FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There it is. Surrounded by a big, red circle on my calendar, begging for my attention. The first Saturday of this dreadful month has reared its ugly head once more. No matter how much I wish I could live out today as if it were any other day off, my conscious just won't allow that. After all, I can't leave him to go alone.

Grabbing the marker off my bedside table with a groan, I cross off September third from my calendar. To most, this date would hold little significance. But for me and my brother... it's a reminder of the sort of lifestyle that was thrust onto us.

Just thinking about it makes my dark brown eyes narrow. My tail instinctively tucks itself between my legs. My hand begins moving on its own, pressing harder and harder until the square in the rightmost column is nothing but a crimson smear. Grabbing the top of the page, I tear it off with one swift motion. Crumpling it into a paper ball, I chuck it towards the trashcan pressed against the adjacent wall. It bounces off the rim, before pathetically hitting the ground.

Letting out a sharp breath, I trudge over to my oak bureau to get dressed. Since I don't have a mirror, I assess my appearance in the monitor of my AceAI desktop.

Looking back through the screen is a basenji with a tired expression. Black fur lines the backside of his body, while the front is almost entirely white up to the muzzle. The corners of his mouth form a grimace, and his eyebrows point sharply downwards. A long-tail uncharacteristic for his breed hangs loosely from his rear, gently pressing against his muscular limbs, the left of which has an enormous gash running down to the ankle.

The sudden rummaging of a door handle interrupts my daily routine of ogling the physique in front of me. "Seth, I am coming in," a silvery voice calls out.

"You might not-" a response begins to form in my throat, but thanks to my early morning grogginess, nothing but a few mumbles manage to come out. By the time I can muster a "stop," the intruder has already entered my room.

And so in steps my half-brother, Caleb Bowen. The eighteen-year-old is a mixed breed: part basenji and part Finnish spitz. Despite being a member of both breeds, he shows few signs of the blood we share. Instead, he inherited almost everything about him from his mother. The only similarities we share are our pointed ears and hickory eyes. He's significantly shorter than me, only reaching up to my shoulders. Complementing Caleb's height is his slender frame, which he toils endlessly to maintain. A flaxen turtleneck a size too large hangs limply from his arms, cutting off just above his knees. Covering his bottom half is a pair of blue jeans and soil encrusted sneakers.

Just moments after catching sight of me, Caleb freezes up. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze tensing up considerably. "I-I... um... did not expect your room to be so messy..." He motions to the piles of worn outfits sprawled out on every piece of furniture in my bedroom.

"Ignoring the elephant in the room, are you?" I subtly change my tone to one of an adult talking down to a child.

His ears droop to the sides of his skull. "Well, I just... did not think it was appropriate to mention it. But it would have been n-nice if you had told me you would be... naked."

Normally he has a bit of a stutter, but when he gets embarrassed, it becomes almost ridiculous how much it stands out. I begin cracking up at his flustered reactions, but I manage to muffle the sound by forcing my muzzle shut. "Sorry, sorry. Just had another long workday, couldn't be bothered to change. Lugging around so much weight takes a lot out of you."

"Ehehe... Yes, I figured. You reek of sweat, even from this far away."

I snort into my hand as I walk over to the doorway where he's standing. "Like you aren't used to it by now. You play volleyball, there's no way those locker rooms don't smell ten times worse."

He winces as I draw closer, the golden-red fur in his face changing to a pinker hue. "Well... you are not wrong." The closer I draw, the more his gaze lowers to meet the ground below him.

"...Are you trying to burn a hole into the floor or something?"

"N-no. I just do not want to see... you know," he says as beads of sweat form on his forehead.

I almost want to keep teasing him, but I can have a bit more fun at Caleb's expense later... for now, there are some things I need to ask him. "Guess I might as well take a shower before changing out of my birthday suit."

"O-oh, right... well, I do not want to get in your way. I just came to make sure you had started getting ready. I am just going to... head back to my room now."

"Before I forget though, I want to speak with you in a few. You don't mind, right?"

