FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I am so getting into this story. It may be the first one I actually end on this site. At some point, I need to learn comic relief, though. Maybe I'll throw some in next chapter. Anyway. Oh, and let me know if you don't understand some of the stuff that's going on - sometimes I can get carried away and fail to explain myself in a story even when explanation is warranted.

t3h p05t, 4 j00, and don't do drugs.

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_Beasts in their major freedom

Slumber in peace tonight. The gull on his ledge

Dreams in the guts of himself the moon-plucked waves below,

And the sunfish leans on a stone, slept

By the lyric water,

In which the spotless feet

Of deer make dulcet splashes, and to which

The ripped mouse, safe in the owl's talon, cries

Concordance. Here there is no such harm

And no such darkness

As the selfsame moon observes

Where, warped in window-glass, it sponsors now

The werewolf's painful change. Turning his head away

On the sweaty bolster, he tries to remember

The mood of manhood,

But lies at last, as always,

Letting it happen, the fierce fur soft to his face,

Hearing with sharper ears the wind's exciting minors,

The leaves' panic, and the degradation

Of the heavy streams._

from "Beasts," by Richard Wilbur

Jeck went home that day already lost in thought. During his computer science class, he had started examining the suspicious letters in the To Kill A Mockingbird essay, and had not liked what he found. They weren't even a cipher. In the order they were found, they simply said, "TREHE IS NNHTIOG HREE IORNGE THE SRIQRUEL." It was very clearly an attempt at subliminal messaging. It's fairly well-known that the human brain generally only cares about the first and last letters of a word as long as all the others are there. So the message read, "THERE IS NOTHING HERE IGNORE THE SQUIRREL." One period had been drawn as a circle with a dot in it to total the characters to thirty-six, a perfect square. There was no readily apparent hidden meaning; he just wanted the teacher's eyes to pass over it and her brain to take it in without question, so he would remain completely under the radar. It hadn't worked on Jeck for two reasons. First, subliminal messages are a sketchy business anyway and are not guaranteed to work. Second, the letters were so faded that Jeck's eyes hurt from scrutinizing the sloppy handwriting for as long as he had to - they certainly wouldn't be picked up by his subconscious.

That wasn't important, though. With Fae's brainpower, he would have realized that there was no way to test the effectiveness of the tactic with that particular message. If he were testing it, he would have said something like, "YOU LIKE PEPSI BETTER THAN COCA-COLA." Assuming, that is, that the teacher in fact did not like Pepsi better than Coca-Cola. But instead he had tried something that would return positive, whether false or real. It meant he was getting tired, two years ago. Or pubescent. That tended to subjugate one's senses and emotions fairly chaotically.

The Caesarean square didn't resolve into anything, either. It really was just a hint. So they weren't dealing with a mastermind. Just someone willing to use his brainpower for something that might, one day, come to something. And that was what mattered to Jeck, especially as he entered the door that day.

His brother was arguing with his mother. Again. She was crying while she cursed at him, and his voice went through Jeck's ears like a salted cheese grater. His sister was in her room, as evidenced by the sound-damping bass pulses issuing from that direction of the house. Jeck's stomach bit at him and he felt his face draw taught as he passed the combatants in deathly silence. He didn't care what it was about. He just didn't care anymore.

They could be normal people when they wanted to be. They could laugh, and joke, and talk, and make conversation. But both of them had this venom to them, boiling under the surface all the time, and it was like they produced it, a little bit every day, and then it would spew out in this nasty detonation of screams and emotion, niether one caring in the least who was around to hear them.

That was what hurt. His mother would apologize after this, to him and to his sister. But it wouldn't stop her from doing it again, so really, what did the apology mean? His brother would pretend nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened. And his mother would be on edge for the next twenty-four hours, making every interaction in the house silent and awkward, and Jeck spent enough of his life being awkward that he wasn't sure how much of it he could take from within his own house.

His father thought he was a big man, thought he knew how to control things. His father would try to reason with the two of them until Geoffrey said something that was "too offensive," and then shoot his mouth off at the younger man until the latter slammed the door behind him and disappeared, leaving his parents battered and confused, everyone thinking they had been right the whole time.

