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Brian Thomas Jr absolutely loved Wednesdays.

It wasn't that he disliked his jobs. If anything he felt pretty damn blessed to be able to earn a living doing the kind of work that he actually had a passion for. That all by itself put him well ahead of plenty of his old friends who were cooped up in office buildings clickety-clacking away at computers all day. Still, six days a week of working two jobs, both of which were a bit more strenuous than sitting at a desk, it was exhausting even for a pit bull in prime shape. It meant that one day a week with nothing to do was a glorious chance to relax, put the music up high, smoke a bowl, and work around the house to recharge the ol' batteries.

So, yeah. Brian, BJ to his friends, absolutely loved Wednesdays.

The albino pit laid out on his couch, wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else, just soaking up the morning hours. Free from any responsibility, he could have a beer with breakfast and no one could tell him not to. Some old outlaw country blasted out of his stereo speakers, making BJ bob a foot with the rhythm and sing out of tune with the chorus. All white dogs were prone to hearing loss, and BJ was no exception to that rule. He wasn't deaf, just hard of hearing, and one reason he'd made sure to get a house off the beaten path was so he could play his music as loud as he wanted without bothering the neighbors.

Unfortunately, that also meant he nearly never heard his phone ring, and if it wasn't sitting in his pocket at the time, having it on vibrate didn't help.

So there he was, sprawled happily on his sofa, vibing out to some good music and feeling like all was right in the world, with no idea about the stack of missed messages his phone was desperately trying to tell him about. It wasn't until the pounding on his front door grew powerful enough to be felt that it roused the canine out of his bit of bliss.

"Huh? Oh, shit! Hold on! I'm comin'!" he shouted, hoisting himself upright as quickly as he could and shuffling to his door, still in a bit of a haze. He peeked out the window before answering, greeted by the sight of a scowling jackalope staring directly back at him.

BJ opened the door, hitting Marcus in the face with a heavy wall of loud music that made him wince. Unlike the canine, his poor ears were far more sensitive to the high volume.

"Marcus? What are you doin'... oh, oh! One sec, fuck, sorry..." he babbled, running back to the living room to grab the remote and pause the music. The jackalope stayed at the threshold for a moment, leaning his head in to make sure the coast was clear and another eruption of sound wasn't coming.

"Yeah! Come on in! When ya said tomorrow I kinda figured ya meant, y'know, later in the day," the canine said apologetically, his voice's volume still raised despite the music being off.

Marcus chuckled to himself as he stepped in, recalling the first time he met Brian Thomas Jr on his school's fancy soccer field during an early practice. Their head coach, a big round walrus with a tendency to wear sweatpants that revealed far too much, introduced him as their new assistant. Said he was a high school senior picking up a credit for his college program. BJ would help take care of the general conditioning practice while Coach Yonko focused on more game-specific drills.

Everyone took to BJ pretty quickly at that first practice. He was friendly, encouraging, and more than happy to run alongside the team now and again. Then things took a bit of a left turn afterwards, back in the locker room.

"Just wanted to say thanks, guys! Looking forward to tomorrow!" BJ bellowed as he walked in, speaking far more loudly than was necessary.

The team exchanged some confused glances, before one member, a lanky maned wolf who was pegged to be the captain that year, spoke up.

"You don't gotta yell, coach, we can hear you."

Coach Yonko came in shortly after, putting an arm around the dog's shoulders and giving him a shake, whistling loudly to get the team's attention.

"Oh hell, right. Hey guys, BJ can't hear so good, so make sure to speak up when you're talkin' with 'im, a'right? Make eye contact, try to let him read your lips, ya got it?"

Another round of looks passed from teammate to teammate. They had a new game to practice now.

And so, for the rest of the season, the team loved seeing what kind of mean things they could say that were loud enough to get BJ's attention, but not quite loud enough for him to understand them.

"Suck a dick, Coach Fagballs," a particularly bold cheetah said as he jogged past the older dog, masking the words by panting heavily while he spoke.

