A Tail for Two - Chapter 14
It all happened so fast, that he was lost within his own mind.
Eon Snowpaw drew me another picture depicting a scene from the last chapter (: go check it out!
Pray: http://www.sofurry.com/page/225266/user
It all happened so fast, that he was lost within his own mind.
Mike looked around the crowd; Nate had disappeared. Just a moment ago he was standing directly in front of him, on the stage, but now he was gone without a trace. "So much for a bathroom break," he whispered under his disappointed breath.
As wrong as it seemed, he had just took Nate from Cyd. He wasn't very proud of the devious act, but he was happy with the outcome. It had been months since he had someone who he could care for. Mike wasn't one to fall so easily. He had always been the cool, calm, and collected type. If he wanted a hook-up, he got it.
Sex. Sex without any other emotions than arousal, which is what he liked; it was what he was used to. Some people may frown on lives like that, but he didn't care. Mike liked sex, and he didn't take any shame in that whatsoever, but it also kept away people he could actually care for.
That's why Nate was so special. When Mike saw him, he was instantly turned on, but he also felt something innocent. He liked Nate, not loved, but still liked. That never happened to Mike. He could quickly glance at someone and decide whether or not they were a good fuck, but to look at someone and feel a connection instantly was new. Nate made a lot of people get that feeling, or so it seemed.
Mike continued to shuffle through the crowd, looking for even the slightest glimpse of the husky's fur, but nothing was found. He had searched the bathrooms, the bar, the backstage, and pretty much anywhere else he could think of, but found nothing. The first thing he thought of was that he had been stood up, but at the same time he knew that wasn't something that Nate would do. He was too nice, right?
The front door swung open again. Mike quickly rushed over to it in hopes that it was Nate coming back in from a short visit outside. He used the shoulder of someone next to him to boost his body up and get a good look at the figure coming in. He spotted a small cat walking through the doors and shouting something, but the inside of Envi was much too loud to make out his cries. Mike proceeded forward.
No one around the cat seemed phased whatsoever. They were all too distracted to even pay attention. Mike wasn't. He pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the stout feline, watching his mouth closely as he approached. 'Help,' Mike thought as he read his lips. He reached out his paw and grabbed the cat on his shoulder, simultaneously shutting him up and obtaining his attention. "What's going on?" Mike asked.
"Out in the parking lot," the cat claimed, "there's a man with a gun!" Mike took a long blink and shuffled through his mind, trying to pick the right thought.
"What did he look like? Was there anyone with him?"
"I couldn't really see him very well, but there was someone with him.
"Who was with him?"
"I don't know, I've never seen him around. Short, fluffy-"
"Extremely long tail?" Mike added.
"Yea, that's him." Mike didn't think twice about it. He dashed straight towards and out of the front door. The little light that was emitting from the setting sun shined into his eyes. It was right at the point of dusk, when the sun slipped below the mountains and the entire sky lit up a dim purple and orange mix. He could hear the sound of the bass from inside the night club, and even though it pulsated into his mind, he blocked it out. He had only one focus: Nate.
Mike scanned the area. From the awkwardly shaped tree to his far left all the way to the parking lot on his far right. Not a soul was in sight. Whoever was with Nate wasn't here anymore. He didn't know where, but definitely not here. Mike turned around hastily and slammed his fist against the door; he needed to do something to release his anger.
He began to think about Nate a little more than just face value. Mike just entered into his life without any questions of his past or present. For all he knew, Nate could be part of a gang or mafia. Who says that Nate was being held hostage? Maybe he was friends with this gun-wielding fellow. Maybe he had killed or injured hundreds of people before even meeting Mike. One thing for sure was that he was about to find out, and he'd uncover the truth using the only person in town who knew Nate well enough. Cyd.
Cyd unlocked the front door to his beachside residence. He kept it locked at all times, even if he had a house full of people; it was something his mom always scolded him about when they still lived together.
So much had happened in his life lately; it seemed almost like a cycle. Something good would happen to him and he'd be so excited about it, but then it'd all go downhill at once. Sometimes it was his fault, sometimes it wasn't, but either way it would end. In this case, it was his fault, and he knew it very well.
Cyd loved Nate with every fiber of his being. He'd live for him and he'd die for him, but he threw it all away. One little outburst and he ruined every good thing he had with Nate. 'So stupid,' he repeated to himself time and time again.
He sat down the paper bag he had picked up on his way home and pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels from it, the same bottle he always chugged when he was spiraling downwards. He wasn't old enough to legally buy or drink alcohol, but he had his connections.
When his mom died, Cyd went through gallons of the stuff. When he just couldn't stand the bad feelings anymore, he figured he could by happiness by the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and took a sip straight from the glass container; it burned his throat slightly on the way down, but he kind of like it.
