Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The back of the wooden beach chair creaked when its occupant reached for the icy glass on the armrest.

“You know, you really shouldn’t drink that. It’s basically liquid sugar,” came the feminine voice from the other chair, disapproving and mature in her tone.

“Oh sis, I’m truly grateful for your worry, but I have to graciously disregard it,” the drink holding coyote said, her unique fur markings on her face shining under the summer sun’s rays. “This body can take whatever.”

Her partner, a middle-aged hyena watched as she motioned to her slim and curvy torso, exposed by the scarlet swimwear and bra. No one would have guessed that the coyote was already kicking her forties and survived the strain of a childbirth – her warm, perfect fur that shone brightly under the sun’s caring rays hid away the scars and the skin deformations like a blanket, making her figure look barely twenty.

Her hyena friend scowled.

“It’s a mystery how you can keep your form. I mean – you really don’t care about what you eat, drink?”

The coyote tilted her sunglasses down, exposing a pair of unimpressed brown eyes. “Honey, I thought you were fed up with pretentious boasting. Yet here you are, answering a question you know that answer for.”

The hyena huffed and took a sip of her own drink. “So it’s all your ‘pure coyote bloodline’? Again?”

“What can I say?” The canine giggled, taking another strawful of her drink, “It’s worth looking out for the big things.”

Her friend rolled her eyes and settled back to her beach chair. She was a spotted hyena, the fur on her body a monotonous stream of pale brown fur, except for the chocolate patches embellishing her thin limbs. Spots of various sizes were scattered on the back of her head – covered up by a wide-brimmed sun hat – and on her back, serving a view of what an average spotted hyena looked like. Her most noticable attribute was that hairless stub; the place where her left hand was supposed to be.

Thank god she was right-handed.

Before she could make another remark, a shrill cry of joy rang through the sandy beach. Both women turned their heads in that direction, where they saw another coyote there, celebrating with his hands in the air and an ear-to-ear smile on his face. He stood above a small, aloof sandcastle, with his creamy chest fur showing the defined muscles and a pair of fitting green swimming trunks hugging his waist.

The hyena perked up immediately. “Did you finish it?!”

“You bet I did!” he shouted back, his voice leaking with joy and a heavy foreign accent, “And the boys told me I was tidy old for this shit!”

His tail wagged fast like a ceiling fan; then it dropped when the side of sandcastle collapsed into a pile.

“Aww... Shucks.”

The female coyote scoffed and fanned herself.

“It’s pitiful how you can’t build a simple thing as a sandcastle. I mean – I’m pretty sure only your part fell over. The kids’ part looks so much better!”

Her husband fell onto his knees on the sand and began rebuilding the collapsed part with much less enthusiasm.

“You ‘ave to stuff it under my nose, you don’t...”

Before his wife could retort something even more haughty belittling, the hyena hopped onto her feet and tip-toed over to him on the hot ground.

“I think I saw how the kids did it,” she said, squatting down next to the coyote, “They added water to the sand and applied it on the walls. I think my son even built some just from this wet sand.”

The sour look evaporated from his face upon hearing these words. Scooping up a handful of dull sand, he brought it over to the shore, where the ocean’s waves licked the ground every once in a while and left behind a newly wetted, flat sand-plain. Mixing the sand in his hand, he witnessed as it darkened into a slushy pulp.

His face positively beamed. “It works! It bloody works!”

The hyena whooped and clapped her hands together with the same amount of excitement.

His wife, on the other hand...

“Great, you learnt something children already know by kindergarten. It’s okay hun, you are getting there.”

And just like that, the happiness from the husband’s eyes disappeared, replaced by a forlorn, sad curling of the mouth and a pitiful whine.

The hyena turned to her friend with her teeth bared. “At least he makes an effort to better himself, unlike you, who’s content with just sitting in her chair and acting holier-than-thou!”

“How dare you...”

Outrage blossomed on the female coyote’s muzzle at this blatant backtalk. With a deep growl, she pushed herself up to a standstill, glaring behind her shaded sunglasses.

“I will show you why I don’t need to better myself.”

Marching over to her husband and her friend, she flopped down onto the soft ground, and began aggressively molding and shaping the wet sand into the walls of the castle. She didn’t notice her hyena friend sending a wink to her husband, who had a hard time forcing himself not to giggle.

“Speaking of, where are my son and Miguno?”

Right on cue, a small ball of chocolate brown fell out of the nearby bushes, toppling out onto the sandy beach. He was a small yeen, barely kicking his eight year on this world and being an almost perfect copy of his mother with his similar fur coloring, shade and spot placement. His mouth was open in desperate panting, the combination of the heat and being chased for who-knows-how-long fatiguing the poor little guy.

Instead of standing up and running away from the impending danger, however, he took a deep breath and laid still on the soft ground.

At this moment, a little coyote jumped out of the same bushes, standing tall and vicious, baring the exact same fur pattern as his mother and the physique of his father. His smile was wicked, predatory, right until those brown eyes zeroed on his target and were replaced with frozen fear and panic.

“Migs!” the young Durham shouted, scrambling over to his fallen friend, “Migs, are you hurt? Mommy, Miguno needs help!”

Before his mom could answer however, the small hyena suddenly came to life and kicked the other in the chest. While Durham was recovering from the shock, Miguno quickly turned tail with a whooping laugh and sprinted in the opposite direction.

Realizing that he had been hustled, the little coyote snarled, and didn’t hesitate using all four of his limbs to hurry after the traitor.

“MIGUNO!”

“Catch me if ya can, Ham-sandwich!”

The forbidden nickname was the last straw, and with a powerful push of his legs, Durham tackled his friend, who, not expecting the other to catch up so quickly, fell over with a surprised yelp.

Durham’s mom smirked, elbowing her friend.

“Your son is light years behind mine in speed.”

The older hyena blinked, not understanding why the sudden pride.

“They are jus’ kids, love,” said Durham’s father as he rubbed another layer of wet sand on the walls of the small building, “No need to make it a competition, innit?”

The she-coyote scoffed and shook the annoying wet bits from her hands. She paid special attention to clean the underneath of her trimmed claws, hoping that her clawpolish didn’t wear off too badly.

Meanwhile, Miguno struggled to get out of Durham’s hold. He tried to kick and bite and push, but to no avail – the small coyote was just too heavy for him and held him down too well. He was stuck, but he was also stubborn; maybe if he showed enough defiance, he could wear Durham off? Or pretend that he is dead and hope his friend takes the bait again? 

Sniff

These thoughts were disrupted when a drop of water fell on his face. He glanced up, and much to his astonishment, the coyote was watching him from above, tears escaping those frustrated, chocolate brown eyes.

“D-Durham?”

“You...” his friend struggled with his words as a hiccup escaped him, “I thought you were hurt! And you tricked me!”

Uncomfortable guilt twisted in his guts. He didn’t mean to upset his friend so much, he just wanted to win. But watching his friend break down and cry into his small chest, Miguno felt his own tears gathering as well. The more he watched his best and only friend cry into his fur, the bigger the pressure became behind his eyes, before the inevitable happened; hugging his friend’s head, he let the tears and the snot flow freely.

“I’m sor-sorry! Please don’t be mad at me! I promise I will never be mean to you again...”

At this Durham sniffed a loud one and raised his head to meet the other’s eyes.

“Y-You pro-promise?”

Miguno nodded so forcefully, his entire upper-body shook accordingly.

“W-well then... I think we are good,” the canine said, wiping away the last tears and schooling his features back to a grin, “And I think I caught ya, hehe.”

The small hyena shook the sand off his head and giggled. “You did! But this proves nothing. I still think you are just awesome, Durry.”

The coyote rolled off his friend and sat next to him.

“Ya think? You still doubt my mom’s blood has anything to do with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh,” Durham breathed, wiping the last trickles of mucus off his pointy nose, “My dad says the same thing – he says I’m this fast because I worked hard for it!”

Miguno, with the particles of sand still gleaming on his shoulders, shrugged.  “I think he is right. Otherwise, I would be a great racer like my mom was.”

“I still think it’s stupid you don’t wanna be a racer,” Durham pointed out, pointing accusingly at his friend. The comrade in question, on the other hand, wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t like cars...” he murmured, hugging his knees to his chest, which Durham quickly copied, “Mom tries to hide it, but I know she lost her hand thanks to a race.”

The coyote’s ears twitched curiously. “Really? Wow... that sucks. I would totally tell you why I lost my arm!”

The small yeen let out an airy laugh and freed a hand to push his friend a little.

“Don’t even joke about that! I would be sad if you lost an arm, no matter what.”

“And I would make you unsad again! I promise you I will never let you be sad again!” 

The light in Durham’s eyes danced with a confident light, and Miguno felt his small tail wag at his friend’s promise.

“Really? You promise?”

“Totally,” the little coyote said, hooking an arm around his friend’s shoulders and squishing their shoulders together, “I will also help you find what you want to be when you grow up! My mom says the sooner you find it, the better, and I think it is true for you too.”

Miguno frowned, thinking through the words. “Well... How do I find what I want to be?”

“Dunno. Mom didn’t tell me.”

“Oh... That’s pretty bad. What if I never know what I’ll be?”

Durham scowled at him, not at all liking that his friend was getting sad again. Then he realized – this was the perfect chance to show he can keep his promise! He had a duty to do!

With that, the little coyote stood up and puffed his chest out. “I promise you I will help you in that too! We are best friends forevah!” he declared, raising his hand to extend his pinky towards the other. Miguno, feeling his chest swell from pure joy at his friend’s words, hopped onto his feet as well and didn’t hesitate curling his pinky around the other’s, sealing all three promises made.

The hyena was about to add his piece of mind to this awesome new pact, when both he and his friend were scooped up by two muscular arms.

“There yer are, bach rascals!” Durham’s father bellowed, holding both children to his chest, “We thought your quick legs chased the poor boy ov, innit, son?”

Before the little coyote could reply, his mother butted in.

“Did you catch him though?” 

“Sister, I don’t think-” Miguno’s mom tried to reason, but all she received was a dismissive hand wave. The female coyote glared at her husband, daring the man to defy her too.

“Yes mom,” Durham said enthusiastically,  jumping in his dad’s arm, “I caught Miguno! He was really sneaky, but I was just too fast for him!”

...

“Good!” she replied after an empty beat, satisfied. She raised a hand to ruffle the fur between his pointy ears, landing a quick kiss on his cheek, “I had the utmost confidence you would win. It’s in our blood, as you know. Right, love?”

Miguno’s mom facepalmed with a tired groan, sending a look of pity to the man, who obviously had a thing or two to say; while he did smile and nod in his support, she could see him gritting his teeth together and clenching his jaw. She wished the man had the balls to speak up against his wife at least once, but alas, he had been ‘disciplined’ by her a long time ago.

“Great!” Durham’s mom was all too oblivious to the sub-context happening, and turned on her heels towards the imposing villa on top of the island’s hill, “Come on now, forecast says there will be rain and those look like clouds on the horizon. I don’t wanna get wet.”

“We’ll be right be’ind you,” her husband replied, watching as she strolled up the hill, her figure never faltering or waggling in her golden sandals. From the top, one of their butlers immediately rushed down before her, offering another cold drink. Miguno and Durham looked up at him with pleading eyes, and he understood; letting the little yeen and ‘yote jump out of his arms, he watched as they hugged the other mother, then beelined to the devil herself and shared a refresher of their own.

Once they were out of hearing range, Durham’s father relaxed with a sigh, hugging both his arms to his chest. A million or no thoughts raced in his head, one could guess, but the older hyena cared not; walking up, she lent a comforting hand on his bicep, signaling that he wasn’t alone.

“Why are you tolerating this?” she asked, focusing on his passive face.

He shrugged, tired. “The same reason you are tolerating her – it’s better for the children. I know what it’s like to grow up with one parent, and I won’t let Durham go through all that. I’d rather endure being an obedient husband,” he spat the words like disgusting food, “than ‘ave my only son’s ‘appiness be taken away. This, I promised.”

...

She let out a sigh herself and hugged the trembling coyote to herself.

Why must life be so troubling?

Chapter Text

Durham’s hand left a trail on the muggy window.

Considering that the December air already reached below freezing point, he welcomed every opportunity to relax in the warmth of his family’s car. Outside, a blanket of clean, white snow covered the streets, the pavement showing in tiny grey patches underneath, while the roads themselves were salted thoroughly; only the most stubborn of ice made driving plenty difficult on the road. Icicles hung low from the traffic lights, electric cables, and honestly – Durham thought they were the coolest thing out there.

He and Miguno often broke off icicles from his mansion’s roof and pretended they were daggers when they played.

Good times.

The twelve-year-old coyote clutched his beanie between his fingers - covered by a pair of thick gloves – while his eyes tracked the passing cars, streets, and animals. He loved gazing out during trips like this, watching as the environment changed around their vehicle from the peaceful hill their mansion stood on, to the vibrant entertainment district and the crowded downtown.

It gave him much needed peace now.

He felt a hand touch him, squeezing his shoulder. Turning his head, he came face-to-face with his father’s smiling face as the older coyote leaned over to him. Their car was actually somewhat of a limo as well – while their butler drove the vehicle from the front seat, the back seats faced each other with only a small gap between them. Durham and his father occupied one of these seats, while his mother opposed them, disinterestedly tapping away on her phone.

“How do you veel, champ?” his father asked with a friendly smile, his hand sliding down to pat Durham’s back.

Said kid grinned back. “Ready as I’ll ever be, dad. Me and Migs so got this!”

“The spirit, that is!” his dad shared his enthusiasm, retreating to his own seat, “But you might wanna know – even iv we expect a first place, a top ten is more than enough.”

“Dad, come on! Migs has the brains and I have the brawn. No matter what ace they try to pull out of their sleeves, we got this. Easy-peasy.”

“I know you do, Dur’am,” the older coyote softly said as he nodded along, “I just don’t want you to veel pressured. You already-“

“And why shouldn’t he feel pressured, again?” mother butted in, locking her phone’s screen and pocketing the device away, “He has been performing consistently well each week, and we all know this last one will mean tons of points. Underperforming now is unacceptable.”

Her husband scowled at her. “You want ‘im to overthink it? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious and you know it,” she retorted, nodding to her son, “He knows it too. But unlike you, he also knows that there is nothing to be afraid of. Winning is in his blood, after all.”

Hearing this reasoning, the kindness from the eyes of Durham’s father disappeared, replaced by righteous anger.

But before he could speak up, his son beat him to it. “You always say that, mom.”

“Because it’s always true.”

“But what does it mean?” Durham pressed, scrutinizing his mother for answers, “You always say that, but I never understood the connection to – to anything!”

...

...

A smirk spread over the she-coyote’s muzzle as she patted the place next to her.

“Hop on here and I will tell you.”

Hearing this, the young coyote smiled and undid his seat belt, ready to jump over to where his mother pointed. Before he could push himself off, however, a larger hand grabbed his wrist that made Durham turn sideways, where his father’s worried eyes gazed into his.

“Just... just make sure to put the seatbelt back on, okay?”

Durham blinked, but nodded. When his dad let him go, he quickly comfied himself at his mom’s side - but before she could even open her mouth, he made sure to strap himself in. Once the belt clicked, he turned to look at her with wide, curious eyes.

The she-coyote didn’t hesitate. “So, Durham, have you ever seen anyone on the street or in your school who looked a little weird for their species?”

He nodded. There was that one gazelle who had sharp teeth and spots and it freaked the hell out of him.

“They are called hybrids, and they come from a family where the parents aren’t the same species.”

“So I’m not a hybrid?”

His mother scoffed at his words. “Trust me darling, you are the farthest from being a hybrid. Your blood is a hundred perfect coyote blood, and you know what’s a fun fact?”

Durham leaned in closer in anticipation to the answer. Meanwhile, his father crossed his arms before his chest, bitterly watching the ground as he listened to the crazy ramblings.

“Your mom and dad are also both pure coyotes. So are all your grandparents, great-grand parents and great-great-grandparents!” her voice was like a rollercoaster as she made this revelation dramatic, “Point is, you are the result of generations and generations of purity, where not one of your ancestors are of a different breed.”

“Really?” Durham asked, spellbound and amazed.

“Know that, you can’t,” his father spoke up under his breath, “That’s impossible to know vor certain.”

Her unimpressed eyes snapped to him, and he sighed; why did he even think arguing with stupid was a good idea?

“I know, actually. I know my family tree by heart and before our marriage, I made you test your blood too, remember? Neither of us has an ounce of different species in us, and neither does Durham. Any other very intelligent comments?”

Right. The marriage. The same marriage he had no other choice but to agree with, ‘cause she was already pregnant by then...

Seeing the bigger coyote resign and look blankly out of the car window, the she-wolf smiled once more, before turning back to her son.

“Do you understand, darling?”

Durham bit his lip and glanced at his father. Something was really wrong.

“Not... really,” he mumbled, looking back at her, “I still don’t see how that would mean I will win the Games today. Unless...”

“Unless?” she prompted with a devious smile, raising a hand to rub her son’s head.

“Does not being a hybrid mean I’m better than others?”

“Absolutely not!”

She and Durham both snapped their heads to the accented, heavily emphasized voice – just to see the third occupant of the car glaring right back at her. Their car slowed down meanwhile, the donut shape of the Hockey Stadium visible through their windows.

“You will not be villing our son’s head with such lunacy! He could only think he was better than the rest if he trained ‘ard and worked vor ‘is achievements!”

Durham gulped; he has never seen his dad so angry and intimidating with his stiff posture, held up bushy tail and growl in his voice. Even sitting he looked like he towered above them.

He felt his mom’s hand clutch his shoulder, giving it a painful squeeze. “You don’t know what you are talking about. There is clear, biological evidence that hybrids have faulty genes, while animals with pure genes do not. Maybe if you did your research-“

“Research?!” her husband borderline shouted with eyes that bled from frustration. Durham watched as his father grabbed his own ears and tugged them down, groaning as he did so, “A thirty-minute video and a search on the web is not research, vor fuck’s sake!”

Their car stopped at that moment.

“I don’t need more!” the she-coyote also raised her voice, “My father and grandfather have been teaching the exact same thing since I was a pup. I don’t see a reason to look any further than that.”

“You don’t see a-“ his father’s hands balled into fists on the seat as the older coyote almost blew up from pure frustration. He wanted so badly to insult this brainwashed lunatic he called his ‘wife’, but a glance at his son froze him in his tracks; seeing that panic and that tense pain on those youngish features, so alike to his own yet so different, he deflated. His eyes jumped to Durham’s shoulder, where the she-devil was still holding Durham’s shoulder in a death-grip – using him as her own personal stress ball – and it made him stop to take a deep breath. Once he didn’t feel the urge to lower himself to her level, he opened his eyes and met hers.

“Let ‘im go. Suffocating ‘im, you are.”

She glanced at Durham and simply shrugged. “He can take it.”

“No, he canno-“ he stopped himself once again and took another deep breath. Seeing his son in obvious pain, struggling now to get away, the older coyote felt himself die a little.

“...Alright,” he began, quietly, “I will admit you are right iv you let ‘im go.”

For a second it looked like she would refuse again. But some god must have heard his prayers and gave a tiny bit of sense into that numbingly empty brain of her to let their son go. Scoffing, the she-coyote took out her buzzing phone and replied to the incoming message immediately..

It relieved him when Durham undid his belt and run into his arms, unseen by her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, looking over his son’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Durham asked, choking on his words.

Not hesitating, he embraced his son.

