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[This is a collection of short stories; there won't be continuations of individual stories, but there will be other stories.](/?page=This_is_a_collection_of_short_stories_there_won%27t_be_continuations_of_individual_stories%2C_but_there_will_be_other_stories.)

Love Me, Please

There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, and it barely even seemed substantial enough to remind me that Christmas was on it's way. It was only about a week away, but by the way it kept changing from snow to rain and back, it could've been late fall, or maybe even early spring. It was slush under our feet as we walked down the side of the busy street, and even though I had my hands in my pockets to fight off the nipping cold, it still didn't feel frigid enough to truly be winter.

The theatre had been warm, and inviting, and it had lulled me enough to make me completely happy with everything in my life. I'd always loved plays, especially the Christmas ones that reminded me just how fortunate I was to have everything that I did. At the end, they always had some spiritual epiphany about the true spirit of the holidays, and almost always learned something about themselves, and it was almost always something that no one thought was even possible.

As I walked the sidewalk silently, my hands were clasped in my pocket as my breath escaped my lips in long plumes, and I wondered if it had even been the theatre or the play that had made me so content and at ease. I saw the wolf walking close by my side, with his hands also in his pockets, and a lazy grin on his face. I knew the wolf wasn't particularly tired, or bored, but it was rather the kind of smile that slipped across your lips when you were happy and you didn't even know why.

No one else around us even seemed to matter, or noticed us as we walked down the moist and dirty pavement. I didn't really notice them either, because all I could really pay attention to was the soft, modest smile that was made by the person who was glad they had made my day worthwhile. We'd known each other for years, and we'd talked for years, and it wasn't until just recently that we'd become so close.

Both our lips curled a little more, but we had never really locked eyes, or spoken to each other. One of us was dreaming while the other was reminiscing, and as we walked towards the car, and the crowd thinned out, and we were left even more alone, I felt an odd tingling in my stomach. Perhaps it was nerves, or perhaps it was the overwhelming happiness that ran down my arms, and legs, and spine like an icy mist.

I loved the way the wolf smelled, and the way the scent followed me around, no matter where I went. I always smelled like him, even when I was at home, or at work, or at the store. It was imprinted on me in some odd way that made my stomach churn, and my heart flutter every time I caught scent of it.

We'd barely ever touched, and we'd only hugged a few times, but I had always been so nervous when we had that I'd forgotten to pay attention to what it felt like. I didn't have a good enough memory of it to relive, so I always wished and waited for the next opportunity to appear. I wished I could hug him whenever I wanted, or maybe even hold his hand. I often dreamed of kissing him softly, either on the lips or on the cheek, and as the holidays came around, I found himself anxiously looking around for mistletoe.

In my head though, I knew the wolf would never fall for a fox like me. I was small, and shy, and a man. We were close friends, and we were nothing more, and we would never be anything more. I'd never asked, and I'd never brought it up, and I'd never had the courage to try to turn my dreams into a reality, because I felt that I already knew the answer.

The way the wolf talked about girls, or about exes, or about who he thought was the most attractive in a passing group of women made me desperately wish I could forget my feelings. I knew for a fact that it wasn't foxes like me that the wolf liked, but this deep, seething thought in my brain kept reminding me that I couldn't know. My brain liked to keep telling me that maybe he was just shy about liking men because I had never come out with the truth, either.

I'd never told anyone. Not my other friends, and not my family, and not the people I worked with. I'd barely even been able to tell myself for the longest time because some part of me knew that if I admitted it, I'd be trapped by my feelings for the wolf. I knew for certain that what I felt wasn't normal between friends, not even friends as close as us, but if I admitted undeniably that I wanted him, or wanted to be with him, it'd change everything.

It'd drastically change the meanings of everything I knew, like when I stayed at his house on some weekends because we didn't have anywhere else to go, or anything else to do. Every time I wore the wolf's clothes because my own had gotten wet, and I could smell him all night, I'd be stuck remembering how much it was that I wanted to be in his arms. And I'd be stuck remembering just how impossible it was for us to be together. I didn't even really know why we couldn't, I just knew deep down that we wouldn't. Not ever.

