Chapter Text

I

The Tibetan Mastiff tightened a few of the tuning pegs on his guitar and gave the strings a few gentle, quiet strums, testing to make sure everything was in the right key.  He shuffled awkwardly on the stool and lowered the mic stand a tad, looking out at the assembled patrons vaguely watching him on the stage from under the hood of his sweatshirt.  It wasn’t a large crowd by any means – but then again, Tuesday night was hardly primetime.

He cleared his throat.  “So… this next one’s called Mountain Air.  I wrote it when I was by myself on a hilltop a little while back.   Though I, uh… guess you probably don’t care too much about that.”  He smiled as charmingly as he could, but it didn’t seem like anyone got the (admittedly weak) attempt at self-deprecating humor.  They probably thought he was just weird.

“Yeeeaaahhhh!”

Except maybe that tattooed bulldog over there, yelling drunkenly from his seat.  He’d been doing that on and off for the last hour.

The Mastiff ignored it and began to play.  And as he played, he began to lose himself.

Music had been his passion for as far back as he could remember – his refuge.  He weaved notes and chords together into taught fibers of melody and harmony, layering them onto and twining them around each other as easy as some animals breathed.  It wasn’t a conscious act for him, but neither was it unconscious.  When he played, it was like he left the regular rules of cognition behind, instead operating on some other, almost transcendental level.

As the song peaked at its chorus, he fought hard to keep himself from getting too into the music.  If he fell in too deep, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing it.  And if he did it, he’d have to explain what it was, and it wouldn’t be long before everything came crashing down around him.

He kept himself calm – steady – as the song reached and passed over its crescendo, letting it flow over him without flowing through him, until it entered the gentle plateau phrase that would repeat over and over, more quietly each time, until the song faded away.  He’d never actually got around to writing a proper end to Mountain Air.  It felt wrong to do so, like he’d be killing the concept of mountain air itself.

So he let the song fade away just as easily as the wind had on the day he wrote it.

It took him a few seconds longer to fully leave his near trancelike state and look back up into the hazy half-lit room in front of him.  He got a few polite claps, but most of the people in the small crowd were more engaged in conversing with each other than listening to him play.  He couldn’t really take umbrage to that – for most people, bar music was more background noise than something you went out of your way to listen to.  Especially when the music in question was as relaxed as his was tonight.

“Wooooooo!”

Except to that one bulldog, again, still drunkenly cheering him on.  His drinking partner was facedown on the table, having fallen asleep at some point during the song.

The Mastiff waved awkwardly to the bulldog before speaking up again.  “So, my name’s Bhagnu, and I’m here every Tuesday night and Thursday afternoon”, he tentatively said.  “If you want to listen, again”, he quickly amended.

“Freebird!”

He chuckled under his breath at the bulldog’s outburst and began packing his guitar away, gently laying it down in its case and sealing it tight.  He hoisted the case up and around himself, making sure its strap was secure around his chest before he made his way off-stage, leaving the small spotlight behind and returning to the safely anonymous world of the bargoers and revelers.  Though, outside the bulldog and his sleeping friend, it didn’t look like there were any of the latter.  The Roost wasn’t the kind of place for that type of crowd as a rule.

He kept his hood up as he traveled between the small tables and chairs of the warm, wood-paneled establishment like a ghost, going so far as to dodge most of the small pools of dim light cast by the lamps hanging above.  He didn’t drop it even as he arrived at the bar’s counter and seated himself on a stool in front of it – not even when he realized he was the only one at the bar.

“…You were good tonight”, a deep, relaxed voice told him from somewhere ahead and to his right.  “You’re good every night though, so maybe there’s no point in my telling you so.”

The Mastiff smiled a little abashedly.  Brewster wasn’t known for idle praise: if the pigeon gave you a compliment, you could be rest assured it was genuine.  “Thanks, Brews.”  His smile faded a little as he thought more about his set.  “Think I screwed up a bit on Fire in the Valley though.  I got distracted and flubbed a few of the chords.”

The bartender nodded slowly, meticulously cleaning a glass as he did so.  “Mistakes happen”, the avian said sagely.  “What’s important is that you learn from them.”

The canine froze a little at those words, glad the hood hid most of his expressions.  “Yeah”, he awkwardly responded.

As Brewster turned to busy himself with some other task, the anxious musician turned a bit in his stool and watched the remnants of the night’s crowd start to filter out.  He wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but considering his set was over it had to at least be approaching midnight.  He waved at the bulldog and his now-awake friend as the pair left, swaying from side to side with their arms hanging over each other’s shoulders, but neither of them noticed him.  He knew he should count that as a blessing, but he couldn’t quite quash the pang of disappointment that shot through him.

He tried so hard to stay unnoticed – and it looked like his forbearance was paying off.

The sound of something clinking on the counter snapped him back to reality, and he turned to see Brewster sit something warm and steaming in front of him.  He took a deep breath through his nose and smiled when he recognized the scent: ginger tea.

“Thanks”, he told the pigeon, who only nodded in response.  The Roost was an odd bird of an establishment – equally as odd as its proprietor.  A café in the morning, a creperie in the afternoon, and a bar in the evening.  Brewster ran everything, and he performed all these tasks to a degree the Mastiff knew from experience was on par with a level of mastery you’d expect from a high-end establishment in the city.  The fact that The Roost was in such a little out-of-the-way village like this made him wonder how many other hidden gems might be hiding out there, in the wild.

He sniffed the tea before drinking it, basking in its aroma and trying to identify its ingredients.  Ginger, cardamom, lemon zest, orange peel… cumin?  He shook his head to himself with a smile.  Brewster was always experimenting with new beverage concoctions – usually that meant a new type of caffè or mixed drink, but tea appeared to be party to his experiments too.  He took a sip, letting its warmth flow through him, glad he had someone like Brewster: someone who would care for him without getting too close.  The old pigeon never asked anything too personal, wise enough to know he wouldn’t get a response.

“…You look tired.”

The canine lifted his head to look into Brewster’s eyes.  The pigeon was looking at him carefully from behind his frosted spectacles, his eyes unreadable.  “Too tired for someone so young.”

He frowned and looked at his reflection in the spotless, mirror-glossy counter.  He was only twenty-two years old – and to look at him, he hadn’t aged a day since that fateful first journey away from his home village.  But he was no fool.  He might not look older, but he could see it in his eyes, so readily apparent in that reflection.

“I don’t feel young”, he responded quietly before taking another sip.

The pigeon shrugged and resumed his work, leaving him to his thoughts.

He slowly finished his tea as the crowd thinned.  Eventually, he and Brewster were the last two people left in the building, and he knew it was time to leave.  He turned around and got off the barstool, seeking the bartender’s gaze.  “Good night, Brews”, he said with a forced, sad smile and a wave.

“Good night, Bhagnu”, he responded.

The Mastiff left the warm, hazy bar behind and walked into the endless night beyond.  A cool wind was whipping through the trees, causing them to dance to some music only they could hear.  He tightened his hoodie around himself, setting off down the small cobblestone path that comprised Main Street.

It was a very small town that he currently called ‘home’, but a welcoming one.  Even at night, with the cool wind wrapping around him and no one out on the streets, it exuded a cozy ambiance.  One and two-story shops (and self-titled ‘shoppes’) lined the boulevard, spaced apart from each other with room for trees and flowerbeds between.

His apartment was at the end of the block: perfectly tasteful, neither too large nor too small, not ostentatious nor austere.  It was the most unassuming little building in the whole town, which made it perfect for him.  He’d paid out of pocket for it, and thought he might have been swindled a little by the tanuki who’d rented it out to him – but what of it?  He had plenty of money to spare; and so long as no one asked any questions he didn’t have room to complain

He quietly unlocked and opened the door, closing it behind him when he entered inside and taking a deep breath.  It was going to be one of those nights, he knew: those nights where he’d have trouble sleeping.  He wasn’t sure why he had them, but he could feel them coming on from miles away, like a sixth sense that detected imminent insomnia.

He didn’t even bother going upstairs to his bed, opting instead to crash on the couch.  He dropped his hood and gently laid the guitar case in a corner of the room before turning on the television.  He didn’t have any intent or desire to watch it, but the background noise helped calm him.  His home village had been so loud at night, all the sheep bah-ing and braying throughout the night – the idle noise of the TV could never replicate that, but it was as close as he could get given the circumstances.

He put on the local news channel and laid supine on the couch, his paws grasped over his chest, for the life of him looking (and feeling) like a stiff in repose at a viewing.  All he needed was a tuxedo, a coffin – and, well, to be dead.  He didn’t want to be dead, though.  At least he didn’t think he did.

Sleep started to ensnare him bit-by-bit as a cocktail of morbid thoughts and memories swirled and churned like unsettled weather in the back of his mind.  Just as he thought he was about to fully succumb to it, something caught his attention.  A spoken word, from the television.

His name.

His real name.

He turned to face the TV, missing the first section of whatever the newscaster was talking about but catching the rest.

“…the search continues for the missing up-and-coming rock star, protégé of certified superstar Angus Scattergood.  Bodi was last confirmed seen three months ago just south of Central City, though numerous credible claims have been made since then that indicate he’s gone abroad.  Authorities have extended the search into neighboring regions, including the Great Bay and Woodlands, and local teams have agreed to aid them in the endeavor.  The Rock Dog is equally as well-known for his wild and often controversial antics as his music, and rumors abound regarding the Mastiff’s past admittance to One Heart Rehabilitation Center.  If anyone has information about Bodi or his whereabouts, the following hotline can be reached 24/7 to…”

He turned the TV off, suddenly no longer interested in background noise.  He turned to face the back of couch and sighed deeply.  It was inevitable now – he had a few days, maybe a week, before he’d have to move on.  He thought he’d gone far enough afield to escape, but obviously he’d been wrong.

Bodi fell asleep, and dreamed of hands grasping for him from out of the darkness.

……….

It was the discomfort that finally woke him up.  As it turned out, sleeping crumpled on a couch was a good way to give yourself a hell of a back cramp.

Bodi groaned and let himself slide off the side of the couch, catching the floor with his paws and segueing directly into a series of push-ups.  His morning workout routine was sacrosanct: a relic of his old life, when his future was written in stone.  His father was the sole guardian of the village, and his father before him, and his father before him, for so many generations that no one even had a record of the exact date his family had taken on the role.  He was barely out of infancy when his father began to train him in the ways of a proper guardian – pre-dawn exercise sessions comprised part of that training.

Bodi recalled those days with absolute clarity even now; and despite the myriad twists and turns his life had taken, he kept this old ritual alive.  It was another piece of home he held close to his heart.  He had precious few of those left to him, and he cherished every one.

As he finished his calisthenics he jogged over the door and left the lonely little house behind, diving into the brisk morning air beyond.  There was a fine layer of mist hanging low to the ground, and the clouds above were streaked crimson with the approach of dawn.  He set off down the street, passing streetlamps whose lights were turning off one-by-one in anticipation of another day.

He liked the world when it was like this: the sense of a new beginning just around the corner permeating the very air.  He breathed deeply of it as he ran off the beaten path and into the woodlands that surrounded the town.  He ran down dirt paths snaking between copses of old trees, over bridges crossing babbling brooks – even down a hillside with a rocky outcrop (okay, he didn’t run down that last one so much as ‘jump over it’).

He didn’t even bother keeping his hood up, knowing no one was up yet.  Maybe that was part of why he liked this time of day too – it was the only time he could be certain no one would see him.  Recognize him.

As he settled into the routine path he took like this every morning, his mind began to wander down wayward corridors, peek behind doors he couldn’t quite bear to shut permanently.  Bodi hoped they’d understand someday: Angus, Dharma, Germur.

His father.

It wasn’t like he planned to elope – he didn’t want to hurt anyone, not even incidentally.  It had been a spur of the moment thing, one brought on by a familiar feeling he couldn’t bear to feel, not again.  His willpower wasn’t strong enough.  He wasn’t strong enough.

He’d only had two options, as far as he could tell: slide ride back into the pit, sucked down into the very same vortex he’d worked so hard to escape…

Or he could run away.

He’d opted for the latter.

Maybe someday he’d return.  He had a feeling he would – or perhaps a feeling of a feeling.  This, right now, wasn’t forever.

But he didn’t have the slightest idea of when it would end.  Months?  Years?  Decades?  He couldn’t bear to return to them, not like this, not with that siren call sounding off in his ear at every gig in every city, luring him to crash into the rocks again.  He’d put them through so much already – he wouldn’t dare do it to them again.  Until he could learn – really learn – to keep that music from tempting him, he couldn’t go back.

No, this was better.  It almost certainly hurt them to disappear like this, but it couldn’t possibly hurt them as much as it would to watch him be like that.  Not again.  Never again.

He fell so deep into this conviction that he hadn’t noticed the sound of music drifting through the leaves until he was almost right on top of it.