“Your mom’s... strength is as strong as ‘er opinions,” the older canine said, putting a soft hand on top of Durham’s head and rubbed the fur in circles, “But it’s okay. Blow over soon, it will.’

“You promise?”

His father looked at him in pity, but he could never lie to his son. Thankfully, the opening of their car door, the chilly air and their fox butler holding out his hand saved him.

The Elementary Games.

Something so unheard of, yet so fascinating and (probably) unique to Miguno’s school - he was almost proud of it.

If one had to boil it down, it would look something like this; the Games were a series of weekly challenges – or contests, as people liked to call it – that ranged from a simple pop-quiz to an escape room or even to a treasure hunt in the forest. Miguno and Durham didn’t hesitate pairing up when it was announced they would have to find another to compete with-

And what a pair they were.

Their performance was marvelous; out of the forty pairs this year’s sixth graders made up, it was their name shining in the first place with ‘152 points’ pinned adjacent. The second place pair – a labrador and a wolf – were always edging infuriatingly close, but the yeen and ‘yote combination held up every single week.

But today it would all end.

Because today was the last week before the winter break, and the last contest of the Games. Nobody knew what to expect – there were rumors of course, as always, albeit with very little to no credible source. The principal’s office kept every detail secreted, but by the fact that their school had rented out an entire Hockey Stadium; it must have been big.

Not that Miguno knew – he had been standing before the frozen entrance for half an hour now, slowly becoming a standing popsicle.

“Are you cold, honey? Do you want to go in?” his mom asked from behind, noticing the shudder that raked through her son.

“I’m f-fine, mom,” the young hyena replied, nonetheless leaning into her warm side, “Just anxious. What if they won’t come?”

The older hyena sneaked her only arm around his frail shoulders and drew him closer.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. If it depended on Durham’s mom, they are probably very close.”

Sure enough, the familiar cream colored car soon turned into the Stadium’s parking lot and began scouting for a place. Miguno’s heartbeat quickened and his tail wagged in joy, the urge to run there all too powerful – his friend was finally here! In the flesh! And they were okay! He had been so worried Durham couldn’t make it, but seeing their car... Well, good thing his mom kept a tight hold on him.

He would have definitely run through the traffic to get there otherwise.

Once the rumbles of its engine stopped, Miguno’s mom grabbed his hand and, making sure there were no incoming vehicles, they crossed the lot.

Miguno could barely contain his excitement. He watched as the butler, an old fox in an elegant black tux under a heavy coat, helped Durham’s mom out. Once standing though, the coyote suddenly slapped poor butler’s hand away and sent him a nasty glance – but then she noticed the family of hyenas approaching, and like a bunny in the hat, her smile hopped onto her face.

Miguno thought this was weird. By the way his mom clutched his hand – she thought it too.

“Oh, how I missed you guys,” the coyote said, exchanging friendly kisses with the older hyena and ruffling the top of his head, “Why don’t we hang out anymore?”

His mom blinked, tilting her head. “But we do? Honey, we spent the night at your place.”

“Oh?” the canine faltered, before laughing it off. “Ah. Well, it was stuffy on the road. Must have dazed me or something.”

Miguno wanted to say how stupid this sounded – but before either he or his mom could reply, the coyote’s phone buzzed and she, without a trace of hesitance whatsoever, accepted the call. The butler helped Durham and his dad out too, and by the troubled looks on their faces – the family of hyenas just knew how ‘stuffy’ the car had been.

But the little yeen cared not now.

“Durry!”

Durham turned just in time to catch the flying hyena. He was momentarily surprised at the arms wrapping around his neck, but he need not much time to sober up and hug back with the same want. They held each other for some time, neither uttering a word, just enjoying the inviting heat of the other’s body.

But...

“What’s up with your right arm?” the small hyena asked, stepping back. He gazed down at the limb in question and noticed how it didn’t seem like it wanted to bend normally.

“Just bumped it a little in a turn. Nothing serious,” the grumpy coyote replied, taking hold of Miguno’s hand, “But we gotta go. We are almost late.”

Sure enough, the digital clock on top of the Stadium read ’15:21’, meaning they had a total of nine minutes until the contest began.

But Miguno was distracted; that’s all? No speech about how they will win this one? No headlock he has to gnaw himself out? No nothing, but a cold excuse?

Stepping through the entrance, they found themselves in the stadium's hall. Looking around, the place was filled with a bustling crowd of teenagers, kids, their parents and the teachers alike, making it almost impossible to even walk – much less rush. The air smelt dense here, nose-squeezingly musky thanks to the mixing scents of the people, and Durham and Miguno had to cover their noses from just the sheer potency of the fragrance.

They scrutinized the otherwise sizeable space, trying to find their class.

“You see them?”

“Nope. But...” They coyote trailed off, flicking his ears around as they took off their coats, “If I have to wager, they are waiting right next to those the windows.”

His hunch wasn’t unfounded; one noticeable thing about the hall were the glass panels on the right that gave a wide view of the hockey ring itself. In the center of it, two of the panels could be freely pushed to the sides to reveal a metal staircase leading right into the ring. That was supposed to be the place where the contestants entered through, and where their class was believed to be at.

“We are going now, boys!” Durham’s mom exclaimed behind them, “Don’t forget to search for us in sector H!”

“G. In sector G, we will be,” her husband replied, to which the she-coyote sent him a glare. Miguno’s mom quickly made sure to stand between the two adults, and the little yeen guessed he would find them sitting like that as well.

“...G it is then,” and with that, the three adults left, leaving the two boys to themselves.

...

“Your mom is acting weird today.”

“...Let’s just get this over with.”

They found their class where Durham predicted them to be; gathering next to the sliding windows and the dimly lit metal stairs. Their head teacher was annoyed at how they almost made the entire class late, but as time was at an essence, she didn’t scold them – she hastily ushered them down the staircase instead.

Miguno’s breath hitched when he looked up.

The sheer image of this gigantic interior space with the flat hockey ring spread before him and the rows and rows of seats running to seemingly endless proportions left and right – it made his stomach churn. And if that weren’t enough, the hundreds of animals occupying these seats would certainly be. Will he and Durham have to win in front of this many people?! Most, who wanted to see them fail so their own children could have a chance of winning?

Thank god for the chilly air inside. It soothed his worries a bit.

For this occasion, the icy ring was reimagined. The frosty ice - where professional hockey players skated usually - was covered with scentless, white polystyrene tiles, which looked more like dirty fake-ice if anything. As they stepped off the stairs and into the breathtaking atmosphere, the material swallowed the sounds of their footsteps, and the two friends shared a meaningful glance—

This was very convenient.

Above and around, the spectator area looked back at them – two sides, eight sectors, ten thousand seats, popping with so many species of animals that looked like small ants to them. Once again - they would have to perform in front of this many watchful eyes and not be pressured into a mistake?

It was gonna be a long afternoon.

To distract himself, the hyena focused on the way the entire place was illuminated; powerful spotlights projected onto only one half of the ring – their half – while mysterious darkness coated the rest. Miguno could make out blocky shapes and figures under the veil of darkness, but even with his keen eyes he couldn’t recognize anything for certain.

Once again, way too convenient to be a coincidence.

Joining the rest of the sixth graders in the middle of the ring, Durham snorted. “They really didn’t want us to know anything ‘till the last second.”

Miguno nodded.

“The mystery is kinda nice. Though I could have done without the teachers teasing us the whole week.”

“True. ‘Oh, I’m so excited about this weekend!’,” Durham imitated mockingly, thrusting his hip to the side to act out a certain teacher, “Yes, thank you miss, but go to hell.”

Okay, Miguno had enough.

“Are you okay dude?” he asked, grabbing the coyote’s hand and catching him off guard, “You are really cold today – more than usually, I mean.”

Durham glanced at him from the corner of his eye – then sighed before raising a hand to rub his face.

“Do we have to talk about it now? Really not the time for a sappy heart-to-heart Migs.”

Much to the coyote’s ire, the hyena thought otherwise. “Why are you acting like you don’t know I would always choose you over these Games?”

Durham digested the words and felt... admittedly touched by them – didn’t mean they were any less inconvenient. He tried to send a pleading gaze to his friend, trying to convince the other non-verbally, but he knew; spill or stay here for after-hours.

“Well... Mom and dad got into an argument on the way here, and it was... scary.”

What?

“Argument? But they never argue.”

“Yeah, but dad snapped at her really bad today,” the coyote idly played with the hem of his blue pullover, “It was... yeah.”

Miguno felt his own ears drop. “Oh. Did he just, out of nowhere?”

“Not really. Mom was telling me something confusing about my blood and stuff and he musta disagreed with her,” the coyote bit out, before sighing, “Honestly, i-it was a long time coming. Mom is always mean to dad, so I’m not too surprised-“

The words died in his throat when Miguno touched his shoulder. Their eyes met, and Durham felt his inhibitions drop further. How can he hide from that look?

“Are you okay though? Don’t know what it must feel like but it can’t be nice,” Miguno asked, but the coyote could only focus on how different those fingers felt on his shoulder. His mom’s hold was oppressing, painful, stinging as her claws dug into his skin, wounding him, while his dad’s was firm, but liberatingly so; he always felt safe, guarded, and oddly prideful when his dad held him like that.

Miguno’s was... like a velvety glove. Like a fitting puzzle piece. Like a... like a soothing chill and an all-encompassing warmth – exactly like what the inside of their car was like.

He was in good care.

“I panicked,” he admitted, crying crawling up at the back of his throat; but he pushed it down, “I didn’t know what was happening. Mom was being confusing and then dad got scary, then... they switched. But it was like, Mom wasn’t just scary, she hurt me.”

Miguno quickly snatched his hand away. Durham had the urge to ask for it back.

“But you said you bumped it in a turn.”

“Yeah, errr... that was not true. Sorry, Migs,” he apologized, rubbing the back of his head. The digital clock read a single minute to half and a dark figure walked through the shrouded part of the ice ring.

The hyena’s lip curled down but nodded. “I... okay. What happened then?”

“Dad noticed it and gave up. Said he would admit mom was right if she let me go.”

“Did she?”

“Yes,” he sighed again, his eyes stinging with the urge to weep, “I hope it never happens again. Dad looked broken and mom just – she didn’t even care...”

Miguno felt his mood flatten and rot. He had no idea what to do in this situation – it was always him that was scared and Durham giving him a shoulder to hide behind. But now-

Suddenly, the voice of a woman filled the stadium.

“Does this thing- oh yes, it works. Thank God, okay, that’s a relief.”

The spectators and the forty pairs of kids simultaneously looked over to the dark side of the place, where a single spotlight was aimed at a cougar in a skirt and a blouse, holding a microphone to her lips.

“Alright, now that you all look at me, I would like to welcome kids and parents alike to the last round of the Elementary Games. This is a big day, so I hope you all prepared mentally ‘cause the Standings are about to be set in stone and immortalized.”

At this moment, a hidden projector clicked into life, emitting a picture onto the opposing wall. The enormous image depicted two spreadsheets, both listing the place, the names and the current points of each individual pair – the first sheet showed places from first to twentieth, the second showed the pairs from twenty-first and fortieth.

“Oh, okay, did not expect it so fast,” the cougar giggled as she turned to the projection behind her, “You can see the afforementioned Standings for yourself.”

Even Durham couldn’t help but grin once more; now everyone saw how amazing they were.

“Fascinating, but you may ask – what was it all for? Why were all these kids made to do certain tasks every single week, and why did they collect these points? Well, surprisingly, they had other purposes besides dividing an entire grade against itself.”

A low murmur passed through the parents. They were the ones that definitely questioned it.

“Well, unless you had been a student to our school, you really wouldn’t know why, but trust me when I say this; these Games had a very big point,” she said, smiling goofily, “As I had mentioned in my emails to you, these tasks were aimed to test all areas of a kid’s maturity. Teamwork, trust, mental and physical strength, and many more had been tested – for a good reason.”

She paused for a moment, letting it soak in.

“The Elementary Games are recognized by multiple highschools for their efficiency to highlight the strengths and weaknesses of every growing child. So much so, that these highschools always look at new student’s infobank, see that they came from our school, request their final place in the standings and their accumulated points and add it to the scores of the entrance exam.”

The murmurs grew into a full-blown chatter as this new info manifested itself in the parents’ mind. Durham looked up to search for his parents in sector G – unsuccessfully. Even then, he felt a pair of eyes burn into the back of his head, their expectations growing tenfold.

“Yes, you heard me right! The final results will be considered by a great number of highschools in the area. Now you may ask, why didn’t we share this with you all sooner? Most would have tried harder if they knew this. Well, you are right and we are here to compensate you.”

Suddenly, a single spotlight turned on before her, highlighting what looked like a podium and a sponge mattress beneath.

“But first, let’s see what decides today’s points,” the cougar continued and out of nowhere, a jackal-like canine appeared in the spotlight as they walked over to the podium and climbed on top of it, “One member of each pair will stand on this, completely facing the other way. Their job is to – well, to stand there, look pretty while counting forty seconds under their breaths.”

While she spoke, the canine held out their arms to the side, then flopped down to the mattress with an echoing thud.

“...And that. After they reached forty, they will have to willingly let their body fall back,” the jackal’s hand shot out and held up a pair of headphones, “Oh yeah, can’t have you hear when your teammate comes. Each team will get two points if the person on the podium succeeds to count the forty seconds – and an additional two for trusting your teammate enough to let your body fall back.”

This looked... too simple to be true.

Miguno was about to relax knowing that they got this, before yet another row of spotlight clicked to life, and the breaths of eighty students were cut short simultaneously.

No way...

They saw the jackal strolling behind the car tires that began the whole thing, massaging his wrists as he readied for the exercise.

“The other teammate won’t rest either – they will have an obstacle course to complete!”

It was right in front of us the whole time.

The jackal took off like a torpedo. His feet were coordinated and quick, making the run-through of the circular tires look easy. Then he used the protruding rough rocks to climb the side of a tower, always having one limb reach for another knob to hold on to. Once up there, he took a quick breath before jumping to catch the first trapeze ring, propelling his body to grasp the second, the third and the fourth. Using his collected momentum, he ran straight at the incoming gap and jumped it over without a problem. Sitting down, he slid down the spiral slide with a squeaky noise – then he rushed to the podium and held his hands out.

Miguno gulped. If his hunch was correct-

“The team gets two points if the obstacle course gets completed without skipping anything. Another, additional two points are granted for completing it within forty seconds. The team is – as you could guess by now – granted the final two points if the one doing the obstacle course catches their teammate, making it a total of ten points.”

Okay, that’s not so bad. Durham can easily do the course while Miguno-

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Once the pair finishes, they will do it once again - but reversed! The one who did stand on the podium will have some running to do and vice versa!” and the once charming giggle turned devious, “Good luck!”

...

“Fuck.”

The swear made the hyena glance at his friend; by the tense look on the other’s face, he was thinking the same thing.

“This will be hard...” Miguno trailed off, “But we can win, yes? We only need, like, sixteen points to guarantee Jack and Legoshi doesn’t have a chance to take us over anymore. I think it’s doable.”

Durham averted his gaze, not answering. It did wonders of making Miguno’s heart clench in pain - he felt the pain of his friend like if it were his, and it burned.

“Hey,” he tried again, landing a hand on the other’s shoulder. It worked last time, “I may not know what it’s like... but I know you are stronger than that. Where is the Durham that doesn’t let anything take him down, not even a bully three times his size?”

He was getting through – there was a smile trying to break through on that cute face.

“I trust you Durry, I trust us. We can do this. Just you and me,” he continued, holding out his hand, palm up, “So...? Are we winning this thing or are we winning this thing?”

He might need to polish his motivational speech skills, but for the time, they did their job. The coyote’s eyes wondered to the dark-furred hand in front of him – it looked soft and inviting. He closed his eyes, gulping his emotes to the backstage, and gripped his best friend’s limb with all his might.

“We will win.”

And with that, they turned to the obstacle course. Hand-in-hand and with their fingers intertwined, they watched as the pairs began taking on the challenges – some failed utterly, either not completing the course or not trusting the other, but there were some twenty pointers here and there. Durham and Miguno were first in the Standings, thus why they had to wait through each pair – definitely something that the hyena didn’t want, but they got this!

Yeah. They got this.

Jack and Legoshi got sixteen points in the end – the labrador couldn’t complete the course within the time span, but lucky for him, Legoshi also messed up the counting, so they still got the points for the catching. The two of them laughed it off, before Jack glanced in their direction and gave a thumbs up.

And then it was their turn. Every single eye in the stadium followed his movements as Miguno let down the headphones to slowly cover his ears, and the murmurs of the people became just faint echoes in his head. Once he heard a beep, he closed his eyes and began meticulously counting each second.

1, 2, 3,

His idle mind began generating doubts. What if Durham couldn’t do it in time and when the hyena let himself fall back, he would only meet the cold mattress?

15, 16, 17,

No, he couldn’t think that. The whole contest’s point was to test your trust in your teammate. And if there was a person Miguno trusted as much as his mom – it was Durham.

29, 30, 31,

Would his friend’s hands feel warm? Would they be rough or soft? Miguno guessed it will be like Durham himself – rough, with an undertone of softness.

38, 39, 40.

He didn’t hesitate surrendering to the pull of the ground - Durham didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his shoulders either.

“Gotcha, dude,” came the airy whisper of his friend. The hyena quickly yanked the headphones off his ears to twist his body and hug his idiot as tight as he could.

“That’s a hundred and sixty-two! We need five more to win!”

“Yes, but first... remember some things,” Durham said, holding up a finger before Miguno’s face, “Raise your knee as high as you can – you will trip otherwise.”

Huh?

“At the wall, use your legs to climb. Your hands would just tire and you won’t be able to do the trapeze rings. Speaking of, trust your momentum to carry you through the rings and use that to jump over the gap,” Durham had to take a breath, before patting the amazed hyena’s shoulder, “Good luck Migs. I trust you.”

Miguno could only watch with an open mouth as the coyote put on the headphones and walked away. Then he was alone, with hundreds of eyes prompting him to prepare himself for the very last round of the afternoon.

And he did, albeit with caution. On the way, he raised his head to look at the expectant eyes of his classmates; he caught Legoshi’s in particular who sent him a small smile and a nod. The hyena tried to reciprocate it, but it ended up as forced and awkward. The drum of his heart’s rapid beating rang in his ears as he stepped behind the tires and waited anxiously for the loud sound that symbolized his start.

Ding!

His classmates immediately began encouraging him as he – making sure he raised his knees at each step of his - ran through the tiles rather quickly.

What he didn’t expect was the melodic strum of a guitar to pierce through the stadium, making him freeze before the tower. An energetic Latino song started echoing through the whole place, and his ears twitched when the alluring rhythm hit them, which he sucked in like a vacuum.

“GO MIGUNO!”

The cry sounded like it was Jack’s – whatever, it was enough to shake the hyena out of his stupor. He began moving once more with a brand new vigor, using the words of his friend and an unseen musician supporting him as he mounted the wall, his limbs synchronizing with the guitar’s song picture perfectly. It was like his world just shattered and was reborn, the music pervading his every sense and boiling his blood, making his movements blend with the song. He remembered Durham’s advice and, combining it with the guitar’s melody, he jumped through the trapeze rings without hesitation-

One note, two notes, three notes, four notes

One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings

Then his feet jumped at the other tower, immediately taking off in a run. The musician behind the guitar ripped his fingers through each string, and the explosive sound was the boost Miguno needed to jump over the gap – with space to spare even. He quickly sat down, and as the musician let the notes spiral down to silence, so did the hyena spiral down on the slide.