"I suppose that is fine." With a strong nod of affirmation, Caleb pivots away from me and walks down the hallway at a much quicker pace than he usually moves. If it wasn't obvious that he was embarrassed before, the way that he covers his flushed cheeks with his elbow makes it all the more clear.

"Yup, cute as ever." Waiting until he makes it to the end of the corridor, I stretch my muscles, feeling a dull pain begin to form. It's nothing out of the ordinary for me, considering how much I exert my muscles, just a mild annoyance. Then I follow in his path until I come across a single door ruined by water damage: the bathroom. I loiter outside the door for a moment before budging it open and clicking it behind me. "Maybe a cold shower will wake me up..."

Having finished my morning routines, I round the corner at the end of the hall and enter the area that serves as both the dining room and the kitchen. The unpainted stone walls of the area are etched with a variety of patterns, vaguely resembling a sea of vines. The wooden countertops were clearly handcrafted, and shabbily at that. Nails are sticking out from nearly every plank, making using them a hazard in itself. Whatever furniture was not made from scratch is cheap, colorful plastic, hurting the eyes to stare at for more than a minute at a time.

Getting bored with scanning the details of the hybrid room, I make my way over to its centerpiece: a single antique pub table. Lifting my feet off of the checkered tile floor, I allow my large frame to slump over one of two barstools lying unused.

"Oh good, you put on some clothes."

I lift my head towards the hallway entrance where I came from just a minute before. "Hey, take a seat bud."

"Understood," the finnish spitz standing there smiles sweetly before he grabs the seat opposite of me. "So, what did you wish to talk about?"

Crap... I know the exact answer to that question, but the words just aren't forming properly now that Caleb is right in front of me. In an attempt to convey the feelings nonverbally, I grab the paw he left resting on the tabletop. He attempts to jerk away for a moment, but it seems it was mere instinct because he relaxes after the initial contact. Just before I ask the question at the forefront of my mind though, I catch a glimpse of the eyes giving me their undivided attention: their familiar appearance forcing the words back down. Instead, I start a discussion on a much lighter topic that will be a surefire way to make him forget about what's to come. Or at least I hope so. "...How's volleyball?"

"Oh, it is going well! The Daybreakers are ready for our next game." His face quickly changes from intent to enlivened at the prospect of talking about his favorite sport.

"Good to hear. I... I just wanted to ask you when your game was, actually. Y'know, to see if I could show up."

"R-really?! It has been months since you came to see me play!" He jumps up from his seat in excitement, short tail wagging at a speed only matching his unrivaled spike. "It is on the first of October," he continues, not noticing me slip my flip phone out from my pocket. Opening it up, I check the built-in calendar app to go over my schedule. "Oh, this is quite exciting!"

"Yeah, it looks like I can make it. I don't have to head out of town until the day after. You'll be able to take care of yourself when I'm gone, right?"

"Ehehe... that just means I have to look after one person instead of two."

I howl at his joke, punching his arm gently. "Oh, you wound me, dear brother!"

"No need to poke fun at me..." He smiles, clutching something beneath the table tightly after settling into his chair. "I might get a bit lonely th-though..."

"Jesus, stop being so adorable..." I take advantage of my large figure to reach across the hunk of plastic in front of me and grab his cheek. No matter how annoyed he gets by this, I can't stop myself from doing this: his face is just too soft, having much more fur than the rest of his body.

"Stop that..." He swats my hand away. "And don't say his name so casually, it is offensive." Caleb abruptly stands up once more, but this time it seems he has no intention of sitting back down to continue chatting. Instead, he shuffles over to a cabinet, grabbing boxes of baking soda and flour. His disposition loses all signs of liveliness, as his despondent voice calls out, "we will leave in forty minutes, okay? That should give me enough time to make us breakfast, and we'll still get there before noon."

It looks like my efforts to lift his mood ended up in vain. Seeing how such a cheery boy's personality completely flips whenever he thinks about one topic makes me feel so disheartened. Adding in the fact that it's my own brother makes it even worse. "...Alright, bud." For the next few minutes, out of sheer boredom, I watch as my little brother ties a cream apron around his waist and starts to whip up a batch of pancakes.

"That apron looks good on you."

