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I trudged home in silence, the ghost of Gare's muzzle still warm on mine. I felt as though the snow around me should have melted for the silent radiance that was shining through me. Nothing could ruin this moment for me, nothing at all. I felt on top of the world, and nothing was about to knock me down, not even the blizzard that persistently raged around me. I jammed my paws in my jacket pocket to keep warm, and walked onward towards my house.

I glanced across streets and into houses as I walked by. The lights in those houses were on, the floor swept and clean, the couch stain-free, and still the color it was when it had been bought. I came to a cross-walk, and waited for my signal. I seemed to have found the one thing that could put a damper on my mood. When Gare left that room, he had known he was going home to a loving, if ignorant, family. He was going home to a warm house, a cooked meal, and stocked cupboards. It made me feel pathetic.

I was going home to dusty floorboards that hadn't been tread upon, save for me, in years. I was going home to bare cupboards that had scarcely more than a dry, stale crumb of some long-forgotten meal. I was going home to a mother that didn't care, and had no husband to care for. I buried myself deep down in my jacket as the cold bit its way in, as I tried to smother the bad feelings with memories of Gare. I was only partially successful. A car horn honked behind me, signaling that it was time to go. I readjusted my backpack on my shoulders and crossed the street, wishing not for the first time that Gare was here with me. After what must have been an eternity, I ended up at my front door. It was unlocked, and I went in without knocking. She wouldn't care. Her only care in the world was the source of the next bottle.

I closed the door quietly behind me. I slid off my boots and bent over to rub some feeling back into my paws. My eyes flicked over to the living room, which was really more of a room with a couch, as there was rarely any living going on in it. My eyes widened ever so slightly, and my mouth went slack, gaping open just a bit. Sitting on our couch, which was dusty this morning, and looking sober for the first time in years, was my mom.

She looked amazing, compared to how she normally looked. I mean, she still looked like crap, but at least she no longer had a bottle in her hands. Her eyes were ringed with wrinkles and bags, and she was sweating tequila from years of self-abuse. She rhythmically rubbed her temple with her thumb, fighting off a migraine. Her tail hung off the couch, limp. She hadn't seemed to notice me, thankfully. A hurricane was going on in my heart.

Sitting just a few meters away from me was the woman who had run away from all of her responsibilities for years. Who had, apparently, let my brother go when I was just a pup, and raised not even a paw to stop him. She who had gone to the bottle and left me to fend for myself for all these years. Sitting just a few meters away from me was my mother. Even through my fury, my pain, my stabbing pangs of abandonment, I wanted to believe that this was a sign.

I wanted to believe that this was a sign that she wasn't done, that she wasn't giving up just yet. I wanted to believe that my mother wasn't content with waiting for the alcohol to kill her off. I wanted to get my mom back. And even through all of this pain, joy, and longing, there was something holding me back. Something keeping me in check, not letting me hope too much, for it was just as likely that she would go back to suckling her bottle the next day. I cleared my throat tentatively, announcing my presence.

"M-mom?" I said quietly. My voice shook with unexpected emotion, but I was determined not to let it show. She perked her head up and flicked her tail weakly, whether out of happiness or shock it was impossible to tell. Her finger froze on her temple. Her jaw dropped. She almost seemed surprised to see me, as though she had forgotten she had had a son.

"Miles..." She tried to say, but I cut her off. I was overcome with a wave of fury.

"Where were you?" I let my anger ring forth, wanting to verbally cut her down. "Where have you been?" She sat there looking down at her knees, not able to look me in the eye. "I've lived my entire life without you! I've taken care of you; I thought it was supposed to be the other way around! I needed you." My voice rose and fell as my anger waxed and waned. The last words were almost a whisper, but I know she heard them. I blinked, and my eyes spilled over with tears I hadn't even realized were forming. Wiping my eyes, I saw her shoulders shake with silent sobs. She tilted her head towards me, and her eyes stared back into mine. I might have been seeing my own reflection, but her eyes looked as though they were brimming with the ocean. I felt a twinge of pity for her, and tried to snuff it out to no avail.