He made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. His body crashed down comfortably onto his bed and he let out a heavy sigh. The pain in his heart was ripping him apart, but he tried to suppress it with another sip of Jack. As he stared into nothingness, a tear rolled down his cheek and he couldn't stop thinking about his one and only love, Nate.
Mike slammed the car door shut. He breathed in and out deeply as he marched up the driveway. He was there for one purpose and one purpose only: to get some information. He didn't like Cyd, Cyd didn't like him, and he didn't have a problem with that. Things had ended badly between them and Mike didn't really care. He was at Cyd's house to help Nate out, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Mike knocked on his front door hard, but there was no answer. He continued to bang on the hard wood for five to ten minutes, but still, no answer. When he finally gave up, he checked under the floor mat for a key; nothing. He checked the doorsill, the nearby plant, and even the inside of the hanging lamp nearby, but still nothing. "I know you're here Cyd!" he yelled up to his second-floor window, "Your car is parked in your driveway!"
There was no response.
Mike knew everything about this house. He had been in and out of it countless times and he'd seen every nook and cranny it had. That included backdoors. He began to walk around the house, starting on the left side. Every window he passed he pulled up on a little, trying to find one that was opened. He continued to travel window by window until he reached the back door of the house. He wiggled the handle a little, but it too was locked.
After running out of places to check, he decided to do things the hard way. He hastily took off his shirt and began to wrap it tightly around his hand. He took in a big breath and without taking time to second guess himself, he punched through the small glass window of the door. The window shattered with ease. He pulled his hand out and reached down at the handle, unlocking it from the inside out.
Mike walked through the door and into the living room, looking for Cyd as he passed. When he didn't see anything, he made his way to the front door. Peering down at the handle, he slowly and carefully unlatched it, making sure that he had a quick exit if he needed it. He continued upstairs and down through the hall, peeking carefully into each room he passed. When he finally reached the master bedroom, he found Cyd's drunken body lying almost lifeless on the bed. Mike shook his head in disappointment and let out a heavy sigh.
"Cyd, you drunken idiot," he whispered slightly. He was planning on barging into his room and yelling at the top of his lungs, but all was ruined the second he actually saw Cyd. Sure they had been broken up for a while now, but you never lose feelings for someone you once cared so much about. You even care for the ones that tried to strangle you to death.
Mike walked over to him and shoved his arm a little, but Cyd didn't move. He carefully reached over and lifted the empty Jack bottle out of his hand. "Come on Cyd, get up," He said as he nudged him again.
Cyd made a strange moaning sound and shoved Mike's hand away. Mike shook his head again and pushed Cyd a little more. Cyd rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes to just a squint, looking over to find out who was waking him up. When he saw Mike, he brushed it off as if it was nothing. He was still in the process of regaining consciousness and wasn't quite sure what he was looking at.
"Cyd, get up, I need to talk to you," Mike repeated, losing his nice feelings for more impatient ones. Cyd rolled over a little more and looked Mike in the eyes; this time, the message reached him a little better.
"What do you want?" he slurred, "what are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you, it's really important," Mike answered.
"I don't have anything to say to you, just get out of here." Mike looked at him as he turned back over. He could instantly tell how hard he was taking the fact that he lost Nate, and Mike felt sorry for him. Sure Nate was a prize, but it was clear that Cyd was in love. Why did Mike have to come and ruin that? Revenge? Probably.
"Look Cyd, you're mad at me, I know, but this is very important," Mike said softly.
"Oh, sorry," Cyd replied sarcastically, "did you need me to tell you what Nate's favorite position is?"
"It's nothing like that Cyd; I think Nate might be in trouble, I need you to tell me everything you know about him."
"It'd take me years to tell you all the great things about him. His smile, his eyes, his soft fur." Cyd was beginning to get lost within his ramble.
"What about bad things? Was he associated with any criminals? Did he do anything bad?"
"What's criminal is the fact that you're still mad at me for breaking up with you, so you're getting your revenge by taking the one thing I care most about!" His voice was rapidly getting louder and he struggled as he tried to stand up on his feet.
"I'm not getting revenge on you Cyd. I'm not mad anymore, I just want to help Nate."
"You're not mad? Bullshit. It's easy to see how mad you are. But come on, do you blame me? You're the slut."
"This isn't about us Cyd! It's about Nate!"
"Shut up! Don't even say his name. You don't deserve to say his name." Cyd's intoxicated mind was making him focus on the wrong part of the conversation. He was too busy trying to get Mike to admit the past that he completely ignored the fact that Nate was in danger. He turned away from Mike and began to walk towards the closet door.
"Is there anyone who would be after Nate?" Mike asked as he watched Cyd's actions carefully.
"Besides you, yeah: the people who we came here to escape from."