Durham’s body began falling back at that moment. The musician strummed their fingers through the chords once more, and Miguno jumped...

...just to catch the coyote in the very last moment.

...

Their classmates and the spectators blew up with cheers. Durham looked up from within his arms and smiled at him – not the cocky grin he recently started using so much, but a soft, genuinely proud one.

Miguno felt tired – tired and incredibly happy. He actually did it! Tears began pouring off the side of his face as he burried his head in the crook of his best friend’s neck.

“We w-won! We won...” he cried, snot-nosed and sniffing but blooming with joy. Durham laughed and now it was him who initiated the hug.

“That we did, Migs. Thank you for being always so amazing, and-!” he couldn’t finish his heartfelt speech, as the hyena turned his head and lent an excited smooch at the side of his face. The spot was wet and prickling, and the now frozen Durham raised a hand to touch it. His eyes found Miguno’s teary eyes that sparkled with all the elation in the word.

“I know now, Durry,” Miguno whispered, hiccuping, “I know what I want to be when I grow up. A musician. A musician, Durham.”

The coyote just gazed at him, unmoving. He felt weird inside; but not because those lips made him feel weird, quite the opposite actually.

Those lips felt rejuvenating.

Chapter Text

A lonely insect flew out to the beaten path. It flapped its wings in its effortless but slow course to reach the final destination; a hard-crusted birch tree on the other side. It zig-zagged, raising its nose then dipping it down according to the wind, before finally landing on the rough surface. Once there, it looked around curiously with antennae twitching, trying to detect the nearest body of water. It turned once, twice, before catching it – a trail of fresh water scent. With a new vigor, the bug flapped its tiny wings and pushed itself away from the birch-

Just to be locked in a glass prison.

“DAD! Dad, dad, dad! Look, I caught it!” Durham bellowed while proudly holding up the jar in front of his body.

The older coyote arrived next to him with large steps, squatting down to inspect the bug.

“By th’ dragon, you did it son,” he said breathlessly, his large tail wagging behind him, “A rare vind, that is.”

“Really? Is it a cool bug?”

“It’s called a firefly, innit,” his father replied with his accented voice, “Did you know their be’ind shine at night? It’s really pretty iv I do say so myselv.”

Durham gave a snorting giggle, pointing at the now aimlessly buzzing bug in the jar, “That’s weird – you are a weird bug! Your butt is a lamp!”

“Now, now,” his father laughed and ruffled the top of his head, “Don’t go calling them names. They can’t be blamed vor that.”

“I still caught it. I told you I can do this!”

“That you did. Good job, Durham.”

The twelve-year-old coyote grinned widely at the praise, before tucking the jar under his armpit and resuming their peaceful stroll on the dusty trail once more.

Miguno let a giggle escape him as well. It was always fun getting out of the house and into the depths of the forest for a camping trip - partly because Durham seemed to always revert to a literal eight-year-old. Miguno, as a good friend of course, made sure to tease the other of their childish antics, which usually ended up in the coyote on his knees, begging him not to tell a word to anyone.

He lost count of the amount of favors Durham owed him by now.

“A charming pair, wouldn’t you say?” a smooth voice drawled next to him, interrupting his musings.

“I guess...” Miguno shrugged, looking up at the butler walking next to him. Speaking of the middle-aged fox, the hyena noticed how he ditched the fancy tuxedo for this hike, and instead wore a formal button-up and trousers. A first time he had seen the vulpine in this attire.

“Hey Gera?” he addressed the butler by name, “Don’t you feel hot in those clothes?”

“Well Sir, it would be a lie if I claimed I feel the utmost comfort at the moment. But as it is a regulation for my profession to look presentable at all times, I fear this is the most I could get away with,” the fox said, smirking as he folded up the sleeves to his elbow.

Miguno frowned. “You have to wear this? Because you are a butler?”

“Indeed, Sir.”

“That sounds... cruel,” he felt the edges of his mouth curl down, “Don’t you get sick sometimes?”

“The occasional heatstroke, yes, but that’s an occupational hazard,” the fox noticed the smaller hyena fidgeting with the pant of his backpack, “Worry not, as my Master makes sure I get several days off afterwards - without his wife’s knowledge, mind you.”

“Oh, then that’s good. Hey Gera?”

“Sir?”

“Do you like being a butler? I mean, it must be bad being ordered around...”

The fox’s smirk turned to a smile. “Do I like my job? Yes, yes I do. Is it my dream job? No, not by a long shot. If I had the chance to be anything other than what I am now, I would be a doctor – still helping animals, but in a different way.”

Miguno’s eyes widened in wonder. Before he could express his awe however, Durham’s shrill cry interrupted him.

“Dude, this is awesome!”

Gera and Miguno turned forward, just to see their path end in a wide, grassy meadow. The sun let its warm rays touch and illuminate the thousands, if not millions of ozone green strands as they reached out to and bathed in the yellow sky giant’s light. There was a bumpy hill in the center; one side steep and rocky, the other a smooth decline. The group of four zeroed on the steep part and began making their ways through the soft grass.

“Not a cloud in the sky, there isn’t,” Durham’s father noted when they arrived, watching as the boys let their backpacks fall to the ground.

“A mighty fine weather indeed, Sir,” Gera echoed the sentiment, “The morning’s rain has already dried up as well. Would be a fine time to go to the beach!”

The older coyote chuckled and patted his butler on the back.

“I like the way you think. So boys, are you ready for your first night camping alone?”

Durham was so excited, he jumped in his excitement. “You know it! It’s gonna be so cool! And we won’t be scaredy cats, nuh-uh! Right, Migs?”

The hyena basked in the excited atmosphere, melting a little inside at the toothy smile directed his way.

“I won’t. Not sure about you though, hehe.”

If his friend ever shared one defining trait with his mom; it was how quickly both could look like someone stabbed a knife through their dignity.

“I will show you!” Durham barked, shaking his fist in Miguno’s face, “You won’t hear a peep from me!”

The hyena scratched his temple, pretending disinterest. “Sure. But just in case – my tent is big enough for two people.”

“Well!” Durham’s cheeks puffed up, “I won’t need it. Your tent stinks, anyway.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that you will stink up my tent?”

With a growl, Durham pounced at Miguno and fell back onto the grass. The hyena was too busy laughing to really fight against the coyote and soon, his head was firmly locked between the other’s arms. He tried to rip off the hand holding his chin – but to no avail.

“Take. That. Back,” his friend deepened his voice to sound menacing, but it just made Miguno laugh much more. Looking around, he noticed their position; Durham had to angle his warm body to keep the headlock strong, meaning he left one of his sides exposed.

The hyena smirked.

“Never.”

And with that, he lashed out, digging his fingers into Durham’s side and began tickling the other mercilessly. At first, the coyote froze at the sudden move, before an open-mouthed, booming laughter escaped him. The arms disappeared from around the hyena’s head and soon it was him straddling his friend, making the other’s body wiggle nonstop. Durham fought back by digging his own fingers into Miguno’s side – effectively filling the meadow with their forceful chuckles and turning the whole thing into a who-can-tickle-better contest.

Meanwhile Gera and his Master stood at the sidelines, watching the spectacle.

“They will be alright, innit?” the coyote asked, nudging the butler.

“An understatement, Sir.”

“I think this is stable. Do you think it is stable?”

“It’s kinda... askew?”

The coyote and hyena pair stood some paces away from the deformed tent. The sunset’s weakening rays reflected upon its leathery texture and its abstract, hexagonal form, as the iron rods that defined the tent’s structure fought to not fall over. At that moment, a small gust of wind swept through the hillside they stood on, and their would-be sleeping place collapsed.

...

“Dude, I think it’s a great time to sleep in the wilderness, don’t you agree?” Durham said with an awkward smile, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head under the hyena’s unimpressed look.

“Let’s just follow the manual this time, alright?” Miguno said, waving a folded piece of paper in front of his friend’s adorable face, “You go make a fire in the meantime.”

Durham’s face beamed with a smile. “Oh, hell yeah! It’s gonna be the greatest fire, I guarantee you.”

“I swear it should work. It has to.”

“But it doesn’t.”

“Let me try again!”

The click of a lighter disrupted the serenity of the orange sunset.

...

“Why doesn’t it ignite?! It has air, it has flammable material, it has heat – what am I missing Miguno?!”

Next to the frustrated Durham, his friend cackled once more, high-pitched and a little raspy; the first sign of his approaching puberty.

“You sure it has all three?”

Durham growled at him at first, thinking the words were just for teasing. But then he thought about it once more, counting each object on his fingers. Oxygen? Obviously. Unless the government was testing a new kind of air, Durham highly doubted he missed that. Flammables? Come on! They were literally trying to set a fire with wooden planks. That’s like the first thing everyone thinks when wondering about burnable materials.

Heat? He had a lighter’s flame – literally fire. How can that not be enough?

“Giving up?” Miguno asked with a infuriating smirk, squatting down next to him. The hyena’s face was inches away from his, and Durham’s throat felt tighter all of a sudden.

“I-I’m not!” he shouted, gripping the plastic body of the lighter, “I just need a little help. That’s all.”

Miguno’s hand reached out and touched the stubborn plank.

“Hold on. Put your fingers on this for a moment.”

His friend obeyed, reluctantly.

...

“IT’S FUCKING WET?!”

The soft crackle of the burning wood disrupted the serenity of the night.

“Found it yet?” Durham asked, poking the burning campfire with a stick.

The tent moved and rattled, before a spotted head peaked out and smiled. “Yes! Sorry, it’s just kinda big.”

“Heh,” the coyote grinned toothily, “That’s what she said.”

“Who said what?”

Realizing that his joke went over Miguno’s head, he shrugged. “Nuthin’.”

Meanwhile, the hyena’s body broke through the flaps of the tent, dragging a large container outside. Durham remembered how Gera had been the one to carry it here, but he couldn’t recall how it ended up in Miguno’s tent. The coyote itched to know what could such a mystery box entail and why was his friend so secretive about it all.

Soon the container laid close to the fire with the hyena slumped over it, his chest bouncing with trials to get air some precious air.

“Dude, you sure you’re good?” Durham asked, readying himself to sit up and help.

Miguno held up a hand, signaling the other to wait.

“Yes, I got this. I got-“ he took a deep breath and pulled the box even closer to the fire, “-this. Phew... See? I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Well, you seem to still be in great distress,” Durham smiled, gazing at the hyena’s arms that just hung next to the other’s body lifelessly.. He patted the chair next to him, “Come’ere already. I wanna see the thing.”

Miguno scoffed, though his panting hid it. “Calling it ‘the thing’ isn’t that creative you know?”

“Yeah, yeah artsy pants, just sit down already.”

Rolling his eyes, the hyena obeyed, throwing his body in the fragile chair next to Durham’s. The fire illuminated their forms with an orange light as Miguno let his lungs fill themselves with some much-needed air. Once his breathing schooled itself, he turned to his friend.

“So? You ready?”

“Yes! Show me the goods already.”

Hearing the impatience in the coyote’s voice, Miguno undid the latches on both sides of the container and flipped over its lid. His friend leaned forward to get a peak of the hidden treasure, almost falling out of his seat, but he needn’t wait much; soon, the hyena was holding up the item by its neck and cozily laying it in his lap.

“Woah...”

“Cool, right?”

For Durham, ‘cool’ was an understatement; he had never seen an actual guitar in real life before, and now he was eyeing one within arms’ reach. The body of the instrument was of some kind of deep crimson wood, the wax making its surface look smooth, shiny and squeaky-clean. The strings were taut as they ran across the instrument, the thin strands of metal made grey look like a royal color. What the coyote noticed right away is how well the guitar’s Bordeaux shade and Miguno dark-brown fur blent together while the hyena held the instrument.

In other words – Durham was breathless.

“Is... is that real?”

“I’m literally holding it.”

“Plays music and all?”

Miguno snorted. “No, I use it to unclog the sewer – of course it plays! Here, I will show you.”

Night has arrived with its veil of darkness, and only the campfire’s crackling flame illuminated his limbs as one grabbed the top of the neck, putting pressure on the strings up there, while the other took out a red guitar pick and with one swift and easy movement, it strummed through each string. The resulting set of tunes were as chaotic as they were melodic, and Durham’s ears perked up.

“Dude, that’s so fucking cool! Do you know any songs?” he said, his words quick and excited, and the wag of his tail began beating on the backrest of his chair.

Miguno looked away awkwardly. “W-Well... I know some, but they are very basic and boring. I just got this guitar for my birthday and I’m... still learning.”

But his friend was unhindered as he dragged his chair even closer to Miguno’s.

“Dude, just a little song? Please?”

The hyena looked up to find his friend’s pleading eyes – eyes that were a very pretty shade of brown - and he couldn’t hold back a bashful smile. It felt nice being encouraged by his best friend.

“Well - okay. I might know... something.”

The hyena’s hands began feeling sweaty; but he nonetheless grasped the instrument, took a deep breath and drew the first note.

A simple and slow-paced song; it really was just a lullaby he learnt from tutorials on the web. And it showed; every third note was unsteady and every fifth ended up being the wrong one, but he kept going. His friend was oddly quiet and Miguno spared a momentary glance at Durham’s way - just to meet with a pair of adoring eyes, traces of rare awe coating the coyote’s every feature. Miguno felt his confidence surge and soon he was fanning the strings like he was born for this.

At the very end, he made sure to end it all with a grand arm gesture, the pick making each note sing.

...

“So? What’s the verdict?”

Durham smirked and propped his head up on the armrest. “Made me wanna fall sleep.”

At first, Miguno thought the other meant that he was boring – but then realised that duh, he was playing a lullaby of all things.

“Thanks,” he giggled coyly, before an idea popped up in his mind, “Hey! Why don’t you try playing?”

Durham hadn’t the time to oppose the notion – the hefty instrument and the red guitar pick were soon pushed into his hands and he could do nothing against it. In a way, he felt his heart jump in joy when he realized what a relic he was holding. In an other way, he was scared shitless; what was he to do?

But Miguno’s eyes smiled, and it prompted him to move in the end. He did a couple of experimental flicks on the strings – jumping a little at each - before realizing that wait, this was actually kinda neat, and he immediately started ripping into them like if he were a rockstar.

“No-no-no-no!” Miguno jumped out of his seat to quickly grab the other’s hands. The fur-on-fur contact made Durham stop in his tracks; because the music may have been awesome and all, but the other’s hand was so soft...

“What? What’s wrong?!”

“This is not that kind of guitar,” Miguno explained, still holding the coyote’s hands together, “Okay?”

Durham squinted at the hyena’s words. “Eh?”

“It’s – well, it’s hard to explain... but you can’t rip into the strings like that. Here, let me show you.”

Before the other could ask exactly how Miguno planned to do that, the hyena moved, sitting down on the armrest of Durham’s chair. Then the coyote watched as the other leant forward, snaking their limbs under his armpits, and aligned their hands. Durham’s mouth opened at the sight of their now intertwined hands, and his heart jumped straight up to his throat when Miguno began gently guiding his fingers to the frail strings.

“At first, you gotta start slow. My private teacher says playing the guitar is like fighting – you have to be precise and quick. Let your body take over but always keep a watch out for mistakes.”

His friend’s voice was right in his ear, and if the hyena expected him to be able to focus then he had another surprise coming, The warmth of the relaxing hug, the hand fitting into his own, the shudder that raked through the coyote at each word of his friend’s – and it all confused him.

What was happening to him?

He didn’t even notice when he began mirroring Miguno’s movements, and soon, he was playing the guitar all by himself – the right way this time. He would have probably continued had he not have other burning matters on his mind-

“D-Do you feel that?” he asked out of the blue, looking up at Miguno with wide eyes.

“Feel... what?” his friend asked, frowning at the words before seemingly realizing the answer, “Oh! It must be the music. I too sometimes get goosebumps when I hit a-“

“No! That’s not it – it’s different. It’s like, a weird feeling.”

The hyena tilted his head. “Weird how? Like, an illness?”

“No,” Durham shook his head, looking thoughtfully into the fire, “Or... I don’t fuckin’ know. But it happens when you are close to me.”

Miguno immediately leaned away quickly. “O-Oh, then-“ but before he could share what was on his mind, Durham grasped his hands and dragged him back.

“It’s good though! A good weird feeling,” he admitted with difficulty, before sighing, “It’s like some kind of spell. Every time you hug me or look at me, I feel... weirdly happy. And it had been going on for weeks now, ever since the last contest - you know, when you k-kissed me...”

The coyote was trying really hard not to look into Miguno’s eyes and see the other’s reaction. If he had looked, he would have seen the other’s calculating gaze and the way the other shrugged and leaned in. The kiss on his cheek was the only thing Durham noticed - and oh boy did he notice it; posture becoming as taut as the strings on the guitar, his wide eyes locked on a random spot on the ground, and the skin under his fur felt impossibly more hotter.

Like the last time, the place of the smooch prickled, and his head felt light.

“So? Did kissing you again reverse the spell?”

Durham’s loosely hanging jaw didn’t move to answer.

“Damn, maybe you are ill. Or you could be allergic to something – hey, maybe you are allergic to winning! That would make sense, ‘cause you lose a lot... why are you looking at me like that?”

True enough, Durham’s angry but determined eyes bore a hole into his forehead. With uncharacteristically delicate movements, the coyote removed the guitar from his lap and stood up, towering above the now anxious Miguno.

“Durry? D-Did you become a zombie?” as his unresponsive friend began leaning in, he closed his eyes and looked away, “Please don’t eat m-“

Smooch

“Gotta take a leak now, be right back!”

...

...

When Miguno’s brain managed to reboot, he lowered his gaze – just in time to see Durham’s back disappear behind a tree. He raised a hand to rub at the now wet spot, marveling at how light and fresh his head felt. Then a bubbling giggle escaped him, and suddenly, he felt like joy surged through his blood.

Then he realized something.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“YOU HALF-BAKED DUMBASS, DID YOU INFECT ME TOO?!”

Chapter Text

Getting pushed into a flowerpot on the school corridor – well, it was not Miguno’s favorite hobby.

It hurt, of course. The assailants didn’t just push his body; they tossed it sideways so violently, he crashed shoulder-first into the plant and broke the terracotta pot. Lying there, the wet, grimy soil coating his torso, his face, his eyes – it even got between his fingers – and the poor yeen found himself sore all over. Pain especially blossomed and pulsed from the place of impact, resulting in a dry, pitiful whimper leaving him - everything burned.

He heard a quiet snicker, making him open an eye. Two pairs of muscular legs stood before him – probably the culprits of his current dismay.

“Not enjoying winning so much, huh?”

That was all they told him. With another round of mocking laughter, the legs kicked even more grime in his face, then turned on their heels and made their way down in the corridor.

Miguno waited for them to disappear. Once alone, he uncurled himself from the fetal position he was in and raised his head. A couple of bypassing students approached him and were decent enough to help him to his feet, with questions about his well-being and all. He politely smiled and reassured them - ignoring the freezing wet patches on his shirt.

Another student came and returned his backpack, telling the hyena how he found it in a corner. Miguno looked at the dusty, red fabric – it must have flown away when they tossed him aside. Not even checking if he had everything, he bowed deeply to his helpers with all the gratitude his rapidly beating heart could give, and basically ran away.