He slowed down and finally came to a stop, collapsing on the forest floor.  Panting, he took a greedy swig of his water bottle and let its contents cool him from the inside out.  As he rested and regained equilibrium, sitting under the unfurling dawn, he perked his ears and tried to triangulate the source of the sound.

It was a guitar, obviously – six-string, by the sound of it.  Whoever was playing was doing a decent job too.  Bodi leaned his head back and just listened to it for a little while, letting it relax him.  Music – proper music – was a very different sort of siren call from the one that chased him away from his old life.  It was one he felt no guilt or fear for indulging.

Curious, he slowly got up and sneaked around the dense forest, using his ears to guide him towards the elusive, beautiful playing.

After a few moments of searching, he reached a small clearing alongside a creek.  Tall grasses covered most of the ground, and a very large and very ancient apple tree dominated most of his vision.  Nestled at the roots of the tree was a white dog with floppy ears playing something that sounded like a mix of freeform jazz and an old lullaby.  His eyes were closed and Bodi could make out the ghost of a smile on his muzzle.

The Mastiff watched for a moment from his hidden position when the white dog suddenly spoke up, causing Bodi to jump in surprise.

“You don’t have to hide over there by your lonesome, friend”, he said, without even opening his eyes or giving the slightest indication he was aware of Bodi’s presence, continuing to strum peacefully on his weathered guitar.  “If you want to listen, you can listen.”

Bodi found his feet walking out into the open without his brain consciously giving them the go-ahead.  The white canine’s voice was so invitingly mellow – not unlike his playing, actually.

As Bodi tentatively approached the mystery musician, his features came into clearer relief.  He had incongruously thick black eyebrows that clashed with the snow-pure white of the rest of his coat, like someone smudged his brow with charcoal.  A tattoo extended the length of his right arm, trailing up his muscular bicep and across his shoulder, partially obscured by a tank top.  Pockmarked, ratty jeans covered crossed legs.  When he finally opened his eyes, it revealed irises the exact color of black coffee – and the smile he offered was equally as warm and inviting.

Bodi knew he was dreaming; people didn’t just walk into the woods and stumble on gorgeous guitarists who smiled at them like that.  It was too much like a saccharine fantasy he’d compose for himself as a teenager.  But the vision didn’t dissipate, no matter how hard he pinched his leg.

“Should I be worried?”, the dog asked, gesturing to Bodi’s flaccid attempts at meager self-harm with his paw.

The Mastiff shook his head and tried to speak, but he found his tongue was a little tied at the moment.  “Ye – no.  That is, uh.  No.”

The guitarist laughed a little and continued to play.  Bodi took a seat across from him; and before he’d had the chance to think about it, he’d been sitting there cross-legged on the grass like that for a few minutes, just listening to the music and idly picking out pieces of grass and playing with them in his paws.

“You want to play?”, the white dog asked, giving Bodi a questioning look with those black coffee eyes of his, blissfully unaware of how much it caused the Mastiff’s stomach to do a backflip.

“What makes you think I even know how?”, he responded with a nervous smile, tearing out another piece of the turf and distracting himself with it.

The guitarist shrugged, and Bodi made careful note of the play of his shoulder muscles.  “I’ve seen you play before.  Few times, in fact.”

Bodi felt like the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.  This was it, he realized.  I’m going to have to skip town, like, immediately.  He was right last night – he hadn’t run far enough.

“You alright, little dude?”

No, he thought.  But he nodded regardless.  “Yeah.  I mean… this was bound to happen at some point”, he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.  “Where did you see me play, out of curiosity?”

The dog looked at him strangely, as if he couldn’t decide if this was all a big joke or not.  “The Roost?  Last night?”

And all of a sudden, Bodi felt like a massive idiot.  “Oh!  Oh, yeah.”  He couldn’t help himself from physically sighing a breath of relief, laughing a little as it came out.  “Yeah, that was me.”

The guitarist looked at him even more funnily now, but he was smiling.  “You’re a strange little dude, little dude.”  Bodi grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his paw.  The white dog’s eyes grew the slightest bit lidded, and he added, “I like that.”

Bodi was suddenly very glad he was covered in fur.  He was prone to blushing in general, even at something as benign as praise.  He knew that, without his coat, he’d be as red as one of the apples dangling from the tree above them.

“So…”, he searched for something to continue the conversation.  “You play, too, then?”

The white dog stared and smiled at him, and Bodi continued.  “I mean, obviously you do.  I meant, more like – professionally.”

The dog laughed openly then.  “Depends on what you call ‘professional’”, he responded in time with another chord.  Bodi thought his spoken voice was sweet enough to count as vocal accompaniment.  “I don’t do record deals, don’t do paid gigs – don’t do anything with money attached to it, really.  I want my music to feel free as a bird, and it needs to be free for that.”  He smiled gently.  “But yeah, I play in front of crowds.  Sometimes.”

“Cool”, Bodi responded.  “Uh, where?  If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Not at all.”  He gave Bodi a knowing look.  “Course, you wouldn’t have to look far to find me.  I play on the same stage you do.”

Bodi cocked his head?  “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm.  Saturday nights.”

Bodi laughed.  Of course it was on Saturday – he never went out on Saturdays.  Too many people meant higher odds he’d be recognized.  “At The Roost?”

“The one and only”, he replied.  “Brewster runs a good show.”

“Tell me about it”, Bodi smiled.  “The teas he comes up with are pretty wild.  It’d probably make some of the traditionalists in my hometown recoil in horror.  ‘What’s this?  Apple blended into Darjeeling?  The nerve!’”

The dog laughed.  “Can’t say I relate – tea wasn’t exactly the hippest drink back where I come from.”

“Well, my home isn’t the hippest place, so…” He lifted his legs and laid his elbows across his knees, watching the guitarist as he stretched his shoulders, drinking in the sight as discreetly as he could.  “Where are you from?”

“Here and there”, he answered vaguely before smiling at Bodi again.  “Everywhere.”

Bodi chuckled.  “You can’t be from everywhere.”

“Why not?”, the dog asked.  “We learn a little more every place we go – we change.  And we’re always going, always learning.  Always changing.”  He put his guitar down for a second.  “You’re as much a part of where you are now as where you came from is part of you.”

Where music drifted through the clearing, now silence rang out, as the guitar laid quiet in its owner’s lap.

“…I don’t know”, Bodi responded after a moment.  “I don’t feel like a part of this town.”  He left out that the reason why was that he was actively trying to not be part of it – and he couldn’t afford to get attached.  “I… should get going, actually.  I have errands to run.”

The guitarist glanced at him a little as he stood up, and if Bodi didn’t know better, he thought he looked a little disappointed.  “You’re playing again tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

Bodi smiled awkwardly, giving him a mock salute.  “Yes, sir.  Every Tuesday and Thursday.”

The dog smiled and nodded at him.  “I’ll see you there, then.”

Bodi nodded back.  “Yeah.”

As he walked out of the clearing to resume his morning run, he heard the guitarist’s music start up again.  It wasn’t until a few moments later as he rejoined onto the main path that he realized three things:

That he felt like himself when conversing with someone else for the first time in months.

That he hadn’t even caught the mystery musician’s name.

And that he forgot to put his hood up when they talked.

He decided to put off thinking about all three of those things as he began the journey back to his house.

Chapter Text

II

Thursday rolled around the corner at a pretty fast clip – the days were wont to do that when you didn’t really have anything planned for most of them, Bodi found.

He arrived at The Roost a little earlier than usual, accustomed hood firmly over his head.  He’d been filled with a sort of bubbling anxiety for the last two days, simultaneously eager and reluctant to reconnect with the mysterious canine guitarist.  He even went so far as to run by the apple tree where he found him playing this morning – no luck, though.  The dog was nowhere to be seen.  Bodi had sat at the foot of the tree for a few minutes anyway, just for the hell of it.

The white dog had ignited a dangerous type of fire, one that drew Bodi to it like a moth.  It wasn’t an unfamiliar flame by any means; Bodi had made peace with his preferences years ago, after he’d properly moved into the city and managed to accumulate a bit more life experience.

But he couldn’t recall ever meeting another animal who he found quite as magnetic as the musician, at least on a level of basic attraction.  And there were plenty of attractive guys back in the city, so he was versed enough to judge – Bodi was no stranger to sampling ‘local flavor’.  It was kind of unavoidable when you were a semi-famous musician.

He was playing a dangerous game trying to reconnect with him though.  Consciously, he knew getting himself involved with someone else (if the canine in question was even angling for that; Bodi easily could’ve misread the signals) ran counter to the whole reason he’d come all the way out here.  Especially now that the search was extending into the Woodlands region.  He knew he had to ditch this place shortly and move on.

So why was he indulging himself like this?  Torturing himself like this?  Was he such a slave to his own id that he’d let it run roughshod over him?  Hadn’t his impulsivity running wild been the thing that’d gotten him into this mess in the first place?

On some level he knew that was wildly unfair to himself – comparing attraction to another animal with the desire for that was dumb.  But this awareness did nothing to stop him from making the equivalency anyway.

When he opened the door to the establishment, he was bombarded with the scent of rich batter over the pan and the sound of a high-pitched female singer accompanying the tinkling of a piano.

So he was early enough for Brewster to still be making food for the lunch crowd, then.

He descended the short step into the building and made his way over to the bar – or lunch counter, as it were.  Most of the crowd was watching the rabbit on stage, singing her heart out.  Bodi recognized amateurishness when he heard it; but she was clearly enjoying herself, so he found himself enjoying her singing along with her – even if a few of the notes made him grimace here and there.

He wanted to speak to Brewster but the pigeon looked busy, shuffling between lunch rush orders.  He even had an employee on shift to do most of the actual crêpe-making: some strange, hairless ape of a species Bodi didn’t recognize.  The last thing he wanted to do was bother Brewster when he was in the middle of other business.

Leaving the counter behind, the Mastiff sat himself down at an out-of-the-way corner table instead, determined to wait out the next hour until it was his turn to play.  He knew he’d enjoy it anyway: this time of day was a designated ‘free mic’ period.  Anyone could show up and play anything.  The last time Bodi was here, an axolotl wearing a cheap suit came up on stage and launched into a comedy routine so bad it circled back around into being hilarious.  No matter how small the town, there were always a few characters.

The rabbit finished her song to a round of applause from the moderate-sized lunch crowd, and even got a whistle when she blew a kiss.  Bodi clapped politely along with them, curious to see who’d be coming up next – and more importantly, what they’d be doing.

He felt his breath hitch as a familiar white dog with warm black eyes got on stage, receiving an uncharacteristically raucous round of cheers from the crowd, many of whom stopped in what they were doing to clap.  Bodi saw an eagle and an elephant at the next table over share excited glances with each other at the development.

Just who was this guy?

The canine took his beaten-down old guitar from its case, earning another whistle or two, before gently sitting down on a lone stool on the stage – the same one Bodi usually sat on.  “So”, he said calmly into the microphone.  “I don’t usually play like this during the day, but… I was in the mood.”

“You put me in the mood!”, an enthusiastic female voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd, earning a chorus of laughter and a wink from the guitarist that made Bodi’s knees quake even though it wasn’t even directed at him.

The dog started strumming his guitar lightly, and something about the chords niggled at a memory in the back of Bodi’s mind.

“Heard a cool song on the radio a little while back”, the guitarist said.  “Thought I’d give it a shot.  Why not, you know?”

The dog started on a mellow, repeating D chord – and Bodi shrank in his seat.

Oh no, he thought.  Don’t let this be happening.

The white dog leant in and starting singing.  His voice was a little raspy, and a little broken, in just the right way that Bodi found himself drawn right in – it spoke of a worn-out, lived-in soul behind the voice, the type Bodi would oh-so-willingly dive right into.

If only he wasn’t singing what he was singing.

“After searching, trying to find you, I thought I'd lost my luck…”

Bodi instinctively tied his hood even tighter around his head – almost tight enough to make him look like nothing but a muzzle sticking out from a vacuum-sealed piece of cloth.  If he could only find a way to sink into the floor, he would.

“But I'd never thought in a million years, that you would just walk right up…”

It shouldn’t have been this much of a surprise to him – not as much as it was.  Angus was attached to the single, and he was unquestionably internationally popular.  But Bodi had just sort of assumed their stuff hadn’t gained traction outside of their region.  Sure, they got some airplay on the radio here and there, but they were really more of a local band at heart.

He did everything in his immediate power to appear inconspicuous as the dog continued to play.  He knew he was overreacting.  No one was looking at him; no one was turning in their seats to stare at him knowingly while the song played.  But it didn’t stop Bodi from feeling as if that were the case.

“We'll grow old, and we'll never be alone.  And no matter where we roam, we’ll be glorious…”

To his horror, he saw the rabbit singer from earlier mouthing along with the words.  He almost considered running out of The Roost then and there, but he was afraid it would only bring attention to himself.

