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Eventually I ran out of energy and tears, although I was still hiccuping tiny sobs every few minutes. It felt like every ounce of fluid within my body had been squeezed out of my eyes. I could hardly stand to keep them open, feeling as though they'd expanded to twice their size and were feigning to pop out. Closing them wasn't much better. Either way, being half nocturnal-cat, I can see in the dark. Take into account how irritated my vision currently was, as well as how huge my pupils were to absorb as much light as possible from the surrounding dark, and you can imagine the agony I felt when a blisteringly bright light was suddenly switched on before my eyes.

After fleeing from the restaurant and leaving Deacon with no idea where I was going, I simply took to walking whatever street I came across, lost in the grief of what had transpired a few moments earlier. I felt like a specter, a ghost of who I had been with nothing left but hollowness inside. I could have walked a couple of blocks or a couple of miles. I was so out of my mind that when I accidentally collided with a set of steps and fell onto them, cracking the side of my head against the stone and bringing myself even more pain, I didn't even try to get up. My head swam as I sprawled out uncomfortably and just lay there, crying and staring up into the black of the sky.

When I had calmed down enough to realize what I had done, the urge to go back to the restaurant was overwhelming. The urge to find Deacon and scream to him "I'm sorry", to beg him to forgive me and not to hate me was, then, the only purpose I had in life. However, when I tried to stand, the world spun so violently that I fell back onto the steps. I guess I had hit my head harder than I thought. So I lay back down, knowing in my heart that I had abandoned Deacon - the very thing that had caused me to break down when I thought he had done the same. More tears. More sniveling. Time wasn't even being registered, nor was the fact that I was having a mental-breakdown on someone else's property.

The pain of the light entering my eyes made me gag. The somber world before me was instantly branded into my vision like fire - then there was nothing but white. Everything was a startlingly electrifying sheet of white.

"Hello?" someone said, a car door slamming and accentuating the "o" with a metallic clap.

Loose gravel crunched, keys jangled, a plastic bag rustled; still, I was blind to anyone's approach. I was also very frightened. It's a terrifying thing to have something and then have it suddenly taken away. You never know if you're going to get it back. Life was keen to make me realize this, it would seem.

I'm sure I looked anything but approachable. Although I couldn't see, I knew my eyes were stretched wide in shock, head yanking from side to side, nose flaring, my ears flicking toward each sound they picked up to make up for my sudden lost sense. If I had come across someone like this on my front steps I would have called the police. Luckily that didn't happen.

"Hello, can I help you?" the mystery person said again. Although melodious in tone, their voice was male. Something about it rang familiar with my heightened hearing. "Are you alright? Oh, wait..."

I had to speak, if not I would seem insane. Although I simply wanted to stand and stumble away, I knew that probably wasn't the best idea given my current fleeing-record.

"Uhm, sorry. I...I..." I hicced, rubbing my eyes fitfully.

"Oh, are you alright, hon? You look a mess!" Their plastic bag smacked, as did whatever else was in it. It sounded heavy, and I think they had dropped it. The gravel crunched again, closer this time.

"Uh...you...you're lights kind of blinded me."

"Shit!" I'm sorry, sweety!" he gasped.

I rubbed and rubbed until the white began to fade. My sight was snailing back. I think the owner had sat next to me on the steps because bodily warmth was creeping onto my right side. He smelled good, like spices and freshly baked bread, and his breath left a hint of cinnamon in the air. He must have been very close, a little to close for comfort.

I yelped as he barked a shrill "Aha!"

"I knew it!" he said excitedly. Why did he sound so familiar? "I knew it was you!"

It was you? This couldn't be good. Who was this guy, and why was he talking as though he knew me? Had I made that big of a scene that everyday locals could recognize me? In the dark?

Dark - or what my vision registered as dark. My sight had finally returned. I gave my eyes one last cleansing rub to clear away the floating bubbles of color, then turned to see who my possible assailant was.

It was Collie.

Of all of the furs in this city on whose doorsteps I could have fallen, I had done so on the waiter's who had been witness to the injustice I had wrought. Collie, who had done his best to make mine and Deacon's dinner perfect, and whose effort I destroyed. He should have been pissed. His tail shouldn't have been wagging.

All I could manage was, "Oh my God. I'm so, so, sorry."

His head cocked to the side like when I saw him on my escape from the restaurant, his brow knit together in confusion.

I started babbling on in pure fear and nervousness, my words practically running together, "I didn't mean to trespass on your property, I was just scared! I didn't even know where I was going! I ruined your amazing waiter-ing! Oh God, you must think I'm nuts. I'll leave..." I tried to stand, but my head swam again and sent me face-first toward Collie's gravel driveway as I lost any sense of gravity. Luckily he leaped up in time to grab me by the shoulders, pulling me back and sitting me gently on his steps again.