"What was that, Scott?" BJ hollered back, turning towards the lean cat.

"I said I'm gonna beat ya to the goal line, Coach Thomas!!"

"Not without a fight!!" the dog laughed, picking up his pace, apparently none the wiser.

It seemed funny at first, but Marcus quickly soured on the game. He kept laughing along with the others, but only to avoid making a target out of himself. The whole reason he had let his parents talk him into joining was to try and be one of the boys, and the last thing he wanted was give them any reason to single him out. But still, every time he saw one of his teammates mutter a vulgarity at BJ and then pretend he hadn't, followed by stifled laughter from everyone nearby, one thought kept creeping into his head.

"If they'll do that right in front of BJ... what do they say about me when I'm not around?"

He felt like a coward for putting on the show of laughing each time one of them pulled their little prank on poor BJ, even if he never participated in it himself. He wondered why he was trying so hard to fit in, why he wanted to be "one of the guys" if this is what "the guys" did for fun. In hindsight, Marcus's decision to embrace being an outsider likely started that year.

A week or two later, after a morning practice, Marcus lingered behind while the rest of the team showered, changed, and went off to... wherever they all went afterwards. The semester hadn't started yet, so Marcus assumed most of them went to each other's houses to hang out. He never got invited, and by then was pretty content with that.

BJ always stayed late, gathering up equipment and putting things away, chatting with Coach Yonko about how things had gone. Marcus crept up to the doorway of the storage locker, unsure how to start the conversation.

"Need something, Lewis?"

The jackalope nearly jumped out of his socks from the question, coming at such a high volume and amplified by the small room.

"Oh! Uh... how did you..." Marcus started, putting extra emphasis on his own unsure words to make sure he was audible, even without having a clear thought.

BJ laughed, stashing away a stack of plastic cones and hurdles before standing upright. "One sense goes, the rest get better," he said, tapping his black and pink splotched nose. "Besides, you need a shower. Like bad."

The uneasy look on Marcus's face made the dog tilt his head, his usually animated tail slowing down. "Everything okay?"

Marcus fidgeted in place a bit, his weight shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He hadn't really planned what he would say here.

"Uh... can I talk to you for a sec?" the young hybrid replied, making sure to move his mouth with the words as much as he could.

The canine's brow creased, but he nodded and followed Marcus into the main area of the locker room, then out the rear door towards the field again. On their way out, the pair gave a quick goodbye to Coach Yonko, waving through the window that looked into his office while the heavy old walrus scribbled in his notebook, giving a grunt and a nod in return.

The two casually walked along the sideline of the field, just following the white stripe through the grass and saying nothing for the moment. The sun was high overhead, making BJ's fur almost shine in contrast with Marcus's dirtier pelt. The jackalope wasn't sure how to break the silence, even if BJ seemed at ease with it.

Eventually, the canine got the ball rolling. "You don't like soccer much, do you?" he asked, doing his best not to be too loud about it.

The question made Marcus stop in place, taken by surprise. He quickly jogged to catch up again. "Uh... what do you mean?"

BJ chuckled, putting his hands in the pockets of his loose gym shorts and shrugging his muscular shoulders. "Ain't hard to see. You're going through the motions, but you don't look like you're enjoying it. When Coach was trying everyone in different positions you didn't seem like you cared what he gave you."

Marcus looked down at his dirty shoes, gently kicking at the grass with each shuffled step. "I mean... I guess it's just not my thing," he said glumly, momentarily forgetting to keep the volume up high enough for the assistant coach's dulled hearing.

BJ slowed his pace a bit, partly so Marcus didn't fall behind and partly so he could keep an eye on the boy's face while he spoke. "Why'd you sign up?"

The jackalope shrugged then. "I dunno..." he answered lamely, still watching the ground in front of them as they turned a corner, continuing to follow the white line. "My parents thought I should play sports to, y'know, try and fit in."