So he sat it out – weathered the storm.

By the time the last chord was strummed, he felt like his nerves were more frayed at the edges than his poor hoodie.  He remained silent as a chorus of applause rang out all around him.  The guitarist smiled mellowly at the room for a few seconds before getting off the stool, eliciting sounds of disappointment from the crowd.

“Hey now”, he said.  “Don’t you all worry.  I’ll be here Saturday night, like always.  Peace.”

Bodi overheard the elephant and eagle talk to each other as the mystery musician departed the spotlight.  “What was that song he sang?”  “’Glorious?’”  “Is that what it’s called?”  “Yeah, it’s a Scattergood song.”  “Really?”  “Well, kind of.  He wrote it with some other guy – the missing one?”  “Oh yeah!  I heard something about that on the news.”  “Yeah, they co-wrote it, I think.  It got really popular after the one guy ran away: all that attention drummed up by the story, you know?  My brother thinks it’s all a publicity stunt.”  “You don’t say?”

He was already out of his seat and halfway to the door.  He wouldn’t do this.  He couldn’t do this.  He needed to be gone, like, yesterday.  His anxiety was throwing a riot in the pit of his stomach, one that was threatening to boil over into a full-on revolt.  He needed to get out of here.  He needed to breathe.

He was just about at the door when he felt a paw settle on his shoulder, freezing him in place.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He turned to look the white dog in those dark eyes of his, seeing the obvious concern written in his expression.  The guitarist smiled to try and dispel the tension.  “I noticed you running off there”, he said evenly.  “Didn’t even know you were here yet till I was finished playing.”

Bodi drew a deep breath and tried his best to hold himself steady.  The dog’s paw was doing a surprising amount to restore his equilibrium.  “S-sorry”, he stammered.  “I wasn’t trying to escape”, he lied, “I just… needed some air.”

The canine smiled warmly, and the feeling that look gave Bodi was strikingly similar to the feeling he got when he laid under the sun on a warm summer day.  “I hear ya, man.  Happens to the best of us.”  He removed his paw from Bodi’s shoulder, and the Mastiff felt strangely empty without it there.  “Tell you what – let’s ditch this place.”

Bodi cocked his head in surprise.  “But I have a set soon…”

The dog laughed.  “Don’t worry about it.  I saw Brewster looking at you worryingly.  Don’t think he expects you to play.”  He stuck his paws in the pockets of his faded, old jeans.  “And I think you do need some air, if I’m being honest.  So, come with me?”

Bodi knew he was standing on a precipice, at the nexus of two paths that would lead to very different outcomes.  He could decline, head back to his temporary home, assemble his belongings and leave – this time to someplace so far no one would ever find him.

Or…

“…Okay”, he nodded.  He was kidding himself, anyway.  His mind had been made up the first time the dog had smiled at him.

“Cool”, said dog stated.  “People around here call me KK Slider, by the way.  Think I forgot to mention that.”

Bodi swallowed nervously.  “Yeah, cool.  Uh, people around here call me… Bhagnu, I guess.”

KK laughed lightly.  “I know.  Like I said, saw you playing before.”  He tapped Bodi on the shoulder.  “Come on.  I know a place where we can grab a bite in relative peace.”

……….

They’d been walking for about ten minutes when Bodi finally decided to say something to break the silence.  It wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet, and he guessed Slider was giving him the right of way to speak first, but he felt weird going for so long without saying more than a word here or there.

It’d been like that for a while now, Bodi thought.  He used to be comically forward in his conversations with people, usually blissfully unaware of proper social decorum (having grown up so distant from mainstream society).  Thinking about the contrast between how he acted back then versus now tended to give him a bit of a headache.

“So… what sort of food does this place have?”, he asked as they continued the impromptu journey, apparently leading them out of town.  “Don’t worry, I’m not picky or anything”, he added with a smile.

Slider chuckled.  “Whatever you want, I guess, depending on what’s there”, he said as he half-turned to look at the Mastiff.  “I’m actually taking you back to my place.  It’s out of the way – thought you could use some quiet.”

Bodi gulped nervously and fought to keep his nerves in check.  “No!  No, that’s fine.  I’m okay with going to your place.”

Slider shrugged, the guitar case slung across his back shrugging alongside him.  Bodi wondered what people would think the two of them were if anyone happened to pass by.  They made a pair: two canines with guitars.  “Hope it’s not too forward or anything”, Slider added.

The Mastiff shook his head.  “It’s not.  I mean, not unless you want it to be.”  He threw his paw over his muzzle the second after it came out.  Maybe he was wrong thinking about how much he’d ‘changed’ earlier – he still had a way with words.

Slider just laughed, and the effervescent sound only deepened Bodi’s embarrassment.  “Sorry”, the Mastiff said after a moment.  “I say dumb things sometimes.”

“It’s cool, dude.  We all do.”

Bodi nodded a little awkwardly, and they continued the journey in relative peace once more.

The further they got out, the more Bodi began to realize just how comparatively distant from civilization Slider must have lived.  He wondered why the guitarist would make a home for himself so far away from the thick of things, and then realized he was in no place to judge anyone for that.  After all, why had he come out here?

“Don’t worry”, Slider said as they crossed a bridge and walked along a path leading upstream from the small river it spanned.  “We’re almost there, I promise.”

Bodi smiled under his hood.  “Don’t worry, I’m used to going long distances.”

“That’s right – you were out running when we bumped into each other under the apple tree, right?”

“Yeah”, Bodi said with a nod.  “Well, kind of.  I heard you playing and I sort of tried to sneak up on you.  Wait, that sounds bad.”  Slider laughed lightly again and Bodi tried to correct himself.  “I mean, I heard someone playing and I was curious, but I usually try to keep to myself and didn’t want to be seen, so I kind of…”

“Tried to sneak up on me?”, Slider finished with a smile, lidded coffee eyes glowing mischievously.

“Okay, yeah.  I tried to sneak up on you.”  Bodi shrugged.  “I failed though.  You must have crazy good hearing.”

“My whole family does, despite the floppy ears”, Slider said.  “Part of being a Lab, I guess.”

Bodi eyed him as they walked.  “So you’re a Lab?”  He hadn’t entirely been sure what breed Slider was, but he always felt awkward asking dogs that if he wasn’t sure.

Slider nodded.  “Yeah.  I know, the white coat throws people off.”  He grinned.  “The eyebrows too.  Though as far as I can tell, that’s a family-specific development.  Never met another Lab with ‘em.”  Bodi watched as he took a good look at him, causing him to once more be incredibly thankful for his coat covering his blush.  “What type of dog are you?  If you don’t mind my asking.”

Bodi smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his hooded head with his paw.  “I don’t mind – it’s a good question, I throw lots of people off.  I’m a Tibetan Mastiff, actually.”

Slider looked surprised.  “Really?”

Bodi chuckled.  “Yeah, I know.  I’m weirdly small, and also not as, uh…”

“…Fluffy?”, Slider ventured.

“Yeah.  That.”  Bodi left out the fact that his being about half the size his dad was at his age was a source of some mild body image issues.  He was certainly in-shape, but he didn’t feel nearly as big as he should be, given his heritage.

“I don’t mind”, Slider said from off to his side, looking at him carefully.  “I think it’s cute.”

Bodi laughed awkwardly, more to do something other than stand there blabbering than anything else.  He never knew how to handle compliments.  “Ha ha, thanks.  I think you’re…”  Bodi knew ‘cute’ wasn’t the right word to describe Slider, but he wasn’t sure if ‘hot’ was a socially appropriate thing to casually call someone.  Five years ago, maybe he would’ve just ran his mouth and said it without hesitation, but now?

Slider chuckled.  “I get it, dude.  You don’t have to say anything.”  He stopped and looked at Bodi.  “We’re here, anyway.”

Bodi looked around, failing to see a house, a cabin, or even a lean-to.  “We are?”

“Yep”, Slider said with a smile.  “You’re looking in the wrong direction though.”  He put his paw on Bodi’s shoulder and gently turned him to face a small waterfall cascading down a sheer rock cliff face, feeding the river below.  Bodi was confused for a second, before he saw what looked like…

“You live in a cave behind a waterfall!?”

“…Maybe.”

“Dude!  That’s awesome!”  Bodi was practically bouncing on his heels.  “What are you waiting for?  Let’s go!”

Slider silently took Bodi’s paw in his own and led him down a narrow trail towards the waterfall.

Towards his home.

……….

Bodi just stood in place and turned in a circle for a little while, taking in Slider’s ‘pad’ (as he’d put it).

It was surprisingly well-furnished for being a cave.  There were two sturdy-looking wooden platforms built one ton top of the other that comprised two ‘floors’, each of them full of furniture that looked reclaimed from garage sales and flea markets.  The wooden structure was set maybe thirty feet back from the entrance, so there was lots of natural light coming in from beyond the waterfall – the light coming through the rushing water cast an aquatic illusion over the cavern, making it look like waves were playing over everything.

Slider must have had a generator, because Bodi was pretty sure they were off the electrical grid, yet there were bare incandescent lightbulbs on strings dangling crisscrossed over the structure, and it looked like there was a fully functional kitchen on the first ‘floor’.

“I know it’s a bit odd, but… it’s home”, Slider called from his position sitting on the first platform about six feet off the ground, legs dangling off the edge.

Bodi closed his eyes took a deep breath of the crystal-cool air, letting it out with a genuine smile.  He’d thrown back his hood when they entered just to feel the mist on his head.  “It isn’t odd.  It’s amazing.”  He cupped his paws around his muzzle and let out a bellow.

“Echo!”

To his delight, the sound of his voice rang back to him, bouncing off the corners of the cavern.  “Dude, the acoustics in here are top-notch too.”

Slider grinned.  “That they are.”  He stood up and gestured to the wooden staircase leading to the platform.  “Well come on, man.  Don’t be shy.”

Bodi felt anything but shy at the moment.  He jogged over to the stairs and practically bounded up them.  “This place reminds me of a treehouse my dad and I built when I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah?”  Slider opened the door to his refrigerator, and Bodi saw that, yes, it (along with everything else) was plugged into a generator off to the side, nestled behind some rocks to keep it protected from any wayward spray of the waterfall.

“Yeah.”  Bodi plopped himself down on one of the bean bag chairs in the center of the platform.  “Course, it fell apart a few months after we built it.  Turned out some of the locals were chewing the wooden struts keeping it up.”

Slider barked out a laugh.  “Well”, he said as he closed the fridge door, pawfuls of ingredients in his arms.  “We don’t have to worry about that here.  Not many people know about this place.”  He sat them down on a wooden counter to his side, one with a particularly bright cornucopia of bulbs hanging above it, presumably so he could more effectively see what he was doing while preparing food.

Bodi relaxed, putting his arms behind his head.  “Why not?”

He saw Slider shrug: the Lab was facing away from him over at the counter, and again Bodi found himself paying close attention to his shoulders – especially now that they’d passed under the waterfall, and Slider was wearing a somewhat wet, white tank top.  As his eyes trailed lower, he suddenly turned away, feeling guilty for staring.

“I like my privacy”, Bodi listened to him say, still determinedly facing the opposite direction.  “I like being around other animals, but I gotta keep some space for myself, you know?  Otherwise they’d be banging down my door all the time.”

Bodi laughed, thinking back to the time he’d proverbially ‘banged down’ Angus’ door – and shortly thereafter, the time when other animals started banging down his door.  “Oh man, do I get that”, he said without thinking.

“You do?”, Slider asked over his shoulder, Bodi seeing him turn to face him from the corner of his eye.

Oh crap, he thought.  “Yeah, I mean – doesn’t everyone?”, he attempted to save.  Poorly.

Slider just turned back to the counter with a smile and a shake of his head, letting the subject die.  Bodi let out a sigh of relief when he was sure the Lab wasn’t looking.

A few moments passed in silence before Slider finished with what he was doing, turning back to look at Bodi.  “Sorry, man.  I forgot to even ask: you cool with fish paella?  I make it with stuff I catch right here in the river.”

Bodi nodded.  “Yeah.  I mean, I don’t know what that is, but I like fish.”

Slider paused in his actions to stare at Bodi for a little bit, eyes lidded, curious expression on his face.  “You’ve never had paella?”

The Mastiff shook his head a little embarrassedly.  Despite his time in the city, he was still a village kid at heart – he always felt awkward when people talked about this piece of art, or that type of cuisine, not knowing what they were talking about and feeling like he should.

But Slider only smiled more brightly at his response.  “Well – guess we gotta change that, don’t we?”

……….

Bodi was on his second bowl.

He’d scarfed the first down in what he thought might be record time, and part of him wondered if he looked uncouth shoveling large spoonfuls of the dish into his gullet.  That part was beaten out by the part that liked tasty food, though.  He was a dog, and he’d eat like one, dammit.

