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The trip to Myrtle beach had been an of-the-moment decision. Deacon and I just wanted to get away from our dorms and go somewhere since most of our fellow students had gone home for break.

The sand tickled the bottoms of my bare feet as we walked alongside the ocean, and the water lapped closer and closer to us as the sun began to sink below the thin line of horizon that divided sea from sky. After walking along the shore for a good two hours my pads were beginning to sting from the rough surface, and the spray from the waves had soaked into the fur of my legs and was beginning to chill, making them ache. Every so often I would pause, wiggle my toes, and maybe stretch my leg out straight to try and work out the stiffness.

"You alright?"

Deacon's soft voice blended seamlessly into the gentle rush of the wind and the ocean water. He had gotten ahead of me--no doubt because I kept stopping every ten minutes. He was turned around surveying me as I stood balancing with my left leg outstretched. My calf muscle pulled taut as I wrenched my foot backward, and I grimaced as a flash of hot pain streaked through it. I wasn't used to the gritty sand grinding my pads down to the bare skin or its flat yet mush-like surface forcing me to practically wade through it instead of walk upon it. Don't get me wrong, I love the beach. My feet are just more accustom to the miles of sidewalk and street surrounding the college we go to in downtown Charleston. Therefore I was not alright, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

I let my leg fall. The breeze ruffled the soft chocolate fur upon it. I tried to hide my pain, but I knew he knew I was hurting by the sympathetic grin spread across his muzzle, the gentle squint of his emerald eyes.

"I'm fine," I stated, ignoring the laugh that escaped him as I filled the distance between us with a few lunging steps. His rounded ears flicked backward as a seagull cried, but his eyes stayed on me.

I kept walking, him falling into stride next to me.

Like most wolves his age Deacon was a big guy. He's 20 while I'm 22, yet he dwarfs me standing a good 6' 5" to my 5' 7", and as intimidating as his height and species his build made him all the more frightening. He could go toe-to-toe with a bear-fur if he wanted, but luckily his muscle didn't dominate his mind and body. He was a big softy at heart, and he'd rather give someone a hug than punch them in the face. I was almost the complete opposite of him entirely in stature. That led to others thinking he was the older one and I was his fifteen year-old cousin. I was indeed short and teenage-looking in comparison, and my lean frame and round, feminine hips got me mistaken for a girl more times than I appreciated. I also tended to have a bad temper if someone could manage to piss me off, but that only happened on the rarest of occasions. Most of my confrontations revolved around other folks joking about how strange I looked.

My rounded ears twitched as Deacon stifled an awkward cough then spoke. "Uh...can I ask you something?"

Weird. He was asking permission? This could get good. "Well, yeah. Since when do you need to ask?"

He shrugged his rounded shoulders, and his ears fell flat as he scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. It's just kind of personal, I guess."

My innards wadded into a ball. I tried to keep my tail from going limp. Personal? Deacon and I had been friends for almost two years. What on earth did he not know about me? Well, there were a few things--some of which I wanted him to know but was utterly terrified to reveal.

"Okay, shoot." I let the words leave my lips, but I could have chewed my tongue in apprehension, my own ears lying flat against my skull.

He couldn't stop fidgeting. He was like a shy three year-old twiddling his thumbs and avoiding the subject he so desperately wanted to know. His silver tail twitched behind him, and at last he blew out a gust of breath and groaned. "What are you?"

Oh damn. My blood suddenly flash-froze. Did he mean what I thought he did? I let my painstaking confusion ask the question for me. To my chagrin I felt my face beginning to get hot.

He groaned again. "I mean, I know we've known one another for a while now, and I've had my ideas, but I was never quite sure." He motioned over me with his burly arms. "I've been afraid to ask because I didn't want to sound insensitive, but..." his hands trembled in emphasis. I had stopped breathing. Was this really happening? Was he about to ask if I was...

"What species are you?" A weight seemed to leap free from his consciousness, and he moaned in satisfaction and grinned at me like a goof, his pearly canines flashing in the setting sun. "There, I asked."

Oh, to say I was relieved would have been a gross understatement. It felt like every muscle in my body released their tensions, and I quite literally almost fell over as my legs seemed to turn to rubber. I let out the breath I'd been holding in, and a brittle laugh made my shoulders bounce. "Good Lord," I chortled, swiping a paw across my brow and tussling my hair. I walked on so that my legs wouldn't give out.

His curiosity grew as I continued on without answering right away. "What? What did you think I was going to ask?"

