Chapter Text
“Please come again.”
The panther folds his hands and bows at the waving customer, just like his boss taught him. The bell over the exit chimes with the final closing of the door, heralding the end of the day. Somewhere deep in the kitchen, a voice calls out.
“Toma? Was that the last one?”
“Yes, m’am!” He answers, voice cracking at the end. He’s still not used to raising his voice, despite his shock collar being only an unpleasant memory now. He swears he can feel it press around his Adam’s apple sometimes.
An elderly Asian black bear waddles into view, holding two steaming plates. Humming an incomprehensible tune, she places them down on the bar counter and wipes her hands down on her apron with a sense of finality.
“I timed it just right, then!” She hops onto a nearby stool and beckons the panther to join her. “Come on, honey, don’t let it get cold now!”
Toma obeys, taking the seat next to her and stopping to appreciate the tantalizing aroma of the fresh food. It’s the bear’s famous stir fry, made with all the leftover ingredients from the day. The feline has no idea how she can seemingly manage to make any meal delicious regardless of what ingredients go in it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bulan,” Toma says as he splits a nearby pair of wooden chopsticks in two.
“Thank you, my compost pail!” The bear hoots, already chewing her first biteful. “Too much extra cabbage today.”
“It’sh gud,” The male hastens to swallow and dips his head meekly. “Sorry. It’s good, I mean.”
Bulan laughs. “Best compliment is when it’s too good to put down, even to talk!”
He can’t argue against that. The stir fry is piping hot and filled with the bear’s mystery magic that makes it all the more flavorful.
“Wahyu used to spit half his food out with all his chatter. His tongue was so sensitive, he’d burn it, but he never stopped talking or wait for it to cool down! ‘Gra-han-ma! Fo today-heh af schu-huhl’!” Bulan imitates the speech of someone clearly panicking over a hot bit of food, trying to speak and blow on it at the same time.
The pair of carnivores laugh.
“He sounds like an energetic kid,” Toma says.
“He was… but by the time he reached high school, he turned quiet, like you.”
The senior bear gazes down at her plate with a lonely smile, as if she can see some nostalgic memory hidden among the cabbage.
Toma hastens to change the subject. “U-um, if it’s not a bother, do you think I can put the rest in a to-go box so I can finish it later?”
Bulan raises a brow at him. “So it can’t be that good, then.”
“No, n-no!” The young carnivore trips over his words. “It really is delicious! That’s why I wanna eat it all! It’s just that I’m gonna swim after this and—“
The old lady’s cackle interrupts him. “I know, I know! Just teasing you. You know where we keep the styrofoam boxes, right?”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Yes, m’am.”
“So it’s true that eating before swimming gives you stomach cramps?”
“I dunno if it’s like, scientifically proven, but it happens to me sometimes. B-but, eating just this much is fine, of course.”
Bulan pauses to consider this. “Might not be the case with bears. We eat and swim a lot to begin with.”
“You swim, Mrs. Bulan?”
“When I was younger, sure. But now, washing my fur is such a bother. I’d rather not get all wet for no reason.”
Toma nods. With a small ‘excuse me’ he stands up to fetch the takeaway container in the kitchen. Around twenty minutes later, he has his leftovers safely packed up and stored at the bottom of his waterproof bag, covered by his swimming gear. The chairs have been stored away and the floors have been swept, the dishwasher in the back chugs away with purpose. Bulan insists on handling the final procedures before locking up, despite the panther hating to leave her alone.
“I’ve been doing this by myself for years before you came along, honey. Just do a double check on the locks once you come home, okay?”
“Of course.”
A reasonable request. Home is directly upstairs, after all. In addition to being his manager, Bulan is also his landlady; he works for his rent.
After being shooed out of the restaurant by the moon bear, who seems strangely invigorated by the challenge of locking up alone, the panther begins his commute to the local YMDA (Young Mammal’s Development Association).
There’s a bus route that would take him there in ten minutes, but he prefers the longer walk nowadays. Besides being cheaper, he prefers the open air to being cramped up against other animals in a bus. He gets enough of that during his commute to Noah's Arc. He can get far with his long strides, feel the gentle April wind brushing his neonate whiskers, observe the stores and the crowds and everything he thought he’d never be a part of again.