Slider had his paw over his eyes, but Bodi saw his muzzle up-turned and open.  The Mastiff froze, wooden spoon half in his mouth.  “What?”, he asked through a mouthful of the paella.

The Lab let his paw drop, and his eyes were twinkling.  “Glad you like my food, man – but damn are you a messy eater.”

Bodi felt the blush rise on his face, and he deliberately swallowed before responding.  “It tastes good.”

Slider gave up any pretense of holding in his peal of laughter any longer at that, and Bodi felt his ears droop out of a combination of embarrassment and annoyance.  He’d managed to screw it up, again.  “…I’m sorry for being a mess”, he said quietly, artfully not looking at the meal’s maker.

“No, dude – look at me, man.”

He rose his muzzle slowly to look at Slider.  He was smiling, but it didn’t look malicious.  “I wasn’t trying to beat up on you.  It’s flattering that you like it.”  He locked eyes with Bodi.  “Just don’t want you to give yourself a stomachache.”

The Mastiff tried to smile back.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just a bad habit I’ve never grown out of.  My dad always wanted me to eat as fast as possible, and I’m still in that mode, I guess.”

Slider shrugged.  “It’s cool, man.”  He took a bite of his own dish, a much more reserved one than any of Bodi’s.  “Why’d your old man have you do that, though?”, he asked after swallowing.  “Seems like a weird way to teach table manners.”

Bodi chuckled a little as he shifted the food around with the wooden spoon.  “Well… My dad wasn’t trying to teach me how to be polite.  He was trying to teach me to be efficient.  Our family’s been military for generations.”

The Lab cocked his head suddenly, ears somewhat perked.  It was such a typically canine response that it made Bodi smile.  “No shit?  You don’t strike me as the type.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

Bodi stared at his plate.  “Nah, you’re right”, he said a little melancholily.  “I’m not – I never have been.  Plus I’m my dad’s only kid, and I’m…”  He trailed off and refused to meet Slider’s gaze, even though he could see the Lab trying to meet his own.  “…I wish my mom hadn’t died.”

The only sound in the cavern was that of the water cascading over the entrance, and Bodi realized he must have really stepped in.  Smooth move, he thought.  Nothing wins a guy over like talking about your daddy issues and dead mom.

He was still mentally beating himself up when he felt something warm and soft close around his paw.  He looked up to see Slider staring at him with a serious-yet-caring expression, his white paw grasping Bodi’s own.

“Hey”, the Lab said calmly.  “I get it, dude.”  He smiled a profoundly sad smile.  “Both of the parental units died when I was a pup.  My grandpa raised me.”

A surge of guilt shot through Bodi.  Here he was feeling bad for losing one parent when Slider… “I’m sorry”, he said.

Slider shook his head, his paw still holding Bodi’s.  “Don’t be, man.  Life is life.  It happens, and sometimes you just can’t do anything about it.”

They sat like that for a moment, paws entwined, the sound of rushing water filling their ears, the aquatic play of light making it look like they were underwater – feel like they were underwater.  Bodi felt himself being carried off by the undertow, the rough tide drawing him down into the depths, down into Slider’s dark coffee eyes.  He let himself be taken – let it carry him where it willed.

– And Bodi pulled his paw back, recoiling as if he’d been bitten.

Slider stared at him in surprise from his, and Bodi saw equal parts shock and sadness in his gaze.

“I… I’m sorry”, Bodi all but whispered.  “We can’t – I can’t…”

He shoved his chair back from the table and was standing within a second.  Fractions of thoughts and memories were flashing across his eyes, all of them colored by that awful need he still felt in the pit of his mind.  He couldn’t drag someone down into that vortex with him.  He wouldn’t.

“Bodi… what’s wrong?”

There was no judgment in Slider’s voice: only worry tapered by his natural serenity.  Bodi wished he could dive into that tranquility.  He wanted Slider to hold him, encompass him, keep him safe from the threats that bubbled up from deep within him.  He wanted…

Wait.

His too-fast-moving thoughts came to a halt in an instant.

“…What did you call me?”, he asked quietly enough to be almost a whisper.

Slider froze and looked at him evenly for a moment.  Bodi felt like they were both floating, suspended in a state of check.  The Lab broke the stalemate when he let out a breath through his nose.  Bodi could feel the heat of it from his position standing across from him.

“Bodi”, Slider said.  “I called you ‘Bodi’, because that’s your name.”

Bodi’s paws shook from their position at his sides.

“…How long have you known?”, he asked with a stillness he didn’t feel.

Slider looked at him with an inscrutable expression.  “Ever since we met.”

A nauseatingly warm feeling of something bubbled within Bodi, and it took him a solid ten seconds to identity it for what it was.

Betrayal.

He walked away from the table in a haze, Slider calling out for him.

“Bodi?  Don’t you want to talk about this?  Bodi!”

He was running now, running as fast as he ever had been.  He broke through the veil of the waterfall and out into the forest colored crimson by the setting sun beyond.  Down the paths that would lead him to home.

Except they wouldn’t lead him home, because that house wasn’t home.  This town wasn’t home.  The city wasn’t home.  His village wasn’t even home anymore, not after his dad, after the argument.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the tears trail down his muzzle, as sure as the waterfall that acted as Slider’s door.

He ran into the woods, unsure of his destination.

Unsure if he even had one.

Chapter Text

III

Bodi took a deep breath.

He could hear the crowd through the thin curtain separating the backstage from the front: a chorus of a thousand-odd animals, their conversations and sounds fusing together into one singular noise which Bodi simply classified as ‘audience’.  ‘Audience’ was equally as distinct of a sound as ‘mountain’, or ‘village’.  Bodi was good at picking out not just individual patterns of noise, but also realizing how the seemingly disparate sounds of places coalesced into greater pieces of diegetic music that formed the soundtrack of his life.

The piece filed away in his mind as ‘audience’ was always a bit of a nerve-wracking one.  It was a movement that spoke of excitement and anxiety – that feeling of something about to happen, the precipice of a major event.  It infected Bodi, and made him equally as enthusiastic and on edge as the audience he was about to play for.

He felt a gentle slap on his back.

“Hey”, Dharma said with a smile, anticipation writ large in her eyes.  “You ready?”

Bodi put on a smile of his own.  “Am I ever not?”, he asked snarkily, earning a giggle from the vixen.  He thought some of Angus’ demeanor was starting to rub off on him.

“Alright, alright, you nonces – cut the chatter and get ready to rock!”

‘Speak of the devil and he shall appear’, Bodi thought as the feline swaggered towards them, guitar already well in-hand, wearing his trademark sunglasses and slimming black turtleneck on an already too-thin body.

They took their places, and the curtain began to rise.  The sound of a thousand animals cheering in anticipation met Bodi’s ears as the four of them were exposed.  Though the stage was still dark, and Bodi thought very few in the audience could see them yet, he felt profoundly bare in front of all those people – he always did.

Germur began a drumroll on his kit, synchronized perfectly with a show of spotlights that circled the stage, revealing glimpses of the band to the audience beyond.  Bodi always found this introduction a little obnoxious, but Angus swore up-and-down that it was the best way to get people excited, build up their expectation before launching right into a song.  Bodi couldn’t disagree with that assessment – he could practically feel the audience shaking in their seats.

Dharma’s bass guitar laid down a smooth, almost funky beat on top of Germur’s now more distinct drumline rhythm – and as Angus launched into a full-wheel strike of a chord on his guitar, eliciting a raucous shout from the crowd, Bodi knew it was time.

He began a riff on his own guitar – he started doing that a few shows ago.  It got boring just playing their material the same way, so he liked to shake it up.  Angus was initially wary of doing that (‘we have to maintain a consistent product!’, he’d told Bodi), but it turned out the crowd responded really well to the riffs.  They added a jazz-like, improvisational quality to their concerts: one that made each show unique, and therefore worthy of checking out.

Bodi felt the energy begin to build from within as the riff increased in complexity and nuance – he felt it trace down the length of his arm, down into his paws, into the instrument itself, and –

– He let it out: a shockwave of cyan energy bursting forth from his arm, let loose over the crowd, earning cheers and sounds of awe.

This was the other reason Angus had agreed to the riffs – it was easier for Bodi to do this when he truly felt the music, and it was easier to feel the music when he let it flow free.

And you couldn’t deny that it was a damn good way to start a rock concert.

“How’re you guys doing out there?”, Bodi asked as he leaned into the microphone, earning the largest cheer yet.  He could see Dharma smiling from off to his side.  “You ready for some music?”

The crowd started chanting, Yes, Yes, Yes!

Bodi laughed and launched into the first song of their set, his band following right behind him.

Life was good.

……….

Bodi’s eyes opened to a slowly rotating ceiling fan over his head.  He was sprawled out on his bed, still wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he we went with –

No.

He wasn’t going to think about that.

What he needed to think about was how to get out of here as quickly and discreetly as possible.

He started forming a mental checklist in his mind: food, supplies, train tickets, packing his goods, flipping the house.  He put his paws over his eyes and groaned.  He’d just begun to properly settle in here, and it was the first place he’d stayed that he actually liked.  He liked his morning runs through the woods.  He liked playing incognito at The Roost.  He liked his conversations with Brewster.  He liked being with –

He rubbed his paws down his muzzle, dragging the bottoms of his eyelids with them.  He sighed deeply through his nose.

He knew it was going to be a long day.

……….

“Well, I’d say that was another rousing success!”

Angus lifted his glass to the assembled group of his bandmates and the stage crew.  Bodi lifted his own to meet the toast, and swallowed all of its contents in one go.  The drink burned its way down this throat.

Dharma frowned at him as he reached for the bottle, eager for a refill.  “Trying to get blackout drunk already, then?”  He could practically feel the disapproval in her voice, but he laughed it off.

“Is there ever a better way to be?”, he responded, earning laughs from Angus and Germur, along with some of the stagehands.

“Come on, Dharma”, the feline himself spoke up, putting his arm around her shoulder.  “Let the boy live a little!  There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of your labors.  And I must say, this is a bountiful harvest.”

Bodi slammed his glass into Germur’s before downing it all again and reaching for another refill.  He got another round of laughs, but he couldn’t ignore the concern in Dharma’s eyes.

What did she know, though?  Angus was right.  He deserved this.  He deserved everything he got.  Every angry, disappointed comment from his father; every new tabloid article invading his privacy and loudly proclaiming his latest fuck-up to the world; the stagehands whispering about him behind his back and laughing at him.

He deserved it all.

And he took it with a smile.

……….

The Mastiff trudged his way down the shallow staircase, newly showered and dried.  Not that it’d done anything to change his state of mind – the days when standing under a steady stream of hot water were enough to relieve his anxieties were long, long gone.

He made himself a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, managing to somehow burn both.  It didn’t matter though – he barely registered the taste as it went down his gullet anyway.  The eggs and toast had nothing on the subtle spices of river-fish paella.

Thinking about that swiftly turned his lack of taste into actively bad taste, and he spit the food out, aggressively throwing the rest of it in the trashcan.  Then he realized he had to add trash duty and cleaning the house to his already growing list of necessary duties before he ditched this place, and he actually growled.

He put on his running shoes a little more violently than usual and stomped over to the door, keen on trying to physically run away his problems in a mess of sweat and dopamine.

But when he opened the door, he found something tucked in halfway under it.

An envelope with no address, no stamp, no details.  Only one word written on the front: a name.

Bodi.

……….

He was exhausted.  No sooner did one show end than another began.

And it wasn’t just the shows – it was the press junkets, the photo shoots, the record company meetings, the songwriting sessions, the fans.  It was all starting to take its toll on Bodi.  He was just a village boy at the end of the day: he wasn’t ready for this.  Wasn’t built for this.  It was overwhelming.

He was on his sixth cup of coffee in the last few hours, along with his second shot of vodka.  He needed the extra caffeine to balance out the haziness brought on by the alcohol.

Despite that, the Mastiff still found himself dazing during this latest prep session.  Dharma and Germur were both practicing together, and Angus had been speaking to him for the last several minutes – though damn if he could remember a single thing the cat had said.

“Bodi, are you even listening?”, he finally asked, waving his paw in front of his face.

“No”, Bodi responded honestly.

Angus groaned exaggeratedly, and Bodi couldn’t help but smile a very tired smile.  “Sorry, man.  I’ve been a little…”

“Out of it”, Angus finished for him.  “And not ‘a little’, by any stretch of the imagination.  You’ve been getting worse.”  The cat grimaced at his own choice of words as soon as they’d left his muzzle, but it was already too late.  “…Look, I didn’t mean that –”

“Yes you did”, Bodi said with a sigh.  “And you’re right.  I have been really out of it.”  The Mastiff put his head in his paws and made an irritated noise.  “It’s just… so much.  Too much.  It feels like I can’t keep up.”