"Who were they? What did they look like?"
"Beats me, just some homophobic bitches who killed Nate's brother."
"You don't know anything about them?"
"Nope. Except the fact that they're after Nate. Don't worry about them though, I saved Nate from them. You're the only one who's hurting him. So tell me, did you use him yet? Are you going to use him the same way you used me?"
"I didn't use you Cyd," Mike said as he became lost in the conversation as well, "I told you I'm sorry for what I did."
"Sorry? That's all you have to say? You cheated on me Mike. Not once, not twice, but many, many times. Sorry doesn't change that at all."
"I know Cyd, but what more can I do? I'd take it all back if I could, but I can't. Sorry is all that I can do."
"Well maybe one thing you can do is give me Nate back. Stop trying to use him to get revenge on me for breaking up with you. He doesn't deserve that!" The room grew quiet, almost silent. Cyd shuffled through the various boxes in his closet and Mike inched closer in suspicion. His face grew a look of satisfaction as he reached his paws around a small, red shoebox. He held it with one hand and took the top off with the other, dropping it onto the ground. Mike continued to walk closer, both nervous and anxious of what was inside.
Cyd reached inside and pulled out a small handgun, looking down on it with pure ecstasy. Mike backed up in fear, lifting his hands up as if he was ready to pounce. "What is that?" Mike asked, asking what it was for more that what is was.
"It's the end to all of my pain," Cyd replied, still slurring over his words.
"I swear to god Cyd, you better put that thing down right now!" Mike yelled, trying to sound demanding, but not to the point that he would turn the gun onto him.
"Why? What's the point anymore? The only reason I want to be alive is for Nate, but not he's gone. So what do I have left? Nothing."
"That's the alcohol talking Cyd, not you. If you were sober you wouldn't even be thinking about this right now!" Cyd continued to stare at the gun. His hand was shaking and he began to cry, but he didn't move it an inch.
"Please Cyd, put it down. You don't mean this."
"Yes I do," he replied as he voice faded in volume. He began to life the gun closer and closer to his temple, his hand shaking uncontrollably. The both clinched their eyes tight and waited for the sound of gunshot. Mike wanted to leap up and grab the gun, but he was worried that he would scare Cyd into pulling the trigger. He stood and hoped that Cyd changed his mind, that he realized that it was the Jack Daniel's talking.
Both of their minds were interrupted as they heard the front door swing open. Their eyes were wide open and they somehow knew what each other was thinking: hide. Cyd, almost sobering up instantly, dropped the gun onto the ground and jumped into the closet. Mike quickly retrieved the pistol and dashed passed the front window and behind the door, waiting for whoever would come through it.
"Look up there," Ralph said to Nate, pointing at a second story window. Nate lifted his head, rubbed the tears out of his eyes, and found himself looking into Cyd's bedroom. He watched it carefully, hoping that Cyd would come into view and tell him that everything was alright. As farfetched as it sounded, he still hoped for it. Suddenly, a shadow passed by the window. He was home. "Here's where it gets good," Ralph added.
Frank slowly passed by a few rooms as he made his way to Cyd's bedroom. He had checked every other bedroom except the master, which he knew Cyd must be hiding. He lifted his handgun up in front of his head, getting ready to pull the trigger on the first person he saw. He carefully stepped forward into the room and looked around, but saw no one. Suddenly, he heard something snap to his left. He quickly looked over and stared at the closet door. Someone was hiding inside.
Cyd breathed carefully and waited for something, anything to happen. He heard nothing but footsteps creeping slowly down the hall. He had no idea who or what was in his house, but he knew it couldn't be good. Although he wasn't paying full attention to what Mike was telling him, he still understood his gist. Nate was in trouble.
He began to lose balance in the tight space and tried to adjust himself. His leg moved over and he stepped down hard on the lid to the shoebox that he once held in his hand. It made a loud snapping sound and Cyd squeezed his eyelid tight, hoping that the intruder did not hear it, but the footsteps grew closer.
Mike held his breath as the trespasser inched inside of the room. He quickly looked over to the closet door, making sure it was shut tightly, and then looked back in front of him. The figure of a Hyena walked into view, but luckily, its focus was on the closet and not Mike. He held his fire, not sure of whom the Hyena was. Mike examined him closely, analyzing whether his appearance had a good or bad connotation. It was definitely bad.
A reflection of bright light shined off of something in the Hyena's hand. Mike looked at it closely and noticed that he too was holding a pistol. The Hyena reached forward to the handle and began to turn it clockwise. Mike lifted his gun up and aimed it at the Hyena's head. Without even a blink, Mike fired his weapon and watched as the bullet entered and exited his skull. The room flashed a bright white and followed with silence.
The air was filled with a sense of relief.