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Part One: Reynard

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Stupid clock...I just wanna sleep...just five more minutes...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

GAWDDAMMIT! Today's not going to go well.

Reynard sleepily rolled out of bed, landing on all fours on the cold hardwood floor. He cringed at the sudden shock of cold against the pads of this paws. It helped wake him, to be sure, but he didn't like it. Still somewhat groggy, he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't have to stumble far, the bathroom was only a few dozen steps from his room. Since he normally slept in the nude, he only had to step into the shower and turn it on before...

Yessssss....

...hot water for his wake-up pleasure. Who knew what he'd do without hot, running water? He loved the warmth, but the feeling of the water running down his body was the real reason he couldn't do without a morning shower. It relaxed him. Most people needed relaxing after their hard day at work or school...Reynard needed one beforehand.

Six minutes later, he'd washed up and rinsed off and was standing in front of the mirror dripping wet. He didn't even bother with a towel, he could always shake himself dry, if he didn't drip-dry first. Reynard was a fifteen-year-old red fox. He was somewhat short for his age, and definitely not the most muscular of his classmates. He wasn't effeminate, but that still didn't stop his classmates (especially the more jocular of them) from calling him names like 'fag' and 'queer'. This was why he needed to relax before he went to school, and why he had few friends - none of whom actually went to his school. Most of his classmates either were the ones bullying him, were afraid of being bullied themselves, or just didn't care.

Ren quickly got dressed and went downstairs. He ate breakfast mechanically, dreading the school day - no wonder, considering what he had to deal with. Lucky for him, his mom wasn't there. She'd just got a new job, she had to be at work at five - at least two hours before Ren got up. If she'd been there, she'd probably ask why he looked so depressed. He'd blow her off, say it was nothing, or make up some innocuous reason. She'd look at him questioningly, which would only irritate Ren - Since when is my emotional state her business? - and lead to an argument.

After cleaning up his breakfast bowl, he left the house, locking the door behind him as he was supposed to. He then began to walk. His school was several blocks from where he lived, so he walked. He was kind of proud of this. He wasn't one of those lazy, rich bastards who lived closer to the school than Reynard did, and yet rode the bus. He also wasn't one of those ones who rode the bus, and yet somehow still managed to be late for homeroom.

It took him a little under eight minutes to walk to school, and he was there with plenty of time before class started. Most of the other students who arrived this early hung out with friends. Reynard had no friends to hang out with, so he just waited outside homeroom, writing.

He wouldn't call himself an excellent writer. Even to his own mind, he was a novice at best, but he couldn't help it - he loved the written word. He loved to put what was in his imagination onto paper, put words to it and give it form. He'd do it even if no one read a single one of his stories. He'd do it even if it didn't make him money. It was his passion.

While he sat there, right next to the door, he tried to ignore all the outside sounds. When the busloads started coming in, and other students began to gather around the homeroom door, Ren eventually had to put up his notebook. The bullies usually tried to target it, as it obviously meant a lot to him, and therefore was a easy way to torment him.

The bell rang, and everybody filed into homeroom. The teacher took roll, and then made a few announcements. Apparently, there would be an assembly later on that day - Whoop-Dee-Doo - and anyone interested in joining the debate club could meet with Mr. Hitamoto after school - Like I'd want to do that. [/i]

The morning went like most other mornings: boring lessons (except for in science, Reynard's favorite subject) and the occasional push, shove or rude (usually homosexually-related) jokes on Reynard's behalf. Reynard didn't even try to fight back. One of the few times he'd tried that - against another Fox, at that - he'd had his tail handed to him on a silver platter. After that, he'd stopped trying to beat his tormentors. He'd just let them do what they want and hope that they'd decide to leave him alone for once.

Then, right before lunch, as Reynard was in the restroom washing his paws after taking a piss, one of the jocks snagged his backpack off of his shoulder.

"Hey! Give that back!" Reynard exclaimed.

"Hey! Give that back!" the tall Lion mocked, snickering.

"C'mon! Please," Reynard begged. His notebook was in there!

The Lion just sniggered. He opened Reynard's bag up, and rooted around inside. The first thing his paw came to was the notebook (on account of being the only thing in there, besides a folder and his school notebook), and he quickly pulled it out. "What've we got here? 'Ren's Notebook'...hmm..."

"Please...c'mon, please give it back!"

"Well...I can, but you've gotta do something for me," the lion replied.

"What?" Reynard asked. He'd do anything. He didn't want his notebook destroyed or worse.

"Suck my dick."

"W-what?"

"You heard me," the Lion growled, "If it's good enough, I'll give you your stuff back."

Reynard looked around. The bathroom was empty except for him and the bully. "W-w-w-well..."

Before Reynard could make any further reply, the Lion howled with laughter. "Ha ha ha ha! You faggot! You were actually considering it, weren't you? Such a fag!"

He threw Reynard's bag at him, but kept the notebook. Walking over to the garbage can, he took it in either paw and tore it in half, width-wise. He then proceeded to tear it in half again, this time lengthwise. Tossing it into the trash, he exited the restroom. From out in the hall, Reynard could hear him, "Hey, guys! You'll never guess what that faggy fox just did!"

Oh, gods...they're all going to hear about this. I have Gym next period! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck...That bastard...