There was a solution, Jeck knew. Peace. Peace was a good solution. Buddhism taught harmony in all things, and it was why Jeck felt like a foreigner in his Christian household. These arguing hypocrites clung tight to their religion when its holy scriptures said it was right to stone an adulterer with only three men as witnesses and no evidence, said that no one but the priests may touch the Ark of the Covenant even to keep it from falling and that those who do must die, said that Christ was a perfect human being when eighteen years of his life was omitted from the texts. And the first two were ignored now along with the rest of the Old Testament, because of some flimsy argument that ended up sounding like, "Well, they didn't really mean it," even though other Old Testament law like the forbidding of homosexual conduct is upheld.

It was so simple to Jeck. Just... don't get angry. Make an effort to understand other human beings. It was why he found himself equally attracted to both genders, both species, and the vast majority of races - because he made an effort to understand the perception of beauty from different cultures, and he didn't understand why that was so difficult to do. Yes, blacks were generally stupid and poor and seemed to perpetuate the stereotype while at the same time raging against it. Yes, furs tended to screw at the drop of a hat during mating season. Yes, in general, Brits had front teeth like beavers (which the beavers all thought was perfectly fine). But in everything, there is an aspect of humor and an aspect of beauty, and if all people would accept that, the world would be a better place.

The boy trudged up the stairs to his room with these thoughts in his brain, his face stretched thin from his frustration, opened the door to his room, tossed his backpack on the bed, and swung his fist into the floor with a contained grunt. The resulting sound echoed through the house, shaking walls through three floors and five thousand square feet, and on any quiet day would have brought people running to see what had happened, what was wrong. Today, with the music and the shouting, no one cared.

"Rough day?"

You have no idea, the one answered, before Jeck had time to stumble backwards from his crouching position. He landed on his butt, listening to a familiar chuckle. "Fae, how the hell did you get in here?"

The stoner squirrel was standing over him and smiling with his hands in his pockets, but as soon as Jeck had recovered from his shock, he realized how hollow the chuckle had been. It sounded dead. The fur's face was grim, though an ugly half-smile complemented the flat shine in his eyes. "Your family fights more than mine does."

The sounds of the argument carried up a flight of stairs and through a closed door. Jeck rolled his eyes and heaved himself to his feet, still looking at Fae's face. Something was different. "My family fights more than any given African 'nationality.' Did you climb through my window, or something?"

Fae shrugged. "Eh, turns out squirrel claws are good for something even on us furs."

The other boy chuckled half-heartedly. "My mom'll kill me if you scratched up our house."

"Hah!" he laughed, and it was finally a real laugh. "You can just ask your brother to distract her and I'll get out in time."

"Don't remind me. Those two piss me off." Yeah, 'cause that's some real Buddhist language for you. "Don't give me that shit," he mumbled, then realized he had said it out loud and jerked in his place. Fae had cocked an eyebrow at him and actually seemed ready to fire it. Niether one of them was pleased with the world, it seemed. "Sorry, I... just thinking out loud."

"About shit?"

"Not as uncommon as you might think." He dropped into his desk chair and the laptop in front of it, then opened the computer and started going mindlessly through the motions of checking e-mails and the like. "So what's up with you? Something wrong at the house?" Fae sat down on the bed with an honestly depressed sigh, and Jeck suddenly realized what was different. He swung his swivel chair around to face the rodent. "You're sober. And you've showered without hitting something between your house and mine."

Fae didn't respond facially. "You have a pretty good set of senses on you, for a human."

Jeck was suddenly concerned. His own cares were swept away in a practiced, mental motion. It was clear that Fae's problems were greater than his own. "What's wrong?"

The squirrel took a moment to answer. "Are you religious at all?"

"I prefer to call myself spiritual." He decided it would be better to let Fae tell him this one than to drag it out of him.

"What do you think happens when we die?"