As we reached the car, I felt him brush by me to open the car door and I smiled to myself after he'd closed the door behind me. I had always felt so strange smiling around him when I knew he was looking, because I almost felt that he could see my thoughts printed on my face. I knew I was hiding such a big secret every time I grinned to myself when he walked from the bathroom without a shirt because he'd just taken a shower.

He got in the car, and I stopped thinking, and I stopped moving, and I could only play with my hands quietly as I stared at them. I didn't want to feel the things I felt, and I didn't want to think the things I thought, and sometimes I didn't even want to be the person I was. I knew that this had to be only the beginning, because as I looked over to him, I knew he wouldn't be the only one that got away, and I knew that there would be plenty more that I'd have to silently love, and silently suffer through.

I often wondered if it was always going to be like this for me, because I'd never seen two men hold hands in the movie theatre, and I'd never seen two men kiss while watching a play. I often found myself wondering if my life would always revolve around hiding my feelings, or hiding myself, and occasionally I would get to the point where I'd wish I was just like everyone else.

He turned the key in the ignition, and the car roared into life, making hot air blow from the vents so that the ice that covered the wind shield started to melt, and as he put his hand near the shifter, I almost felt like this was the turning point in a play. For the smallest second, I was happy because I thought this was where everything started to go my way, and I'd soon be rewarded for all my trials in the opening act. I was almost foolish enough to think that I could reach out and hold his hand in my own.

"Thanks for taking me to the show," I said, my voice rather faint and distant, but I tried to just cover it with my exhaustion. I didn't want to act too tired though, because I didn't want him to ask why I didn't get to sleep the night before, because I didn't want to accidentally tell him just how excited I had been about today. I didn't want to tell him that I'd hoped today would be the day he'd give me some kind of sign that everything I'd been feeling hadn't gone unnoticed, and that everything I'd been feeling hadn't been in vain.

"Don't mention it," he said with a smile, and I pulled out my phone to pretend to check the time. I knew if I kept looking at him, and thinking like I was, I'd end up blushing, or crying, "your birthday only comes once a year, so you should at least make it special, right?"

"I guess," I replied timidly, putting my phone away so I could rub my neck. I hadn't even remembered to check what time it was, but it didn't really matter because I didn't have work in the morning, anyway, "I just don't know how I'm going to be able to top all this. You know, for when your birthday comes around."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," he said with a smile as he turned to look at the nearly melted ice crystals on the glass, "you always do. You seem to have a skill for finding the things I like."

"It's not really a skill," I said quietly, looking out the window deeply as he backed out of the parking spot slowly, after waiting for a family to pass by, "I just pay closer attention to everything than I probably should. You did a really good remembering the things that I like to do."

"It's easy to remember what you like, but not many people remember the exact brand of coffee I like, or something I said I wanted six months ago," he said, and I could feel myself blushing as we inched down the main road, fighting with the other cars as we tried to make it to the highway.

If he hadn't yet figured out my secret feelings for him, I guess I didn't have to be too afraid he'd stumble upon the realization one day. There was a nagging feeling in the back of my brain that hoped he'd figure it out, and hoped he'd confront me about it. I wanted to know what this all meant, but I was too afraid to risk it all if I didn't need to. I could live like this for a little longer if I needed, because eventually I'd grow content with loving him from a distance. Something inside of me said that this was a feeling I'd be accepting a lot throughout my life, so why would it matter if it was now and not later?

"Well, I'm at your house all the time, so it's not hard to see the things you need," I said, trying my hardest not to say that I knew what he liked because I thought I loved him. I didn't want him to know that there was nothing I wanted more for my birthday for him to hug me with a little more love than I'd come to hope for.