He doesn't respond, instead blushing deeply. Despite appreciating it, as evidenced by the swaying of his tail, he always acts sheepish when I compliment him. On the common occasion that an acquaintance praises him, he remains modest, but it seems that only my words have this effect on him. He shudders marginally, but is able to return to cooking as if nothing had happened. Every movement of his seems calm and calculated, a side of him that only comes out when he's doing something he's passionate about. It's good to see that even during the worst of times, he won't let his emotions stop him from doing the hobbies he's devoted to. "Do you want one or two?"

"C'mon, that's not a full breakfast. Give me three."

The teenage dog walks over to me, flicking my forehead teasingly. "You know we cannot afford to go through too much of this stuff at a time... we are poor enough as is without you devouring our groceries." I take note that even when I'm sitting, he only stands at equal height to me.

"Heh. Fair enough. Two it is then."

"Understood," he says, grabbing a plate with two for me, and one for himself. "Ah, it slipped my mind but should I brew tea for us?"

"If you want it for yourself. I'm good for today."

He nods, opting instead to get both of us a glass of water from our purifier. "Dig in."

"Wait, wait. You're only eating one pancake and not putting toppings on it? C'mon, how are you gonna get full off of that?"

"W-well it is not healthy to eat too much of this stuff... And it is only important that I feel satisfied, not full."

Were his mood not already dour, I'd attempt to argue further, but I can tell now is not the time to bring it up, even if I feel somewhat worried about the eating habits he's developed as of late. Having small portions for every meal and nothing in between might stunt his growth even further if he keeps it up. And I know he's told me more than a few times he's self conscious about his stature.

Silence fills the room as we eat, but I don't mind: this is better than attempting to force a conversation. Instead, I take note of the meal he prepared. The toasted brown pancakes sitting on my place look and smell delicious, and I'm tempted to start scarfing them down immediately. Within what feels like no time at all, my plate sits completely empty. "Fuck, you're a good cook."

"C-come now, no need to swear..." his eyes flicker for a moment as he looks at me, but his gaze drops back down at record speed. "Thank you t-though... Um... sorry if I am taking too long t-to eat. Can I finish before we leave though?"

"I'm not gonna ask you to starve yourself bud, there's no rush." It's not like I want to leave in the first place.

"Thank you," he says, readjusting his apron, "would you like to start the car while I finish up? I will clean the dishes."

I give Caleb a thumbs up, heading through the chartreuse-painted living room and ending up outside in front of the house. The multitude of crimson and yellow tulips catch my attention immediately. My brother's favorite hobby is planting and tending to the flowers outside of our house, and it creates quite the morning spectacle. Fresh dew leaks from their petals as a result of the storm that hit our town last night. I turn around to take a gander at our lakeside cabin: small, rundown and isolated. Regardless of how displeasing it appears, we don't receive many complaints about it thanks to our lack of neighbors. Moving to the driveway, I find my beat-up truck with the logo of the moving company I work at plastered on the side. Had my boss not given me this, chances are there would be no way for us to get anywhere without walking. I'm grateful to have it, but if only it wasn't covered in dents. It also has a bent fender and scratched back windows. Though it isn't pretty to look at, it gets the job done. I enter the vehicle and take my place in the driver's seat. I start the engine and patiently wait for my brother. I quickly close my eyes to rid myself of my everlasting drowsiness, but it is to no avail. The sudden opening of a door forces me to become conscious once again.

"Alright, I have everything."

I nod at my passenger as I roll the vehicle out of the driveway and head towards the more populated section of Brinbore Town. As the pair of us drive down the rocky, winding roads of the town's outskirts, the realization of prolonged silence hits me. Caleb has been looking down at his knees for the entire ride, not speaking a word. In fact, the only noise coming from either of our mouths is the occasional whimper of displeasure when we hit a pothole.

"Want to put on the radio?"

Caleb looks up at me with a masterful poker face, something that I was unaware he was capable of making. "...That'd be nice," he says. Muffled drumming comes from the bottom of the car, which I assume is a particularly nasty cluster of pebbles beneath the wheels.

