repeated, more quietly. He cleared his throat and swallowed, standing.
"I love you too, Dandy," she replied, having composed herself. Taking shaky breaths.
The train was pulling into the abandoned, rural station.
"I love you, too, Dandy, and ... " She looked to the train, and then looked behind her, at their prairie home. Their rural openness. "They say," she whispered, extending a winged arm. Extending a paw. "They say that stars apart," she told him, locking eyes, "shine the same." A pause. Paw still extended. "Do you believe that?"
The mouse slowly, shyly shook his head. "No ... "
"Then take my paw, and let's ... shine. Here. Together. Where we belong."
The mouse nodded quietly, taking her paw.
She smiled, sniffling.
And he smiled shyly back, eyes darting, and ... dimples showing on furry cheeks.
And she tugged at him, leading him off the platform.
Leading him home.