Behind the school was a yard; a cozy little place with a wire fence around it. Students were free to use it in between classes, which was one privilege that Miguno’s group of friends made sure to use to a letter. When Miguno shouldered his way out to the yard – with his unharmed side of course – a decent number of students were already there, some taking a stroll in the park, some enjoying some peace in the shadow of a tree or munching their lunch on a lonely bench.

His friends were there too – Voss, Collot, Jack, Legoshi and Durham were animatedly discussing something on a patch of grass as they sat in a circle. An unfinished circle, cause the place between Durham and Legoshi was empty, and the hyena’s heart leapt in joy; these little gestures of friendship always made him feel warm.

Well, as warm as he can be at the moment.

Approaching them, it was Legoshi who noticed him first.

“Hey,” the young wolf waved a shy hand at the hyena. His friends immediately stopped their chatter and turned their head to Miguno one-by-one.

“Hi guys! What’s the matter?” he asked, flopping down to his place.. He expected the others to greet him back, but that was far from reality; only dead silence responded to him. Looking around the group, he noticed how all of them were watching him with varying degrees of concern.

“What?”

“Dude...” Durham said in his ear, sniffing at the hyena, “What the hell happened to you?”

Only now did Miguno notice how his clothes were still drenched in the potwater, how he still reeked like jungle leaves, and how he still had patches of dirt scattered all over his fur. He realized that in his hasty retreat, he may have forgotten to clean himself.

Calling his appearance ‘utterly ridiculous’ was an understatement.

“Well, I... may have met up with Suzo on the way here and he-“

“The fucker touched you again?!” Durham practically blew up, jumping to his feet, “I swear I will invert his fucking ribcage with my bare hands!”

“Wait wait wait, hold up!” Jack cut in, panic and confusion on his face, “What happened?”

“It means that the shitbird is afraid of me, so he is bullying Miguno instead!”

“But why would he bully you at all? What did you do?”

“We didn’t do anything! He’s just jealous because his dick is small.”

Voss and Collot snorted at this, while Legoshi looked away with a grimace.

Miguno sighed, swiping off another line of soil from his shoulder. “He asked me if I still enjoyed ‘winning’ so much. He’s probably still mad that we won the Games.”

“That’s...” Jack tried to search for words, but only one came to mind, “...petty.”

“Suzo never could accept defeat. He is much like Durham in that case,” Collot added with a smirk, to which the coyote pointed at him accusingly.

“Shut the fuck up dude,” and with a deep growl vibrating through his chest, he snapped around and began marching towards the school building.

Miguno called after him immediately. “W-Wait Durry – where are you going?!”

“The punk has it coming,” the coyote shouted back, not stopping his vehement walk toward the doors, “Nobody hurts you and gets away with-“

He couldn’t finish his monologue as a hand suddenly caught his own and wrapped around it, drawing him back. Twisting himself, his eyes met with Miguno’s amber ones that shone like a crystal in a dark cave, and his anger puffed away into mere frustration.

“Please. It’s not worth it.”

“Dude, do you honestly think I will let this continue? You have a rude surprise coming if you do.”

Miguno’s hold tightened, and he lowered his head to push against Durham’s chest. “Just two months, dude. That’s what’s left from the school year, then it’s over for good. Please?”

The coyote could only watch as his best friend nuzzled into his chest, and soon, he found his own hands hugging the other closer. Miguno’s body was cold and dirty, but he cared not – he let himself enjoy the earthy scent of the air.

“...Alright. I ain’t beating him up. But I still won’t let it happen without a say in it,” Durham said, raising the other’s head, “So I expect you before the school gym after classes, alright Migs?”

Miguno didn’t answer. Whether it was because he was utterly breathless from the fact that their snouts were mere centimeters away or something else – the coyote didn’t know. He just waited for the other to nod, before they rejoined their friends once again.

“It’s locked.”

“Seems like it. We need a key then.”

Miguno sent an unimpressed glance at his friend. Durham had been wearing a smug, all-knowing smile ever since they met up out in the corridors, and it seemed that the revelation of the school gym’s closed doors just empowered that grin.

“And who could have a key?” the coyote continued, his voice mysterious and easy.

“The PE teacher?” Miguno replied, pointing at the door behind them.

Durham just shrugged, still grinning like he owned the place. The hyena so-wanted to ask what was up with his friend, but why bother when he would see soon enough? Spinning on his heels, he was just about ready to complete that three meters to the teacher’s room, before someone hooked a finger into his shirt’s neck and dragged him back.

“Hold your horses dude,” that annoying someone chided him, “Just what exactly did you plan to do once you opened that door?”

Miguno looked at him like was speaking another language. “Speak to the teacher and ask for the keys? Like every rational person would?”

“Yeah and that’s your mistake. You would go in and be like-,” here, Durham raised his voice mockingly, “Oh Tsubasa-sama! Would you please lend me the keys? You are my favorite teacher by the way!”

“You are incorrigible.”

“But no, that won’t work,” Durham continued without reacting, “This is not your nansy-pansy, gets-a-boner-for-metaphors literature teacher – no, this is your PE teacher, your coach. Watch this.”

Durham pointed back at the corridor where a German Shepherd in a tank top was approaching.

“Yo’ Durdude! Lookin’ fresh in the color!” the dog greeted, before he quite literally kicked in the door to the teacher’s room, “And what’s up with you, Old Geezer?! Wife left you high and dry?”

“Ah, Blake. A basketball I’m assuming?” came the rough, but pleasant voice from the inside.

“Fuck basketball dude, me and the bros out there playing football,” they heard the popping sound of a ball bouncing off the linoleum ground, “Gotta show them punks how we play the game in this side of the city.”

A rough laughter, and the sound of someone slapping a wooden table. “That’s the talk, boy. Don’t even bring the ball back until you are winning by three goals.”

The shepherd stepped out the room. “Just three? Damn, you underestimate us coach. But whatever, see ya!” and with that, the guy used his feet to kick the door right back to its frame.

...

...

“What. The hell. Just happened?”

Durham nudged him in the side. “This is how you speak with the coach if you want him to agree to anything.”

“Loud, brash and disrespectful?” Miguno replied with a sceptical eyebrow.

“Confident, friendly and assertive more like,” the coyote said, patting his back, “You have to act like he is your bro, and he will act like he is your bro. Act like you are trying to ask his hand for marriage, and he will not-so kindly tell you to fuck off.”

...Putting it this way, it made a certain sense to Miguno.

“So I should just – barge in? Act like the room is mine and just take the keys?”

“Yeup. That’s the gist of it,” the coyote replied, intertwining their fingers between them and his smile turning a tad softer, “You can do it Migs. Go on.”

Such a simple gesture should not be filling the hyena with such genuine warmth; but it did, and now Miguno stood there with an immense want to impress his friend beating against his ribcage.

“...Alright. I will try,” he said, and after taking a deep breath, he quite literally jumped through the door, “What the FUCK is up coach!? You look like a salami sandwich gone wrong!”

The robust Bengali Tiger had been sitting behind a desk, writing on some piece of paper with a pencil. Once the hyena crashed through the entrance with a loud shout, however, the feline turned to him with a surprised gaze.

“Miguno? I didn’t expect you.”

“Eh, what can I say Tsu? Gangsters don’t make no appointments,” and with a carefree swipe of his hand, he took the gym’s keys from the coach’s table, “Me and Durham plan on doing some rad exercises or some shit, so I will be taking this and biding you adios.”

The tiger watched his movements with great interest, before an ear-to-ear smile split his face in two. “So be it. And it’s great to see you with confidence kiddo - Durdude is a wonderful influence on you, after all.”

Miguno shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, he’s my bro, y’know. It was ‘bout time we took after each other,” and with the keys clutched between his fingers, he turned back and saluted lazily, “Peace, Coach.”

Once the door closed behind him with a bang, he immediately shed his fake persona and looked up to Durham with wide eyes.

“Did I do good?” I got the keys and I think Tsubasa-sama likes me now!”

The coyote’s jaw was still laying on the floor, but he collected it once Miguno addressed him.

“It was... a little overkill,” he admitted awkwardly, “But yeah, you did well overall. Great job, dude.”

Miguno’s tail began wagging at the praise and he couldn’t stop himself from planting a surprise kiss at the other’s cheek.

The hyena was convinced Durham was a slave driver.

As sweat dribbled down on his forehead and his legs nearly gave out under him, Miguno contemplated the reason he was doing this. Running like the fiftieth lap inside the gym was not something he expected nor had a desire to do today, but apparently it was a ‘good warmup’ for whatever was coming. By the sweaty dark patch on his shirt – and thank god they changed to their gym clothes before – he was more than just warmed up, yet Durham just kept making him run.

“Are we-“ he couldn’t finish his question as his lungs decided they needed to suck in half the air in the room, “Are we done?!”

His friend smiled and pushed himself away from the wall. He had finished the laps ten minutes ago and already didn’t look worse for wear at all.

“Yeup. That should be fifty laps. How do you feel? Do you feel your muscles surging with heat, ready to be put to work?”

“Honestly go to hell.”

The coyote pouted. “Aww, don’t be like that,” he said, throwing a bottle of water at his friend, who managed to catch it with difficulty, “Freshen up and we continue.”

Miguno let himself fall back to the flat bench under him, unfurling the cap without hesitation. As he was feverishly chugging the liquid down his throat, he spared one look at Durham – and he almost spat the water out.

Apparently the coyote was not satisfied with this measly little warmup, so he decided to do some additional stretches. These stretches included him bending down and trying to reach his toes while standing. Durham, whether or not it was intentional, he decided to do this while turning away from the hyena, making Miguno have a perfect view of the other’s... behind.

He glanced away, cheeks warm; Durham had a nice butt to look at.

“Are ya ready, Migs?”

Oh no – those eyes were on him too.

“Y-Yes, I think,” he said, shaking the perverted thoughts off his mind, “But for what?”

Durham helped his friend to his feet with a lazy smile.

“I’m gonna teach you how to handle bullies. If I won’t beat them up for you, then I sure as hell will help ya do it yourself.”

Miguno recoiled. “But I don’t wanna hurt them! Violence is not an answer Dur-“

“Yeah, yeah, violence is not answer to violence, yadda yadda,” Durham finished with a dismissive hand wave, “In a perfect world, this... attitude may work, but this ain’t a perfect world, Migs. Suzo will just get madder if you ignore him, and I won’t let that happen either. So – bullies. One approaches you. What’s the first thing to do?”

Miguno fidgeted with the edge of his shorts. The spacious gym was suddenly not-so spacious anymore.

“I’m guessing ‘trying to communicate’ is not the right answer?”

Out of the blue, his friend stepped in front of him, his smell pervading Miguno’s senses.

“Look me in the eye,” the hyena followed the instruction, “Straighten your back. Puff your chest out and keep your tail steady,” a finger pushed his head up, “Chin held high. The first step to defeat a bully is to show that you don’t give a flying fuck about how intimidating they are trying to be. Eye-contact and a confident pose usually do the trick.”

Miguno felt like a mannequin, stiffly standing there in this position. He really didn’t want to break the pose, lest he forgot how to do it again.

Durham stepped back three paces and crossed his arms before his chest.

“Good. Now, approach me, but make sure to put weight in your steps.”

The hyena gulped and stepped forward. His feet make a slapping sound on the rubber-like surface that echoed through the room.

“Keep your eyes on mine,” Durham warned, to which Miguno snapped his head back to where it was. Keeping the trance, he made his way over to the coyote, his steps loud and heavy, until he was almost chest-to-chest to his friend.

Durham smiled toothily. “Good. When you are here, wait three seconds for the other to get the memo that you ain’t fuckin’ around. If they are dense, push them.”

The hyena didn’t hesitate following instructions, forcing the other some steps back.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate,” the coyote remarked, massaging his chest.

“Hey, you told me to push if they are dense,” Miguno replied smugly, “That criteria fits you nicely.”

“What do you...” Durham was ready to lash out how he normally would upon being disrespected, but Miguno looked him in the eye, puffed his chest out and raised his chin, “...Good.”

The hyena’s tail wagged at the praise.

“Afterwards, it really is just rinse and repeat; you approach them and push them until they either fuck off or fight back.”

“What happens if they fight?”

“You kick them in the nuts,” Durham shrugged, disinterested, “It may be lame to do so, but it makes even the toughest motherfucker topple over like they were Jenga.”

Miguno made an ‘o’ shape with his lips in understanding, before furrowing his brows. “Wait, you made me run fifty laps just to show me how to push someone?”

“Nah,” and the way the coyote took out his phone to see the time, it made the hyena’s fur stand, “The main test is just about to arrive.”

Right at that moment, the doors of the school gym opened and two wolves stepped in, both shirtless and guffawing. Miguno quickly stepped close to Durham’s side, and the coyote didn’t waste time to snake an arm around the other’s waist.

Suzo.

“-and then Pa said that if I am old enough, I can have my own gun!” the bigger of the wolves boasted, before his eyes landed on the hyena-coyote pair, “Oh. If it isn’t Chuckles the flower boy and Wiley the coyote. Didn’t know the Cheaters decided to steal our turf too, hehe.”

“Don’t you have a sister to woo, you inbred piece of shit?” the coyote snapped back, his hold tightening on Miguno’s waist.

The humor from Suzo’s and his goon’s eyes drained, replaced by pure hatred.

“You don’t get to talk to us like that,” the wolf growled, pointing an accusatory finger at them, “I don’t know how you two bribed the Contest, but there is no way whimps like you could win. So you might as well come clean.”

“Or what? Gonna call the family on us? Sorry, my home ain’t big enough for a bunch of circus freaks.”

Suzo slammed the wall next to him, its ferocious sound filling the void of the gym.

“Shut the fuck up. You think you can belittle me because you are the rich kid? That you are above me?! You and your boyfriend should fuck right off this moment, or you will taste what a pair of angry Alpha wolves can do.”

Durham didn’t have an answer for that – but he needn’t. Miguno patted his shoulder, getting his attention, and he met with a pair of dazzling brown eyes that bled determination. A silent conversation passed between them that ended with the both of them smiling wickedly.

“You know, you could blow away more than just three pig’s houses with all these nonsense you are spewing,” Miguno began, before both him and his partner took up the pose, “Or did Little Red Riding Hood and her grandma write your lines too?”

Suzo and his goon unsheathed their claws, ready to go through with their ultimatum – but they faltered when Miguno and Durham began marching towards them. Their feet slapped the ground as they ate the distance between, and the wolves found their limbs unable to move. Soon, the two pairs were chest-to-chest; the hyena connected eyes with Suzo whole the coyote made sure that the goon wouldn’t interfere.

“What? Grew some courage? I thought I soiled your-“

He couldn’t finish his one-liner as Miguno’s fragile little hands suddenly came up and pushed him back towards the entrance. Suzo’s tongue tripped over itself as he righted his posture.

“I want you to leave,” Miguno said, his words steel sharp, “I want you to stop bothering me, cause frankly, I am sick of your bullying.”

Once again, they were really close – and the wolf growled.

“Or what?”

Instead of answering, Miguno just smiled, and it was enough distraction for Suzo to never see the swinging leg aimed between his legs.

THUNK

The big, whining wolf collapsed with his hands smothered between his legs.

The goon, now without his better half standing, quickly found all his courage dissipating, and he bowed his head before Durham – surrendering. He ducked down and grabbed his friend’s shoulders, helping the limping Suzo up to his feet, then dragged themselves out of the gym with their heads held low.

...

“Did we just do that?”

Durham clicked his tongue. “You sure did.”

After just a moment of contemplation, Miguno jumped into his friend’s arms and showered the other’s face with quick kisses. The coyote went redder under his fur every time those warm lips touched his cheek fur, but he let the other do his thing. His friend was so adorable like that, jumping and kicking and laughing in joy – so adorable in fact, that soon Durham felt himself joining in.

“We. Are. Awesome! We. Are. Great! We are the forces no one underestimates!”

The coyote laughed and hugged his friend closer, planting a smooch or two of his own.

Gosh. He loved this hyena.

Chapter Text

Durham’s feet shuffled as he paced up-and-down the hall.

He wasn’t nervous. He was not nervous – he really wasn’t. He was only as nervous as someone who was about to drop a figurative bombshell on his own mother. Which... was coincidently enough to qualify as ‘freaking out’, and the edges of his ears stung from the amount of tugging he had done on them in the last hour.

He really should just man up and finally knock on her door – but what needed to be shared with his mom was not something he could shrug off. It was a future-defining request that lied on the tip of his tongue, wanting to be let out and heard by whoever was listening. It was of the utmost importance he asked his mother about this, so then why wasn’t he doing anything?!

“Because I’m a giant pussy, that’s why,” he said, answering his internal monologue under his breath.

“By my eyes, you look more like a prepubescent coyoteling.”

The smooth voice came from behind Durham, making him snap and turn backwards. Gera stood there, in his black butler tux and linen pants, holding up a circular tray on the tip of his fingers with a steaming white cup on it – coffee, if his nose was right.

“Gera! Why you hafta scare me like that?!” he complained, but nonetheless grinned and approached the fox with his fist held out. The vulpine didn’t hesitate to use his free hand to casually knock his own fist to it.

“My dearest apologies Sir, I didn’t mean to,” Gera said, his posture still and regal - like it always has been - but his lopsided smile was genuine, “I couldn’t help but notice your distress. Did something happen with your mother?”

“Nah. More like, something is about to happen. Hey, a question - what would you do if you and someone else had been planning to do one thing, but then you found something better and now you have to convince the other one to agree to let you go?”

Gera rolled his shoulder, keeping the circular tray in perfect balance.

“I’d say communication and honesty are the most advisable courses of action. Rather be an honest fool than a glorified liar.”

Durham’s mouth soured; just as he feared so. With a great sigh, his posture relaxed from the skittish tenseness he had developed in his overthinking, then nodded. “Yeah. That sounds ‘bout right,” he replied, before realizing that Gera must have wanted to bring that coffee to his mom, “Oh, hold on, let me help you.”

The fox’s tail stood upright. “There is no need, Sir-“

“Yeah well, too bad,” and with that, Durham pushed the door to the she-coyote’s office open, letting Gera enter without another word.

There was her; sitting on the main couch in the middle of the dimly lit room, feet propped up on the table as she typed away on her personal laptop. Its screen illuminated her youngish features where a focused frown found temporary home, and her well-trimmed yet still sharp claws elegantly swiped through the keyboard - the two newcomers only saw a beige haze from her fingers.

Gera cleared his voice. “Madame? The coffee you ordered.”

The typing halted and she looked up; her eyes were sharp and predatory as ever.

“Put it on the table before me, please,” she said offhandedly, putting her legs back onto the ground. Her eyes landed on Durham, “And you brought my son as well. I don’t remember asking you that.”

Gera let the plate and the cup on top slide onto the mahogany table, and he bowed. “My apologies, Ma-“

“Hold on, what? I was already here - Gera didn’t do shit,” Durham cut in hastily.

His mom pinked on her claw, unemphatic. “He still let you hold the door for him – let a coyote serve a fox like him. You know that I don’t like seeing such acts, right Gera? You know better than that.”

Gera kept bowing before her. “My deepest apologies, Madame. It won’t happen again.”

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Now be a good fox and stay outside our door and don’t let my husband enter,” she said with a dismissive wave of her wrist, before turning to her very outraged looking son, “Durham! What a surprise. You rarely visit me in my office these days.”

“Geez, I wonder why,” the youngster said, flopping down on the cushioned chair next to her as she closed the laptop, “Room’s boring as hell. Anyway mom, there is something I have to ask you.”

“Oh? I’m listen-“

“It concerns my future.”