I grinned weakly knowing exactly what I thought he was going to ask. There was a faint hint of disappointment on the edge of my mind because he hadn't done so. I'd dreamed for years of that question coming from him, of what could happen because of it. The good mostly. The bad was too much for me to bear.

"Never mind," I chirped, turning round and crossing my chocolate-furred arms. I squinted at him and he paused a few steps away. His eyes were buggy. The whites were a wide ring around his green irises. "Besides, you've known me for so long and you still don't know what I am? Geesh, Deacon."

His face softened as he looked at me worriedly. "You can ask Kelton, the moment before she introduced me to you she said, and I quote, 'Don't ask what he is, or about how he looks. He's sensitive about it." He made a zip-the-lips motion across his muzzle. "I didn't, although I was so freaking curious it hurt."

My heart fluttered a little. He found me curious. How cute.

"But for almost two years?"

He smirked. "I said I had my ideas, but I was still afraid to flat-out ask."

I couldn't help but grin at how sheepish he was. I giggled to myself at the irony. "Why so confident now, then?"

He walked forward and daintily punched my shoulder. The soft blow knocked me back slightly. "I don't know. I just figured you were in a good mood and wouldn't get mad."

I was in a good mood. I was always in a good mood when I was with Deacon.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I wouldn't have gotten mad to begin with, dodo. Not at you."

He sighed in relief, "Good. You angry is kind of scary. No offense."

My pride lifted somewhat knowing I could be frightening, and I smiled inwardly to myself. "None taken."

He trotted ahead a little and looked back at me as we trudged on. He grinned big and wide with his ears perked sharply, tail wagging. "Well?"

I took my eyes off of him and peered out onto the waves as they rumbled and crashed onto the shore. I knew what his reaction would be once I said it. I'd seen it plenty of times. "My dad was a Grey wolf, and my mother is a cougar."

Silence. As expected he didn't say a word.

When I finally turned back to face him he was standing stock-still with his arms crossed, his chin cradled in his hands, looking me over so intently that I could practically feel his line of sight as it crisscrossed over my body. As much as I loved the idea of him checking me out, the fact that it was more of a scientific assessment than a come-on made the act so much less appealing. It was kind of irritating to be honest, but I let him look. No doubt he was trying to pick out my canine and feline characteristics.

"I wouldn't have guessed that to be honest," he finally said. "But I can see it now."

What? No stating how that shouldn't be possible? No utter disbelief? Now I was befuddled. "What did you think I was?"

He shuffled close to me, his feet burrowing little trenches in the sand. He pointed toward each part of me as he explained. "Well, your muzzle is short for a wolf, but too long for a puma. Ears are shorter and more rounded, medium-length tail." He whisked his hand across the thick fur on the back of my neck. "You've got a mane, kind of. And your brown and chocolate coloration threw me off. I thought you may have been a marten, or wolverine." His arms fell to his sides, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. "Albeit kind of tall and scrawny for a wolverine, but you get the idea." He smiled sympathetically.

I was aghast. "A wolverine? Honestly? And who's scrawny?"

I tried to buff myself up as much as possible, but I only managed to fluff my mane and tail. I looked more like a frightened house-cat than a beefy Mustelid.

He gave his muscles a demonstrative flex, his black Dr Who shirt suddenly ribbing with definition. I let my head sag in defeat, and my fur fell back into its usual smoothness. I also did my best to hide the blood that had rushed to my face, and to my crotch as well. It was difficult and rather awkward. Luckily he'd started laughing and had his eyes closed, and the fit quickly ended before I'd pitched a full tent. Still, I smoothed down the bulge in my shorts while he wasn't looking.

"I can't believe that's all you have to say," I admitted flatly.

His face turned soft again, and he tried to get me to look him in the eye but I'd squatted and sat in the sand, crossing my legs and staring out at the sea again. I suppose I looked a tad bit distraught, all forlorn and brooding as I peered across the water. He must have thought he'd hurt my feelings, but I couldn't have been more relieved. Usually I'm riddled with questions regarding my parentage. Furs attempted to make me doubt my own existence, and they forced me to listen to their rants about how it's impossible for a wolf and cougar to breed - let alone produce offspring.

The sand shifted to my left as Deacon sank to sit next to me. He didn't say anything at first, but I could sense how the air had seemed to thicken between us. "I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking the silence before I could assure him I wasn't upset. "You know I didn't mean anything bad by what I said."