"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked on the last syllable and she shook with sobs, tears streaming through her fur. I stood in the doorway silently, waiting for more. That couldn't be all she had to say. I waited for a long minute, wondering if that was it. My eyes locked onto a paint fleck on the wall, staring at it with such intensity I half expected it to move of its own accord. But it soon became apparent that she had nothing more to tell me. I gave one last shaky sigh, and dragged my feet across the threshold toward her. Every step was heavy. I stared only at the ground as I made my way toward the bane of my childhood. My heart had gone cold and numb. This was too much for one day.

Within the small span of twelve hours that I had been awake, my world had been completely flipped. All of a sudden, I was gay, flirting with guys without even realizing it, making out with my best friend, and coming home to a conscious mother. It was too much to bear. I sat down next to my mother, and wordlessly wrapped an arm around her. It wasn't exactly a loving embrace, a happy reunion between mother and son, but it was a start. She barely seemed to notice my touch.

"I've got a lot of homework to do...." I said, trying to find an excuse to leave. She seemed to get the hint.

"Yeah, alright...." She sniffed loudly, fighting back more tears. I left the living room without a word and stumbled into my bedroom, throwing my book bag at the wall and falling hard onto the messy pile of sheets and pillows that was my bed. My eyes shut tight, heavy with the events of the day. I bit into my pillow, fighting back a fresh wave of sadness and tears, when I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off. I sleepily reached over and turned the alarm off, and tried to rub the grogginess out of my eyes. The fur around my face was crusted over with salt, a remnant of my tears from the previous night. Just the thought of last night threatened to bring forth an entirely new wave of sadness. It was only through sheer force of will that I managed to fend off these wolves of the mind. I fumbled blindly with my dresser, my movements shaky and erratic. I managed to get a hold of some clothes for the day, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I glanced in the mirror, and quickly averted my eyes.

My hair was mussed up like it always was, my tail poofy, but my fur around my eyes looked as though it was encrusted with some kind of rock, like I was wearing a silly mask. Only I could've known that it was the result of so many tears being shed. I quietly slid into the shower stall and took special care to rinse out those salty gems.

I dried off and slid my clothes on, which consisted of baggy dark blue jeans and a loosely fitting blue shirt, augmented with an old blue jacket. I gave one last glance at myself in the mirror to make sure all the crust was out of my eyes, before deciding I was okay. I grabbed my pack, which lay where I had flung it last night before dosing off. The anger I'd felt at that moment seemed somehow childish and indecent now.

That memory behind me, I walked out to the frontroom and reached for the door. I threw a glance at the couch where my mother and I had spoken the night before. It was empty now. It was almost as if none of that had even happened. Part of me wished it hadn't, and then perhaps I wouldn't have felt the way I did. I shut my eyes against the memories, and yanked open the door, throwing myself outside into what I had expected to be another blizzard.

The conditions outside were bad, but not nearly as bad as they'd been the day before. The winds had stopped, and an eerie calm had settled over my neighborhood. Snow mounds stood many feet high, so high that I had to stand on one to see across the street. Further down the road, you could see some of the other folks out shoveling their sidewalks for pedestrians. They waved at me as I passed them, walking through the blanketed white suburbs. I tossed a hollow smile to someone, waved at someone else, and looked forward toward my bus stop.

Standing at my bus stop, with a solid grey book bag slung across his back and textbooks poking up out of an open pocket, was a tall black wolf. He stood out in stark contrast against his radiant white background, which made it hard to see much from far away. He was wearing khaki shorts, which was strange considering it was freezing outside. As I got closer, I could make out more details. He wore a deep black T-shirt to match his fur. He had broad shoulders, and was well-muscled, his shirt tight against his body. In spite of his imposing figure, however, his behavior was rather shy.

His angular, handsome face was pointed straight at the ground, hair falling in front of his eyes. He held his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his tail submissively coiled around his ankle. He had the body of an athlete, but he had the mental disposition of a puppy. As soon as I walked into his field of vision, he jumped, looking startled that he might share a bus stop with someone. His eyes flitted towards me, and I noted that they were a shade of red. Not fiery red, but a nice, dusky one.

"Heya," I said, trying to break the ice. He shrank a little and mumbled back.

"Hey..." His voice was deep and strong, but somehow soothing. I awkwardly picked at some ice with my foot while we stood there.

"What's your name?" I asked, trying to kindle some sort of conversation. His ears perked up a little at being addressed personally with a question.