Her ears immediately perked up at that. Turning her body to her son, she clasped her hands together. “You have my attention.”

He sure had it – she was always interested in his future for some reason. Durham could rarely live in the now with her around, and that’s exactly why he was anxious about this; the bombshell was about something she was very much interested in.

“Well... how do I start...” he trailed down, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap, “I spoke with Migs yesterday, and he told me he found the highschool he wanted to go.”

“Oh? Little Miguno found his calling? Was about time,” she giggled at her own words, before sighing, “I swear that boy’s head is always in the clouds. Never having a clear goal and I have no idea how he can think he has a chance in life.”

While she was pretending to be the next reincarnation of the omnipotent God, she failed to notice Durham’s sharp glare directed at her – ironic how it was her ranting about having someone’s head in the clouds.

“Mom. Shut up.”

She smirked at him. “Awh, I was just jesting. Anyway, what were you talking about?”

Durham, in all honesty, didn’t want to answer anymore – he came here to convince her, not to listen to her slandering his partner’s name.

“I just wanted to say... that he told me he wanted to go to Oakwood High on the other side of town.”

“Oh?” her eyebrows jumped, “That’s a prestigious school. Didn’t know he was musically inclined.”

“But he is! His mom bought him a guitar and I swear he is so fucking good already,” a proud smile broke through his sour frown.

“Good for him, I guess. Hyenas were always destined to work as entertainers – like how us coyotes were destined to be on the front line of the economy!”

He... didn’t really know what to do with this information, so he ignored it. “Yeah, so anyway, the thing I want to tell you is that... t-that I want to go to Oakwood too. Instead of Cherryton, I mean.”

Her face froze for a second, not a single muscle twitching. Durham subconsciously began itching away from her when some very vile aura began crashing into him from her direction.

“You want to... go to Oakwood?”

“Y-Yeah. Migs let me play his guitar and I thought it was really cool! So I thought – well, maybe I will follow him!”

He watched as her hand slowly raised up and fell onto his shoulder. Then she gripped.

“Absolutely not,” she said, her voice cold as a waking cobra and heavy as a forest fire, “You will not be going to Oakwood to become a laughingstock of your species.”

“But mom-!”

“No buts!” her grip tightened to painful levels, making Durham’s body writhe in pain, “You will go to Cherryton and that’s final.”

He ripped his arm out of her hold, jumping to his feet, “But why?! Tell me one good reason why I can’t! Isn’t it my decision?!”

It was always like this – like she intended to live his life as well and frankly; he was fucking sick of it. She always knew better and no matter what, her words ended up being the final say. Oh, you wanted things to go differently? Well tough shit, ‘cause it’s either what she said or nothing at all.

While he seethed in righteous anger, she remained composed – but the air felt heavy to breathe and the distinct sound of a bomb ticking deafened his ears.

“It’s because that’s what you need to do for our family and species, Durham.”

“YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT!” he screamed as he pointed a finger at her, ignoring his instincts tugging at him to run, “Why can’t you just make sense for once?!”

The air stilled at that. His mother looked at him akin to something like a pulsing red brickwall, already cracking and crumbling under the pushes of something sinister. Her amber eyes glowed in the light of the waning sun, and Durham felt his insides churn; he was so fucked beyond belief.

But the explosion didn’t happen – instead she took a deep breath, her chest visibly rising and falling, before she grabbed her coffee mug and downed it in one gulp.

“Fuck,” she hissed under her breath, massaging her own face, “Do you ever wonder why we are so rich, Durham? How can a benign business woman and a second league football manager afford this manor, those luxury cars, boat, that entire private island and a butler on the side?”

He stopped at that. Now that she mentioned it, there really was a missing puzzle piece...

“Do you?”

He slowly shook his head – talking seemed like a VIP ticket to a beating right now.

“Well then, let me tell you about the ‘Exemplary Species Program’. Remember when we talked about hybrids and why they are disadvantaged compared to us, pure breeds?”

His nods were even slower; that car ride haunted his dreams for a week.

“Well, here is a hot take for you, son; the government recognized it as well!” she said, the shout blowing through her throat, “The people who lead our country agreed that hybrids will lead us down a path filled with poverty, crime and hunger, so they encouraged people to marry their own species. They gave subsidies, money to the pairs who do the rational thing and clean the dust at their own house!”

She began pacing the room, doing lap after lap in front of the chair Durham occupied. The young coyote just watched her, speechless, eyes wide and fear-struck – she had never shouted at him before.

“But then that wasn’t enough, ‘cause god forbid people appreciated financial stability – they needed further convincing. So the government – the people leading our country – made the Exemplary Species Program, where they chose one family of every species and gave them four times the subsidies. All they had to do was loudly follow their respective stereotypes and agree to be the face of their species. Can you guess which family was chosen to represent the coyotes?”

“...U-Us?”

She huffed and nodded. “Damn right we were. A family of coyotes known for their pure blood? It was an opportunity that couldn’t have been missed. Do you understand now why we are so rich and why we work the professions we work?”

Durham bit his lip when their eyes met; she looked so fierce and passionate, and she emphasized and layered her words in a way that was almost encouraging – had it not been for the fact that Durham felt like he was being rallied against.

“Because of the... program?”

“Yes, the program. It is very simple – do everything in our power to represent the essence of our species, become what people think first when they imagine a coyote, and we get rich in return,” she finally stopped pacing and stopped in front of him, aggressively grabbing his jaw and angling it up to meet her eyes, “A coyote isn’t the one providing music on a festival. A coyote is the one arranging the festival itself. And I won’t let my son be the one to destabilize us.”

She was obviously trying to intimidate him again; but Durham was his mother’s son, and he glared straight back. Her fingers grasped his jaw – a warning to stand down – but he wasn’t having any of it. With all the rebelliousness swimming in his blood, he took hold of her wrist and gripped it just as hard, before ripping her hand off himself. A flicker of surprise, then a trace of sadness – before she straightened out and sighed.

“You will see it soon enough,” she whispered before clapping her hands together and turning to the now opening door, where Gera stuck his head out, “Gera, would you escort my son while he leaves? I gotta work. Make sure to come back once finished.”

“Right away, Madame. Sir?” the fox said, stepping aside to motion at the free space next to him in the door frame.

Durham looked at his mother take a seat next to him and resume typing away – as if nothing had just occurred. He felt his lip constrict to a snarl; honestly fuck this. Fuck everything she said and fuck everything she stands for. Fuck this room, fuck her laptop, fuck this chair, fuck her fucking fuck fuck fuck FUCK-

Screaming in frustration, he rushed out the room. The corridor’s wall was his only obstacle and he swiped his claws through it in his rage induced delirium, cutting up the golden wallpaper multiple times – right until two soft hands grabbed his hips and drew him backwards.

“I’m sure there are much healthier and less destructive ways to vent your frustration, Sir. I’d advise a stress ball or a bag of sand,” Gera said smoothly, expertly holding his struggling form at arm’s length. Durham literally snapped at him with a bark, a deeper growl vibrating through his chest. But Gera was just smiling that lopsided smile at him, friendly but not mocking, and the coyote found himself unable to hurt the young butler.

“She is such a fucking dictator! And a bitch!” he bellowed while pointing at the now closed wooden door with a trembling finger.

“That’s no way to talk about your mother,” the fox replied, before leaning close to Durham’s ear and whispering, “...No matter how true it is.”

“Geraaa...” he whined when he felt his berserk lessen. Crying sounded wonderful for the first time, “What do I do now? Me and Migs can’t part ways like that – we agreed to die together and stuff!”

The fox bit his lip; he didn’t know how to answer to be truthful. Nodding sideways, the two of them began making their way down the lengthy hall while the butler was trying to find the right things to say.

“If your friendship is genuine... and if there is an effort to keep it afloat from both sides, I don’t see how it can’t survive until university.”

“Yeah, friendship...” Durham murmured, eyes trailing to the side.

Gera’s keen ears caught it, though. “Did you and Sir Miguno have a quarrel?”

“Nah.”

The fox sent him a questioning glance – the answer was way too hasty. After a quick inspection, Gera smirked; that pinkish hue on the inside of the coyote’s ears was just adorable.

“Ah yes. A ‘Nah’ cuts it quite nicely.”

Durham balled his fingers into a fist in embarrassment. “Shut up and... thanks, I guess,” he bit out – but the words really did make him feel slightly more hopeful, “Where are we going, by the way?”

“I thought it would be for the best if I escorted you to your father. The game between Denko and Osawa begun three minutes ago.”

The game against Osawa. Motherf-

“Quick!” the coyote shouted, grabbing Gera by the sleeve of his expensive tux and hurrying down the stairs, “DAD! Don’t you dare eat my pocky!”

They found the older coyote in the living room, in nothing but a shirt and underwear, his face basically glued to the screen.

“Say somethin’, did you?” Durham’s father murmured, his tone distracted as he watched the events unfold on that wide, edgeless plasma TV, “Hold on, this may be big.”

Ears perking in alarm, Durham let go of Gera to dash into the room and tiger-jump over the backrest of the couch. Sadly, his momentum carried him over his mark and he crashed into the wooden table standing behind the leather seating.

...

“Ow.”

“Come on, pass that ball forward!” his father pleaded, picking his son up by the neck of his shirt and dumping him on the couch. Durham didn’t hesitate to sit up and mirror his father lean-to-the-screen pose.

“Don’t pass it to that guy!” he bellowed, gripping the edge of the couch, “He’s a fuckin’ farmer! The only thing Iwa will ever score is a ticket to the asylum – look at that Dad! Who the hell passes to a guy with two defenders on him?!”

“Two of Osawa’s midfielders were closing in on young Aka Iwa,” Gera spoke up, walking up next to the couch with his back straight, “It was compulsory he gave the ball away. Osawa’s defense seems to be quite a wall at this time of the year.”

“What ‘e said,” his dad added without removing his gaze from the big screen.

Durham harrumphed and crossed his arms before his chest. “Whatever.”

The three canines watched as Denko prepared another attack; one of the central defenders gave a long pass to the attacking midfielder, who was immediately sandwiched between two opposing players. Thankfully, he wasn’t the star player for nothing – with an expert flick, the midfielder bounced the ball above the heads of the defenders and passed it to the sideline, effectively forwarding the attack just by himself.

“THAT’S MY PLAYER!” Durham’s father jumped to his feet and roared, pointing at the screen aggressively, “Bailey fucking Wright – the best number seven out there! Welsh power! Welsh power!, Welsh power! Welsh! Power!”

“Mister Wright has been on top of his game this entire season. It would be a surprise if he didn’t win-“

“Shhh, look! We are still attacking,” Durham cut in, pointing at the screen.

Denko’s right midfielder was in a one-on-one with Osawa’s left defender – but he dribbled through him! The midfielder rushed into the edge of the box with two Osawa players on his heels, before passing the ball to the space in front of the goal, in front of the incoming group of blue and red jerseys. Defenders fought to clear the ball and the strikers fought to score the goal – yet the ball slipped before all. Durham and his father were ready to express their vast disappointment, before they noticed just who managed to catch the ball outside the sixteen meter marker line.

“Come on, Bailey!” the two coyotes shouted at the screen and even Gera’s posture stiffened when the Welsh midfielder’s leg swung to kick to the ball. The object flew through the air, passing above heads and aiming for the top right corner of the goal. The keeper jumped there, stretching his entire body and hand to block the shot-

But he ended up knocking the ball into his own net.

“GOOOAL!” the pair of coyotes screamed as Durham jumped to his feet as well and hug his old man, laughing in joy and chanting ‘Welsh power’ under their breaths. Gera opted to just smile and politely clap, before a hand caught his tux and yanked him to celebrate too.

“Osawa and this league can eat my entire ass! What a screamer, mate,” the older coyote said breathlessly, as he hugged his butler and his son to himself, “In the ‘ighlight reel, this is going vor sure.”

“A spectacular move, indeed,” how Gera managed to keep his posture even while being snuggled to death – it was beyond Durham’s comprehension, “Definitely the goal of the round.”

“Ha! Goal ov the year, more like,” the older coyote laughed, before letting go his two favorite people on this planet and flopping back onto the couch.

“Dad, can I get a jersey with his name? I want a Bailey shirt so bad,” Durham pleaded.

His father looked at him with a wide smile, slapping his knee. “You know what? That shirt, you are getting, and I will make sure Bailey ‘imself ‘ands it to ya!”

Durham’s eyes positively shone at that. “I can meet Bailey Wright?!”

“The entire Denko team too!” his father ruffled the top of his head, “Waddaya say? This Saturday?”

“Can Migs come?”

“Fuck, bring your whole vriend group! It was ‘igh time those rascals got a taste of good vootball.”

The teenage coyote felt his tail wag behind him so loudly, it thumped on the leather couch.

“It is great to see Denko perform well – especially after such a horrendous season start,” Gera said as he smoothed the wrinkles on his suit with one hand and fixed his tie with the other, “As it is, I will take my leave now. Duty calls and all.”

The two coyotes snapped their heads to him.

“Now ‘old on just a minute! Where are you going?”

“To the Madame. She requested my further presence whilst she worked,” and with that, the fox turned on his heels quickly and began walking towards the exit of the room. That is, until a hand grasped his own, making him yip in surprise and look back; Durham was holding him back with all his might.

“I want you to stay and watch the game with us. She doesn’t need help – she is just sitting there and being boring as fuck!”

Gera smiled apologetically. “I would love nothing more, but your mother’s words are my orders.”

“Well, I am your Master too!” Durham’s father piped up, looking determined and fierce, “And as your Master, I order you to stay ‘ere, relax and watch th’ damned game with us.”

Gera’s smile melted into a calculating press of the lips and he frowned. “Well I... could maybe...”

Durham tugged on his fingers, grinning. “Not maybe, definitely.”

Gera looked like he was really struggling to answer, biting his lip and all. The two coyotes waited with bated breaths for those agreeing words to come out so they can resume watching the game – yet the fox clutched his eyes together and snatched his fingers back.

“I would really love to... but... she wouldn’t let me,” his voice quivered at the words ‘she’, “My deepest apologies, I must go,” and with that, he hurried out the room, leaving behind a trail of salty scent behind him.

The older coyote slumped back into his place, sighing.

“Fuck.”

“So many distalented students...” the narrow-backed wolf in those glasses murmured as she stamped another application with the ‘REJECTED’ sign, “Damn. Next year looks like a total disaster.”

The cheetah next to her sighed and held out his paw – the wolf was all too happy to lend the stamp.

“So many boring and wrong answers... the future of music is dying before my eyes...”

The wolf sent her comrade a questioning look, before rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she huffed, before taking hold of another application, “I swear, if this next one is underwhelming, I’m going to march up to the headmaster’s office and tell the old goat to postpone the year.”

The cheetah sighed again, turning to the she-wolf and watching as her eyes jumped from line to line. He expected the other to crash out of her seat any second now to fulfill her threat – but much to his surprise, her features softened. She actually started looking intrigued.

“Found something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

The she-wolf didn’t answer – unusual from the talkative lupine – she just kept reading and reading. The cheetah found his interest piqued and took a peak at the application.

“My, that’s a big primary school. Isn’t that the one with the Elementary Games or something?”

“It is... this kid got the first place and over a hundred and fifty points.”

He whistled. “That sounds interesting. His answers to the quiz?”

“T-They are all... right?”

“Was that a quest-“ he couldn’t finish because the application was forcefully thrust into his chest.

“I gotta cry now. Be right back,” she grabbed her purse and rushed out the teacher’s room without looking back.

The cheetah watched her form leave with wide eyes. He couldn’t fathom what could have cause such violent and massive reaction. Once she was out of his view, he slowly and hesitantly raised the paper before his face, scrutinizing each line. There were some details that caught his eye;

Species:

Hyena

Hobbies:

Playing music, hanging out with my friends, eating pancakes.

Reason for choosing our Institution:

To make my bestest best friend and boyfriend happy. I really love him and I can see how my music makes him smile, and I want to see that smile!

Describe an image you see upon thinking about the future on the line below:

A grassy hill in the countryside with my guitar, a plate full of pancakes in one hand, the other sneaked around Durh my boyfriend’s shoulders!

...

The cheetah blinked once, twice, before letting out a booming, merry laugh. Wiping a tear off his face, he made sure that the theoretical test part was truly the maximum amount of points and grabbed the still shiny and new-looking ‘ACCEPTED’ stamp.

Chapter Text

There are certain questions in this world - questions that can only be answered if you are bored enough to approach them.

Would time go forward if you set your phone's clock to a later date? Miguno's answer was a definite no. Would the toilet get clogged if you threw little clips of paper into it while imagining you were playing darts? A straightforward, but embarrassed yes. Would Oakwood High send their notification letter sooner if he kept watching the mailbox?

No. Not by a long shot.

His ears twitched upon hearing the muted creak of their front door opening and a pair of high heels stepped onto their soft doormat.

"Miguno~," his mom's voice sang, "I have something- what in the hell are you doing, young man?!"

The little hyena's body wobbled on one foot, his shoulders dancing in the air, before he slowly, extremely carefully turned his head to the side.

"What does it look like, Ma? I'm waiting," he replied, making sure his lips barely moved. If you ever wondered whether hyena snouts were flat enough to balance the butt of an entire guitar on top of their nose, then Miguno's answer was a proud yes. Also - it didn't bring the mail sooner, damnit!

His mom tiptoed through the grass and gently swiped away the shaking instrument. He sniffed when the pressure disappeared from his nose.

"Aww..."

"How long have you been doing that?" she asked while putting down the guitar to the safe ground, keeping it standstill by the neck with her only arm.

Miguno took a quick peek at his phone's time - or just would have, had the screen clicked to life.

"Damn," he flattened his lips as he watched the empty battery sign, "Oh well, whatever. I'm sure it was around half a hour!"

"Huh," she was genuinely surprised, "That's... actually impressive. Isn't there a Guinness-record for that?"

The little yeen just looked down at the dirty pavement he was standing on, calculating, "I dunno - Oh! With this conversation, we are a full minute closer to the mailman arriving! They can come any minute now, right mom?"

Her heart missed a beat upon hearing the slight break in his voice.

"Th-They have to be close, r-right?"

"Aww, honey..." she stepped up to hug her only son with her only arm, who didn't hesitate tucking his head under her chin, "You know it won't come-"

"Yeah, yeah, it won't come sooner if I look at the mail all day, I know mom," he said, and the flowery valley that was his enthusiastic tone became a sour river bend, "But what else can I do? I really, really really want to know if they accepted me. Mom, can't you call them and ask?"

He looked up at her with such familiar eyes - they were his father's, alright. No other hyena could replicate that certain shine to their pupils like her husband's own son.

"Well... I could," she whispered with a smile as she lent a small kiss on his forehead, "But why would I? They aren't sending the results through mail anymore."

Miguno blinked, his shoulders dropping.

"W-What? But the pamphlet said so! It said 'The results will be sent via mail'."

"Really now?" she giggled, "Do you happen to have that pamphlet?"

Hearing this, Miguno patted through all his pockets. He took out the solid objects he could find; an already worn-out guitar pick, his dead phone, a pack of minty gum and some spare change. But no paper, and he almost started panicking that he might have lost it for real but then sighed in relief when his fingers squeezed something solid and rectangular in his checkered shirt's left breast-pocket. Snatching it out with little difficulty - the damn pocket was just so goddamned small - he handed it to her.