Bodi felt Angus reach for his shoulder and pull back – the feline was pretty bad at handling emotional situations.  “Don’t worry.  The rock’n’roll life is like… swimming, or something.  You just – you jump right in, and sink or swim.  Wait, no, that’s a terrible analogy.”

Bodi chuckled.  “It’s okay – I get what you mean.”  He lifted his head from his paws, watching his bandmates play.  “I’ve just got to find something to keep me from sinking.”

……….

His paws shook as he held the envelope.  He was struck by the sudden desire to tear it open, lay its contents bare to the world.

But he couldn’t do it.

He put it down on his kitchen table gently, like someone might lay down a sleeping infant, and left his house behind.  He needed to escape.  He always needed to escape.

Bodi left the letter behind as he began to run.  But no matter how fast or hard he pushed himself, he couldn’t escape his past.

……….

Bodi let himself be pinned against the wall by the full weight of the Husky; let the unfamiliar dog’s paws wander where they willed.  He gasped as he felt them trail up under his shirt, cupping his head, under his belt, and –

He moaned softly as the canine gently laid his teeth against his neck, pressing with a soft, urgent need, trailing lingering kisses across his collarbone.

A deep chuckle rung out from somewhere off to his left.  “Jeez, couldn’t even wait for me to get ready?”

Bodi turned away from the Husky with lidded eyes as the horse approached.  He towered over the two of them, and his tight clothes left little to the imagination.  The equine took up position behind Bodi, and he suddenly found himself caught between two very eager, very fit, very attractive animals – both intent on having a very good time.  And he was struck by something, suddenly taken out of the moment:

He didn’t know either of their names.

His sudden clarity was submerged as the horse pressed himself against Bodi from behind, and the Mastiff groaned greedily in response.

Bodi let himself be carried off, and the next half-hour went by in a haze of primal needs and urges.  He felt like a bystander in his own body, letting it do what it wanted without his input.  His desire had overridden everything else.

By the time they were done, the Husky was asleep, Bodi curled into the crook of his shoulder, enjoying the sensation of fur against fur.  He heard the horse doing something at the table over there – curious, he extracted himself from the sleeping canine to find out what.

The equine was sitting there, naked as the rest of them, meticulously laying out lines of white powder on the table.

Bodi might be a village boy, but he wasn’t an idiot.  He knew exactly what the horse was doing.

And despite this, he sat down with him.

The horse asked him if he wanted to join in, assuming he was familiar with the activity.  And why shouldn’t he be?  Bodi’d already built up a bit of a reputation around town: the equine probably assumed anyone with as many stories of sex and alcohol-driven antics in circulation as Bodi the Rock Dog was probably used to this too.

He was wrong on that count, Bodi thought.

But not for much longer.

……….

He’d been running for over an hour, and he hadn’t stopped once.  Not to catch his breath, not to take a drink and cool off, not even to relieve the pain wracking his body by the extended period of hard use.

He almost savored the agony – reveled in it.  This was a just punishment for all his misdeeds and failures, and it was only poetic that he’d be the one to carry out the sentence on himself.

What time even was it?  He’d woken up later than he usually did to begin with, and he couldn’t figure it out by the position of the sun, the trees hiding everything from view.  He wasn’t even running on his usual path – he was lost, and he knew it.

Good, he thought.

……….

“I’m putting an end to this, one way or another!”

“Khampa, listen to me.  He needs help, not judgment!”

“Bah!  What do you know!?”

Bodi was sitting on his bed – his old bed, back in his old room – head nestled between his knees.  He listened to the argument between Dharma and his dad unfold in the kicthen below him through the too-thin floor.  Angus was surprisingly quiet.  It was usually a struggle to get the cat to shut up, but he must have been sufficiently shaken by it all.

And it’s all thanks to me, Bodi thought.

I did this.

“Please, you have to hear me out”, the vulpine pleaded.  “Bodi has a problem, and he needs professionals to help him fix it.  Keeping up cooped up in this house will only make things worse!”

The sound of his father’s paws landing on the table rung out through the house.  Bodi could imagine him clear as day, leaning over it, staring Dharma down.  “The Mastiff Clan has been through far worse storms than this, and we always come out stronger on the other side!”  There was a pause, punctuated by his father’s heavy breathing.  “Besides, if you hadn’t introduced him to your… city life–”

“Now hold on a damn second there”, Angus finally spoke up.  “We had nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, really?”, his father said too-sweetly.  “You had nothing to do with my son becoming a drunkard?  My son becoming a faggot?  My son becoming a gods-damned junkie!?”  There was the crashing sound of paws again.  “I don’t give a damn what you think you did or did not have anything to do with – you were the one who drew him to the city.  You were the one who exposed him to its underbelly.”

The room stayed silent for a solid ten seconds before Angus broke it with a sound of pure exasperation.  “Perhaps it’s true.  Now, wait, Dharma”, he said, presumably cutting her off before she had a chance to jump in.  “Khampa is right, to an extent.  Bodi wouldn’t have had the… opportunities… he had, if he’d stayed behind in this charming little village – for good or ill.  At least as far as the alcohol and drugs go, anyway; you can hardly blame us for your son’s sexual preference.”

“Bullshit!  It all goes hand-in-hand.  Bodi’s always had a wild streak.  He’s always tended towards acting on impulse, and emotion.  You gave him the means to act on–”

“Okay, no, fuck this!”, Dharma yelled.  Bodi had never heard her raise her voice before.  He’d never heard her swear so severely before.  “Your son – my friend – needs fucking medical attention, and you’re holding him fucking hostage!”

Bodi’s legs acted of their own accord, standing up from the bed and heading towards the door.

“I’m keeping him here for his own good!  He needs to purify his body, mind, and soul.  The Mastiff Clan will persevere – it always has!”

He opened the door quietly and padded towards the stairs.

“The ‘Mastiff Clan’ might die if you don’t get him the help he needs!”

He walked down the stairs, turned the corner, and entered the kitchen.

“The Mastiff Clan will die if you take him away from here!”

“Dad.”

All three of them turned to look at him in surprise.  He’d barely left his room all day, and he hadn’t seen Angus and Dharma in almost a week.

“Bodi”, his father said calmly.  “You should go back upstairs.  You need to rest.”

“Let him speak for himself!”, Dharma snapped.

“Can we be reasonable about this?”, Angus asked cautiously, pulling at the collar of his turtleneck.

Bodi felt like he was split in two.  The pain was unbearable, but he knew what needed to be done.

“…Dad…”, he said gently.  “I need help.”

His father’s paws quaked as they gripped the edge of the table.  “I am helping you.”

Bodi shook his head.  “No, dad.  You’re hurting me.”

The sheer suffering in his father’s eyes was impossible to look at for more than a second.  “Bodi… you can’t leave.  You can’t.  These people”, he gestured to his bandmates.  “They’re guiding you down a road that leads nowhere.”  His father’s paws quaked.  “…A road that leads to death.  Not just yours, but of the whole Clan’s.  Our family.”

Bodi’s own paws shook.  He knew what his father meant.  To him, it was all one thing: Bodi’s impulsivity, his dangerous tendencies, his desires.  “Dad.”

Khampa shook his head.  “Bodi, if you leave with these people…”  The older Mastiff swallowed, a look of pure terror writ large on his face.  “You won’t be my son anymore.”

……….

Bodi collapsed face-first onto the ground, completely depleted of energy.  The pungent scent of forest soil filled his nostrils as he breathed deeply, gasping in pain.  Every muscle in his body was pushed far beyond its breaking point – he felt pain in places he didn’t know existed.

He struggled to lift himself off the ground, turning his face skyward in a daze.  It looked like it was late afternoon based on the cast of the light.  Beads of sweat ran down his brow and obscured his vision behind a veil of water.

He rolled over onto his back and just stared at the canopy for a few minutes, allowing himself a temporary respite.  He could hear the babble of a stream nearby, and he was suddenly filled with a profound thirst.

The sound of the rolling water increased in magnitude as he slowly trudged his way towards it, every step sending shooting pains up the back of his thighs.  He broke through a portion of the brush and found the stream – running alongside a clearing with a single, towering apple tree dominating his field of vision.

He began to laugh.

He was glad no one was around – they’d probably think he was in the middle of a full-on mental breakdown.

And the thing was, they might have been right.

Bodi all but fell onto his knees at the water’s edge, and dunked his entire head beneath the surface.  He held it there, under the water, gulping it down like a desperate wanderer happening upon an oasis in the middle of a desert.  He threw his head back out when he had his fill, gasping for air all the while.

But damn it all, the water felt good.  Heedless of the potential ramifications – careless, even – he stripped down to nothing and dived into the cool, clear river, letting its ebb and flow roll over and around him.

He realized that, if he followed it upstream to its source, it must ultimately lead to the waterfall, and the cavern beyond.  He was tempted to try for it right now: swim all the way, consequences be damned.  He would’ve done something like that as recently as a year ago.

But he wasn’t that man anymore.

He returned to the bank and lifted himself out of the water, his body rolling in the dirt, mud and reeds along the way.  He shook himself to dry off at least a little bit before putting his clothes back on.

There was one last thing to do here.  He reached for a ripe, low-hanging apple on a branch just a foot over his head, and plucked it.  He took a bite, and the sweetness of its juice felt like a starburst on his tongue.

He stood there in silence, fur sopping wet, clothes covered in mud, muzzle a mess of apple bits and juice.

He didn’t know what to classify this emotion he was feeling as, not having felt anything like it before.  It was like he was born anew, baptized by the mud of a riverbank, anointed by apple juice.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, he turned towards a more familiar trail and began the journey back to his house.

……….

Hey, Bodi.

I hope you’re doing well!  In fact, I know you are, because you’re one of a kind.  You know that?

We all miss you – yes, even Angus, though he’d never say so out loud.  We can’t wait for you to come back, but please don’t feel rushed, even though I know you probably do!  Health is something that can’t be hurried along, you know?  I know you’ll make a full recovery.  We all do.

So hang in there, alright?  It’ll all work out in the end.

Love,

Dharma

……….

Bodi’s paw was surprisingly steady as he reached out for the envelope bearing his name.  Something inside him had changed back there in the river, if only a little bit.  He wasn’t afraid anymore.

He methodically opened it and withdrew the letter inside, reminding him of all the letters he’d received from his friends and fans back when he was in rehab: the letters whose wishes he’d ignored when he ran away after the temptation to fall back into his habits resurfaced.  When he was faced with the choice between fighting and fleeing, he’d ultimately chosen the latter.

He read the contents of the letter, and reread them, and continued to reread them over and over again.

Another choice was now presenting itself to him: another nexus of options with widespread ramifications on his life.  Would he bolt again?  Or would he face it head-on this time?  The decision was so essential it froze him in place.

But not acting wasn’t an option; or rather, it was tantamount to running away.  No, he had to decide this time.  No more running, no more fleeing, no more procrastinating.

He took a deep breath and walked back outside, ignoring his hunger and exhaustion, and headed for The Roost.

……….

Bodi,

I know I’m probably the last guy you want to hear from right now, but I gotta get this off my chest.  I’m sorry for freaking you out back at my place – I should’ve just told you from the get-go.  But I had my own reasons for not saying anything, even though that probably doesn’t justify it.

This is probably a longshot, but can we talk about this?  Obviously there’s no pressure on your part, but I think it’d be a good thing for both of us.

On the off-chance you want to, I’ll be at The Roost tonight at around 6:00.

Good luck, and see you maybe,

KK

Chapter Text

IV

The white canine drummed the fingers of his paw against the counter, unconsciously forming a rhythm to a song lingering in a dusty corner of his mind.  He wasn’t sure if it was a tune he’d heard before or one he was making up right now as he sat here at The Roost, the lazy mid-afternoon sun coloring the room an amber shade.

“…Can I get you another refill, Slider?”

The Lab lifted his listless gaze to make eye contact with Brewster.  The bespectacled pigeon was methodically wiping down a glass, as per usual.  Slider suspected it was a nervous tick of his more than anything else – something to occupy his hands.

He shot the bartender a small grin.  “Sure.”

Sometimes Slider felt like a cheapskate, sitting here, taking up space that could be occupied by paying customers while not drinking anything other than free tap water with ice.  He wasn’t a coffee drinker, or a beer drinker, or even a tea drinker.  He subtly brought up this worry once, but Brewster shook his head and told him the amount of people he brought in on Saturday nights was so great that Slider could get free meals and drinks every day and still be a net profit-maker for The Roost.  He was the town’s sole star, as far as anyone was concerned.  The closest thing they had to a celebrity.

More than a few times Slider had been approached by record labels and talent agents, and more than a few times he’d strongly considered their offers.  But every time he took a day to think about it, his parents came to mind.

Or more specifically, his parents’ undoing came to mind.