He slipped in his front door as I sat clutching my pounding head, switching on his porch light. His feet barely touched the steps as he returned and squatted on the ground in front of me, face hard-nosed with concern, "What happened?"

"I ruined everything," I whimpered. The pain in my skull coursed down my neck as I felt tears somehow welling-up from my eyes, "He'll never understand. He'll hate me, and I..."

He slipped a smoothly furred hand under my chin, raising my face and looking me in the eye. His other paw stroked down the side of my head.

"That's not what I meant, sweety." he said, holding the hand he'd touched my head with out, blood glistening red on the ends of his fingers.

"Oh great. Even better," I scoffed.

He eyed me coolly, waiting for me to answer. I had the feeling that he could sit there all night if he had wanted.

I cleared my throat, grimacing as my head pounded, "I fell on your steps. I was kind of out of it." Even though it hurt like hell, I shook my head in shame, "You...you know why."

He smiled kindly, somewhat vexed, "Yeah. You've had one hell of a night out - huh, Colby?"

I didn't even scrape up a nod, what point was there. It was painfully obvious the hell I was in. Wait a second...

"H...how did you know my name?"

He kept his smile brandished, standing stiffly and walking to pick up the bag he had dropped, his tail bobbed wearily from side to side, "You're boyfriend, hon. He wasn't very discreet when calling your name after your, err...flight."

My...my boyfriend. He had thought Deacon was my boyfriend. The pain in my head receded a little as I thought of how a complete stranger had seen us as a couple. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Collie sat down next to me after grabbing his bag. His black suit-coat was unbuttoned, the dress shirt open leisurely at the neck with ruffles of white fur sticking out. He stuck his hand into the inside pocket of the coat and pulled something out, being very careful when he held it out to me between his two index fingers.

"There was also this," he said.

I took it. It was a napkin, and on it was written "Colby, I'm sorry." There were little spots dotting the thin paper where moisture had hit it. I thought of how similar they looked to tear drops.

One of my own fell and blurred the "y" in my name. The spot it left fit in perfectly with the others already there. No doubt about it - Deacon had cried.

My throat began to knot shut as I screamed, "I'm so fucking confused!"

Something above us shrieked, and a throaty "ahem" wafted down to our ears followed by the rasping voice of a very irritated individual.

"What the hell is going on, Benji? Who is this sod - another sad attempt at a relationship?"

Collie, I mean Benji, gave a frightening growl with his muzzle rippling into a snarl, and spat back up to another Collie who was leaning halfway out of a second-floor window, her hot-pink top glaring brazenly from the light on the porch, "Bite me, Elaine! Go put a fucking 20 in the Bitch-jar!"

She was suddenly very whiny, "Don't call me Elaine, Ivo Benjamin!"

His voice had grown unbecomingly low and strained, "NOW, Lani! And have some damn sympathy! Respect too, while your being so gracious!"

Lani yanked herself back inside then gave her window a cantankerous slam, Benji staring after her angrily until silence once again graced our ears.

"Sorry," he said sourly, "My little sister."

I gave a curt nod, horribly uncomfortable by Lani's abrupt (and cruel) misconceptions of me. Not to mention her disrespect for her brother. Although, besides being wrong about the paring, I believed she had pegged me pretty well - I was a sad attempt. Whether or not the attempt was toward a relationship I wasn't certain. I couldn't see how it would be at this point.

I stared at the note on the napkin, tracing the hurriedly scratched lines from letter to letter. From one spot to another.

"He was pretty bad off when he couldn't find you," Benji said. "He thought - well, hoped you'd come back, but he was intent on looking for you so he didn't stay long afterward. He wrote this and, in case you did come back, asked me to give it to you."

I didn't look at him when I spoke, just trying to keep myself together.

"Was he actually upset?"

"Yes, very much. Why don't you believe me?"

"Deacon isn't my boyfriend."

"Well not anymore," he snorted. I guess he was trying to be funny, to lighten the mood or something. It just made me kind of angry.

"That's not what I meant..."

He put two-and-two together like I had wanted him to in the first place, "Oh."

He sat quietly for a moment, then spoke in a hush-hush tone of voice, "Well, can I be honest?"

I shrugged. Why not.

"You could'a fooled me," he said, suddenly quite loud. His voice bounced off of a house across the street.

I lay my fur back down, his outburst startling me into a chocolate puffball.

I suppose I was the one being fooled - and by myself no doubt. If Deacon and I could be pegged as boyfriends than apparently I hadn't done as good a job at hiding my feelings as I had thought. Even though I'd believed I was being discreet, the intimate bond I shared with Deacon could still be perceived by outside eyes. But, I thought, there were two sides to this whole. Deacon being himself caused me to, without pause, carry my emotions out on my sleeves. I was just so comfortable with him that, even though I knew I was being somewhat more "friendly" than a college buddy, I didn't think about masking my feelings once we were together. I enjoyed his company to much to do so. He had been just as guilty as I in that regard, I guess. Otherwise, to Benji, we would have just been two friends out for dinner.