"See? It says so right there," Miguno said once she unfolded it, pointing insistently at a spot on the left side of the wrinkled pamphlet. In actuality, there was absolutely nothing on the place his finger was, but the older hyena could take an educated guess that he meant the speech bubble below it. When she read it, she almost fell over into a pile of snorts and giggles, and the paper trembled in her furred hand as she fought to keep her posture - but the incoming shrill laughter was inevitable.

"What- What's so funny?!"

She took out a handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "Oh, such a good laugh. Haven't had one this good since my racing days," while reminiscing, she fanned the paper at his direction, "Honey, we may have to get you some glasses."

He snatched the paper back and buried his nose in the middle of it.

'Results will be sent out by e-mail.'

...

The want to scream was strong. Yeah, screaming sounded like a great idea.

...

He screamed.

His mom, still battling with the last of the rogue hiccups, pointed back at the house.

"They-" she had to muffle a snort here, "They arrived some ten minutes ago. I printed them out for ya."

"Why didn't you start with that?!?"

Ears perked up, he took off quickly - so quickly in fact, his feet left a trail of dust and dirt behind. She watched her son's bushy tail disappear into the shadow of the front door and sighed.

This day had just began for her little flower.

He found the papers on her mom's office table - right next to her computer. 'Papers' as in plural, 'cause apparently both Cherryton and Oakwood sent their results today.

Cherryton's acceptance letter was quickly scanned over. Their school's application test was probably the plainest and easiest paper he had ever had the misfortune to fill out, so it didn't particularly surprise him when he saw the large 'ACCEPTED' stamp at the bottom of the page. The congratulating speech used big words and some seriously standoffish language - but then again, he didn't care.

Cherryton was just Plan B.

With a shaky inhale, he shuffled the printed papers in his hands so the e-mail from Oakwood was looking back at him.

Well-respected Mister Diaz!

Wow. He had to blink from the formalities; never had he been spoken to in such a way before.

We are delighted to inform you that your application has been carefully looked over, assessed, corrected and put before the Council of Teachers. Here are your results and your classification;

Basic Competency (Universal): 87%

Basic Competency (Musical): 100%

BPT (Basic Potential Test): Promising

Reviewing these results, the Council of Teachers and me are happy to inform you that your application has been Accepted. If you were to choose our Institution for your further studies, we are ready to have you - just make sure to have this e-mail at hand for recognition and validation processes.

Yours faithfully,

Sige Hwa, Headmaster

...

"Hehe...heh," he breathed, clutching the papers to his chest. He let his back hit the wall and slide down until his butt hit the ground. His mind was in pure disbelief.

He had done it. He really did - with flying colors no less and better than his test for Cherryton.

"I did it..."

A sob escaped him. The rapidly building pressure behind his eyes was just as sudden as unstoppable, and he let the tears flow freely. So many sleepless nights of studying theory and applying it to his guitar, so many days of hoping that he had performed well and so many hours of listening to every encouraging speech from Durry-

Durham...

He gripped the papers to himself. If it weren't for his best friend and partner, he really couldn't have done it. And now they could both go to his dream school and become musicians together, maybe even form a band and become famous!

"Gosh..."

He really loved Durham, huh?

"Sweetie? I heard crying. Are you alright?" his mom peeked her head into the office.

He wiped away the tears and snot, chuckling the entire time. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I'm just so happy, mom... I did it."

"That you did," she trailed off, her smile fading, "But... could you come to the living room with me? I have something to tell you."

Noticing the change in her voice, he swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded. She helped him to his feet before the two hyenas left the office.

The living room was the most spacious part of their one-storey house. The blood red walls matched perfectly with the wide, crimson couch standing before a wooden table and a robust fireplace, that worked with actual flames and wood. A large, circular rug ran underneath their legs with a spotted pattern, smelling fresh and loving from a recent journey to the washing machine. The kitchen and the dinner table were at the other side of the room, only a waist-high wall, a miniature staircase and several wooden pillars dividing the two rooms.

The highlight was of course the stylish fireplace that blended into the room's dark red and Bordeaux color palette. For that reason only, they made sure to build the television into the wall above the fireplace, so as not to disturb the overall sight.

His mom led him to the couch.

"Here, hon," she said, sitting down with him, "How are you feeling?"

"They accepted me, mom! I can become a real musician now!" he giggled with an ear-to-ear smile.

"I'm so proud of you for that, you know. You will be the first one in our family to actually go to highschool, did you know that?"

His eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "Your grandparents were farmers from the rural life, both from mine and your dad's side. The two of us were both racers, and we ended up needing to choose between our studies or following our dreams."

"There aren't any racing schools?" Miguno asked with a tilted head.

She laughed. "Oh, that would have been the way - but no. Practicing driving and learning about how our rides worked took up most of our free time, and before we knew it, we were both put into the Junior League."

"That's where you met dad, right?"

"Yeah, we were teammates," she said, smiling softly at one of the family photos on the wall, "He was such a show-off too, trying to catch my attention by taking over others in the most dangerous ways possible. He caused a lot of headaches for the team and the ones arranging the League, let me tell you that much."

"So... he drove with his dick?"

She snapped her head to him. "Where did you learn that, young man?!"

"Durry. He says that people who do things to make a girl like them are thinking with their dicks rather than their brains. What's a 'dick' by the way?"

He looked so curious and innocent. She almost purposefully forgot to answer.

"...We'll talk about this later. But Durham wasn't wrong either - speaking of him, there is something you should know."

He inched closer to her, ears standing like circular disks.

She sighed, "While your phone was off, he tried to reach you, but couldn't get through obviously. So he called me instead and told me some news you may not like."

Like a burning match on a pile of gunpowder, worry ignited in his eyes. "Is he okay?! Is his dad okay?!?"

"He is, he is," she soothed, "Or I mean, their football team got wrecked to bits apparently, so he was kinda sulking, but otherwise he is fine."

Miguno closed his eyes and exhaled. "Thank god... So? What did he tell you?"

"Yeah, about that... he spoke with his parents about following you to Oakwood and - his dad was all about the idea, no surprise there, but his mom... she said no, Miguno."

His shoulders tensed up, his smile fading like a pencil stroke under an eraser.

"T-That's good! So him and his dad can convince her, right?"

He looked so hopeful, she almost didn't have the heart to be truthful about this. But she had to, or she would be lying to her little flower and that's basically bad parenting one-oh-one.

"It's not that easy, Darling. Durham's mom has a... well, a tight hold on her family. Her word is usually final."

"But why?!" he blew up suddenly, making her recoil, "Why do they listen to her? And why is she always so... so... evil?"

She bit her lip, before raising her hand to stroke that taut back in a weak trial to soothe his worry.

"I don't know, Miguno. She has been tainted by her own demons a long time ago. About her family, well - there is only so much air a balloon can take before it bursts. And I pray for her it's not Durham, because if he inherited something, it's that fire of hers. Combine that with his dad's sense of fairness, and you get one seriously dangerous fire to pop."

Welp. She tried - but her joking words did not bring back Miguno's smile.

"T-That's- no, that can't happen, mom! Can't you do something? Can't you talk to her? Or can I? I can convince her, I am really persuasive, trust me mom!"

She smiled sadly at him, but forwent answering. Seeing that, he burried his face into his palms and groaned, spending the next couple of tears not on happiness anymore.

"What's gonna happen now?" he whispered under his breath, "We can't separate. W-We promised each other to be with the other 'till we die! And if he can't go to Oakwood, then... then I won't either. No, no I won't-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold your horses, Sonny," she forcefully dragged his smaller hands away so he could look her in the eye. That sorrowful look could make mannequins cry.

"You can't make decisions like this. Take a couple of slow breaths, okay? Take them with me, alright?" In," and she sucked a gulp of air to her lungs. When Miguno didn't copy, she raised his chin back, "I won't let it out 'till you follow. Do you want me to suffocate, eh? Is that it?"

A ghost smile, and soon his chest rose with a large intake of breath.

"-and out..." now her son was finally following her, "In... an out. In... an out. That's it, you are doing great. Feel any better?"

"...A little," he murmured.

"That's good. Listen now, 'cause what I'm about to tell you will follow you through your whole life."

He met her eyes again, and she smiled; there were so much intelligence hidden in those pools of dark brown.

"You are twelve Miguno, almost thirteen. That means you are about to step into a new phase of your life where everything will feel different and you will question stuff you always took for granted. A perspective change, if you want."

"And if I don't want to? I'm happy with how my life is."

"I'm sure you are, but change can't be stopped. It has already started, did you know that?" she traced her fingers through the edges of his face, "Your deepening voice was its first sign."

He hesitantly raised a hand to touch his throat. "Oh."

"And there will be so much more. You may start experiencing naughty thoughts about others, for example-" when his eyes snapped away and his jaw tensed, she giggled, "But I'm guessing you noticed that too, huh?"

He didn't answer; just kept looking away with an awkward look on his features.

"They are natural, no worries. I'm a hundred percent sure Durham has experienced them as well, if that makes you feel any better."

"C-Can- Can they be cured? I feel so bad for thinking them, yet they are kinda... nice?"

She smirked. "Nice try, but puberty can't be cured. It's a natural thing to happen to both boys and girls your age, a part of becoming an adult. You know what else is a part of that? Making decisions for yourself."

"Like... what do I want for breakfast? But I already do that."

"Oh, no no no, nothing like that. Hard decisions, difficult decisions for yourself. And I am both happy and sad to announce that the time has come to make your very first difficult decision."

As she said that, she tugged away the two kinda-wrinkled acceptance letters from his grasp and laid them down on the table so Miguno was facing them both.

"The situation is, darling, that Durham's mom wants him to attend Cherryton, and that's what will most likely happen. Your dream, however, requires you to go to Oakwood and get knowledge that is basically a free Get-out-of-Jail card for your career," she didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed when he finally recognized just how weighty the choice was.

Will he cling to his dream and go to Oakwood, becoming a famous musician by himself?

Or

Will he go to Cherryton with his best friend, partner, love and the center of his naughty thoughts, continuing to grow up together, but no longer having a chance at the guaranteed success?

"M-Mom, how can I choose?" he said with a whine, motioning to the e-mails before him, "H-How- why do I have to choose between them? Isn't there a middle ground? There has to be one."

She sighed and sneaked her only hand around his waist, drawing him close.

"If there were one, I would fight claw and teeth for you to get it. But Durham's mom is immoveable and you can't attend two highschool at once."

He just kept watching the two papers with dreading eyes, like they were savage animals in a cage. Whenever one of the choices started gaining momentum in him, the other choice came crashing through and silencing everything else.

A crush and a friendship were easily breakable, but the studies he would get in Oakwood were a once in a lifetime- What about Durham?"

True, Durham was his other side and he couldn't imagine a moment without the other. If he took Cherryton, he could basically guarantee the next four years- What about your Dream?

And wasn't that funny? His future was swinging between two capital Ds; his Durham, or his Dream?

He turned his head to connect eyes with his mom. She kept looking at him with a soft smile, stroking his side lovingly the whole time.

"No matter what you choose, I will support you wholeheartedly. But it's your decision to make."

He turned back to the letters and sighed. A choice really has to be made, and whichever he left behind will be forgotten for good, huh? He pushed himself up to his feet and took the letters into both his hands. On the left was the source of his earlier joy, the Oakwood letter, that was now the bane of his existence. On the right was the letter from Cherryton, once a document he disrespected but now wanted to cherish it. His eyes kept bouncing from one letter to the other as he walked away from the couch and to the front of the crackling fireplace. Still watching them as he knelt down, the warm yellow flames lashed out for the tasty fuel.

He knew that in the next minute, this fire will be sated; one of these letters will be the one he would clutch to his chest in his sleep, the other will die a beautiful death soon.

He had to think objectively - such a big word, though - and decide for himself. What would give him more in the end? His Dream, obviously. If he went to Oakwood, he would leave that school with experience, knowledge and competency to make it big in the musical world. Most of the world-famous musicians today came from this school, and he could be one of these people. He could make people happy with something that made him happy. He could make friends who loved the same things as him and surround himself with people who can help him through hard times. Money is another thing to think of - if he made it big, he could have as much money as Durham's family, maybe even more!

But to make it big, he had to go to Oakwood.

With a weary sigh, he wiped away another tear on the collar of his shirt and watched as his right hand began lowering the letter to the fire. The flames began licking at the paper like a hungry bloodhound from hell, and the edge of that wrinkly papyrus already began folding back. Like it wanted to run away.

His hand, however, halted before he could actually let go of it. He tried to will his fingers faintly, but he was too busy fighting a mental war against himself. Something in him held his arm back from moving, and the tug-of-war was at a stalemate. This something certainly had a firm opinion on the matter at hand.

And really, did he want that Dream of his? Yes, of course, no questions asked. Except, was it worth it to sacrifice his friendship and whatever the two of them started to have for it? Durham made his gloomy days bright and his face to smile. Durham was the one that understood him too. He was there when they had to bury his dad, he was there when he got his first ever D on a test, and he was there every time Miguno started doubting himself. Would he ever find someone like that?

Distraction, he told his mind.

The truth, his mind echoed back.

Taking a deep breath, he finally let go of the paper in his hand. The thirsty flames covered the expensive document and started drinking it up from all edges, turning the once neatly written e-mail into a blackening mess.

"Good night," he whispered, clutching the remaining paper to his chest. His mom couldn't even speak up before he rushed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

She slowly stood up and shook her head; no one told her parenting could be this hard, but it had to be done. Walking over to the fireplace, she grabbed the poke and squatted down to be eye-to-eye with the sated flames. She rummaged through the burning wood with the tool, trying to find the fallen paper. When she found it, half eaten and rapidly withering away, she managed to quickly flip the top part of it over - then the flames ate that too.

But she wasn't mad.

Seeing the 'Well-respected Mister Diaz!' greeting turn to ash was all she needed to see.

Chapter Text

The room was cold as fuck.

One of the smoothbrains turned the AC all the way below ten celsius for whatever fucking reason, and the three layers of shirts and hoodies weighed down on Durham's body. Soft as they might have been – he conceded that much – but the fact that he was forced to wear all this in the middle of spring; it really ground his gears.

He made sure to be extra grumpy that day.

"So can ya speak to him?"

"Oh, absolutely. In fact, I will speak to him right after this call! So don't worry your little ears off."

Durham sighed in relief, a chilly hand going up to his beating heart.

"Thank you, Miss Diaz. You are a lifesaver."

"Oh, none of that. You know you are just as much family as Miguno. Such a simple request won't be the one to make me rethink that," the sweet voice of the older hyena giggled, a kiss-like sound coming through the call, "Stay safe, Darling. Talk to you later."

"Yeah, yeah. Good night, Miss Diaz."

And with a muted beep, the line broke.

The young coyote groaned; it seemed that life was really out to get his hide. Throwing his legs over one armrest, his head over the other, Durham thanked whatever God was listening that the armchair under him was at least comfy as hell.

But even if he became like the manifestation of laziness himself – he was tense as fuck, alright? When the call to Miguno resulted in a fuckin' Alexa and her robotic voice telling him that the number hadn’t been available, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel the crackle of his blood freezing. Migs had never, ever turned his phone off, no matter what. Hearing the message – it gave Durham a sizeable middle finger.

Oh well. At least he had Miss Diaz' number, so crisis averted.

"Damn, t'at game really got you down, innit?" his father said as he barged into the room with a box in his hands, "Blame ya, I can't. Osawa 'anded us our asses avter the goal."

"Nah. I'm just... being a wimp," Durham replied, letting his head fall back on the armrest, "Being a wimp sucks, Dad."

"Blasphemy! You aren't a wimp. Unless you are too much of a bitch to vace your problems, then you are Wimp Extraordinaire – T fuckin' M."

The young coyote scoffed. "Whatever. What's in the box?"

"Oh, this?" his father motioned to the item on the table with a smile, "This is a survey, innit? My boys decided to write some letters to the club leadership to keep me vor another season. Thankfully, I got hold ov this box bevore it actually reached the chairpersons."

Durham raised an eyebrow. "That makes no sense? They are trying to keep your job, dad, why are you sabotaging them?"

"Sabotaging them, I'm not! I just don't want any ov my players to get sacked because t'ey wrote an inappropriate personal letter. View it as... selecting instead, innit?"

His son just shrugged, a chill shuddering through his body. "S-Sure. Can I help?"

"That would be lovely," his dad said, before grabbing hold of the box and, flipping it upside down, he dumped its contents onto the table. While most of the papers landed on the surface, a couple rogue ones bounced off to the ground and scattered.

"Coc y gath, damnit," the older coyote knelt down to collect them, "Start, you can, son, just – tell me iv it has any swear words or are plenty disrespectful."

Rotating his body so he was sitting properly, Durham rubbed his frosty hands together and leant forward to thrust them into the pile, before they emerged with a single paper. He unfolded it and began lazily reading the many lines laid before his eyes.

"Anything?" his dad asked from under the table.

"Nope. Just someone named Dan ranting about the unfairness of the decision and their treatment to you. Then he goes off about how much they enjoyed training in the atmosphere you always created, yadda yadda yadda."

"Oh, Danny boy – bless yer heart!" his father's tone was heavier than before, "Such a tidy lad, innit? Put that into the box."

With an easy flick of his wrist, Durham threw the letter like it was a shuriken. While his dad emerged with a handful of papers, he grabbed another one – this one was more crumpled than the one before – and opened it.

His eyes widened. Then a snort escaped him.

"What- what?!" his dad asked and took the letter that the giggling Durham wiggled in his direction. The older coyote looked at it and – he too felt himself smirking in good humour.

The letter was just 'I fucked your mom' written at least a hundred times.

“That 'ave ta be Golie. 'e is such a voul-mouthed dirtbag, but Dyw, do we love his lush imaturity.”

“I'm guessing it goes to the side?” Durham asked, already fishing out the next letter.

“Hell naw – I'm taking this shit. Me and the boys will have a good laugh on some of these.”

The young coyote could imagine that. His dad would walk into the locker room with a bunch of these papers and read them out loud, once again creating that apparent 'legendary' atmosphere. While he was thinking, his mind unconsciously began reading the next letter and as it interpreted word after word, he found his smile thinning out until it froze onto his face completely.

“Dad.”

The adult's ears perked up at the stale tone. “Yes?”

“Do you have a gay player?”

His father's body stilled at the question. He slowly put the paper - the one he had been reading through - back onto the table, before the older coyote turned to him.

“Probably Owie that is,” the reply was quiet, “He... 'ad issues with 'iding it from people ever since he started football some years ago. Then one day, 'e searched me up and told me about 'is- his struggles and insecurities.”

“And you reacted...?” he put the letter back to its box – averting his gaze as he did so.

A small smile appeared on his father's muzzle. “Honored. Honoured, I was, son. To be the virst coach 'e entrusted with such a career-ending secret... so yeah, I helped. Told 'im I would never throw 'im under the bus, no matter 'ow much people would want to pressure me so, and gave the contact ov a psychiatrist I knew. The guy had some serious confidence issues on the pitch, innit – that's why I didn't play him that much. Afterwards, though? Cemented 'imself in the starting eleven.”

“Oh,” Durham bit his lip, digesting these words. So his dad was fine with it, huh?

That's all he needed.

“I can kinda emphasise with Owie.”

“Oh, it's actually 'owie, with an H. Damned letter is so 'ard to say sometimes, y'know- wait, what did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

The smile began falling off the older coyote as he blinked at him in confusion. Durham kept meeting the other's gaze pointedly, trying to message that yes, he was not kidding for once. His dad lost focus in his eyes for a moment, dipping into his own thoughts, before his face twitched, and like if a lightbulb had turned on in his head, the answer came to him.