Despite himself, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. So corny. Yet, he can’t stop his heart from jittering with a warm giddiness. He’s free.
The receptionist at the YMDA knows him by now, as they both cross paths at the same time every other weekday. He waves, too skittish for a verbal greeting, and swipes his membership card on the turnstile scanner. His feet begin to automatically carry him towards the pool area downstairs, but suddenly, he hears someone calling out to him.
“Yo, Pres!” A sunny-faced lion jogs up to him, freshly washed mane held back by a wild ponytail. “Knew I recognized that shadow on legs!”
Toma falters for a moment, surprised by the ambush of a sudden social interaction. It’s not the first time he bumps into a classmate outside of Noah’s Arc, but it never fails to catch him off guard. He stomps down the spike in anxiety (thanking his lucky stars he’s shock collar-free) and returns a sheepish smile.
“Oh, hey, dude. What a coincidence.”
“Right? I didn’t know you went here!”
“For the pool. Y’know.” Toma cringes internally. Make better conversation!
The other feline’s eyes widen in recollection. “Oh yeah! You mentioned you’re a swimmer! I mean, it’s not a surprise with your chest, and all!”
The panther suppresses the urge to bring his hands over his chest, suddenly feeling ogled.
The lion continues, unfazed. “I’m still waiting on that pool, Pres! You promised, remember?”
Toma lets out a weak chuckle. “Wow, you remember that from last year?”
“An elephant never forgets, and neither do I!” The maned feline snorts. “Was your entire campaign a bunch of false promises?”
“Hey, the pool wasn’t in my campaign this time around.”
“Yeah, I know, dude! As if Noah’s Arc has any money for a pool now! Hard to believe the ol’ train wreck’s still standing.”
Toma’s ear flickers. “Superintendant Prince really did the impossible.”
“Uh, you too, man!” The lion barks like he’s stating the obvious. “Student council president after last year’s shitshow? At this rate, Japan’s gonna scout you out to make you, that thing-- uh, what do they call it?— a Beastar!”
The black cat’s face heats up. “As if. It was the students who voted.”
The lion shrugs. “Helps that the new principal isn’t such a walking disaster this time around. But you gotta get your flowers too, dude. You’re doing God’s work, for real. Us carnies got your back all the way.”
Toma’s tail curls around itself. “Wow, thanks. It really means a lot.”
“Yeah, dude,” The lion takes a couple of steps back. “I gotta get going, but I’ll see you at school, yeah? And consider the pool idea!”
“Ha, sure thing. See ya around.” The panther waves goodbye, gaze lingering even after the lion vanishes into the winter darkness beyond the sliding doors of the exit.
What a nice guy. Toma thinks. A wave of guilt hits him as he realizes he had no idea what his name is. He’ll try to figure it out later tonight with the help of social media.
The conversation sticks with him, though. Before he knows it, he’s absently floating on his back atop chlorinated pool water. The YMDA pool is thankfully mostly abandoned at this hour, leaving more room for true swim freaks like himself and the other handful of animals splashing around in it.
He likes being student council president. Sure, it’s a handful; Hafsa correctly warned him of the amount of work in store, especially now in Noah’s Arc’s “new era.” The paperwork alone made him question his resolve. But he’s not alone. The other student council members came to the job with just as much determination to change things for the better as he did, including fellow CHAMP veteran Monteiro as his vice (despite his bureaucratic usefulness being questionable at best).
It all has to mean something, he figures. The fact that he was found innocent even though he had given up his life. The fact the Noah’s Arc is still standing, the fact that he was allowed to stay with a free ride, no less. The fact that Mrs. Bulan took him in, gave him a place to stay and a job to afford it. The fact that he won the student council election. This can only mean that there’s something he can do. He wants to see how far he can go, if he really fights for it. How many more people will smile at him, just like that lion did.