BJ grinned softly, that small but comforting look he often got just before saying the right thing. "Well why would you wanna do that? Fitting in is boring." He paused a moment, glancing around, before nodding once and gesturing for Marcus to stop walking. "Look. See all this?"

Marcus followed the canine's gesture, seeing the neatly cared-for field, but not seeing the point.

"Like... the grass?"

BJ nodded. "Yeah. Thousands of blades of grass, right? They all fit in perfectly with each other. But... "

Marcus watched as BJ bent down, plucking a dandelion that was poking out through the painted white band and holding it up towards the young crossbreed.

"Nobody cares about the ones that blend in with the crowd. Go ahead, make a wish."

The jackalope took the flower (or weed, he was never sure what they really were). He eyed it for a moment, and then the dog who had handed it to him. After taking some time to think it over, Marcus rolled his eyes, came up with a wish, and blew the dandelion's seeds away, watching them catch a ride with the soft summer breeze.

Sorry, but I wish I could just be normal.

BJ nodded, looking satisfied, patting Marcus on the back and starting their walk again.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Once again, Marcus hesitated. For a moment, he'd totally forgotten why they were walking in the first place. He grunted, realizing this was about to spoil the nice moment he and BJ were having.

"Uh... yeah, so like..." Marcus started, absolutely unsure what selection of words were going to make this go any easier. "Y'know how, uh, how it's like the guys keep forgetting to speak up? So you can hear 'em?"

BJ laughed, with more humor in his voice than Marcus expected. "You mean how they keep saying dirty shit all quiet so I can't hear them?"

The boy nearly tripped over his own feet. Aside from the shock of hearing that BJ knew what the team was doing, it was the first time he'd heard the affable canine swear. Coach Yonko was no stranger to throwing out an occasional "damn" or "ass," but BJ had always been so... pure? Marcus didn't know if that was the right word, but certainly he would never have expected a four letter word out of the guy.

"But... how did..."

Brian Thomas Jr flexed his scalp, making his perked ears bounce gently. "I'm not totally deaf, dude, and those idiots aren't nearly as quiet as they think."

Marcus was at a loss. He just stared at BJ for a moment, needing to take a few extra large steps to catch up with the canine, having fallen behind once again.

"Hey! But like... why didn't you..."

BJ chuckled, his hands going back in his pockets, "No point in it. Not when I could use my energy helpin' them out as a team. Long as they're still listening to me, no sense in gettin' worked up over them playing a dumb game."

Looking over, BJ was greeted by a screwed-up look of confusion from Marcus. The dog laughed, looking down at the grass briefly.

"Marcus, there's gonna be a lot of assholes in your life. More for you than most. Ya can't fight everyone, cuz there's a million of them and just one of you. Gotta learn to pick your battles, y'know? That way when it matters, you got the energy for it. Dumb kids saying dumb shit, that's not worth it. Besides, wanna know somethin'?"

Marcus perked up curiously, glancing towards BJ and seeing a playful grin on his face.

"...what?"

BJ leaned in. When he spoke, his voice was about as low as he could get it, and sounded strangely hollow. If it had been coming from anyone else, Marcus might have been unsettled by it. "When people think you can't hear 'em, they say stuff they sure don't want you to know."

The jackalope's brow furrowed, still not quite understanding. BJ's grin widened, and he leaned in, slinging an arm around Marcus's shoulders all secretively.

"Did you know Robbie made out with Megan Jansen at the jubilee?"

Marcus's eyes went wide. "Nuh-uh! You're makin' that up!!" he said, in total disbelief.

BJ straightened back up, tracing an X on his chest with one finger. "Cross my heart. Least that's what he told Jake. Right on the ferris wheel when the fireworks were going off."

The hybrid boy bounced on his toes, his mood taking a rapid one-eighty. Robbie Diaz had been denying he had a crush on that girl for months. "I'm surprised she didn't eat him!" he said, laughing and picturing the mouse craning up to kiss a bear twice his size.

Seeing the change in his younger friend's gait, BJ's smile widened. "See? Sometimes it pays not to make a fuss."