“O-oh! Is t-t'at so?”

“Yes, but please don't make a big deal out of this?”

His dad straightened out, hands held out. “Ov course, ov course! I wouldn't dream of it, innit? It's just – sudden, I guess,” the sheepish smile looked especially ridiculous while he babbled, “Wait. Thirteen, you are, Durham. Are you sure about that?”

The younger coyote rubbed his numb and sweaty hands on the armrest.

“Miguno has the best ass I have ever seen.”

His dad choked on his own spit.

“V-vair enough-gh,” his father managed amidst his coughing fit. Durham leant forward to slap his old man's back, trying to help.

“Dyw,” and with a great gasp of breath, the adult resettled into his seat, “Fuck... don't you dare throw t'ese bombs at me. My poor lungs are too old for t'is shit, innit?”

Durham's face screamed stories about how unimpressed he was. “Your poor lungs are thirty-one, dad.”

“Yeah? That's the age when the flu starts to hurt,” the reply was with a half-smile, “Whatever. I'm still proud ov you.”

The words needed a second to materialise in Durham, and when they did, he clutched them.

“I dunno the lengths you 'ad to take to gat'er the courage for this admission, but blind I'm not to see t'at it was tremendous, innit?”

The younger coyote looked down, gulping.

“I guess.”

“And I also dunno iv you want to 'ear it, but...” his father leant closer to him and made sure that their smiling face was all Durham saw, “I accept you, son. Just make sure not to get t'ose nasty diseases-”

“Okay, okay, message received,” the cold of the air battled with the heat of his cheeks, “Thanks dad. Really means a lot.”

A big hand patted his back, and the familiar smile made him want to hug his old man. There was no one to see it, right? Gera was outside the room, being the slave of his mother, and her fucking Majesty was too busy being a floozy bitch.

He could totally hug his dad without anyone seeing.

But the thinning grin stopped him.

“What?”

“I'm just... are you planning to tell this to your mother?”

What the fuck kind of question was that? “Obviously. After today, I can't give two fucks about what she thinks. If she doesn't fancy me liking dicks, then her royal ass can go suck on a cactus.”

He might have to dial down the insults – lest it turned out she installed cameras in the mansion or something.

Thankfully, his father let out a surprised cackle. “Get in, son! You are vinally standing up against her,” the pure elation on his face painted the room in a brand new light, “And... you know w'at? You are rig't. She isn't some kinda of corporate tycoon with her nasty 'ands yankin' at our balls – she is a chopsy bitch!”

Wow. His parents' marriage was worse than he thought.

“Ah,” his father leant back on his chair, holding a hand to his chest, “Feels lush to finally say it. She is a bitch, a bitch, a bitch-bitch-bitch-bitch-bitch.”

“So...” Durham drawled, feeling a little awkward, “Is it okay if I told her?”

“Oh, I will back you up, absolutely. In fact, why don't you call her right now?” his father looked way too excited about possibly angering his wife, but if the young coyote were honest – he couldn't find it in himself to care anymore.

Durham was already searching for her number in his phone. “Let's hope she won't be too busy then.”

The older coyote just nodded and leant closer. As the line rang, Durham made sure to put it on speaker so the monotonous ring-ring could fill the entire living room. Then suddenly, the line quieted with a crack, and an all-too familiar voice bloomed from the device.

“Yes, honey?”

Her voice, the same one that had sung him lullabies and praised him when he decimated the competition, was nothing but a vile knife, dripping from fluorescent toxins.

“H-Hey mom. Can I speak to you?”

“Is it urgent? I have work to do.”

“It's...” he glanced at his father, who was shaking his head, “...not really...” then his father put his open hands close together, “...but it's not much. So, yeah.”

“I guess if it is short...”

Durham gulped audibly. An echo of doubt tried to hold him back, before he grit his teeth together and kindly told it to fuck off.

“Mom, I like guys.”

…

…

“That's wonderful, sweetie! Actually, it's even better. One of my closest friends has a gay son too, and he is quite forming to be the dashing pup. He's also a pure coyote – or at least, his family has been pure for the last five hundred years. But don't worry, I will make a meeting happen between you two!”

...What?

“R-Really?” he searched up his dad's eyes and found him to be just as surprised as he was.

“Yes! Oh, I'm just so excited! Just imagine the benefits we would get from the government – thank you for these good news, Durham. For that, I'm making your favorite tonight.”

He already muted the bitch.

“Son?”

“I'm not gonna let her, dad,” he said, anger wrinkling his face, “I'm going to destroy her now. Don't try to stop me.”

His father looked at him as if he were a fragile pup for a moment, before he sighed and motioned him to go ahead.

“Erm- about that, mom. I also really like Miguno. And we are kind of a... thing for some months now,” an utter lie, they haven't really spoken about what they were, “So no need to arrange anything, thank you.”

His answer was utter silence. The two coyotes' ears twitched attentively, trying to catch any form of response.

“...I hope I misheard you.”

“Then maybe you need a new ear doctor-”

“My Otorhinolaryngologist doesn't need to get involved,” what the hell kinda word was that, “But Durham, please, we just talked about this today-”

“No, it was you talking to me about a dumpster worth of nonsense.”

“Whatever you see it as, you can't be possibly doing this! If you are seen af-affectionate with that- that unpure rat, then we'll-”

“We'll what? Lose our precious income?” calling Miguno an 'unpure rat' possibly shushed out all candle lights of empathy in him, “Mom, I don't fucking care. And today is the point where me and dad tell you to piss right off. We won't let you have your way with this.”

He glanced up to his father's eyes to see whether he messed up – but he only saw the same powerful fury.

“Oh, so Daryn is on this too, huh?” he could hear her gritting his teeth, “Think about your next words, son.”

If they were next to the she-coyote, they would have probably felt the all-too familiar vile aura spreading through the room and suffocating them. An effective warning sign to be sure, but it didn't work through the phone.

Durham smiled, sadistic and victorious. “I choose Miguno.”

…

…

Suddenly, the shrill cry of glass breaking to pieces.

“How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?!”

Both of them jumped at the shout so loud, it caused the phone line to glitch.

“AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE TO YOU BOTH, YOU BETRAY ME? ME AND OUR ONLY TRADITION?!”

“M-Mom-”

“I RAISED YOU ACCORDINGLY, DURHAM!” the sad groan of something wooden – presumably a chair or a table – being aggressively shoved away until it broke to splinters, “EVERYTHING I DID WAS TO MAKE YOU SEE REASON! TO MAKE YOU ENJOY THE LIFE YOU DESERVE-”

Durham, hearing the chaos at the other end of the line, quickly broke the call.

…

“So that's just happened.”

His dad opened his mouth to say something – but closed it just as soon. Hearing the she-coyote's sudden rampage was more than just unexpected; of course he knew there would be some kind of resistance, but...

“She'd... never raised 'er voice bevore,” the older coyote murmured under his breath, and Durham began fiddling with the device in his hand, contemplating.

Then suddenly, the door opened with a familiar figure in a well-polished tuxedo stepping inside.

“Sir, Master,“ the insistent voice of Gera was just as soothing as upsetting, “It would be advisable if you two hid.”

“W-W'at?” the older coyote asked, flabbergasted when he was forced to his feet.

“Whatever you two said,” the fox continued, helping the two coyotes out of the room, “It really upset her. She broke a cabinet full of expensive china and the last time I saw her, she was gripping the main mahogany table.”

They needn't more convincing; rushing down the corridor, their previous confidence froze into an icicle and broke into million little pieces. Disbelief and fear formed a lump in Durham's throat as he let himself be pushed forward by Gera's hand, the beige carpet of the hallway filling his vision.

His dad on the other hand...

“'Wait, wait, 'old up- ”

“We can't 'hold up', Master,” Gera usually looked laid back and sure of himself, so seeing him so stiff and alert, glancing behind every corner and biting his lip – it scared the shit out of Durham, “I'm inclined to believe that she lost it this time. Really lost it. And excuse me for doing this, but I'm also inclined to believe she may resort to physical solutions to... yeah.”

The crash of a door slamming closed broke the silence, before the hasty steps of two high-heels began tearing through in their direction. The three canines froze, eyes wide as headlights as they awaited with bated breaths for her to appear. It was no use of running – she seemed to know exactly where they were there.

Then she turned the corner and oh boy, Gera wasn't kidding; huffing and panting with the knot of fury in her chest, her eyes stabbed long swords through each of them. With an index finger raised, she began marching towards their direction.

“Now you listen here Durham, and listen well,” her words were quick on the draw and guttural – as if she had struggles with using her voice. When she arrived before their group, she forwent the act of stopping and shoved Gera and her husband to the side; the butler easily fell onto his behind while her husband only wobbled. They both watched from the side as the raging she-coyote stepped ahead, towering above Durham and looking down at him with a never before seen disdain.

“I'm giving you one more chance.”

She was so close, he could smell her minty perfume and the bitter scent of her morning coffee. His knees were shaking under him in his horror and saying he was scared shitless would be an understatement. Yet for all his fear rushing through his veins, a stubborn part of his mind was still active.

He licked his lips. Then, after gathering all the saliva in his mouth, he spat right between her eyes.

...

SLAP

Durham's body spun like a drill head before it hit the wall, sliding down as he held his aching muzzle with both hands. Something liquid-like started dripping from his nose – a putrid scent, copperish and bitter, filling his senses, and once he realized that it was his own blood that made breathing so difficult, he whimpered like a bitch. She slapped him - she actually fucking slapped him and it stung so goddamned much...

A quick peek told him that while he was nursing his nose, things have changed; his father was now standing between him and the Devil, and by the way she struggled, he was probably holding her.

“Let. Me. Go. Daryn,” she bit out, his spit dripping off her nose as she fought and grappled out of the unmoving hold.

Her husband leant close to her face and snarled. “Make me, bitch,” and with his muscles flexing, he threw her away like a rag-doll. She didn't hesitate standing up with an otherworldly scream, and darted away from them, high heels falling off her feet. Once she was out of sight, Gera and Daryn let out the breath they were holding, before the adult coyote turned and squatted next to his son. With hands gentle as a napkin, he turned Durham's muzzle to point it right back at him – but the coyoteling let out a cry at the touch and dragged his muzzle away.

“Coc y gath... Can you stand?”

Durham nodded, and, taking his dad's hand, he forced himself to his feet – blood was still flowing through his nose, a red patch spreading through the front of his hoodie. Gera quickly slipped a tissue from his breast-pocket, which he took gratefully and didn't hesitate to stuff his nostrils to the brim.

“Wat no'?” he said, his words nasal.

“You two run as far as you can,” Gera said, jogging off, “I will try to hold her back!”

“GERA!” his dad shouted after the fox, but he had already rounded the corner, “Fucking... fuck. Okay, okay, no problem. No. Problem,” he dragged a tired hand through his head and sighed, “Let's get outta here,”

Taking ahold of his old man's hand – he felt like a pup again – the two of them began rushing towards the nearest exit. They ran through a couple hallways, rooms and floors before quickly descending on a staircase that ended in front of their mansion's back exit. There was just one problem, however;

The back exit was locked.

“Te key?”

“No time vor that, we have,”

The older coyote braced himself and took off in a mad sprint towards the door with his shoulder held out. The latches gave out with little difficulty upon impact, the frosty air of the night blasting into Durham's bloody face - but he was more worried about that sickening crunch still echoing in his ears.

“Dad!” he stepped up to his now kneeling father, who was clutching his askew shoulder in a death-grip.

“FFFUCK, damnit,” the older coyote managed, standing up on his wobbly legs, “Come on.”

Durham wanted to do something, anything to help – he loathed watching his father's right arm hang like an idle puppet without a string master.

He only had a pair of socks on his feet, his father even less – but time was at an essence. Their eyes quickly adjusted to the dark veil of the night, before they began sprinting away from the mansion. They ran and ran and ran and ran, through a myriad of spiky bushes and a growth of dense trees, right down the side of a grassy hill and a small river until their feet were aching and frosted over. Dirty mud clung up to their pants when they finally broke out of the greenery and stepped out to find concrete; they found a lonely street just on the edge of the city below.

“We can-” his father panted, a numb hand resting on Durham's cold shoulder, “We can 'ide 'ere.”

His son needed no more prompting as he let himself fall on his butt, exhausted. With a groan, Daryn followed him down and sprawled over the absolute zero floor. They didn't speak a word while a car passed, its headlights illuminating their ruined clothes.

“I-Is your nose tidy, son?” the older coyote asked, turning his head.

“Y-Yeah,” Durham stuttered, discarding the bloody tissue and hugging his knees to himself, “Your sh-shoulder?”

Daryn winced at this mention, “It's fine. Just dislocated - 'old on,” the bigger of the two sat back up, gripped his askew shoulder, and-

CRUNCH

If he hadn't been used to this process by now, he would have probably screamed bloody murder into the night.

Durham watched the spectacle with wide eyes.

“...Is it good now?”

“Yea',” his father raised his arm and flexed his fingers, “It's good.”

His son nodded, before a shudder pervaded his folded body. He hugged his knees even closer, the teeth in his muzzle clicking together to a fast-paced rhythm. Daryn, seeing this, dragged himself until he was sitting side-to-side with Durham and hugged him. His son was all too happy to accept the familiar warmth of his only true parent, and since there was really no way anyone could see them here, he threw his arms around his dad and hugged himself closer.

The night was eerie and quiet, only their ragged breath filling their ears. Durham really didn't want to let go; the older coyote was his only safe space right now. The forest was alien and mysterious, the city was imposing and shallow, the concrete sidewalk was dark and flat, but his dad – he was alive. And he was breathing and his eyes shone with life and he loved him like a son, and more than just some property...

He gripped his father even tighter.

“What's gonna happen now?” he murmured into the other's neck.

Daryn sighed, “I 'ave no fuckin' clue. But I'm not letting that lunatic close to you ever again, innit?”

Strangely, Durham was relieved to hear this - this relief lasted until his phone began ringing.

The two coyotes jumped apart in fright at the sound. The younger of the two scrambled to frantically fish out the device from his pocket, and once the screen appeared from behind the hem of his hoodie, he felt his worry skyrocketing.

“Who-” Daryn asked, but was left ignored when Durham accepted the call.

“Are you okay?!” was the first thing that he inquired.

“My state of body... leaves some to be desired, but I can walk,” the sarcastic drawl in the tone could belong to only one person, and the older coyote leaned closer to listen in the conversation between his son and his suicidal butler.

“And... she?” Durham almost said 'mom', but stopped himself; after today, he only had one parent.

“That's why I called. After leaving the hallway, she beelined towards the kitchen where I found her rummaging through the drawer for the silverware. I... tried to stop her from whatever she planned, but she threw me off easily. Then she left.”

“Hold the fuck on,” Daryn said as he snatched the phone away, “Did she stab you, you twmffat?! I swear if I see just one wound on you when I return-”

“I'm fine, Sir,” he did not sound fine, “I would be more concerned about the fact that she left the mansion, looking for you two. And yes, she has a knife before you ask.”

This info... made Durham's stiff fingers twitch; to know that there was a possibly homicidal ex-parent in the very same forest behind them, searching for her lost family to do the unthinkable...

This all felt like a fever dream.

“Well... okay,” his father sighed, his hold on him tightening.

“Should I notify the police, Sir?”

“Yea', do that,” Daryn took a momentary glance at his shivering son, “But call them to the Diaz residence, innit?”

“Any particular reason?”

He grunted. “'Fucking leaving' is the particular reason. Sneak back and meet you up in the garage we are going to, t'en we run and never see t'is lunatic ever again.”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“...As you wish, Sir.” and with that, Gera broke the call.

Daryn sighed and massaged his tired muzzle – his whiskers were wet with frosty dew.

“Can you stand?” he asked Durham as he jumped to his feet, who only nodded, “Tidy. Yer nose?”

“Stopped the bleeding...”

“Good. Now come on,” he tried not to sound impatient, but knowing the dangers lurking around every corner – he just wanted to get this over with. His son took his hand shakily and Daryn's heart broke a little; once it was over, he will sure as hell never let that hoe come in a kilometer radius of Durham.

When the younger of the coyotes stood up, his right leg buckled under him – and then he was falling backwards again. His dad wasted no time to crouch down and look over the limb in question; but he needed only one touch to feel just how fuckin' freezing the leg was to the touch, and his worries amplified tenfold.

This wasn't good.

“D-Dad... let me try again,” Durham murmured, trying to swallow a whimper. But his father shook his dad.

“Nah, I have a better idea,” Daryn said, turning around in his crouch so his wide back was facing Durham, “A piggyback ride? Vor old times' sake?”

The young coyote's face relaxed in bafflement, before a small smile creeped onto his muzzle – his legs ached, his nose stung, it was horribly cold, but he still smiled. Once he hooked his hands around his old man's neck and his numb legs around the other's navel – tightly so – the two of them took off, right back into the forest.

Daryn continuously sniffed the air, following their scent trail back where they came from. He was running slower than before; partly because of the added weight on his back, partly because his own legs were tiring, partly because he didn't want to make too much noise – they still had a lunatic with a knife out to get them here.

They approached the slow-flowing river first. The dark water reflected a hazy picture of the bright moon above, and he would have marveled at the sight had it not been anything but an obstacle before them. The older coyote grit his teeth as he entered the freezing river, his fur doing jackshit about keeping the cold out – but he endured.

He had to.

They were around the middle of the river when an unearthly scream cut through the echo of the silent night. It was feminine, and it was crazed – but it was a distance away. Whatever was the reason for the primal cry, Daryn and Durham knew they had to hurry the fuck up.

Who knew that the possibility of dying was the only thing needed to will your limbs to get a fucking move on!

Finally out of the river, he shook the excess droplets off his limbs, before giddying up towards the mansion. Durham clutched his dad especially closer when they passed the barrier of bushes where the forest ended and the hill began. With a great intake of breath, Daryn's legs flexed as he scaled the escalating hillside. His naked feet were grassy, mossy, and incredibly slippery – but he knew that falling was out of the picture.

“Dad?” his son asked when they stopped mid climb, ragged breaths torturing his carrier's lungs.

“S-See?” Daryn asked, forcing a smile onto his muzzle, “Thirty-one-year-old lungs— and they can't even take a little 'ike anymore.”

Durham frowned. “Come on, Dad, I know you are better than this.”

And he was. And he knew he was.

“Yea', you're rig'.”

The trust of his son ignited an old, flickering flame in his heart, and with a growl, he scaled the rest of the dark hill. He ignored the dots of light coming from their mansion's window and only focused on getting through the finish line – their door-less back exit. He almost fell over from relief when his feet touched the smooth marble floor; but he opened his legs wider and reminded himself of the precious cargo he carried.

The garage was at the other side of the mansion – but it didn't bother Daryn. He knew this mansion like the back of his hand, so it came to no surprise to either of them how quickly he found the gaping door to the spacious room. He shouldered through to it – just to meet a sight that made his hackles stand.

“W'at did I tell you, you fucken idiot?!” the older coyote growled as he trampled over to Gera, who was haunched over the bunk of the limousine, gripping his upper left arm. In the place of his tuxedo's ripped-off left sleeve shone his bandage-covered auburn fur.

“Heh, heh...” the fox chuckled, unfazed by the bristling pair of coyotes in front of him, “She only nicked me a littleee. Hmmm, these bandages feel sooo nice...”

…

Durham leant close to his dad's ear. “I think he's high.”