His powerful legs buck in unison, pushing his body underwater, and with practiced skill, he flips around and begins to follow the straight line painted on the tiles beneath him. He tucks his arms close to his sides, allowing his legs to do the propelling work. It takes him mere seconds to reach the end of the pool, and twists again, kicking off the wall to begin his journey to the other side. He doesn’t bother coming up for air.
He is free.
“Aw man, there’s a stain on your shirt, Bri.”
The penguin points somewhere above the rock dove’s gut with a concerned expression. Brian frowns.
“What, really?”
Following Humbert’s finger, he ducks his chin to look, and is rewarded by the same finger suddenly flicking up and hit his beak.
“Made you look.”
The penguin spares a view seconds to laugh at his own bit, ignoring his boyfriend’s mock outrage.
“Real mature.” The pigeon simpers drily.
“It’s literally the oldest trick in the book, Bri. You can’t be falling for it in our lord’s year.”
“Sorry if I trust you!”
“That’s your first mistake,” Humbert pinches Brian’s chin feathers and tugs him closer, smooshing their cheeks together with a loud, exaggerated “mwah!” mimicking something apologetic.
Brian’s pout melts into a fit of giggles as he struggles (not too hard) to break free. “Ha ha, what are you, five?”
“And a half.”
A flat palm against the underside of Humbert’s beak forced his head to crane up, freeing the rock dove from the mushy display at last. As their last chuckles dissipate into the heated air of the silver car’s interior, Humbert spares the pigeon a loving glance.
“You look more relaxed, at least.”
Brian’s smile fades, instead replaced by a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“You seemed a little tense before. So I wanted to cheer you up a bit.”
Something in Brian surrenders, fond and soft. Humbert’s always had a way with seeing right through him, even when he didn’t know what he was feeling himself.
“I guess I am a bit nervous.”
The penguin reaches for Brian’s hand that rests on his lap and intertwines their fingers. “It’s just a party. It’ll be fun! And if it sucks, we can just leave. We can watch movies at your dorm and order takeout.”
“Ugh, you’re making me wanna ditch this right now.”
“Hey, hey, we gotta try this out first, college boy,” Humbert chides with a teasing nudge. “I’ve snuck into enough of these things to know there’s noting to worry about.”
Black eyes meet grey as the rest of Humbert’s encouragement goes unspoken but expressed all the same. Brian gives his boyfriend’s hand a final squeeze. “You’re right, as always.”
“I think this may be a first, actually.”
“Let’s go out there and… do college things!”
“Yay, college things!”
With renewed motivation, Brian hops out of Humbert’s old car and stares down the frat house in defiance. He clenches at the plastic bag he brought; Humbert informed him it was typical to bring the hosts some kind of offering. With the penguin in tow, he reached the porch of the luminescent building, the floor shaking with the bass vibrations of an unseen stereo. Nondescript house music shakes them down to the bone.
“Their DJ could use some pointers, for one,” Humbert whispers in Brian’s ear, earning him a hushed giggle and a smack on the shoulder. A couple of lurking smokers stare at them, unimpressed. The rock dove swallows a gulp and forges on, pressing the doorbell.
It takes the couple some seconds to realize the chime must be completely inaudible over the blasting music. A vaping hawk seems to take pity on them and pushes the very much unlocked door open for them.
“Ah, thanks!” Brian chirps, earning a bemused nod behind a ridiculously thick cloud of fruit-scented smoke.
Brian finds that college movies are scarily accurate when it comes to depicting the chaos of a frat party. Masses of dubious-smelling bodies writhe against each other, barely visible over dim, colored lighting from some disco ball contraption clearly purchased online. The melody of the music is barely audible over the sheer violence of the bass tremors; conversation must be impossible without bringing one’s voice to a total scream. Neither pigeon nor penguin are particularly tall animals, and while solidly built, their frames are swallowed inside the intertrophic crowd.
Three seconds in, and Brian feels a panic attack and possible fainting spell on the horizon. His only form of reassurance is Humbert taking his hand once more and holding on tight. He feels the keratin of the sea bird’s beak against his ear feathers before he yells into it again.
“Kitchen, kitchen!”