Again, I read the note.

I thought of our time at the restaurant and how he'd held my hand, how he'd led me where we needed to be with a gentle nudge, worriedly called my name out amongst a crowd of strangers. I thought of how he'd pulled me from the street, embracing me as though he'd thought I had been a hairsbreadth from disappearing for good. I recalled his frenziedly beating heart pounding against me. I heard his rapid breathing, felt his chest expand like gallows with me pressed against it.

Instead of feeling tears blistering my dry eyes, a smile spread silkily across my face. I had been a fool. I had always wished Deacon would be gay, but it always stayed just that: a wish. He never seemed like the gay type, so I never fully comprehended that he very well could have been. Plus, I'd been so terrified of letting Deacon truly know of my love for him that I had blocked my heart to any love in return. I was so focused on keeping him with me as a friend that I missed the blatantly obvious: he could feel the same way for me as I did for him.

_"_I'm so fucking stupid," I spat.

Benji tilted down as he sat and peered at me curiously, "So, you are...gay, right? Or do I need to adjust my gay-dar..."

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, I'm gay."

Once I would have done my best to skirt around that question. I knew I was, but other furs didn't need to. After all, having others know could have possibly put unneeded strain between Deacon and I. What would our friends have thought about how close I was to him? I didn't give a shit anymore though, especially given my recent epiphany; I was tired. I had a new outlook.

"Alright, than can I be honest again? Brutally honest, even..."

I let out a long-winded sigh, "Okay."

"You are fucking stupid."

Ouch.

"You are fucking stupid to have left that boy. Have you seen him? Goddamn, he's a god! And he's so fucking crazy about you that I thought he was going ignore the doors and smash through the wall of the restaurant to get outside to find you. I kept waiting for him to turn green, rip off his shirt, and..."

"Okay, okay, I get the point."

Benji shook his head vehemently, "No, I don't think you do."

Again, ouch. My ears fell back. He had a way of cutting you to the quick with his words.

"I don't know what happened while I was gone that last time, but hell, it must have been a doozy to have ended the heat passing over that table." He flattened his voice, taking on his best persona of a stoned-out hippie, his eyes squinted dumbly, "You two were, like, on the same wavelength, bra'. Your auras were totally meshing." To my relief he ended the stoner-voice, resting his elbow on his knee and leaning his feathery-furred head on his hand, "What on earth happened?"

"It's a long story," I said, my head cradled in my paws.

"Good," he chirped, hopping up from the steps with his tail once again running at whiplash speed, "I love, love, love long stories. Come on," he reached out his hand.

I looked at his ecstatic grin, to his hand, then back to him, "What?"

He rolled his eyes, which now that I looked, were two different colors. His right was a deep mocha-brown, and the left was a startling glacier-blue. Each stood out in high contrast to the colors of his face; the brown eye lying in an area of pure white, the blue seemingly popping out from a large patch of black. I must have really been unnerved not to have noticed when I first saw him. They were a shocking feature, and I found it difficult to hold his gaze. It felt like they were penetrating my mind.

"It's cold, and I want to go inside. I'm not going to leave you sulking on my doorstep." He flopped his outstretched paw, "You can tell me this long story inside. Besides, I want to take a look at your noggin. I would be a little aggrieved if you had serious head-trauma and croaked on my porch."

I didn't know what to say other than, "Oh no, you can't do that for me! I've been enough of a nuisance as it is."

Some of his bestial tone welled up, like when he'd put Lani down, "Get your ass up and let me take you inside. You have not been a nuisance. Surprise, yeah - but not a nuisance. You need help, in more ways than one, and I can be of assistance." A smug grin revealed how glossy his teeth were, and he posed like a prim and dapper version of Superman, "It is my job after all, to be of assistance."

He then brought his legs together, his leather dress-shoes clapping together at the heel, and bowed gracefully with his arm outstretched, tail curling elegantly at his back, "Ivo Benjamin Oakes - Waiter extraordinaire, once again at your service."

He winked and offered his hand again, "I'll drag your ass in there if I have to. You got me, sir?"

There was no point in arguing, I knew. Benji was the kind of guy who, when offering hospitality, did not take no for an answer. Plus, I didn't want to make him angry at me - if his reaction to his sister doing so was anything to go by. Besides, from what little I could tell about him, he seemed experienced in dealing with emotional people. Like he had said, it was his job after all. Maybe he could help me straighten my feelings out, he seemed keen to try.

I grasped his paw and he helped me to stand, my head swimming again. Then, leaning awkwardly against him, he led me inside.