By then the two had made a full lap around the field, and BJ led the way back inside. Marcus still needed that shower, after all. He thanked BJ for talking with him, for not treating him like a dumb kid, and apologized for not saying anything sooner.

"Don't worry about it, bud," the dog said back, with that same reassuring grin. "I get it. And hey, if you don't wanna finish out the season, that's fine. Stick around because you want to, not because you feel like you should. Okay?"

Marcus did finish out the season. He did want to. At least he did now. Those after-practice talks turned into his favorite part of the day. BJ never treated him like he was any different from the rest of the team. Actually, he did. He treated Marcus like a friend. When BJ went off to college, they stayed in contact, and when he got his own place in town after graduation, Marcus came over to visit whenever he could. No matter what happened, the jackalope always had a shoulder to lean on and an open, if somewhat dulled, ear to talk to.

So when he stormed out of the house that morning, Marcus knew right where he needed to go. Even if his arrival was a bit unexpected.

The teen loped his way in, dropping his bag down by the front door and stepping out of his sandals, walking into the living room and dropping down on the sofa. "Yeah, well... mom was being a bitch, so I had to get out," he said, propping his heels up on the coffee table and just sinking as deeply into the cushions as he could.

BJ's home was, in contrast to Marcus's, the near dictionary definition of humble. The canine had bought it as something of a handyman's special. Three smallish bedrooms turned into one nicely sized guest bedroom and one spacious master, and out back he'd fitted a whole new deck that he was damn proud of, but even still it seemed like something Marcus's parents would have stuck in their yard for him to play in during the summer.

On the inside, there was no question its occupant was single and not in possession of a housekeeper. The house's hardwood floors were generally clean, but not free of clutter. The space between the kitchen and living room that might otherwise be called a "dining room" was used for storage far more than having meals, and the second bedroom upstairs asked its guests not to mind sharing a room with spare hardware. Brian Thomas Jr liked to keep himself busy.

The first time he invited Marcus over was a wave of excuses for why it looked so unfinished. Despite years of friendship, it was still hard to shake those feelings of inadequacy at their vastly different income levels. The jackalope never gave him reason to, though, even if he would occasionally be surprised by a lack of some fancy amenity or being caught off-guard at the notion of having to fix something yourself.

Truthfully, BJ had a feeling Marcus enjoyed coming over specifically to get away from that overly pampered world. To go somewhere more... normal.

BJ grunted quietly, carrying an armful of various trash and dishes out into the kitchen in an attempt to get the room at least somewhat cleaned up. He'd been planning on doing all that later after he'd had a little time to unwind. Wednesday before noon was Do Nothing Time.

"I thought you said your mom was out on business?" he called from the kitchen, coming back with a beer for himself and a diet cola for Marcus. He tossed the can over and dropped down on his recliner.

Marcus caught it, popping the top and taking a sip. He huffed a breath, putting on a nice little layer of melodrama as he spoke. "She was, but after I told her what happened I guess she got on a flight like right fucking then cuz she pretty much kicked the fucking door in and started screaming at me first thing this morning."

BJ sighed, drinking from his own can. "I'm guessin' the talk didn't get better from there."

The teen snorted, flicking at the pop-top with one claw. "She wouldn't even listen. Whenever I get in trouble all she does is yell at me and then wait for me to stop talking so she can yell at me some more."

BJ's head was still fuzzy thanks to the morning's smoke, but he still knew how to read Marcus's version of fights with his adoptive mother. If it weren't for the obvious reasons, he would have said his young friend was her spitting image. Two animals who went into an argument with their own scripted lines looking for opportunities to use them.

Still, he shrugged. "Hard to blame her, bud," the pit said, tossing the television remote over towards his guest.

Marcus fumbled the catch, just barely not spilling his soda as he did so. He flicked through the Netflix library, only half paying attention to any of the selections before settling on an old show he'd seen a thousand times. As with the music, Marcus had to quickly jam on the remote to bring the volume down to a level that was gentle on his much more sensitive ears. He frowned, staring down at his can sullenly.