Glumly, he fished the pieces of his notebook from the trash. Luckily, there wasn't much else in the can. He'd try to fix the pages (all one-hundred of them) back together. He might be able to at least salvage where he was with his last story, a romantic, Romeo-and-Juliet-esque tale about a dog and a cat. Thinking about his writing helped distract him from what might happen next period.

As he'd predicted, Gym was hell. They were doing basketball today, which made it even worse. Reynard was horrible at sports, and basketball in particular. Even when he caught the ball (by accident, of course, his 'teammates' wouldn't purposely pass to him), he missed the basket. Afterward, in the locker room, Reynard made it a special point to keep his eyes on the contents of his locker only. It didn't help much, there were still the jeers, whispers, and sometimes outright accusations. He heard them all, and it was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears. Why do they have to do this to me!? What did I do?

The rest of the day was equally hellish. By the time Gym was over, the rest of the school had heard what he'd almost done. If he'd thought that the jeers and whispers in the locker room had been bad, he was totally taken aback by the rest of the school. Even the teachers were looking at him oddly.

As he walked home, he realized how tired he felt. He definitely couldn't face going to school tomorrow. He didn't know how he could get out of it, but he could probably think of something. When he got home, his mom wasn't there yet. She wouldn't be home for another two hours. He dropped his bag by the door and practically ran up the stairs. He shouldered the door to his room open and flopped down on the bed.

The events of the day kept repeating themselves in his head. He was used to being alone, to not having friends at school, but now it seemed like everyone actively hated him, all because of something taken out of context. Worst of all was the feeling that they were right about him. He definitely was turned on by males more often than females, and in the locker room, he'd stolen a few glances at his classmates' 'privates'. He would probably have totally enjoyed sucking that Lion off. Maybe he was a fag.

Which brought him back to the situation at school. Tomorrow, it would be worse, no doubt. The ones who normally bullied him would be all over this, this was gold to them, a perfect reason and way to torment him. A few of them, as Reynard knew, were violent homophobes. They might - well, there was no 'might' about it, they would - give him a beating.

Eventually he fell asleep, worrying about the next day at school. The next thing he heard was his mother's voice, "Ren! Dinnertime!"

Reynard groaned. I just wanna sleep..."Be there in a minute!" he shouted down to her. He slowly got out of bed, surprised by how he didn't feel any less tired than he had when he'd gotten home from school.

He ate his dinner - which was homemade pizza, his favorite meal - mechanically and without enjoyment. "Honey, what's wrong?" his mother asked.

"Wha--Oh, it's nothing. I just have a huge headache, and I feel really tired," Ren lied, not wanting to explain his problems. His mother loved him, and would probably be sympathetic, but Ren was at the age where he didn't really want sympathy, nor did he want his mother to know that he might be gay. Again, she'd probably support him but...then again, there was the chance she wouldn't. He could deal with the kids at school hating him, but if his mom were to reject him because of his sexuality...he'd have to kill himself.

As it is, I might have to kill myself anyway...

The thought crossed his mind so easily. With it on his mind, his mother's concerned expression killed him inside, "Aw, I'm sorry, dear. Tell you what: I'll do the dishes for you, you just go up and get some rest."

"Th-thanks, mom," he replied, getting up and putting his plate in the sink. He tried not to look her in the eye.

When he got up to his room, he laid down again, but this time he couldn't possibly sleep. He wanted to kill himself. Did that make him crazy? Especially since he wasn't fazed by the prospect in the least. He wanted to kill himself. How would he do it?

There aren't any tall buildings nearby...and besides, what if I survive the fall? Hanging's out, I remember reading that that causes a male to become erect just as he dies, and I don't want mom to find me like that. I could use my carving knife to cut my wrists...that might not exactly be quick, but at least...at least it's not as gruesome. That decided, he also decided to wait until nighttime. That way his mom would be asleep, and there would be no chance of her walking in on him while he was still alive and calling the ambulance, thus foiling his attempt and making him actually face his problems.

He stayed awake until dusk, turning his decision over in his mind. It wasn't logical, he knew that. Killing himself wasn't going to solve his problems, and he was alright with that. He just wanted escape. When the sun had fully set, and he heard the TV in his mother's room shut off for the night, he got up and went over to his dresser and fished out his carving knife. It had been a gift from his uncle, who had taught Reynard how to carve little statues out of various pieces of wood. The chess set he'd helped Ren make that summer was still on top of the very same dresser he was going through.

With the blade in his paw, the weight of it, the smell of the oil that kept the folding hinge operating smoothly, the feel of the wood that made up the handle...he realized what he was thinking of doing, what he was about to do with this knife. It scared him, at that moment.

What kind of pussy am I? I can't even do this.

He put the edge to his wrist...

...and froze. He couldn't do it. He couldn't make the cut.

Dropping the knife (he was lucky it didn't land in his footpaw), he stumbled backward onto the edge of his bed. What was he doing? Sure, school sucked, but it wasn't that bad, and it wasn't like he had to deal with the bullies all the time. It would be great if he had some friends, but he was introverted and morose anyway, he could do without. And he wasn't really sure if he was gay. A lot of kids 'experimented' during their teen years, and apparently confusion about one's sexual identity was common at his age. None of these things were reason enough to kill oneself. And once that choice had been made and executed, it couldn't be undone.

Undressing, he got under the covers, leaving the knife where it was (still quivering in the floor where it had landed, point-first) and went to sleep. He was still tired, sure, but a good night's sleep would fix that.

None of it matters anyway...tomorrow's a new day.