The human waited a while to make sure his response was properly composed. It was something he had considered for years, but hadn't managed to come up with a convincing answer. Obviously, there was no way to test it, no experiment to run that would yield results. All he could tell was that organs ceased functioning, for the most part, and the phenomenon considered "consciousness" was presumed to fail, through analysis of brain waves. Lungs and heart stopped functioning, but could sometimes be harvested, as could other organs. Only the brain really seemed to be useless after death.

"I think... that we might hit up a Heaven. There's no proof for it, though, and that's why I've had to... you know, come up with my own kind of theory."

"Uh-huh," Fae acknowledged.

"I think we have to... make our own afterlife. I mean, think about this. We have hugely powerful brains. We two in particular, yeah, but every human and anthro being just has a tremendous brain, capable of ridiculous, ridiculous things. And... everything you do is a choice, right? Like whether to, I don't know, start a shouting match, or laugh, or study for a test, or get offended, or..."

"Or shoot somebody."

Jeck's heart leapt into his throat and he shot Fae a glance that the other boy ignored. "...or shoot somebody. So maybe... maybe we choose whether or not to have an afterlife. Some people, I think, just... don't want one. They don't want the responsibility, and it sucks, but I think for them, consciousness has to end there, when their bodies stop. And then some people hold on to a religion for their whole lives, or for part of them, and make the decision to leave an afterlife up to some... nameless... thing... that no one has ever had proof of. I know you didn't want this much of an explanation, sorry..." he trailed off with a self-conscious grin.

But Fae wouldn't have it. "Yes I did. I want to know what you think happens when we die. Keep going. What happens to the rest of us, those of us who have the desire to stay alive, but can't trust what they can't prove?" It was as clearly as Fae had ever spoken to Jeck. His voice was crisp and confidant. His manner was controlled. But he also seemed so... troubled.

Jeck cleared his throat. "Well... the rest of us, I don't know what necessarily happens. Maybe we have these 'soul' things that religions seem to like so much. Maybe we just... don't die. It just doesn't happen. I don't know if anyone's ever thought this way before, because obviously, not everyone writes their thoughts down. I guess there are some people who might slip into a communal consciousness or some oversoul, like Hinduism or some breeds of Christianity, or dogmatic Buddhism or whatever. But me... I don't know what will happen to me. I just know that I want, more than anything else, to keep living... forever. I can't stand the thought of ceasing... to be." He stopped, wondering if Fae would respond. He was afraid of what he would say. "Why? What happened?"

There was silence greater than the shouting beneath them or the music above them. "I..." Fae started, but didn't finish. Jeck almost wanted to touch him, hug him, do something, anything, to make him feel better. "I killed someone. I killed a lot of people. And I watched a good person get murdered by... some fucking twit I should have killed..."

Jeck just stared at him. It hadn't really occurred to him that Fae had to obtain these drugs somehow, and that it wasn't exactly a secure business. "S-seriously? You killed people?"

"Yes. Yes, I killed them. I... shot one in the stomach, four or five times... and one in the neck... and then I gave some crack-head the gun and left, and let him kill himself and another guy..." He was breathing harshly, but he wasn't crying. Jeck was at a loss. Fae kept talking. "And one of them got away, after he killed someone I knew... and I couldn't kill that one. I tried to. I wanted to. I could have." He growled, a strange noise from his throat. "It would have been so easy, but I didn't kill him because I've known him since we were, like, ten, and I keep thinking I can make him change..." He shuddered with the effort to draw air in and out of his lungs.

"Christ, Fae..." Jeck breathed.

"And he curb-stomped Vice! You don't know Vice, he's.. he's a rat, he was in the guy's gang, and I got him killed because he thought he could get out in time..." He clenched his teeth and rocked slowly back and forth on the bed. "Fuck!" he yelled. "Fuck, I already fucking cried over a fucking stupid dead rat once today! Fuck and fuck and shit and God damn it all to Hell and back!" He punched one hand into the other hard enough that the sound would have been audible on other days. A tiny river was making its way down his cheek and another was forming on the other side. "He shouldn't have died! He wanted out! He was worth more than any of them!"