"Nyoka." He said simply. He seemed to think about it for a second, and then added, "But my friends call me Nyo." I smiled at him, trying to encourage more words, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Are you new here, Nyo?" I sidled closer to him, not because I wanted to be closer, but because I was freezing and he seemed to be radiating heat.

"Yeah," he replied, gaining a little confidence in the conversation. "I moved here just last week. What's your name, by the way?"

"I'm Miles. Nice to meet you." I stuck out my paw, which he grabbed in his. He squeezed, and then let go. I decided I liked this new guy, Nyo. I was sure he could've used some friends, and I was happy to oblige. I was sure Gare would like him too.

The bus came rolling down the street at the moment we released each other's paws, and it came to a screeching halt in front of us. The squeaky doors opened, and we climbed in. I looked around. Nearly everyone on the bus was asleep; trying to grab a few more moments of unconsciousness before the day technically began. Amidst all of the snoring and steady breathing was a bright orange face, coal black nose, and sparkling white smile waiting for me.

Gare's smile turned to a look of puzzlement when Nyo climbed up behind me, looking apprehensive. I mouthed at him, "New kid, be nice". He nodded in response, looking a little uncomfortable. I pushed a whole bunch of kids' legs out of my way that were in between me and Gare, Nyo in tow. I finally made it to him, and sat down with Gare, while Nyo occupied the seat across the aisle.

"Hey," I said to Gare.

"Hey." He looked uncomfortable for a second, and then glanced at Nyo out of the corner of his eye. Nyo was sitting with his head leaning against the seat in front of him, eyes focused on the floor.

"Oh! Nyo, this is Garreth. Gare, this is Nyoka."Nyo waved shyly at Gare, and I would've sworn his cheeks had turned pink if it hadn't been for the midnight black fur that encased him.

"Hey," said Gare quietly. He tentatively stuck his paw out towards Nyo, who grabbed it and squeezed, just as he'd done to me. Gare pulled back his hand, jokingly shaking it to show how much It hurt. Nyo decided to take it as a compliment and laughed under his breath, a smile finally breaking through the inky blackness that was his fur. His teeth were all perfect, pearly white. I decided to play along with the hurt paw act, so I grabbed Gare's paw and kneaded it with mine, trying to massage away the pain.

He checked to make sure no one was looking, and quickly whispered in my ear. "You're holding my hand. You realizes that now he," he gestured toward Nyo, "knows, or at least suspects, that we're gay?" I cursed myself for not realizing this. At the same time, I felt a momentary pang of sadness that the relationship can never be truly open until we're both out of the closet. After a moment of consideration, I made a decision.

"Would you be okay with it if I decided to tell Nyo?" I whispered. Gare gave me a long, hard look. For a moment it looked as though he would say no, but he finally conceded.

"Fine, fine..." I turned towards Nyo, and waved him over with my paw, beckoning him to come closer. He leaned towards me, curious.

"Listen. Can you keep a secret?" He nodded hesitantly. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Oh well, it was too late. "Me and Gare are..." I struggled to find the words to explain it. This was harder than I thought.

"Gay?" He said curiously. The look on my face must have answered for me. "Sorry if I don't seem as surprised as you think I should be. A lot of my friends were gay at my old school; I have a pretty in-tune gaydar."My jaw dropped. I was in utter shock that it could be so easily guessed, especially by a new guy. Garreth must have been thinking the same thing, and must have had the same expression, because Nyoka looked past me, at Gare, and smiled.

"Are... are you?" Gare asked somewhat cautiously. Nyo tilted his head for a second in thought before he answered.

"Sorta. I mean, I like girls. But guys too. I guess that makes me bi, right?" I wanted to ask more questions right then and there, but at that moment, we pulled up to the school and students were being roused awake by their friends. Nyo grabbed his backpack off the ground and stood up to go, but I grabbed his shoulder and tugged him back.

"Hey," I hesitated, looking back at Gare for permission. He nodded his approval. "You want to meet me and Gare in this old history classroom after school?" Nyo looked scared for a second. "No, nothing like that. Just to hang out. We do it every day." He looked unsure for a moment, but after a second of consideration, nodded his okay. He stumbled off the bus, casting several nervous glances behind him. I came off the bus next, and then Gare. We said our goodbyes, and promised we'd all se each other later that day, in room A-22.