"Speaking of which, are you staying over tonight?" he asked, and I smiled to myself as I looked at the small printed card he'd given me, saying it was redeemable for one birthday celebration. It was silly, and corny, but I liked it, because I knew he was never afraid to risk looking like an idiot. Just like how he always asked if I was staying over, even if he already knew the answer. I just wish I wasn't so afraid of taking a risk or two of my own.

"Of course," I said, hiding the card away as he looked at me. I leaned against the door and rest my head in my hand, wondering why he was so nice to me. Sometimes, I spent hours in my head, trying to find the things he did, or said, that could let me think that perhaps he had feelings for me, too, even if it was only for five minutes, or five seconds, "I mean, if you're not doing anything tomorrow, that is."

"I have a date tomorrow, but that's not until later at night," he said as he turned to me with a quick wink, but I didn't even wince as we cruised down highway, the sun just moments from setting behind us. Back when we'd started becoming friends, he had said he was going on a date later on in the night, and I'd spent the whole day, hoping that he was talking about me, "but that gives us a good amount of time to play the new game I bought."

"What game?" I asked, breathing in deeply and silently. I didn't want to ask who it was he was going on a date with, or why it was even happening, because I had a feeling that I already knew who it was. I'd watched him joking around with someone for the last few days, but I never said anything. I couldn't say anything.

"Well, I can't remember the name, honestly," he mumbled with a frown as he merged into the right lane, "but the guy at the game store promised it was one of the best multiplayer games he'd ever bought."

He'd said that many times before, but a lot of the times we ended up being less than satisfied. I found it rather cute how he didn't seem bothered by the fact the sales associates lied to him, or perhaps it was because he didn't realize their job was to sell as much as they could, by any means necessary. In the end, though, it almost made me feel like he was always looking for something to do so he could spend more time with me.

"I just hope it's better than that last one, because I don't even know how to describe the disappointment I felt after just watching you beat it. I can't even imagine what it was like to actually play it," I said with a quiet smirk as I rest my back against the door, my arms folded across my chest, so I could look at him as he drove.

"Yea, I don't know what happened with that game. If I had to take a guess, I'd say it was because they ran out of funding," he mumbled as we passed the sign that indicated the exit to my house. Turning to me, he pointed a finger in my direction, before continuing, "oh, by the way, I completely forget to wash the sheets that you dropped the coffee mug on, so the spare bedroom's mattress is bare. I can sleep on the couch if you want, and you can take my bed. There's still a chance for me to take you home, too, if you want to do that instead."

"No, it's fine," I answered, watching the sign for exit 12b get closer. I wanted to sleep in his bed, but I was afraid I'd die if I ever did. I could feel my chest constrict as it began to dawn on me what I'd just turned down, "I don't mind sleeping on the couch."

"Are you sure?" he said with the slightest frown as we both looked at the exit to his apartment inching closer, "it's my fault and I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of my mistake. I shouldn't have forgotten. I think I still have a blanket in the closet, I'm not sure though."

"Really, it's alright," I said strongly as we went down the main road near his apartment. All the lights on the storefronts were dim, and all the buildings were rather rundown as we skirted the edge of the countryside. I counted the car shops wistfully to try and keep myself awake.

We remained in such a tight silence that I could hear the tires hissing on the pavement, and occasionally I'd looked over to see him gripping on the steering wheel tightly. He likely knew there was something wrong with me, or some reason why I had turned so lethargic, and he probably thought it had something to do with him, but it didn't.

It couldn't be farther from the truth, because I thought he was perfect, and I though he was doing everything he could to make this friendship as good as it could be. The problem rest with me, and most times I felt that there was nothing I could do. I knew that eventually the relationship would begin to fray or fall apart because I didn't have the courage to tell the truth.

He'd keep thinking that he was the reason I depressed, but I'd never be able to just sit down and tell him that it wasn't his fault. We'd end up distant because I was afraid to say I loved him, and eventually, he'd pull away completely, but I wouldn't be able to stop him. I wished I could just tell him what was really wrong.