He jumped as I broke out laughing. I leaned backward on my arms and let my head loll back, "I know, Deacon. I'm not mad." I buried my fingers into the sand, and felt the strain in my wrists as more of my weight fell upon them. His thick body sagged as he let out a breath of relief. I tugged my head up, and relaxed it on my shoulder as I looked at him next to me. He was sitting the same way as I was with his thick hands half buried in the sand. The bands of muscle in his arms were taut like chord and solid as pillars.

I watched as the glow of the sunlight played across him. His short silver fur danced in the soft breeze. The warm light shined across his body and formed a glistening armor of gold wherever it struck. I had to squint to look because he was so brilliant. I'm not ashamed to say that he took my breath away, or that I could have sat there admiring him until the moon rose. He'd probably be just as beautiful then, too.

He spoke, and snapped me back from listlessly eye-raping him. "Your father, what happened?"

I didn't recover in time."Wha?"

His song-like laughter caused my skin to tingle pleasantly. "You said your father was a wolf." His voice fell, and his ears tilted back in a concerned sort of way. "Did something happen?"

"I do not believe this," I blurted without thinking, and he instantly took it the wrong way. "No, no, no, I didn't mean it like that! You're fine," I assured. He relaxed, but still held apprehension in his frown. I continued, my voice gentle. "It's just that normally other fur's give me all kinds of hell about how impossible it is for a wolf and cougar to have kids. They're never nice about it, which is why I don't like explaining it."

"Well..."

"But," I cut him off. "What I meant was that no one ever listens past wolf/cougar hybrid." I smiled warmly at him, and his frown whipped into a quirky grin. "I was just...surprised and..." I pondered for the right word and found one. I hoped it wouldn't sound incredibly girly. "... and touched." It did. I forced myself to continue although I wanted to slap myself. "Touched that you didn't start with twenty-questions. That you caught that about my dad. It's heart-warming for me I guess, that you care enough to actually listen."

Damn. Could I have been more gay? I didn't even attempt to hide the blushing this time, nor my tail curling cutely behind my back.

Deep in the back of my mind I figured he knew how I felt about him. I tried hard to hide it, but it's difficult to mask your feelings when the person you love is so close to you. I could only hope he'd feel the same way about me, but as far as I was concerned--if he didn't--I'd still go out of my way to make sure he was happy. His smile everyday would be enough; or at least I told myself that.

I took to staring at my furry toes as they wriggled in the sand. I was afraid that my excess of mushiness had soured the evening and made it awkward. Luckily Deacon didn't seem to care.

"Well, you know," he stated coolly. "You're my best friend - brother, pretty much. I care about you, so what kind of guy would I be if I didn't listen?"

My heart nearly stopped. I knew what he meant when he said "I care about you," but I couldn't help but take it and blow it out of perspective.

"As far as asking twenty-questions," he continued. "You're here. I'm not going to make you explain your existence when you're sitting here next to me. This," he whispered, reaching over with his left hand and tapping me gently on the chest, right over my furiously beating heart. "Is all the proof I need."

His smile gleamed in the light again. His eyes were warm and comforting. With a grunt he fell onto his back and lay outstretched. My eyes lingered on his face as he looked up into the darkening, violet sky, and then traced down his body from neck to toe. Reluctantly I looked away and uncrossed my legs. I pulled them up and rested my head on my knees. The soft fur in my ears tickled as they lay back, and a gust of wind ruffled my auburn hair and filled my nose with the sweet scent of salt-water.

His voice was a little croaky as he kept talking, and somewhat strained from laying down. "And I just catch little details easily, that's all. I still want to know about your dad, though."

I scratched at my chest; it had gotten rather tight. My mouth was uncomfortably dry, and my palms were sweaty.

If I had no self-control I would have confessed my feelings for him right then and there. God knows I was dying to, and more so than I had ever wanted to before. However, the irksome feeling that doing so could possibly destroy our friendship in three simple yet undeniably complicated words made me hold my tongue.

Although my mind screamed for me to say more I uttered a simple "Alright." My voice broke halfway through. I coughed to clear my throat. "Deacon..."

He waved his hand as though brushing something aside, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I understand."

I sat motionless. I felt helpless curled into my little ball. I watched him, and he watched me. We just kept waiting for a reaction from one another, and time slowly drew out as neither of us said anything. Cold gripped at the bottoms of my feet and butt. The sun had completely set. I didn't think I could sit there anymore.

A high-pitched gurgle, like the croak of a gagging tree-frog, burbled out from Deacon's stomach. It seemed to catch us both by surprise, and he gasped, sucking his gut in and I barking a quick laugh.