The two of them were a pretty popular act twenty years ago: an out-of-place and out-of-time bona fide acoustic hippie duo living the authentic modern bard lifestyle, wandering from town to town with barely a cent to rub between their paws.  They were never legally married, but no one would dare consider them anything other than husband and wife.  Slider only had vague memories of his earliest childhood – snippets of memories, really.  His mom’s husky voice singing a lullaby, being lifted off the ground and spun around in the air by his dad.

They signed onto a label after busking in a city square one day and catching the eye of a producer walking down the street.  A total happenstance, really.

Slider didn’t learn until years later that, even when he was a small pup, his parents were recreational users of anything and everything under the sun.  When his pop-pop told him how they died, it made a lot more sense in retrospect.  They lived their lifestyle to its fullest extent, after all.  The halcyon image he’d built in his head of his life with them was shattered – and even though he’d slowly come to forgive them over the years, he still carried the lesson in his heart.

He knew it was an overreaction on his part to not sign on with a label.  Just because his parents fell into that world didn’t mean he would; especially when they were already somewhat into that scene even before signing on; and the most extreme thing Slider had ever done himself was smoke a few joints in high school, so it was hardly like he was in any danger of falling into a drug habit.

But it was the principle of the thing.  He didn’t like the idea of something as essentially free as his music being sold as a commodity.  He didn’t like the idea of being saddled to the whims of a group of suits who wouldn’t know art if it hit them in the face.  And he especially didn’t like the idea of signing his soul away to the same world that played such a large role in his parents’ deaths.

He wondered how much all of this sordid history played into his… whatever it was he had with Bodi.  He could hardly call it a friendship, or even an acquaintanceship.  He thought he felt a spark between them, and his stomach did a little backflip every time he caught the uncharacteristically small Mastiff looking at him when he thought Slider didn’t notice.

But what even was that, in the end?  Not much, when you got down to it.

And then he’d gone and blown it all – blown it from the get-go, really, pretending he didn’t know who Bodi was when the Mastiff stumbled on him playing in the grove; pretending he didn’t know when he saw him playing at The Roost, hiding away from the world under a hood.

Slider might be a beatnik who lived at the literal edge of society, but he knew everything there was to know about the music scene.  He recognized the Rock Dog the instant he saw him on that stage.  He never told anyone, though.  Why would he?  It was obvious Bodi eloped for personal reasons – it was hardly his place to snitch on him.

He never expected to actually talk to him, though.  Nor did he expect to be as almost magnetically drawn to him as he was.

Brewster sat another glass of water in front of him, and Slider nodded his thanks.  He took a careful sip, willing the cool drink to maybe cool off his boiling thoughts.

No such luck though.

He took a deep breath and looked at the rustic, old clock hanging on the wall behind the counter – it read 5:45.  He had another fifteen minutes of this interminable waiting before Bodi either arrived, or didn’t.  It was a very clear, very concise coin-flip, and Slider knew the latter would be the wiser choice for the Mastiff.  Why would anyone want to see him again after the stunt he pulled?  Bodi was obviously on the run from something: probably himself, if Slider had to guess.  Taking the time to meet with a liar when his ‘cover’ was blown wouldn’t be the right decision if he was still intent on running away.

But Slider dared to hope.

What else could a dog like him do, anyway?

……….

Bodi eyed the front door of The Roost warily from across the street, paws firmly entrenched in the front jacket of his hoodie, playing with a guitar pick he had stashed in there.

He’d walked here with a sense of absolute conviction; but now that he was here, he felt his fortitude slip somewhat.  Was he really making the right decision?  Was he even thinking at all?

It didn’t feel like it.

No: what it felt like was that he was giving into his emotional desires, letting his resolve take him where it willed, heedless of any potential outcomes.  He was worried walking in there would be no different from admitting failure – that, no, he really couldn’t resist his impulses.

But on another level, something about this felt different, somehow.  He’d spent so long shoving down his almost childish desires that he’d forgotten how to live.  Diving into the river by the apple tree was a moment of such unrefined, unfiltered vitality that he felt… he didn’t even know what he felt, couldn’t put it into words.  It was like he was broken apart and put back together again at the same time.

It felt like he was on the verge of an epiphany, the taste of it hanging just at the edge of his tongue.  It was in the crisp air all around him, in the amber evening sun glowing warmly over the treetops and cobblestone paths.  In the excitement of the small throngs of animals preparing to entertain themselves this Friday night.

In his heart, when he thought about talking things over with Slider.

His paws tightened.  He’d made one dive today – it was time to take another.  He crossed the road, opened the door, and plunged inside, prepared to let the current take him.

The interior of The Roost looked like it always did.  There was a certain timeless quality to the establishment; as if someone plucked it from another, more permanent world and set it here.  It transcended nostalgia and morphed into something more powerful, as if the ephemera of a bygone decade was made tangible.

Bodi waded his way into that wistful world, and accidentally made eye contact with a familiar white canine seated at the counter.  The Lab’s ears perked as much as they could (considering their floppiness), and the surprise written on his face slowly grew into a serene happiness, his smile practically glowing.  Looking at it made Bodi’s heart beat faster.

The Mastiff gingerly sat on a stool to Slider’s right, though he didn’t look at him while he did so, his hood obscuring the outside world from view.

“…I didn’t think you’d show up”, Slider said quietly, tenderly, as if Bodi was a butterfly perched on a leaf that he’d chase away by making any sudden movements.

Bodi didn’t respond for a moment, trying to stabilize his own thoughts.  “Honestly, I didn’t think I would either.”  He was met with a chuckle at that, and he couldn’t stop the smile growing on his muzzle, though he knew no one could see it.

Bodi could see Slider turn to face him from the corner of his eye.  “Do you want to go for a walk?”, the Lab asked – and though his words were calm, controlled, Bodi could feel the need radiating from Slider’s body language.  He was trying to play it cool, but it was obvious the white canine wanted to talk, and it didn’t look like he wanted to do it here.

So he turned to look at the guitarist himself, letting him see his expression within the shadow of the hood.

“Yeah”, Bodi all but whispered.

……….

They said nothing as they walked along the small trail leading out from town, side-by-side with one another.  But the relaxed silence was a deceit – Bodi’s mind was thrumming with a thousand questions, a thousand worries.  He was waiting for Slider to take the initiative though; he was the one who’d invited him out, after all.

The Lab was seemingly doing everything in his power to wait him how, however.  Bodi couldn’t place him: was he procrastinating explaining himself because it was uncomfortable?  Trying to rile Bodi up into making the first move?

These questions piled up on top of the ones already there, forming a buzzing, impatient mound of anxiety.  Bodi felt his paws tighten their grip around themselves in the front pocket of his hoodie.

All of a sudden, Slider stopped at a park bench a fair ways from civilization – though oddly, there was a streetlamp right next to it, despite apparently being in the middle of nowhere.  He looked at Bodi with an apologetic expression.  “I didn’t want to talk to you without seeing your face”, he explained quietly.  “And I knew you wouldn’t be comfortable dropping your hood with people around.”  He gestured broadly to the bench with his paw.

Bodi tentatively lowered his hood and sat on the bench, Slider taking position right next to him.  They continued to remain in silence like that for another moment before Slider sighed.

“Guess I should try and explain myself, huh?”  The Lab rubbed the back of his head with his paw.  Bodi paused for a beat and nodded.

“Well”, Slider began, leaning forward and laying his arms atop his legs, not looking at Bodi.  “I knew it was you the first time I saw you play.  Couldn’t not know, being a music guy myself, you know?”  He shrugged slightly.  “Didn’t want to say anything though – I’ve heard the stories, how you hit a rough patch, went on the run.  I respected that, in a way, I guess.”

He lifted his head, still staring forward, and Bodi wasn’t sure what to make of the look in his eyes.  “Then you bumped into me playing at my secret spot, and I guess… I don’t know.  You seemed cool, wanted to talk with you.  Didn’t want to freak you out.”  He chuckled a little darkly.  “Struck out on that count, obviously.”

Bodi listened intently as Slider nervously chewed on his lip.  “…I guess I was a little scared for you too, and thought… I don’t know.  Maybe you needed a friend.  Or something.”  He rubbed his nose.

“…You don’t need to be scared for me”, Bodi said at last, surprised at how calm he sounded.  “And you were right.  I did need a friend.”  The Mastiff slowly, carefully, laid his paw on Slider’s shoulder.  He felt the Lab’s muscles tense at the contact, but when Slider turned to face him, his smile was genuine – as clear as the sky above them.

Bodi huffed.  “I should apologize, too.”

“No, man –”

“Yes”, Bodi cut him off.  “I shouldn’t have run off on you like that.  It probably freaked you out, made you worried.”  Something hit him then, and he started shaking.  “…I’ve probably made a lot of people worried…”

He tried to stay silent as the tears started to trail down his face, but he couldn’t hold back a stray sniffle.  Damn, he thought.  I’m a mess.

Slider heard him, and his too-dark eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Hey, hey, hey”, he said, putting his arm around Bodi’s shoulder.  “It’s alright, man.”

And that was the end of that.  Bodi couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He started to cry, earnestly cry.  He held onto Slider like a drowning man held onto a life preserver, his body wracked by successive waves of sorrow, and hope, and self-pity, and the desire to do more.

They stayed locked in a tearful half-embrace for a good five minutes, he guessed.  As the tears subsided, he started laughing awkwardly.  “God, I’m so, so sorry for that”, he said with warbling traces of both sadness and humor in his voice.

Slider chuckled and hold him to his side even tighter than before.  “No way, man.  You never have to apologize for letting your emotions out.”

Bodi turned and locked gazes with him.  He felt himself start to sink into the Lab’s coffee-colored eyes, the gentle expression on his face, the firmness of his body against his own.  And when Slider smiled at him, he came to a sudden realization.

Oh no, he realized.  I’m falling in love with him.

……….

Bodi held the phone in his paw, staring at it intently like it might bite him.

It wasn’t a nice phone by any means; just an old-school flip phone he’d bought at the corner store for a miniscule sum.  He’d tossed his old one into the sea months ago, right after he initially embarked on this wayward adventure of his.  He didn’t need his old phone to look up the number he wanted to dial though – the digits were emblazoned in his mind.

It was just a matter of committing to calling them.

He and Slider parted ways a little over an hour ago, agreeing to meet each other again tomorrow evening, when the Lab would be playing his Saturday set at The Roost.  Their conversation spurred something in Bodi – made him reappraise some of his recent decisions.  When he ran away, it was with the genuine intent of sparing his friends the pain of watching him relapse.  But now, in retrospect, he was beginning to think he might have misjudged the whole situation.

His paw shook as he stared at the crappy phone, its ugly periwinkle-colored casing taunting him.  He flipped it open and entered the number, intent on getting this over with before he had a chance to think about what he was doing and chicken out.

He swallowed nervously as he heard the dial tone against his ear.

One ring.

Maybe she wouldn’t answer, seeing as she wouldn’t recognize the number.

Then another.

That might be for the best actually; he wasn’t even entirely sure what he wanted to say, anyway.

Then one more.

He wanted her to pick up, and he also wanted her to not pick up.

A click.

“…Hello?”, Dharma asked a little confusedly.  “Who is this?”

Bodi swallowed again and rubbed his free paw against his jeans.  “Uh… hey, Dharma.”  He cringed at how meek he sounded.

“…Bodi?  Oh… oh my God, Bodi, is that you!?”  Her voice sounded desperate, and Bodi immediately felt guilty.

“Yeah”, he said, fighting back the emotion from showing in his voice and failing.  “It’s me.”

The line stayed silent for a moment, though he thought he could hear deep breathing on the other end.  “Bodi – are you okay?  Are you safe?”

He forced his eyes shut to stop any moisture from coalescing.  She didn’t ask where he was, because of course she wouldn’t, she knew he didn’t want to be found.  She just wanted to make sure he was fine.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’m – I’m good.  Clean.  I’m in a small town way out in the country.”

She let out a sigh of relief.  “Bodi… I’m so happy to hear that.  To hear you.  When you left, we thought… We thought you were in danger.”  She laughed a little.  “I am so fucking angry with you, don’t kid yourself for a second, but I’m also relieved.”

He chuckled nervously.  “Yeah… I’m sorry.”

“Bodi”, she cut him off.  “We thought you went off the deep end.  We thought you might have died.”  A surge of guilt so potent it felt like he’d been shanked in the chest rolled through him.  He could hear her voice trembling.  “Angus held a fucking unofficial funeral for you a month ago.  He was a sobbing, drunk mess by the end of it.”

“Dharma”, he could barely form words.  “I’m so, so sorry.”

She let out a deep breath.  “I know.  And I’ll forgive you.  Eventually.”  She paused again.  “…Why did you do it, anyway?”

His paw shook around the phone, memories of white lines clear in his vision.  “I… Every time we played, and hung out with people, there was always someone around us who dealt…”  He trailed off, trying to find his words.  “I was scared – I thought I was going to… you know.  Again.”