BJ continued, looking at the text scrolling on his modestly-sized television. "I'm just sayin', even if it weren't your fault, you're the one sent home. I swear Marcus sometimes even I feel like yer darin' them to kick ya out."

"You mean the school, or my parents?" Marcus snorted.

"Take yer pick."

The two sat, watching the old comedy in silence. Really, "watching" was overstating it. They were looking at the screen, and maybe even caught an occasional snippet of dialog, but neither were paying much attention to it. BJ's focus was more on his friend, and Marcus's mind was rather visibly elsewhere. He fussed with his can, shifting his seat every few seconds. The pit found himself wondering about just what it meant to be a hybrid. Did it mean Marcus was as anxious as a jackrabbit and an antelope combined?

"Somethin' on yer mind?" he asked his young friend, doing his best to be gentle about it. He knew Marcus had a tendency to clam up if he felt defensive.

The jackalope fidgeted some more. "Yeah, hey, uh... could I ask you something?"

BJ's browline shot upwards. He shrugged, arms angled outwards as if he were getting ready to physically catch an incoming question. "Fire away, bud."

Marcus bit on his lower lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment. "Think I could, y'know, smoke a little with you?"

The canine winced. Of all the things to ask. "Marcus, come on, we been over this..."

"I know..." Marcus protested, awkwardly. "But like... couldn't you make an exception? Just this ones? Birthday exemption? Temporary reprieve due to extenuating circumstances?

BJ groaned. He hated it when Marcus put on the private school vocabulary. He didn't have a whole lot of ground rules in the house, but he made sure to put his foot down when it came to alcohol and weed. Whatever Marcus got into on campus wasn't his business, and he couldn't even pretend like he never partied in high school, but he didn't feel comfortable with getting a teenager drunk or high under his roof. Once Marcus moved out, sure, they could go wild, but he didn't want to have to deal with the Lewises banging on his door demanding to know why their son came home reeking. There had been enough static just over the fact that they were friends at all.

"Dude..." the burly dog sighed, sinking down into his seat. He looked over at the jackalope across from him. Ears down, his whole body folding in on itself. That wasn't the act he put on to try and wheedle a favor out of him.

Finally, though, he relented. "Okay, but just this once. I mean it. Understand? This ain't turnin' into a regular thing."

Marcus sat up immediately, scooting forward to sit on the edge of the couch and nodding excitedly. "Uh-huh! Totally!"

BJ grabbed his ornate little stash box, one he was proud to say he'd made himself of course, He popped the decorative, carved lid up and took out a small grinder and a modestly sized nugget. While he pressed it into the device's metal teeth and put the lid back on, he glanced over at the jackalope who was staring at the whole operation like he was watching brain surgery.

"You're looking' at me like this is the first time you've seen weed before," the dog chuckled.

A beat of silence passed between them.

"Wait... you mean you never smoked? Like... ever?"

Marcus managed to shrink in on himself some more. "I mean... not never," he said, sheepish. "Come on, you think Greenwood doesn't watch us like hawks? They got cameras everywhere! The RA has a patrol every night, if they smell anything everyone's gotta get their rooms searched," he grumbled, recalling an incident of just that. At least he hadn't been the guilty party, he couldn't imagine how it would have gone if he had.

BJ paused in his grinding, looking at his young friend curiously. Up to this point he figured Marcus, for all his complaining about difficulty making friends at school, was still going to the occasional party, or at least had a small circle that he ran with. That he'd still be doing, well, normal high school kid stuff. Underage drinking, skipping class, all that. Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that a place like Greenwood might keep their students under lock and key.

Just like that, BJ was made much more aware of how different his world was from Marcus's. The dog blew out a breath, shaking his head, grinning somewhat crookedly.

"Okay, buddy. We're gonna take this real easy, then. Nice and slow, all right? I'll get us a bigass pizza or somethin' and we'll just have a chill day..."