Okay, so there’s a plan. Neither of them have any idea where the kitchen could be, and asking around is not an option either. So they simply pick a direction and fight their way through the drunk dancers. As luck would have it, their intuition proves correct, and they manage to squeeze through the ravers into the haven of the kitchen. Only a handful of animals loiter around here, lazily sipping on red solo cups and munching on stale chips from abandoned snack bags scattered around the dining table.
“Phew,” Humbert doubled over, hands resting on his knees. “See? Kitchens are always a safe zone.”
“What would I do without you?” Brian half pants, half laughs.
“Probably get trampled to death by frat bros.”
“The worst possible death.”
“Damn I need something to drink,” Humbert meanders closer to the assortment of beverages by the sink.
“No alcohol, Mr. Designated Driver!” Brian reminds him.
The penguin picks up a half-empty two liter bottle of KoalaCola and pointedly sloshes it around in his grip.
“Sugar free,” His partner adds with a warning tone. “Your blood sugar, remember?”
Humbert scowls. “You’re killing me, Bri.”
“I’m saving your life, actually.”
Begrudgingly, Humbert swaps to the KoalaCola Zero bottle and pours himself and Brian a cupful.
“To your first frat party!” The penguin cheers.
“And probably the last!”
They tap plastic cups, and Humbert sneaks a glance at the chaotic scene beyond the kitchen entry. “Any idea where your friend might be? The one who invited you here?”
Brian stands on his tiptoes, hoping to spot the host, but to no avail. “Knowing him, he’s probably wherever the most females are.”
“Ooh, ladies’ man.”
“Something like that. Let’s check the backyard.”
The pair of lovebirds finish their drinks, and join hands once more to brave the crowd. Heads down, they weave through the gyrating masses, feet landing wherever there is space. Like this, they take one step after another against the earthquake of dance music until they reach the promised land: an open sliding door that leads to the outside. After a final push ,they emerge victorious on the other side of the house. Though still crowded, everyone is a lot more spread out around the lawn. Here, animals can actually engage in conversation and catch their breaths; easier said than done considering the looming fog of cigarette and vape smoke.
Humbert inspects the gaggle of students. “Lot of birds, huh?”
“It is an avian frat,” Brian points out.
“You said your friend is a pigeon, too?”
“Yep. Birds of a feather and all that.”
The penguin squints. “Is that him?”
He points to a figure in the far corner of the yard, hunched over in a lawn chair.
Brian’s eyes narrow, then widen. “No, but I know him too!”
He starts to jog over to the seated bird, boyfriend in tow.
“Chucky!”
‘Chucky’ looks up, previously entranced by something on his phone, and his expression ever so slightly relaxes under his glasses.
The couple settles in front of the other rock dove, giving him enough space to stand. Unlike Brian, the spectacled bird is as thin as a twig, ill-fitting clothes baggy over his lean frame.
“Good evening, Brian,” His greeting is poised, though undeniably awkward over the thump thump thumping of the faraway stereo. “It is good to see a familiar face.”
“I never imagined you’d be here!” Brian chirps. “I guess Matty invited you too!”
The other pigeon pushes his glasses’ frame up his beak. “It was made apparent to me that this counts as a valuable life experience.” He grimaces. “I fail to see how.”
“That’s funny, Humbert here said the same thing to me!” Brian pats the black and white bird on the back before letting out a quiet gasp. “Oh, jeez, I forgot to mention! Chucky, this is Humbert, my boyfriend! And Birdie, this is Chucky, he’s also doing a computer engineering degree!”
He gestured frantically in between the two, and Chucky extends a hand. “Ah, yes, so you are Humbert. Brian often speak of you. Pigeon Charles, it’s good to make your acquaintance.”
Humbert takes his hand with a smile and gives it a solid shake. “Right back at ya, bud. Lemme guess, Brian’s the only one that calls you Chucky?”
“That’s correct.”
“You said you were okay with it!” Brian butts in, a little panicked.
“I don’t mind.”
“Can I call you Chuck, too?” The penguin asks.
“You may call me whatever you’d like, so long as it’s not insulting.”