We pulled into the parking lot and I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, standing in the cold breeze outside, trying to clear my head. He had parked right in front of the door, and he was already at the top of the stairs, fumbling with his keys as he went to unlock it. I followed up after him and shot him a weak smile, feeling my face burn slightly as he held the door open, trying to silently apologize for something he didn't do.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, climbing up the flight of stairs behind me. My hand left the railing as I reached the first floor landing and I turned to face him, shaking my head silently, rubbing my eyes exhaustedly, "is it because I keep bringing up my dates? I can stop if you want. You're an amazing guy, I know you'll find someone who sees it eventually. "

"No, it's not that. I'm happy that you're trying to move on for your ex," I mumbled in response as he stopped at the apartment door right beside the second floor landing and unlocked it. He walked in, once against holding it open for me before letting it slam shut when I stood in front of the couch, "I'm just a little tired is all."

"Oh, well, do you want to go to sleep then? The offer to sleep in my bed still stands if you don't want to sleep on the couch," he said, looking at the leather couch with distaste, "or if you don't want to go to sleep, we can't still play that new game. I'm pretty excited to see what it's all about."

"It's too early to go to bed," I said, sitting down on the couch so I could peruse the game's cover. It looked just like several games we'd played together in the last year, but I didn't say anything as I looked back at him and continued speaking, "but I'm too tired to be much use in a game. I'll probably just sit around watching and silently judging the game."

"Alright," he said with a soft smile as I glanced up at him, watching him take off his sweatshirt to reveal one of his many punk rock band tees. He was an intriguing individual; unafraid to dress like a rebel with torn jeans, tight shirts, and numerous piercings, but equally able to be a perfect gentleman, "I'm going to go take a shower, though. Give me like ten minutes."

I nodded, pretending to be absorbed in the description so I could watch him without fear as he walked into the bright light of the bathroom, pulling off his shirt before the door had even closed. He went to the gym twice a week, trying to keep his body in a perfectly presentable condition, but deep in my gut I knew I really didn't care what he looked like.

It did bother me that he always brought up his dates, but I figured it was something I couldn't do much about. We were friends, I was supposed to support him in everything he did, even if it sometimes felt like he was punching me in the chest. I was happy, because I only wanted him to be happy.

Perhaps if he found himself a girlfriend, I'd be more able to push myself into action, even if it meant that I needed to move on and find someone else. I was just afraid to let go, and I was even more afraid to give in, and tell him everything. I knew I'd eventually break, and end the friendship, but from where I stood right now, I couldn't think of anyway to pull myself away without admitting my feelings.

If I just left, he'd be hurt. If I just stayed, I'd be hurt. If I just told him, I didn't know who'd be hurt. Maybe he'd take it well, and we could end it on good terms. Maybe he'd take it badly, and I'd have to walk away with my tail between my legs. Or maybe he wouldn't end it, and it'd end up awkward. The both of us would always be watching our words, or watching our actions, or trying to nervously joke about it. I didn't like any of the outcomes.

Opening the game's case, I walked to the console and slid it into the drive, taking the controller back to the seat with me. I looked around the room, from the hardwood floor and pale parchment colored walls to the recliner crammed into the corner. I had so many memories here, even if they never seemed to end the way I hoped they would.

I always kept quiet, or I always stayed in my bed, or I always left when I knew I really didn't want to. As the sound of repeated gunfire filled the room, I looked through the game's menus listlessly, trying to find a way to empty my head, but as I looked around, all I could think about was all the memories I wanted to have in this home.

In the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind were the ideas that I'd never told anyone, and I barely even heard myself. Somewhere in the darkness, I wished I could call this our house, or our living room, or our couch. When I wandered into these thoughts, I often asked myself how I thought it'd feel, but I was never able to give myself a clear answer, because some part of my mind didn't want me to get my hopes up.