“Oh, Bodi…”

“I had to get away.  I didn’t want to put you through that.  I just… had to find a way to fight it.”

“Bodi…”, she said gently.  “You could have told us.  We would’ve never, ever judged you.  We could’ve helped you.”

He couldn’t do anything to stop the tears trailing down his muzzle, but he was smiling.  “I know that now.  I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.”

“You bet you are”, she chuckled.  “…Will you be coming back soon?”

He threw himself back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.  “…Yeah.  Yeah, I will.”  And he meant it.  “But not yet.  I have some stuff to do out here first.”

She laughed lightly again.  “Got yourself involved with the locals?”

He grinned into the receiver.  “Yep.”

She sighed again, and he thought it sounded friendlier this time.  “Oh, Bodi.  What are we going to do with you?  I’m going to tell Angus and Germur about this, you know.  Angus is going to be so pissed with you – you can’t even imagine.”

He grimaced.  “Unfortunately, I can.  Tell them I’m sorry, and that I’ll be back soon.”

“I will”, she said resolutely.  “Take care, Bodi – and come back to us, you hear?”

He nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see.  “I will.  I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

And with that, she hung up, and a massive weight was lifted from his conscience.  He stretched his body out and felt deeply, truly relaxed.

……….

A pair of young tanukis sat together in the backroom of their father’s store, talking over their recent discovery.

“Are you sure it was him?”, one of them asked, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

“Yes!”, the other responded emphatically.  “Look – here he is on the security camera”, he said as he pointed out the frozen image of a hooded canine who’d popped into the store earlier to buy a phone – one from where his face was actually visible.  “And here’s a photo of him off the Internet.”

The disbelieving sibling looked at the two photos side-by-side, and had to admit there was a remarkable similarity.  “Okay, so it might be him.”  He shrugged.  “What are we supposed to do about it?”

The more excited of the pair was practically bouncing in his seat.  “We tell the police, of course!  That’s what the newscaster said to do.  Maybe there’ll even be a reward!”

The skeptical brother hummed in thought.  “…Dad would be really proud of us if we brought in a big pile of reward money…”

“Exactly!”  The excited tanuki started dialing emergency services.  “This is so cool – it’s like we’re in one of those police shows!”

“Don’t say that”, the other brother shook his head.  “I hate those types of shows.”

Chapter Text

V

The cool air against his fur brought out something different in Bodi this morning.  All of his dawn runs through this sleepy little town so far had been renditions of his escape in miniature – an almost ritualistic sort of reprisal of his own running away.

But now, it felt like he was doing it because he wanted to feel alive.  Every reflexive breath pumped into his lungs and through his body was a testament to his being here and now.  It felt similar to his experience in the river by the clearing two days ago – like he was rebuilding himself anew with every step, brick by brick.

He launched himself through the wooded paths, reveling in the feeling of the wind against his face, the sensation of moss and gravel beneath his feet, the sights, sounds and smells of the forest wreathed around him.  He took a break at a rocky outcrop just to breathe deeply of the air and let it flow through him.  The rich scent of soil mixed with tumbling leaves filled his nostrils.  He noticed a golden hue starting to take root in the canopy.  Autumn was properly, finally setting in.

Fall was a strange season for Bodi.  It was the season his mother had died, back when he was a small pup.  There was always a sense of lingering melancholy to the air – or at least it felt that way to him.  The denizens of his home village believed it was the time of year when the wall between this world and the next grew thin.  He remembered days spent with his father at the foot of the tree which marked his mother’s grave, leaving offerings of her favorite food along with so many other of the villagers.

Maybe there was something strangely poetic about his coming back to life in such a season.  Or maybe not.  He didn’t have all the answers.

He started padding his way back to the house he temporarily called ‘home’, more relaxed about the idea than he once was.  It was funny: as soon as he was starting to get used to this place, he’d be leaving.  He still wasn’t sure what he was going to tell Slider.  Have a good life?  Let’s keep in touch?  Come with me!

He shook his head laughingly at that last one.  It was a tempting proposition, but their band already had two guitarists, and Angus was techy with even that high of a number.  Bodi shuddered to think what the feline would do if he brought a third along.

But Slider didn’t have to play with them to come with him, did he?  He could always do his own thing, Bodi supposed.

…But would he even want to come?  Even if, maybe, hopefully, the white Lab felt something for Bodi, he’d made such a solid life for himself here in this little town.  It would be beyond unfair for Bodi to try and uproot him from a place that loved him so much, wouldn’t it?

This complicated tableau of conflicting emotions was put to a temporary stop when Bodi caught a sniff of something on the air: a canine scent, coming from the direction of his house.  The nascent smile that was beginning to grow on his face fell when he realized it wasn’t Slider.  In fact, it wasn’t a familiar scent at all.

He tightened the hood around his head and skulked towards a shadowy section of the sidewalk that would deposit him catty-corner from his house, making sure to walk casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

When his house was within view, he tilted his head around the corner –

– To see several police dogs waiting outside, walkie-talkies in hand, some of them conversing with each other, hands on their hips.

Oh.

Someone found me.

He ruminated on the absolutely rotten luck of being spotted just as he was ready to move on himself.  The last thing he wanted to do was get the authorities involved with all of this.  He couldn’t believe they were still even looking for him after he let Dharma know he was okay.

Then again, she didn’t have any evidence of his being alright, and the state didn’t stop missing persons searches just because the missing person in question might have contacted someone – if they even knew he had.  Likelier than not she hadn’t said anything about it.

He retreated from his spot at the corner and started walking slowly in the opposite direction, picking up speed only when he was adamant that no one could see him.

There was only one place he could think to go.

……….

Walking along the narrow path to Slider’s home behind the waterfall was more difficult without someone to guide him.  Weirdly enough, it was more difficult than it had been when he’d last left this place, sprinting like a madman into the night.  Maybe there was a metaphor in there about how taking the plunge heedlessly was easier than overthinking it, but Bodi was too stressed to see if he could tease it out.

The veil of foaming water that split Slider’s world from the rest of it doused the Mastiff as he passed beneath it, sidling into the cavern, and it shocked him with how cold it was.  Fall really was setting in.

He emerged on the other side to find his quarry much faster and easier than he thought he would.  Slider was seated in the middle of the room, breathing heavily and every bit as wet as Bodi was.  The Mastiff fought the flush that was growing in his ears when he noticed Slider was shirtless.

The Lab opened one of his eyes and smiled.  “Thought that was you”, he said calmly before standing up and stretching.  Bodi was too surprised by the sudden appearance of Slider’s abs to decide if it was inappropriate to stare or not.  When the Lab caught him and chuckled, it snapped him back to reality.

“S-sorry.”

Slider waved his paw dismissively.  “Don’t worry about it – I get that a lot.”  He cocked his charcoal smudge eyebrows and shoved his paws into the pockets of his faded jeans.  “It’s a lot more flattering when the guy doing the ogling is cute, though.”

And now Bodi knew his ears were flushed, and was profoundly glad he left the hood up.  “What were you doing, anyway?”, he tried to change the subject.

“Meditating”, Slider said as he walked a few paces to pick up his discarded tank top.  “Do it every morning.”  He slid it back on, but seeing as it was wet, it didn’t really make all that much difference.

Bodi nodded.  “My dad used to have me do that, when I was a pup.”  He kicked a small pebble forward with his foot.  “We’d do it together, every morning.”

“Why’d you stop?”, Slider asked.

Bodi shrugged.  “Don’t know, really.  We just… got out of the habit, I guess.”  He lifted his head to look at Slider more openly.  “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?”, the Lab responded with a playful smile.  “Didn’t come all the way back to the scene of the crime to discuss spirituality?”

Bodi rubbed his neck bashfully.  “No.  I mean, yeah.  I mean –”  He sighed.  “The cops are at my place.”

Slider’s previous mischievous demeanor quickly shifted to something more serious.  “Are you going to tell them you’re here?”

“No!”, Bodi said emphatically.  “Of course not.”

“…Why not?”

“I…”

Now that he stopped and thought about it, why didn’t he just tell the authorities where he was?  There wasn’t any logical reason not to, at the end of the day.  He’d already told Dharma last night, and she’d definitely told Angus and Germur at this point.  Why not make it official, go and ‘turn himself in’?

But that was the crux of it: he didn’t want to feel like he was caught, or cornered.

“…I don’t want to because I want to return on my terms.  I want to make that decision for myself, not because some other person out there happened to spot me.”

Slider nodded.  “Solid choice.  Now”, he gestured to a boulder with his paw as he sat on one across from it himself.  “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know”, Bodi said with a shake of his head as he sat on the proffered rock.  “I called one of my bandmates last night, so they know I’m okay.  And I told her I’d be coming home soon.”  Slider nodded at him to continue.  “I thought I’d wait a week or something, but now with the authorities knowing I’m here…”

An idea started to take root in his mind.  A devilish idea, not dissimilar to one he’d have a few years ago, back before… all of this.  But unlike those old days, he didn’t feel like this idea carried any baggage with it.  He couldn’t help but smile.

“I might have an idea, if you’re up to it.  It’s a little off-the-wall though.”

Slider beamed.  “Those are the best types of ideas.”  The Lab pointed to his head.  “I’m all ears.”

……….

Bodi looked up at the night sky and took a deep breath through his nose, focusing on how it felt as the air traveled through his lungs, trying to single out specific smells from the medley of scents riding on the evening breeze.

There was The Roost, of course, seeing as he was seated and leaning against the unappealing brick wall that made up the rear of the building, just outside the back door.  He could smell the remnants of the day’s uneaten crêpes in the dumpster off to his right, the wafting odors of liquor and coffee hanging around them.

There was the dense woodland directly ahead of him, its roots and leaves encroaching on the little haven of civilization that was this town.  The smell of pine needles, humus, sap and that ineffable hint of wild mingled together to give the forest its distinctive je nais se quois.

There was the guitar case he held in his lap, given to him by Angus as a gift shortly after he was admitted to rehab, probably because the cat felt some kind of (unjustified?) guilt for introducing Bodi to that world.  Its hard plastic exterior and velvet lining were noteworthy for the absence of scent they gave off: blank spots in a field of odors.

Then, of course, there was himself.  Bodi the Mastiff.  Almost as much of a blind spot as his guitar case.  The hardest smell to smell was always your own, he thought.  But if you really strained yourself, you could detect it.

Bodi wondered what he smelled like.  Was it good?  Bad?  Did he smell at ease, or did he reek of fear and anxiety?

He didn’t know, and couldn’t ever know.  All he could do was hope he seemed okay.

The back door creaked open, and Slider popped his head out.  The sight of the Lab poking his stark white head from behind the rusted iron door made Bodi chuckle, and Slider smiled in response.

“I’m up in a few, dude.  You almost ready?”

Bodi closed his eyes and nodded.  “Yeah.  Well, no – but I’m never going to be ready, you know?”

“I hear ya”, Slider responded.  “So do you want to come inside awhile, or…?”

Bodi chanced one more wistful look at the woods, making note of the leaves swaying back and forth, almost beckoning.  This was it: the absolute, last possible moment to back out.

He was tricking himself, though.  He’d already made his choice.

“Yeah”, he said with a grunt as he got up, hoisting his guitar case with him.  He shot Slider a slightly queasy grin.  “No time like the present, right?”, he shrugged.

Slider smiled at him and walked all the way outside, exaggeratedly holding the door open for him.  Bodi shook his head and passed him by, entering the building and stealthily making his way around the stage and over towards the counter.  It was a bit hard to navigate – The Roost was way busier on Saturday nights, apparently.  Bodi wondered if that was just because it was the weekend, or if Slider’s playing factored into that too.

He perched himself on a free stool at the counter, doing his best to remain inconspicuous as animals took up spots on either side of him.  He had his hood up, but he was still a little worried he’d end up being spotted regardless – surely the authorities coming by and staking out his place had been a to-do, right?  He couldn’t imagine that not being the primary driver of gossip today.

“Hello, Bhagnu.”

Bodi looked up to see Brewster standing in front of him, cleaning out a glass as methodically as ever.  “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you here on a Saturday, before.”

The Mastiff gave a slight shrug.  “Figured I should get out more.  Live a little.”

The pigeon gave him an enigmatic look from behind his spectacles, but ultimately nodded.  “That’s good to hear”, he said with a certain air of sagacity about him.  “Living’s the most important thing we can do with the life given to us.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bodi was surprised to find that, yes, he actually did.  He simply nodded, not trusting his voice, and Brewster returned the gesture before walking away to take someone else’s order.

The antelope seated to his right stirred on her stool, and poked her feline friend in the shoulder.  “Hey, look!  He’s starting.”

Bodi turned his gaze to match the trajectory of their own, and his eyes settled on Slider ambling to the center of the stage, guitar in hand.  The rest of The Roost must’ve realized what was going on, because the noise level of the establishment washed away for a split-second, like the exit of a tide, only to crash back in even louder than it was before.  Slider politely bowed as the crowd cheered, and even winked at a few of the more raucous female members of the audience after they wolf-whistled, earning a healthy round of laughter from everyone else.