Jeck licked his dry lips as he watched his friend cry. What was he supposed to do? He was too much in his shell to do anything. Two nautili pass one another in the ocean, and see only a ripple in the water.

"We only feel ripples," he mumbled under his breath, but was still paralyzed where he sat. But he had to do something. He cleared his throat again and fought the cotton in his mouth. "Fae, I- I know you. I think I do, anyway. And I know how smart you are. So I know that..."

"Jeck, please don't tell me it's not my fault," he begged through his tears. "It is. I've looked at it from every angle, and today, I put bullets through five people's heads. It's my fault." He laughed bitterly. It was a strangled noise. "I even told them... that I wouldn't feel bad about it."

"You wouldn't have killed someone without a reason," Jeck said firmly, correcting the squirrel. "You're too rational for that. I know there was someone else at the start of this."

"I was the one who bought the fucking pot. They thought I owed them money, 'cuz I'm a fucking pothead because I think I have control over myself..." he had retreated back to hoarse breaths and gasps, no longer able to produce tears.

"See?" Jeck said with as much intensity and vivacity as he could muster. "They thought. They were mistaken, though, right?"

The squirrel nodded and shook his head in a strange concession. "Effectively, yeah. Do you have Kleenex, or something?"

Jeck handed him a box. "So you didn't start it. Do you even own a gun? You don't, I know, 'cuz you didn't have a license in your wallet."

Fae looked at him suspiciously while he blew his nose. "When did you look in my wallet?"

Jeck looked down sheepishly, smiling secretively. The diversion tactic had worked. "You were a little bit more than buzzed one day, so I asked for it."

"God, I hope that's the only time that's happened. No, I don't have a gun. Why?"

Jeck picked up where he had left off, trying to maintain his energy, hoping it would somehow osmose into his friend. "So if you shot someone, you had to have taken their gun. You were being threatened, and you defended yourself."

Fae didn't respond at all for a few moments, rolling the reasoning around in his head. "Strictly... yes, that's true. I was defending my word, anyway. I had said that I would kill all of them if... the guy, you know, killed Vice. And he did, so I guess, theoretically, I was defending myself. Are you honestly going to say that it was still legitimate?"

The human fixed him with a stare. "I already told you, you're incredibly smart. You would have known whether the people you killed would be worth anything alive, and chance dictates that they probably weren't even if you didn't know."

"You are the coldest bastard I know." He shrugged and reconsidered. "Second-coldest. Maybe third."

"I know," Jeck said with a grin that hid the sharp pain in his gut. You have no idea how frigid I can be. "But it works, doesn't it? I know you've thought this through. You just feel responsible for... is his name Vice? You feel responsible for his death and that guilt is bleeding over into everything else you did. And you can't bring him back, and it will probably haunt you forever, but his memory is what matters now, and you'll keep that alive. You can pray that you will see him again, as himself."

"So I should... what? Ignore the other four?" His voice was whole now, if not entirely sure of itself.

Jeck shrugged slowly. "Well... that's what it comes down to, yeah. Except for legal implications. I don't need to be looking out for cops, do I?"

"I'm... well, it's not the first time I've killed someone or seen someone die. It just... hasn't hurt this badly in a long time." He sniffed once and blinked a few times. "Ever, really. And no, no cops. I covered it up."

"I'm sorry it happened, Fae," Jeck said quietly. He was touched, immensely, that Fae had felt safe coming to him with this. Their gazes locked, and Fae smiled appreciatively.

"Thanks, man." This is who you will destroy. "Thanks for... I dunno. Not kicking me out for breaking into your house or calling the cops." He will feel your hand crushing his heart. He stood up, and Jeck met him there, screaming silently at the voice to be quiet.

"It's no problem. I'd only kick you out if you started smoking something. I don't want those stains." He will know, in the end, that it is you. Part of him will die. Fae laughed. Jeck felt sick to his stomach, but it didn't show. "What was with the question about the afterlife, anyway?"

You will tear him apart. "Well... I only know one prayer, and it's kind of Celtic and doesn't really hold for someone still being... conscious, I guess. Real. I just... wanted a second opinion. Vice is a good person. He doesn't deserve to be broken up. I dunno, unless he wanted it that way."