“Ha! I like you, dude. You got an interesting way of talking.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Brian sidles up to Charles, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing all tucked away in the corner, Chucky?”
The thin dove looks over Brian’s shoulder, the faint party lights reflected in his beady eyes. “I don’t enjoy dancing or loud music, so I didn’t want to stay inside. Furthermore, I do not drink or do recreational drugs, nor do I know anyone here, save for you and Matthew. So I’ve been playing sudoku on my phone for roughly two hours now.”
Humbert frowns. “Jeez, you must be bored outta your mind.”
“Not so. I often play sudoku in my spare time.”
Brian interrupts. “Say, have you seen Matty yet? We’re trying to find him.”
“He approached me at one point with a group of people, and we exchanged some words. But he was called inside, and promptly left.”
“Sounds about right…” Brian lifts up the plastic bag he’s been clinging onto all night. “At this rate, I’ll never give him these!”
“What is that?”
“Cookies! Made them with my siblings yesterday.”
Humbert shoots him an incredulous expression. “Is that seriously what you brought? That’s not what I meant when I said to bring something!”
Brian pouts. “What’s wrong with cookies?”
“May I have one?” Charles interjects, eyes glued to the bag.
“See, he wants one!” Despite his words of triumph, Brian shrinks apologetically when addressing his friend. “I think I should show them to Matty first before I hand them out.”
“Did somebody say Matty?!”
With a mutual ‘oof’, both Brian and Charles get the air smacked out of their lungs as an arm collides full force against either back. The arms curl around their shoulders and yanks them back, pinning them against the frame of a tall and corpulent rock dove.
“There he is!” The beefy pigeon cackles, locking Brian’s head between bicep and forearm. “Big Boy Brian!”
Humbert can’t stop himself from jolting at the nickname. “Sorry?”
“Relax dude,” The other pigeon rolls his head at his offended tone like he’s already bored. “It’s a pigeon thing. The bigger the bird, the better. If you know what I mean.”
Humbert’s beak is stuck open. Did he just call his boyfriend sexy to his face?
Sensing the abysmal vibe being created, Brian slips out of the other bird’s clutches and pops back next to Humbert. “This is Matty! We take stats together! Look, Matty, it’s Humbert! My boyfriend who I talk about? Frequently?”
The rock dove named Matty lets out an ‘oh’ and unceremoniously seizes the penguin for a quick but very powerful hug. As if Humbert can’t be any more stunned.
“Yeah, yeah, Big B said you were a penguin! ‘Sup, dude! I’m Matty, Kappa Alpha Psi.”
“…Charmed.”
Charles, having heard this all before, butts in with a weary voice. “Matthew, I believe I may take my leave soon.”
Matty sputters out a gasp. “What, right when Big B and his piece show up? You haven’t even hooked up with anyone yet!”
Charles seems unmoved. “That will not be happening tonight.”
“U-um,” Brian attempts to enter the conversation again. “I brought you something! For the party!”
He hastily shoves the plastic bag into Matty’s arms, and after some tearing open into aluminum foil, the larger bird blinks.
“Cookies, bro?”
“Y-Yeah! Handmade.”
“That’s fucking sick.”
Brian points his look of delight straight at Humbert, who mentally checked out several minutes ago.
He is forcefully thrust back into the exchange when Matty squawks at full volume to the miscellaneous group of birds lingering around. “YO, BIG B BROUGHT COOKIES!”
Instantly, the crowd draws closer in, huddling around the thick-necked rock dove like moths to a flame to claim a pastry for themselves. Brian, Humbert, and Charles barely escape with their lives.
Brian spares Charles a pitying look. “I don’t think you’re gonna get a cookie.”
“So it would seem,” The pigeon tucks his phone back into his oversized cargo pants. “I will depart now, if that’s alright.”
“You did a good job hanging in there, Chucky!” Brian wraps his arms around the skinnier bird’s frame, much more gently than Matty’s hug. “I’ll catch you next lecture, okay?”
“Hope you got some valuable life experience, Chuckster,” Humbert winked.
Charles shrugs. “Perhaps I’ll be able to reminisce on this evening fondly in the future. So long.”