The Lab sat down on the center-stage stool, and as the fingers of his paw began to deftly pluck at the strings of his guitar, The Roost was overtaken by another hush – this one more permanent.  It was something a little jazzy, progressive, and Bodi recognized it as the tune Slider had been playing when he first stumbled on him in the forest clearing.  Slider whistled along with the tune at the beginning before launching into the song proper.

“Cruisin’ down the road, and I see you there…  Softly smiling, don’t you hide it.  You and me, we’re free… So let’s run away!”

It wasn’t anything like something Bodi would compose.  It had a strangely halting, almost beatbox quality to it.  The crowd was mesmerized by it, though, and Bodi found himself falling under the spell too.  There was something strangely hypnotic about the interplay of Slider’s husky vocals and the piece’s strange interval measures.

The song started to reach an energetic chorus as Slider poured more of his energy into each word, his voice all but breaking on each note.

“Come with me!  Run with me!  You and I are meant to be!  Like a bird we’ll fly so free!”

He struck a harsh, final chord at the resolution and started to whistle the tune again.  Bodi hadn’t even noticed he’d been dreamily leaning his head on his paw, elbow on the counter, before said elbow slipped out from under him and caused him to almost fall off his stool.  He got a worried glance from a leopard sitting near him but he smiled at the feline and shook his head, trying to show he was fine.

The song came to a close, and the audience cheered again, a smattering of hollers thrown in there for good measure.  Slider raised his paw in gratitude, and tapped lightly on the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

Bodi swallowed.  The moment of truth was almost at hand.

“So, how’s everyone’s Saturday going?”, Slider asked with an easy tone of voice, earning a chorus of claps and whistles in response.  He chuckled.  “Guess that means it’s going pretty good?”  More than a few people laughed, and he waited for it to subside before speaking again.  “I’ve actually got a bit of a surprise for you guys tonight.  Something I’ve never done before.”  He let the pronouncement settle before continuing, allowing the anticipation in the audience to rise.  Bodi thought he could’ve fit right in on a mainstream tour circuit acting like that.

“Tonight, I have a guest performer.”  Interested and excited murmuring broke out in the crowd, and Slider pointedly made eye contact with Bodi from across the room.  “Someone I think you’re going to love.  He’s a great guitarist, and even though I think he’s had a bit of a rough patch lately, I’ll bet you anything his future is nothing but glorious.”  He winked at him with that last bit, and Bodi was caught between an embarrassed frown and a stupid grin.

“I want you guys to give it up for Bodi, the Rock Dog!”

A wave of surprise and confusion rippled through the crowd, but Bodi ignored it as he walked down the path between the tables and headed towards the stage.  Slider extended his paw to help him up – and Bodi made eye contact with the Lab as he did so.  The look he saw in the white canine’s eyes was so warm and inviting that it felt like he was walking on air when he grasped his paw and climbed onto the stage.

Bodi slowly let Slider’s paw go, and lowered his hood in front of the entire crowd.  Not that he expected them to know who he was – maybe they might by name, but he doubted more than a few would recognize his face.

The audience just continued to watch with a distinctly bewildered air as Slider opened Bodi’s guitar case and handed the Mastiff his instrument with another wink.  Their paws touched as Bodi accepted his guitar, giving him a warm, jittery feeling.  “You ready, man?”, Slider asked quietly, sincerely.

Bodi looked at him and nodded, a certain grin on his face.  Slider smiled back, and the two of them stood side-by-side in the middle of the stage.

The Lab started to lay down a familiar metronomic line, one whose melody Bodi recognized somewhere in the back of his mind.  It was an old standard, one that had formed the basis for countless songs over the years, and there was something about it that filled the Mastiff with nostalgia.  He guessed it probably had that effect on most people.

It certainly had for him when Slider played it earlier in the day, and they decided it would be the song the two would perform together on The Roost’s stage.

Bodi harmonized with Slider, the sounds of their guitars playfully counteracting and balancing the other in a delicate interchange.  They made eye contact for a second, and Slider began singing.

“You ran away; far, far from here.  I see your face – it’s filled with fear, and I can’t help myself.  Like I’m crying; and I reach out to you.  And I say ‘it’s only me’.”

His voice ached with emotion as he sang, every high note hitting Bodi like a shot to the heart.  At the end of his verse, he backed off from the mic, and Bodi tentatively stepped forward.  He might have played guitar here quite a bit, but he’d never actually sang.  His voice sounded a little strained to his own ears as he began.

“Lost in a maze; set out to sea.  Tide rolls away, and it takes me – and I can’t help myself.  Like I’m dying; and I feel you reach for me.  And you say ‘it’s only me.”

Upon finishing his verse, he could feel it beginning, if only ever so slightly.  The first overtures of energy were tingling down the length of his arm and into his paw.

Slider leaned into the mic along with him for the chorus, alternating with each other.

“I take your hand!”

“You pull me from the shadows.”

“Out of the abyss.” – “Into the sunlight’s kiss.”

They made eye contact before singing the last line simultaneously.

“With you…”

As Bodi sang that last word, he knew it was about to be unleashed – but he didn’t do anything to hold it back.  Instead, he let his paw run wild with energy; and as he struck a chord, a wave of cerulean light and force was emitted from where his hand hit the string, emanating outward like the ripple from a stone tossed in a pond.  His eyes were closed, but his ears heard the intake of breath from the audience beyond.

He guessed they thought this was probably the craziest thing to ever happen in The Roost.

His eyes slowly opened to see Slider standing to his right.  He didn’t look shocked, or awed, and for that Bodi was grateful.  No: he looked pleased, something almost like an ‘I told you so’ affect written on his expression.  Here Bodi was, openly being himself – and nothing disastrous had happened.  The Lab ignored both Bodi’s arm, pulsating with energy, and the excited confusion from the crowd, finishing the song as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Now, here we stand; hand locked in hand.”

Bodi continued himself.  “Storm’s died away – now we can say:”

They both leaned into the mic for another duet.  “‘And I can help myself’ – we’ll keep trying.  And you will say to me:”

Both Bodi and Slider slowed the tempo of their guitar playing for the last verse.  “‘Love’s for more than only me’.”

The duo slowly let the song trail off, and Slider ended it on one last, higher-pitched chord.  Bodi was stunned; he hadn’t had that much fun playing in a very, very long time.  Slider simply looked pleased.

The crowd stayed silent for a solid few seconds before suddenly entering an uproar.  Cheering, clapping, hooting, all sorts of loud, less socially appropriate animal noises.  The two canines laughed a little at each other, and Bodi heard a deep voice from somewhere within the crowd yell out.

“Freebird!”

……….

Bodi snorted a particularly undignified laugh at the end of Slider’s story, and the white Lab laughed at his snort in turn and tightened his grip around the Mastiff’s shoulder.  The two of them were seated side-by-side on that same bench as the night previous.

“How did you even get out of that one?”, Bodi asked, letting himself fall into Slider’s grip.

Slider just shrugged.  “With a lot of luck, and a lot of booze.”  The Lab turned to face Bodi full-on, and once more the Mastiff found himself lost in his face, studying him.  Bodi could feel the firm warmth of Slider envelop him, around his shoulders, against his side.

“…Your eyes are warm”, he said without thinking, instantly regretting it.  He put his paws over his eyes as Slider just laughed again, his body shaking Bodi right along with him.

The Lab took Bodi’s paw with one of his own, and Bodi let the other one free from his face.  Slider was staring at him, an enigmatic half-smile on his face, his charcoal-smudge eyebrows holding a hint of mischief in their cast.  The Lab lifted the paw to his muzzle, and kissed it gently.

Bodi shivered at the contact, and let himself sit there, stunned, for a solid ten seconds –

– Before he grabbed the collar of Slider’s tank top with his paw and dragged him in, hard, to kiss him full on the lips.  Slider jolted in surprise, but quickly reciprocated, cupping Bodi’s face and stroking it gently.

They slowly broke their kiss, and Bodi just stared at the Lab with lidded eyes.  He swallowed nervously.  “So… guess that happened.”

Slider chuckled and brought him in for a second kiss, taking the initiative himself this time.  They were less awkward the second time around, and Bodi made careful note of the differences in how they moved, so similar to those that marked how they played.  Slider’s tongue was like his guitar-playing: hard-to-predict.  Bodi kept getting surprised by the Lab coming at him from different directions, and before long he found himself pinned on the bench, Slider’s paws on either side of his head.

“We should probably cool it down”, Slider said calmly, casually.

Bodi just nodded slowly.  “Y-, uh… yeah.  That’s a good idea.”

Slider chuckled again at his stammering, and kissed him gently on the nose before staring at him again.  “You want my digits, man?”

Bodi nodded eagerly.  “Yes.  Yes, I do.”

……….

About a month later…

……….

Bodi crashed onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh.  He was exhausted.

“Good!  Good, good, good”, Angus started rambling, laying his guitar aside.  They could still hear the sounds of the crowd beyond cheering, apparently unwilling to disperse yet despite the show being over.    Germur was still out there, drumming away.  “I daresay, perhaps even better than we were before?”

“Maybe”, Bodi responded lazily, shooting Dharma a smile.  The vixen was leaning against the wall, and the two of them had to restrain themselves from laughing as Angus launched into another one of his unnecessarily detailed blow-by-blow accounts of their gigs.

The feline stopped suddenly when he felt his cell rumbling.  “Oh!  There’s the record company.  Excuse me, I have to take this one, loves.”

Dharma shrugged as Angus left the room without waiting for any of them to respond.  “Knock yourself out.”  She turned to look at Bodi.  “…You holding up alright?”

Bodi thought about it for a bit before nodding slowly.  “Yeah.  I think so.”  He leaned forward off the couch, balancing his arms on his thighs.  “I don’t feel like I want to… you know, anymore.”

Dharma nodded.  “That’s good.”

“Yeah”, he responded.  “It is.”

The Mastiff felt his own phone start to rumble in his pocket.  He withdrew it and grinned when he saw the caller ID.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dharma grumbled.  “You too?”

Bodi chuckled and walked out of the room.  He stopped in an empty half-lit hallway and picked up. 

“Hey.”

“‘Hey’ yourself, man”, Slider’s easy-going voice responded.  “Your show wrapped up?”

“No”, Bodi answered sarcastically.  “I’m just responding to your call live on-stage.  The crowd’s being very politely quiet.”  He felt his own smile grow at the sound of Slider’s laughter.

“That’s really good of them”, he said.  “So – you free this weekend, then?”

“Yeah”, Bodi responded.  “What’d you have in mind?”

“Hmmm… that’s a tough one”, the Lab continued.  “I was thinking my place.  Fish our dinner on Friday night, laze around all Saturday.  Maybe play a surprise duo set at The Roost.”

Bodi made a mock-indignant sound.  “Is that all I am to you?  A tool to gain publicity?  For shame, Slider.  For shame.”  Slider chuckled again and Bodi continued.  “Seriously though, that sounds awesome.  I could probably even get there on Thursday if you wanted.”

“That won’t mess with your band schedule?”

“It shouldn’t.  We’re playing less shows.  It’s less… stressful, that way, you know?”

“Read ya loud and clear.”

“I’ll see you at the train station Thursday afternoon, then?”

“Sounds like a plan, dude.”

Bodi smiled.  “Then I’ll see you there.”

“Good stuff”, Slider remarked.  “Catch you on the other side, Bodi.”

“Yeah”, the Mastiff responded.  “You too.”

Slider hung up, and Bodi dropped the phone to his side with a contended sigh.  Life wasn’t perfect – it never would be – but he knew he was back on-track, out of the depths.  He still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision running away: it’d put such a strain on his friends.  But if he hadn’t, he never would’ve met Slider, and might have remained in that abyss forever.  Maybe it was just one of those things you couldn’t apply that kind of logic too.

He’d made a self-destructive decision, struggled with it, and finally made it out on the other end with the help of others – and one specific ‘other’ in particular.  One he was going to be seeing again this weekend.

The thought of that carrot dangling at the end of this week filled him with excitement, and he lazily made his way back to the lounge.  No doubt his bandmates would want him present to discuss their next moves – and he wanted to be there right alongside them.  He could hear their voices even now, as he approached the room.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door aside, walking back into his old life once again.  Except, it wasn’t, anymore – not really.  His old life, his old habits: they were gone, dragged away by the riptide that had almost swallowed him whole alongside them.  But here he was, not just existing, but fully alive.

Bodi genuinely smiled as he re-entered the lounge, Angus, Dharma and Germur all looking at him expectantly.

He thought of Slider, somewhere back in that lazy little town, playing his guitar to himself, and responded to their eager-yet-unsure looks.

“So”, he asked them.  “What are we doing next?”