"Well, it's kind of cool to think of people that way. They're always around, if they're everywhere." He shrugged. "It could be comforting." He will want to die.

Fae also shrugged. "I suppose. Anyway."

"Anyway." They stood there awkwardly until, mock-playfully, Jeck opened his arms wide. "Hug?"

Fae grinned gratefully and rolled his eyes. "Why not?" They embraced quickly, strongly, warmly, and broke apart as swiftly. "Thank you."

"No problem." The squirrel climbed slowly out of the window, and Jeck watched until he couldn't see him anymore.

You will sacrifice him like a dove.

Jeck was immediately enraged again and threw himself to the ground to slam his fist into the floor, then instantly regretted it.

"Jeck?" he heard from elsewhere in the house.

He breathed heavily. "I'm fine," he yelled with no trace of anger. "Just stubbed my toe, is all." Somewhere deep within him, he hoped he was weeping, because his own mind was not allowing him to let saltwater touch his cheeks for any reason but the sweat of fury.

_Meantime, at high windows

Far from thicket and pad-fall, suitors of excellence

Sigh and turn from their work to construe again the painful

Beauty of heaven, the lucid moon

And the risen hunter,_

from "Beasts," by Richard Wilbur

"'sup, Guin?" Jeck called cheerfully as he maneuvered his way into a seat across from the other boy. It was lunch time again, so he had to pick his way through a small crowd, but luckily, it was easier on the opposite side of the table from the center of interest, especially because Sarabi had opted to hang out with her friends, instead. Guin's face was somewhat downcast. Something had gone out of him recently, Jeck had noticed. It was the end of the week again, and there had been few developments in Fae's case. Now that the human knew the squirrel was not perfect at what he did and could allow emotion to occasionally alter what he was trying to communicate, he was constantly double-checking himself. Also, he had been plagued by yet another nickname. Mrs. Buckshire had suddenly become "Mrs. Grim."

"Eh, not much." The fox tapped at his earring. Something was troubling him.

Jeck grinned. "Aww, you sound depressed. Is something wrong?" He took a bite of his sandwich.

"Not really, no. I guess it's just... Everything I've done for the past week or so, I've aced without a problem. I get it all, and I feel so dumb for wasting so much time. I mean, it feels good, to do this well. I'm just wondering if I've screwed myself over for later."

His friend laughed lightly. "I told you you could do it. Nah, you'll be fine. I mean, probably won't make valedictorian or anything with the level of competition, here. But dude, isn't your dad a stockbroker for, like, massive, massive companies?"

"Eh, he's a financial advisor for GE, yeah."

Jeck whistled. "So you won't exactly be strapped for cash getting into college, and as long as you write good essays and all that and get nice SAT scores, you can go anywhere. Don't worry about it."

"I s'pose you're right..." he acknowledged, his eyes unfocused. Jeck knew that look, especially after the fox shot him a quick, wondering glance. It wasn't a communicative one; it was a considerative one. There was something else bothering him, and he didn't like it, and he didn't know who to talk to.

"Psh, of course I'm right. I'm always right."

That got the fox to smile. Mirthlessly, but smile all the same. Jeck couldn't help but laugh, inwardly. The kid may have recently realized he was a capable anthro being, academically, but he still sat like he always had, eternally posing. His head was held carefully in a hand while one elbow rested on the table, his blue hair was flowing down to one side while his ears hung casually back, the one weighted down by the earring. His tight, white, designer tee shirt wasn't entirely opaque and showed his creamy chest fur to anyone who was looking, and his tail swished langouriously back and forth behind him when it wasn't in the hands or paws of some admirer. He was, without a doubt, the best-looking kid in his class of handsome. Or beautiful; he did always have a bit of androgeny surrounding him with his slender body and smooth face that was only accentuated by the hair.