The bathroom door opened with a creak and I fell further into the couch cushion, the controller held loosely in my hands as my ears twitched frantically. I shot a glance over at him as he stepped into weak light trickling down from the single bulb above our heads, and he ran his fingers through the fur atop his head to neaten it.

He wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a light gray shirt with an unbuttoned black dress shirt resting tightly against his shoulders. As he stood there with his hand nervously holding onto the back of his neck, his eyes glowed in contrast to his fur and I forced a smile. The shirt's collar was folded down, and his sleeves were folded up, and the undershirt pulled tightly against his chest. I liked what I saw, but I knew it wasn't meant for me.

"What do you think?" he asked shyly, fidgeting around as he tried to make sure his sleeves were evenly rolled up. He flexed his arms in front of himself with a slight frown as he looked at how tight the shirt was against his biceps, "does it look too... pretentious? Or do you think I should I dress a little more formal? I mean, we've been on a date before, so I don't know if I'm supposed to pretty myself up still, or just dress normal."

"You look good," I said, trying to be as convincing as possible in my sincerity. I put the game controller down and muted the television as I stood to study the awkward faces he was making while he fussed over the littlest things.

"Really?" he mumbled after letting out a loud sigh. Running his fingers through his headfur again, he tried to style it a little and make it stand up, but not so much that it looked like he had spiked it. He must have really liked whoever he was going to see tomorrow, "after I drop you off tomorrow, I was going to come home and take another shower, so I just wanted to ask your opinion. You really think it looks alright?"

"Yea," I replied, biting the inside of my lip as I smiled briefly, trying to keep my throat from closing and my voice from cracking. I could feel the heat overwhelming my face as he turned around to look down as his tail, "you look great. I'm sure she'll approve. Perhaps she'll like it so much she'll try to take it off you."

"Sweet," he said with a victorious grin and a hearty chuckle, making me cross my arms tightly against my chest. It was the moments like these that I tried so hard to forget, but they were the only things I remember whenever I tried to work up the courage to talk to him, "she's just like you. It's really weird, actually. Last date we had, we sat there talking about video games for hours. She even remembered my birthday, and I only told her it once, and it was at work like a year ago. She's really sweet. I think you'd like her."

"Maybe you can introduce me someday," I said with a grin, trying my hardest to keep my lips from quivering as he turned around to walk into his bedroom to change. With his back to me, I continued, "I think I'm going to go take a shower."

"Alright," he said behind his closed door as I heard the hangers rattling against the cheap wood. Giving up on the smile, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, making sure to turn on the shower before I fell against the side wall with my face buried deep in my hands.

I didn't even didn't even know why it was I still cared, because I'd known this would happen. I had always known this would happen. This had already happened. I loved him, but he didn't love me, and I didn't even know why I still tried, or why I still wanted to try. The only thing that would ever change was out friendship. Eventually I wouldn't be able to stay over, and then I'd be pushed further and further down the list, until I was only a guy he worked with.

It wasn't his fault, though. It was never his fault. It was always my fault for being so stupid and thinking that the hugs were more than friendly, or the kindness was more than his character. Just two hours ago, I had wondered if today had been something more, or something special. Just two hours ago I had wondered if we were in some kind of play, and I had wondered if things were going to turn around.

My hopes had been so high, but as I sat here, asking myself if this was the end of the play, and asking myself how I knew if I didn't try, I felt more than foolish, or more than stupid. I felt conceited, and naive, and angry at myself for thinking that I was anything more than what I was; a friend. A good friend, or a great friend, it didn't matter. I was only a friend.

Wiping my face with my sleeve, I pushed myself up the wall and began to pull off my shirt, avoiding my red, puffy eyes in the mirror as best I could. I could take a quick shower, and go back to being surrounded by my comfortable nothingness, and my perfect emptiness that almost made me feel like I was worth something deeper to him. I'd already waited as long as I had, so what was another day, or another date, or anything girlfriend?