"Whoops," he chuckled, grunting as he sat up and patted his belly. "You wanna grab some dinner? We've been out here for longer than I thought."

I unfurled then wrestled to pull my phone out of my pocket. The light stung my eyes as it poured into my widely-expanded pupils. I cursed my night-vision, and then I squinted at the time on the screen. "Wow." It was nearly six o'clock. We'd been out for nearly the entire day, and I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch. I tended to ignore my stomach when out with friends, but now that I had reason to think about food I noticed how tight my abdomen felt. My own belly gave a pathetic little whimper, and his ears picked it up with a flick.

"Is that a yes?"

His tail had started to wag and was smacking little torrents of sand into my lap. I groaned as I stood and my hips popped. My legs were stiff from sitting to long in the cold. Again, my stomach made itself known.

"Yes, please. I haven't eaten all day," I admitted.

He pushed himself up with a grunt. "No wonder you're so skinny, you never eat." His voice plummeted into a rather spot-on mimic of Arnold Schwarzenegger as he pulled himself up tall. He towered over me. "He'ow do djoo ex-pact to grow de'muscles and get strong like me, ze'govanator, when djoo do naot evhane eat'ze foods, yah?"

I delivered a playful, well-aimed punch to his taut midriff as he posed mockingly. I got a haughty "oomf!" out of him as he doubled-over laughing. "Who sayz I no schtrong, yah?" I jibed.

"Point taken," he mumbled between moans and giggles. "Why so hard? Hahaha..."

I stroked the fist I'd hit him with. The knuckles were scarlet beneath my fur. I knew my paltry little smack wouldn't hurt him, otherwise I wouldn't have done it, but he liked for me to think I did. My hand probably took more damage than his rock-hard stomach.

"You're fine, you big ape. Now where are we going for grub? My stomach's eating itself here..."

I'd started walking away from the water toward the buildings lining the edge of the city. "Any suggestions? You know I can never choose."

He jogged up next to me, and awkwardly brushed the sand from his back with his arms flailing. "How about Italian? I could go for some Italian..."

"Pizza?"

He shook his head. "No, no, no, Italian Italian. Ristorante Italiano! Cena a lume di candela!?"

I snorted. "Okay, I don't know what you said, but I get the idea. Sounds good."

"Awesome," he growled happily, hustling me on quickly then directing me by the shoulders once we passed between two hotels and hit the street. "It's this way."

I had dealt with my attraction to Deacon for nearly our entire friendship. Even before we knew each other to be honest. I transferred from my previous school to the College of Charleston and had been wrangled into a little group of other transfer students upon our first day of orientation. We were introduced to the college with much less detail and a lot more humor than incoming freshman. As one of our guides told us, we knew what we were doing already so we could have some fun and skip the boring stuff. I hadn't thought the intro to be boring at all and was already having a good time. I didn't know him then, but Deacon was in my orientation group and he made the stress of moving to a new school and state disappear altogether. I was instantly falling for him.

I had always been the quiet one, and talking to other people didn't seem to come naturally to me. I had difficulty making new friends, and I usually did things my own way: Alone. Deacon was the type of person who picked up on other's insecurities like a radar, and he then - being the goodhearted fur that he is - did his best to make them feel comfortable no matter if it benefited him or not. He couldn't stand for others to suffer. If someone was troubled then Deacon was troubled. He noticed how quiet I was and asked for our guide Kelton to introduce him, and then he commenced to coax me out of my shell no matter if I liked it or not. I did of course. We've been friends ever since.

So with all of the time we'd spent together I was used to my feelings. Although I never told him I was gay I gradually relaxed enough around him to be myself. I felt that he knew me. The reality of it all was that he had no clue, and as time went on and I kept discovering things about him--fell deeper and deeper in love with him--and kept lying to him and lying to myself...I discovered I had never been used to my feelings. I knew Deacon. I'd hungered for him so much that he could never be a stranger in my eyes. I knew the real Deacon, but he didn't know the real me. I was the stranger.

It was hard for me to handle anymore. I wanted to be with him. I didn't want to be a fur masquerading as someone else and who loved their friend like a brother. I loved Deacon as the quintessential man loves a woman. As we walked side-by-side down the street I couldn't help but want to hold his hand. His warmth was like a star burning away the cold of the night next to me. I wanted to feel that warmth for the rest of my life. I wanted to share in his triumphs, his failures, his pains and his pleasures. I wanted to be the one who stood by him when no one else would and who lay next to him every night then awoke to see him smiling at me the way only true-lovers could. I wanted to kiss his lips and feel his arms wrapped about me as the world spun on...