Jeck had always found himself somewhat attracted to the boy, despite his definite and unyielding infatuation with Sarabi. It was as much because of Guin's personality as anything else. Guin was an opportunity for Jeck. He was someone with potential that until recently had been locked deeply within him, but he was also a very fragile personality. His ego was like a glass ornament - blown to tremendous breadth in the heat of adulation, but as was shown by this onset of depression, susceptible to even the smallest chinks. Cracks were spreading across his frame, and if something didn't fix it, he'd fall apart. Again, Jeck's heart and stomach went to war and a thin sheen of sweat broke out all over his body.

GUILTY.

He shook his head quickly and went back to eating, only to hear Guin saying his name. "Jeck? Now you look depressed. What's up?"

Unlike his friends, though, Jeck was not one to open up until absolutely cornered. He couldn't afford to. There was too much riding on this. He could feel the universe swirling around him, mixing like a witch's cauldron and boiling different ingredients in and out. Sin spiked at his soul, innocence, sweet and unbroken, slid across him, desire scraped his skin like battery acid. He knew all too well that he was more than likely creating all of these strange, spiritual sensations, but with the reality of what he was doing, he could not ignore them. "Huh? Oh, just zoned out for a second."

"Sure, Jeck." The fox had recovered from his own despondency in the face of his friend's. It was one of the more ironic aspects of human nature. Schadenfreude. The ability to always find pleasure in another person's pain, despite the magnetic attraction to society. Jeck knew it more intimately than most.

Again, the conversation turned to normal things, but this time, it was strained. Guin still had something on his mind, and for some reason, Jeck could not get his guilt to leave him. He still didn't fully understand what he was doing, but it hurt him deeply, as though one of the seven deadly sins itself had its bony grip around his chest and wouldn't let him breathe, wouldn't let his heart stop racing as though he were being strangled. Things were wrong, and all Jeck could think of was a line from a Crosby, Stills, and Nash song.

_"And don't you know, the darkest hour is always, always just before the dawn. And it appears to be a long time before the dawn."

Appears to be along.

Appears to be along. Oh, it's coming.

Shut up, shut up, get out of my head, you'll break it all down!_

"Hey, Jeck, are you done eating? I wanted to ask you something somewhere... you know, where people can't hear me being a pansy."

Jeck looked up again, hiding his rage and his confusion and his pain as though he had an actual mask stored somewhere. He was an expert, and he knew it. "Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec." He realized that during the lunch hour, he had actually managed to finish his meal, despite his inner turmoil.

As he got up, he suddenly noticed something about Guin's earring. "Dude, did this thing get tarnished?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got to polish it, soon."

They started walking out the door. "It won't get infected or anything?"

"It shouldn't. At least, that's what the guy who pierced it told me."

"Cool." They walked on in silence, each lost in their separate worlds, until Jeck found himself in the same hallway in which he had originally "met" Fae. As usual, there was no one there. No one could hear them, no one could see them. They both dropped their backpacks, assuming they might be there for a while, each for his individual reason.

Guin was getting increasingly nervous. He glanced once around the corner while Jeck followed his movements with a wary eye. What was he about? Jeck would have bet good money on this having to do with Fae. He was confident that he had done things just perfectly to instill the proper doubt and perplexity irrevocably in the fox's mind.

Then, Guin looked him once in the eyes, his own filled with anguish and anxious nerves, latched his hands onto the human's shoulders, and kissed him.

Jeck's eyes shot open wide in shock and his heart pulsed hard against his chest. He let the fox do it, assuming it would end with just that, but then Guin stayed there. Just like he had when Fae visited some nights previous, he didn't make any movement, completely unsure of what action to take. He felt Guin's tongue on his lips and parted them slowly, the hair on the back of his neck standing as his friend's soft hands began lightly massaging his shoulders and he could feel the tenderness with which this was happening.

Slowly, his eyes regained their normal size and closed and he started to give back, sucking gently on the tongue, sweat breaking out again as he worried about what would happen if they were caught, what if Sarabi found out, what if, what it, what if...

This is nice...

And he wouldn't even let the voice hurt it for him. Just to spite it, he slowly, cautiously lowered his hands to Guin's slim waist and held him there, pushing their chests and their waists together as they shared something new to them both, foreign, alien, and for both, far more than they had anticipated.