With no further fanfare, Charles walks off, going around the side of the house to avoid entering the war zone. For a few seconds, Brian and Humbert exchange looks.
The penguin starts. “He’s my new hero.”
“Right?”
“As for Alpha Sigma Beta over there,” Humbert points his beak towards Matty, barely visible inside the swarm of freeloaders. “Are we sure he’s not a little… you know…”
“He’s very straight, Birdie.”
“It’s always straightest males that are a little homosexual.”
“You understand that makes no sense, right?”
“‘Big Boy.’”
“Okay, that’s—“
“Big B,” Matty hurtles towards them, practically howling. “You must have put straight meth in these shits, bro! These cookies got me bricked up!”
Humbert shoots Brian a very pointed look, which the latter pretends not to see. “G-glad you liked them!”
“Yeah, dude, they’re the tits. Fucking decimated, though. Do you think Charlie wanted one?”
“Oh, he left.”
“Whaaaat?” Matty whines. “Here I was giving him a ‘get out of virginity’ free card! Dude’s a lost cause. He’s already got a neck like a toothpick, and his hackle game is atrocious. Barely any iridescent feathers.”
Brian’s smile stiffens. “I dunno, Matty…”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t know, Big B. Since you like dudes.”
Humbert, again, finds his words alarming. “Excuse me?”
But the larger rock dove only waves him off. “No, not like that. I just mean he’s willing to see the good in Charlie. Females, though? They’d tear him apart. That’s why I like homosexuals, y’know. We got a couple of homosexual actives here. Super chill guys. Nothing but respect.”
The penguin throws a glance at his boyfriend, half-helpless and half pleading, asking for permission to attack. Brian only shakes his head.
Eventually, the two managed to extricate themselves from the spider’s web that was Matty when the latter got distracted by a couple of female doves calling him over for jello shots. The rest of the evening was spent in relative isolation, chatting with one or two familiar faces and only daring to brave the ravenous inferno of the dance floor for a chance at a refill in soda and a handful of chips. The couple managed to sneak a slow dance in a secluded corner of the backyard, not at all matching with the ever-frenetic pulsing of club music in the background.
It was around eleven at night when they decided they had had enough. Brian, bound by his graciousness, attempted to seek out Matty to offer a curt farewell, but the frat dove had vanished, presumably engaged with one of the birds who had propositioned him earlier. Brian was sure he would get the full account by next lecture.
The two lovebirds catch their breaths inside Humbert’s ever-reliable car. After a couple of seconds of silence, the penguin speaks.
“So… how was it, college boy?”
Brian exhales an amused chuckle. “Definitely… something.”
“Better than nothing?”
“…Better than nothing.”
Humbert’s gaze softens into something reassured. “Good. I know it’s a lot at first.”
“Maybe the frat scene just isn’t for me.”
“Nothing wrong with that, Bri.”
The rock dove leans over the center console to rest his head on the penguin’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”
“You kidding me? I had a blast.”
Brian raises a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah! I got to meet your uni friends! That Chuck is a riot! And Matty…”
His boyfriend shuts his eyes. “Don’t be too harsh. He means well, I promise.”
“He’s entertaining.”
“Entertaining.”
“I was entertained.”
“...Pft. Yeah.”
Humbert preens the top of Brian’s facial feathers. “Just… Don’t be surprised if he tries anything, Big B.”
Brian snorts. “As if.”
He expects another quip from the seabird, but an uncharacteristic silence follows.
“I kinda wish,” Humbert says after a while. “I was in college, with you.”
Brian perks up at this. “You could always apply for next year.”
“I mean… there’s no reason for it. I’m already working.”
“Then…”
“Just… y’know. Cuz you are.”
The pigeon places a hand, gentle as a feather, on Humbert’s cheek, and title his head to face him. “I’m here with you. Always. You know that, right?”
Humbert melts. “… Yeah. I know.”
“…I’m still not ready to go to bed yet. Wanna watch a movie with me?”
“…Won’t we bother your roommate?”
“He was at the party, remember? Probably won’t be home until tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah,” Humbert smiles. “Then I guess we could.”