"Careful!" he yelped, his firm grasp latching onto my left hand and yanking me out of the street and speeding traffic. "Watch it, bo! You were nearly a street-pizza!"

My head buzzed in a rush of sudden terrifying senses and thoughts. My heart beat was pounding in my skull, and as I realized what had happened the adrenaline pouring through my body began to make me tremble uncontrollably. He had yanked me back and into his chest and was practically pinning me to him with his arms clutched around my upper body. He was breathing hard. I felt his own heart beating a painfully fast rhythm between us.

I couldn't find the words to speak. My mind was too chaotic to think straight. The sounds of cars blaring past in a frenzy a few inches away made my stomach lurch; a squalling horn made me flinch.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he squealed, his shocked eyes screaming the same question, and fur nearly standing on end, ears trembling in earnest for an answer. He didn't relax his hold on me. I was glad of that. I probably would have collapsed otherwise.

"I...I was...wasn't paying attention..." I stammered, hating the sound of my own voice.

His chest shook in a fit of nervous laughter. "No shit! It was like you were in a completely different world! Kept on going, me screaming; The traffic didn't even phase you." He slowly unwrapped his arms from around me and held onto my shoulders with his hands instead, stepping back. The air between us stayed hot as though it was trapped there by our contact. "Are you alright? You're worrying me, Bo. Ever since everyone went home for Christmas and left us here you've been acting weird."

I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye. "I'm...I'm fine. I swear." I tried to force a smile, but it broke with a quiver of my lips.

I knew he didn't buy it. He sensed something was up, but he didn't push me any further which I was grateful for. His concerned gaze didn't leave me though, and even when he let me go and I turned around to face the traffic rushing by I could feel him watching. I could feel the gaze of the other furs congregated around waiting to cross, too. They must think I'm insane, that I'm some crazy, freaky looking fur wanting to get himself killed.

When the light changed and everyone began to slink off of the corner to cross I didn't budge. A shoulder nudged me as someone passed, and a tall Leopard woman turned to gawk at me as though I'd stuck out my foot to trip her. A warmth pressed into the middle of my back, and Deacon ushered me on with a gentle nudge of his hand. He still looked worried. I saw his reflection in the window of a store once we got across to the other side of the street. In it he was a stoic sentinel with emerald eyes that were suddenly to sad for him alone. Light played across the surface of the glass; my reflection was unrecognizable.

"I'm sorry that I scared you," I finally managed.

"Scared doesn't begin to cover that," he said quickly.

"Oh," I tried to lighten the deathly, gloomy mood by bumping him playfully. I didn't like seeing him so upset. "Well, I still am. And thanks."

He seemed to cheer up a little with my sudden playfulness, but he was still wary.

A feint smile quivered onto his muzzle then seemed to evaporate with a thought. "You're welcome," he said flatly.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. The motion was so weak it was barely noticeable. "After dinner."

The words came out as though he was dreading that very situation. I dreaded it then, too. The tone he used and the words themselves sounded as though they came from a parent to upset to approach their pain, and who was using dinner as an excuse to bide their time before having to cover an unsavory subject with their child. My heart began beating quickly and nervously again.

"Colby," he seemed to sigh apprehensively. "After dinner, we need to talk."

My tail tucked pitifully between my legs. Deacon stopped for his words had brought me to a halt. I guess he had anticipated my reaction. His own tail was lifeless behind him, and he looked on the verge of tears. He was scared, and for what reasons I could only guess. I had never seen him behave this way, and questions to why he was doing so milled so frighteningly fast in my head that I felt as though I'd walked out in front of another car.

"Well," he whispered. "I need to talk. All you have to do is listen."

As terrifying as the situation was I managed to coerce myself into making an ultimatum. If Deacon was going to tell me something that caused him so much pain, then I was going to do the same. I owed him that much after all he had done for me. I owed him the truth, and if we could share in our grief then that was just something else I could be with him in.

"I'll listen if you'll listen, alright?" I didn't mean for the statement to come out so harshly, but I was afraid I was to shaken up to make my point clear and had forced it more than I should have.

He simply stared at me, and I felt like leaving the silence as it was would kill me. "Alright?" I asked again, my voice rising in emphasis.

He nodded and, to my relief, smiled. I returned the favor. We continued down the street, me wondering if both of us were strangers to one another after all.