Eventually, though, it had to end, and Jeck pulled his head away, searching the fox's eyes carefully, looking for any sign of from where that had come. Guin did the same thing, but he was the first one to speak.

"I thought... I thought you were dating Sarabi. You shouldn't have... I mean..." He pulled softly from the embrace.

"I just..." Jeck began, looking away and dropping his hands, already beginning his act. It wasn't really much of an effort to trip over his words, though. "I mean, I guess I didn't know what to do, I mean, I haven't done it before, I mean..."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Guin asked with a small smile.

Jeck blushed and looked at the ceiling. "I mean... I just... figured high school's probably a good time to experiment, right? And you seemed like you needed it, or wanted it, so I wasn't going to take it away from you, what with how you were acting, and all." He checked his watch, to fill time. "Why did you do that?"

"Well... I didn't think it would last that long, I just... I'm confused." He withdrew into himself, something he had probably never done before. "I think I'm in love with Fae, and I shouldn't be, because, you know, my family's Christian, and boys like girls anyway, right?"

It worked. At that moment, something locked into place, like a car on the end of a train. "...with Fae?" Jeck asked. There wasn't an ounce of hurt in him. This was what he had been expecting. The fact that the kiss had been nothing but a thanks, in all honesty, caused him no emotional pain. "So why kiss me?" he laughed quietly. It was clearer now than ever that Guin was shorter, was smaller, was easier to manipulate than he was. That was what hurt. The kiss, the tender hands, the caring lips, the innocent eyes? Just a good memory.

Guin shifted his feet nervously. "... you should understand, you're a science person. Just a trial run, is all. See if it's really what I'm into." He suddenly collected himself, very quickly, and was much less submissive. "So... the reason I brought you here was... I wanted to ask if you knew why Fae would be ignoring me. And oh, God, I do not want to turn into one of those girls who are always all over me, with their 'oh-my-gawd, why won't he talk to me?' whining and all. Just... why would he ignore me, after we've met each other?"

Inwardly, Jeck rolled his eyes. He had been doing a lot inwardly, recently, he realized. More than most. He proceeded to explain Fae's peculiar disposition and possible motivation, but as he did so, he put a spin on it that made him want to violently castigate himself. He made it sound as though Fae were someone who needed help, who had to have someone pull him out of where he was, and that it was too late for Jeck to do that. The human had already squandered his chances, and besides, he was too withdrawn to try anything that personal, despite the kiss. At the same time, though, he made Fae seem nigh unapproachable, determined to remain where he was and with no intention of rising up.

By the end of it, Guin was looking at the floor and clearly doing some scheming of his own. They said their good-byes as though nothing had happened and headed to their classes, but thoughts were still swimming in Jeck's mind. He had to be careful, now, more careful than before. Fae was brilliant, and he was an observer, and had been for longer than Jeck. This was a dangerous game to play. If his timing was off, if his words were pitched wrong, everything would fall apart. And from what he had seen that day, it was easier than he had first perceived for everything to fall apart.

He touched his lips once in memory. At least he had gotten one honest, positive experience out of it all.

Sometimes he wondered why he was so cold, why so rational. Why was he doing this, anyway? He was feeling all of these tremendous impacts, like meteors striking down on the spiritual plane of the world, but in all honesty, what was going on? A few little emotional threads being pulled here and there, and for some reason that was supposed to warrant these star-strikes that kept wetting his skin and drying his mouth?

The voice filled in an answer with a fervor it had not shown in years. Ripples. Ripples are all we ever feel, all we ever are. One thing moves in this ocean, and everything feels the ripples. Like a submerged butterfly, trying to flap as it drowns, causing tsunamis when it was once blamed for hurricanes and monsoons. Chaos theory. A Sound of Thunder. A single impact changes the course of the universe. A single human doing the work of gods, by just twitching his fingers. You. Are. One. May you save the many. An ethereal hand touched his shoulder, flooding him with a sudden, confident calm.

Ah, yes. That was why.