I motion to the sound system in the front of the car, and the canine turns it on with the simple tap of a button. Slow classical music comes out from the station that was last on. Despite Caleb's distaste for the genre, he doesn't bother to change it.

And so the car ride resumes in the same unusual silence as before, only this time a tune that neither of us cares for looms in the background. I wish I could press him for what's bothering him, but I don't want to take the risk of dampening his sour mood.

Though I don't care much for violins, the soft melody they create compliments the ambiance of Brinbore quite well. Slowly cruising along the now paved streets, I take my eyes off the road and admire the sights. Being so early into autumn, the trees still sit without a bare branch insight. The leaves are yet to change colors, with only a few dull yellows standing out. The flourishing plants sit in front of standard cream and beige family homes, each with its own personal touch. I notice we've begun to ascend up a small hill as I adjust to being pushed back.

Putting what's in front of my truck back into focus, I take a sharp turn right realizing where we are: our destination, Silvertop Cemetery. Rubbing the end of my nose sheepishly as I pull into the parking lot, I utter a quick apology to the canine riding shotgun. "Almost missed our spot."

Snapping out of his trance, he jumps, as if he had just remembered my presence. "I hadn't noticed. My apologies."

"Yeah, you were pretty out of it. You've... actually been doing that a lot. Everything alright?" I lean over just a little to look at him directly as I ask this.

"Am I not allowed to daydream?" he cocks his head to the side, showing he isn't aware of how his words could be negatively misconstrued.

"Hey, I didn't say that. I'm just worried about my little brother."

Caleb bites down on the thumb of his paw, a transparent attempt to hide his joy. This mood shift strikes me as odd. He was so downcast just a second ago. Was it that I said I was concerned?

"Please, there is no need. My thoughts are of no importance," he dismisses the topic, stepping out of the car and tapping his left foot twice. "Let us go." I follow his lead, watching him move with a fake pep in his step. He grabs my arm tightly, dragging me along as if I'm a house pet who will run away the first chance I get. Caleb unlatches the bronze gate to the fenced-in burial ground before stopping in his place.

"Are you ready to go in, Seth?"

I grasp his shoulder firmly with my free paw. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Hearing this, he pushes his way through with me still in tow, leading me across the fields of untrimmed grass. Heading further and further in, we eventually find our way to another protected area. And once again, my brother undoes the fastener and makes his way in. The two of us pause in front of a sea of tombstones. Their first names vary, but all of them share a common surname: Bowen.

Caleb gently traces his fingers over each stone tablet he passes, moving gracefully through any available openings in an attempt to make his way to a familiar location. Matching his pace, I manage to catch up and maintain a spot by his side. Finally, Caleb stops and kneels in front of two graves perched just beneath a sycamore sapling. The names engraved on them are Marianne and Geoffrey Bowen: our parents. Or, more accurately, Caleb's parents. I share no blood relations with Marianne, so I don't consider her my relative.

My brother clasps his hands together, praying in a voice no louder than a whisper. I decide to join him, rubbing his back comfortingly, and letting out a plea to any god who may be listening.

Please, whoever's up there, let my dad live a good afterlife. He... gave so much to me. If praying ensures he can have peace after death... then it is the least I can do. Having said all I need to say, I push the memories back into the depths of my mind once more. I patiently wait for my companion to wrap up his invocations, continuing to massage him.

"...Hey Seth," Caleb addresses me out of the blue, quivering as he speaks, "thank you for coming with me. I know you did not truly wish to."

I shoot him a sympathetic expression, lifting his chin up to face me. "Hey, I'm more than happy to do this. And I'll come with you as often as you need me to."

A short pause follows, and Caleb's breathing speeds up considerably. "Do you... do you really mean that?" he darts his eyes away from me, blinking rapidly as tears begin to form.

"Yes. Now... if you need to cry, let it all out," I grimace at the uncharacteristic phrases spewing out of my mouth. But even if I don't care to express my own misery... I'll do anything to make my younger brother feel better.

As if on cue, Caleb lets everything out of his system, water streaming from his eyes and staining my red polo tee. The dog lets his muzzle rest on my shoulder, his soft sobbing provoking me to pull him into a snug embrace.