“Yeah, blood loss does that to you, innit?” Daryn whispered back, before patting the fox on his uninjured arm, “Good vor you, lad. Now get inside the limo.”

The fox obediently wobbled his way to the front of the car, hand already gripping the doorhandle – before Daryn hooked a finger into the back of his tux and stopped him in his tracks.

“Master?”

“Yer a dumbass iv you t'ink you can drive like t'is. To the backseats you go.”

Gera looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, before he combusted into a giggling mess and fell over the car.

Daryn rolled his eyes and crouched down to let Durham down. The young coyote gracefully hopped down onto his stained, holey socks, and made his way to the passenger seat while leaning on the car. Once he was inside the warm interior, he finally let his tired muscles and beating heart relax.

What a fucking night.

Everything happened so fast. One moment he was swimming in giddy pride at finally going against his mother and telling her how things will be - how they should be. In the other came the slap, the run and that unimaginable tendril of fear that pierced through his back and right into his heart. The way he shivered on that sidewalk, leaning onto his dad's side – he felt so... lost.

The door to the driver's seat opened suddenly, and Daryn sat into the car. Durham could hear the giggles of Gera behind the divider wall of the limousine, and he knew what was about to happen.

“Where are we going, dad?” he asked, eyeing as his father put the ignition key into its hole.

“To your vriend's 'ouse, innit?” the older coyote said, turning the key and roaring life into the engine, “They will 'opefully let us crash for a while.”

“And our stuff?”

Putting his dirty hands on the steering wheel, Daryn sighed, “Gera managed to pack some ov your clothes and games - in the bunk, t'ey are.”

Settling into their seats, they headed out of this forsaken building, leaving this life for good.

“You know,” Gera's voice came through the divider wall, slurred and tired, “I woke up today with the thought 'I am really just a puppet to my own life, huh?' Never would have guessed that today would be the day when all the puppets learn how to pull the strings themselves, heh.”

Durham and his dad smiled. That was a poetic way to put it.

When Miss Diaz heard the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, she expected a lot of things.

One of her neighbours wanting some quick help in something? Absolutely. A stranger's car breaking down before her house? It was in the cards. Jehovah's witnesses coming back to check if she still kicked them out? More than likely.

But this?

“Dear God...”

The three bloodied canines smiled at her awkwardly. Nasty gashes covered Daryn's feet, right up to his swollen ankle and his jogging pants – pants that had more holes in it than a showcase cheese. The wobbling butler's fancy suit had its left sleeve completely ripped off, and she could see layers upon layers of bandages hugging the vulpine's shoulder; they were soaked in red.

And poor Durham...

“Please tell me nobody died.”

The older coyote chuckled, dragging his forced grin over his muzzle. “Nope.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief, “Did she finally snap?”

“Understatement of the century.”

She stood aside, pointing towards the interior of the house. “The first place you Misters go is the bathroom. Am I understood?”

The two coyotes nodded frantically, while the butler just swooned in place. Seeing that, she rolled her eyes and dialed the hospital.

Durham never thought he would ever cherish the feel of his pyjamas this much – but alas, fate had other ideas.

His muzzle was still wet from the emergency bath Miss Diaz made him take, but since this house wasn't controlled by absolute morons, the heating was doing a fine work drying up his whiskers. The warmth of the house was a stark difference between where he was just an hour ago, bloodied and cold on the pavement...

So yeah – new clothes, a fresh bath and the feeling back to his feet; fucking magnificent.

Medics carried Gera to a carnivore hospital immediately; the guy had bandaged himself up enough to stop the bleeding, but he had been still in need of a blood transfusion. While they took their butler away, his dad sent Durham to bed with a quick hug – apparently he had some police officers to talk in the meantime. Miss Diaz – bless her holy patience – made sure that he and his father did not resemble escapees from a slaughterhouse, braving their awkward smiles, barrage of apologies and the blood they dripped on the carpet.

With quiet steps, Durham closed the creaky door behind him. The bedroom was dark, quiet but not unfriendly, and his nose twitched at the sweetish scent filling each corner of the space. His eyes needn't much time to adapt to the void veil, and after the details of the room materialised before him, he relaxed.

Miguno's bed was at the other side, tucked away in the corner; and inside it, he saw the lying lump of his bestest best friend's form, chest rising with small, barely audible snores. There was a sleeping bag in this room - he knew that much - and he also knew he should be rolling that out on the floor now, but...

He didn't want to be alone tonight.

Descending onto all fours, he quietly padded over to Miguno's bed. The hyena's ears flicked at the groans of the floor – and wasn't that just the most adorable sight in the world? Durham had never realized just how adorable his partner was while sleeping, but looking at him now?

His heart melted at the sight.

...Okay, he was being a little creepy. Shaking his head, he raised the warm blankets and quietly slipped underneath them. The bed creaked at the added weight, but thankfully Miguno was sleeping like a rock. With barely any space for himself – he would fall off the bed if he leant back even a little - he managed.

Circling his arm around the Miguno's stomach, he hugged himself closer until they were body-to-body, and he nestled his muzzle in his partner's shoulder; sweet, rainy scent with a hint of spice – that was his partner's scent.

Then the hyena's ears twitched wildly, before groggily turning around so they were face to face.

“D-Durham...? Is that... you?”

The coyote smiled. “Yeah, dude. It's me.”

“Are you a dream?”

“Nah. But I wish today was a dre- !”

The hyena launched himself at the other, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

There were no more words needed.

…

“I had a shit day,” Miguno murmured into the other's neck.

Durham snorted. “Mine was shittier. And since when do you swear?”

The other just shrugged, not letting go of the embrace. His fingers drew circles on the hyena's tense back, feeling the fragile muscles gradually relaxing under his hold. Then the breathing evened out in his ear and Durham thought the other went back to sleep – yet he still felt those hands clutching at his neck.

Then Miguno leant back, their eyes meeting. Those brown pools of magnificence looked at his face, before trailing down to his mouth. The coyote watched as the other slowly inched closer, their breaths colliding in the diminishing space between them.

It was Durham who met him halfway.

He expected the sensation to be familiar, like when Migs pecked him after they won the Elementary Games; warm, a little dizzy, but with a taste on his lips he could never forget. Now it wasn't just a taste – his lips were actively bathing in the feeling as the two of them pushed their muzzles together, wanting more. His head felt lightweight and his heart rattled against his ribcage, as if it were a bull in a china-shop. He gripped the thin fabric of the other's pyjama, wanting to be even closer – even if it were impossible.

Gosh...

When did he fall in love so fuckin' hard? And when did he start feeling so mushy?

...

No matter.

That night, they slept in each other's arm.

Chapter Text

~ 6 years later, beginning of July ~

"Spin that damn bottle already!"

Durham harrumphed, adjusting his cone-shaped party hat.

"Fine, you hairy ape. If you finally shut the fuck up."

"Hairy ape, hah! Like I haven't heard that one before."

Ignoring Collot's annoying voice, the coyote took hold of the empty soda container and spun it. He purposefully raised it off the ground and made it fly, just to collide with the sheepdog's smirking face – a face that lost its smug value in a bark.

"Why you petty little..."

Durham just snickered as a response. With their eyes, the boys of 701 tracked the bottle as it fell onto the floor, bouncing to the space behind Voss. The chips-munching fennec arched an unbothered eyebrow and grabbed another handful of the crispy snack – which amounted to a single piece in his tiny hand.

"Does that count?" Jack asked, pointing a thumb at the object.

"It d-"

"No, it doesn't!" Collot debunked loudly, "It fell out of the circle!"

"I assume your bangs were in the way, 'cause then you couldn't have seen it, but - I'm the birthday boy. Things go as I say, yes?" Durham leant back with a victorious grin, propping up his torso on his elbows. Miguno flicked the other's shoulder with his freshly washed tail, eyeing him with an entertained light.

"Truth or dare, Chipmunk."

Voss threw the snack into his open maw, then – making sure he sent a bored and disinterested look towards the coyote's way – he shrugged.

"I don't fucking care. Truth."

"Ohohoho..." Durham sat up with a scheming grin, rubbing his hands together, "Truth it is..." before he jumped to his feet and pointed at the fennec with a taut finger, "Tell me who's the shady guy you always meet at exactly Saturday seven in the afternoon!"

Voss took another piece into his tiny muzzle, rolling his eyes.

"Pal of ours from elementary. He's name is Sukhon."

Durham's posture slackened with confusion. He was so focused on trying to remember anyone by that name that he missed Collot slapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle the erupting snorts, and how Jack and Miguno winced, burying a groan into their hands.

"I... don't remember anyone called that. Who the fuck is Sukhon?"

Another snack downed and a smug grin. "Sukhon these nuts, bitch."

...

...

Collot's booming laughter filled the walls of the tight dorm room - Miguno was already opening his arms wide, awaiting the inevitable. Sure enough; Durham, who stood there petrified, biological clock stuck in a loop, his shaky finger still pointing at the smirking fennec, soon collapsed into the embrace of his hyena.

"I was murdered..."

"Yeah. Want me to notify the authorities?"

"I was MURDERED, Migs," Durham touched his forehead with the back of his hand, striking a dramatic pose, "The only authority who could help me is... you."

Miguno giggled and licked the other's ear.

"Oh, so I'm an 'authority' now, huh?" Miguno said, playing with the fur on the other's arm.

"Mhmm..." Durham smiled, thinking his charm earned him a kiss or two.

"Well then," Miguno said, and the sweet expression melted off his face in a blink, "I authorize you to stand up and collect your dirty underwear from my bedsheets. "

"Wait-"

"Like - goddayum, I ask you for the third time in this week. Oh, and I also authorize you to get me a can of soda."

"No-"

"Chop-chop, Durry, I'm currently dying here."

"So am I!" the coyote fought back, going limp in the hyena's arm and giving the other the best puppy eyes he could muster. Seeing its ineffectiveness, Durham sighed, "...Could I do it tomorrow? It's my birthday, Migs."

His other pretended to think about it, before nodding with an honest grin, sealing the deal with a peck on the cheek.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God. A sandpaper sounds smoother than you," Collot murmured as he grabbed the bottle from the ground.

"Have you ever thought about joining the Drama Club, Durham?" Jack said with a teasing smile, "I bet Louis would appreciate someone with your immaculate skills and-."

"I'm fine!" a shudder raked through the coyote's body, "More than fine – absolutely F-I-N-E... Please don't throw me before that stag."

Voss snorted, and Collot – probably – rolled his eyes under all that fur.

"Whatever you see in him, I don't get it," the sheepdog said, motioning to Miguno with his head and ignoring Durham's bark of indignation, "Whatever. Let's continue."

The bottle spun and spun and spun - then it began slowing down until it stopped completely; pointing right at Jack's knees.

Collot smiled. "Truth or Dare, Jackie boy."

"E-Erm..." Jack's voice shook with a gulp as he tapped his fingers on his knee, "T-Tru- Dare! Dare, I choose d-dare – don't look at me like that!"

"Alright, alright, no need to get your pants in a twist," the sheepdog soothed, "Durham does that for the two of you anyway."

"Shut the fuck up dude."

Collot waved away the offended coyote's words and focused on finding a mild dare for the labrador. He raised his head to look around the room, brain going overdrive – right until his covered eyes landed on Legoshi's old bed.

"I dare you to.... send a text to Legoshi with a suggestive double entendre."

Jack sputtered, the inside of his ears turning a soft hue of red.

"A double what?" Durham asked, before a dictionary smacked him in the face from Voss' direction. Miguno caught the book before it fell to the ground and began flipping through it with one hand – his other was gently nursing the new swelling on the coyote's head.

"Double entendre; a word or an expression used in a given context so that it can be understood in two ways, especially when one meaning is risqué," the hyena closed the dictionary with a flap, looking down at the dazed Durham, "Got it?"

"My head sure got it."

"See? Good example!" Miguno said joyfully, patting the other's ears.

Meanwhile, Jack was coerced into taking his phone out with jittery hands, already halfway through the message. His cheeks were on fire as the words manifested on his screen, a squeal begging to escape him.

"There," he said, stuffing the device into Collot's face, "Adequate?"

"Ade-what?""Shh."

Collot's and Voss' eyes jumped from line to line, their grin growing as the words went.

"Aaand sent," the sheepdog said, pressing the button on the screen, "'Would like to spend the night studying with you'? That's such a you thing to say, dude."

Jack squealed for real, hiding his red face behind his floppy ears.

"C-Could I have my phone back? Please?"

Collot shrugged and handed the device over – which Jack quickly hid in the deepest part of his pyjama pocket. Before anyone could say anything, the labrador grabbed the bottle and spun it with all his hasty might. The can bounced to the canine circle's edge, before its cap bumped into Miguno's knee and stayed like that.

"Oh it's me," Miguno smiled goofily, before looking up at Jack, "Truth."

"Alright," the lab sighed and frowned in focus. His cheek bumped up as he tongued the inside in thought.

"I never- and don't take this the wrong way, but... I never understood why- when- how you and Durham got together."

Collot slapped his knee. "Ha! A mystery to everyone,"

"Shut the fuck up, you Living Mop," Durham growled warningly.

"Nah, for real – what the hell do you even see in this pile of awkward dumbassery?"

"Okay, that's it," Durham jumped onto his feet, "You are going down, motherfucker," And with that, the coyote jumped at the sheepdog, toppling him over and making the two of them roll like a wheel of wrestling, snarling fur. They battled just an inch away from where Voss sat; but as with everything – the fennec cared not.

Jack and Miguno shared a glance before shrugging in synchrony.

"So?"

"Well... I dunno. Ever since I knew what love was, I've always been in it with Durham," the hyena said, scratching his temple, "I mean – I'm sure I was in love with Durham before, but... I don't know when or how it started. There was a time when I thought these feelings were just me being infected with some disease, if you can believe that."

Jack chuckled. "Really? Did you think it was the cooties?"

"Oh, something like that. I was so mad at him for infecting me with it – I didn't speak with him for a week!" the two of them let out a pair of soft belly laughs, the hyena's snickers fitting his species, "But yeah, I've never really thought about it. I guess I didn't have a reason to, eh?"

Jack smiled, his lips wobbling. "Aw, that was a cute thing to say."

The hyena averted his eyes and giggled – before his own phone began buzzing in his pocket. It kept on buzzing, signalling that it was more than just a fading message. He grabbed it and elevated it until the top of the screen was peaking out from his pants; just to see the word 'DARYN' pop up.

"Oh sh- Durham!" Miguno shouted over to his partner, who was too busy trying to get out of the iron hold of Collot, "It's your dad!"

"My what?"

The hyena sighed, exasperated, and rolled his eyes. "You pot of gold at the end of the rainbow – who do you think would call you today?!"

"Oh shit," thankfully, Collot was a good sportsman and let the coyote stand up and scramble. He snatched the phone away from his partner's hand and with a beep, accepted it.

"H-Hey dad."

"Are ya alive?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Good. T'en you musta vorgot a certain promise, innit? W'at was that promise, Dur'am?"

The coyote knew all eyes were on him.

He sighed. "To call you at least once a week."

"Except?"

"...Except on my birthday, in which case I should call you first thing in the morning."

"Goot. Now get in son, cause to video-chit-chat, we go."

"Alright, dad. Love ya."

"Love ya too, son."

"Are you in already?"

"No, but- ugh, your elbow is in my ribs. Can you move a little?"

"Like this?"

"Yeah, thanks. I don't remember your bunk being this small, unless..."

"Unless?"

Steam left Miguno's circular ears.

"Durham. Half the bed is unoccupied. Move over."

The coyote pouted. "But the wall is cold!" his hyena raised a leg threateningly, "I'm moving- I'm moving!"

Soon enough, the yeen and 'yote pair were comfily lying on their stomachs in-between the velvety sheets of Durham's bunk, hidden away by the privacy curtains. Their sides and shoulders grazed each other – a fact that the coyote took notice of, and while Miguno was busy wiggling his body into the frame of the bed, he threw an arm around his partner and hugged him close.

The hyena stopped for a moment. Then he laid his head on the other's shoulder.

"Ready, Birthday boy?"

Durham winked. "You know it."

With that, Miguno pressed the icon for the videochat on the phone's screen, and the two of them watched the call as it tried to connect. Their faces appeared on a smaller icon at the top right of said screen, and the now young-adult smiled – his partner looked so cute tucked in next to him.

Then the screen came to life.

"IS T'IS THING WORKING?"

Miguno had never clicked the mute button faster.

"Yes, dad," Durham gritted out through his teeth as the hyena unmuted the call, "But you don't have to shout."

"Oh righty," Daryn snickered, his chest bouncing with the laugh, "Apologies."

On the screen, the older coyote's head retreated from the view, giving the duo a clearly recognizable sight of the Diaz household; with its crimson walls, rose-pink rug, fireplace and couch, the living room might just have been the warmest room in existence. On said couch sat their family for the last 6 or so years – Daryn, Gera and Miss Diaz.

"I'm so sorry boys," the older hyena apologized with a gentle hand on her chest, "I tried to tell him the volume was just fine, but he wouldn't listen."

"Daryn is quite a stubborn beast – and a technophobe to top," Gera added with a lazy drawl, and the duo raised a synchronized eyebrow. Apparently, the older coyote successfully killed the 'Sirs' and 'Masters' from the vulpine, but not the polite attitude.

About damn time.

"Nye-nye-nye, 'he's a technophobe' he says, 'I tried to tell 'im' she says." Durham's dad mocked, before turning to the other parent and crossing his arms stubbornly, "Oi, 'ow would you even know t'at?"

Miss Diaz just smirked. "I was a racer back in the day - this isn't that different from the team radio we used to communicate with."

...

"Touché," Daryn conceded, shaking his head with a smile, "And 'ow are my two vavorite boys, eh?" he said, turning to the camera and opening his arms, "School is still justan unbridled 'meh'?"

"Wow. You really did just rhyme 'eh' with 'meh'," Miguno laughed, "Kinda lame."

"Oh, so t'e musician talks," the coyote huffed a flat breath while Miss Diaz giggled, "What is this ganging up on poor ol' me, huh? Dur'am, you 'ave anything to add?"

The canine in question grinned and pointed at the screen. "That's my pullover you're wearin'?"

Daryn's eyes snapped down and-

"...Coc y gath."

The older hyena let out a boisterous laugh, exemplary of her species.

"'Ave anything else to wear, I didn't!" Daryn whined defensively.

"Should've done the laundry as we agreed, you filthy jock!"

The tips of the older coyote's ears reddened, before he was off the boundaries of the screen in a dash. While he was away - presumably trying to find a clean shirt of his – Miguno nudged Durham's shoulder.

"I guess... the distaste for doing laundry runs in the family."

The young coyote opened his mouth to defend himself – before closing it slowly and exhaling.

"I swear I will do it tomorrow, alright?" he nudged the hyena with his nose, "...You still love me, yes?"

"I do... but if I don't see that promise fulfilled by tomorrow night, I'm going to wake you up and personally kick your ass to the washing machine myself."

Miguno's smile had way too many teeth to be anything but threatening.

"Awwh!" Miss Diaz squealed at the sight, "You two are just the CUTEST! Such a healthy relationship - right, Gera?"

"Charming would be a tremendous understatement, Miss," the fox said, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his closed fists – the cyan-colored male nurse’s outfit embellished his lithe frame.

Durham jabbed a finger at his partner's direction.

"He literally threatened me with physical abuse if I didn't follow his words! Where's the health and the charm in that?!"

"He's just using the tools that work on you, Sweetheart," Miss Diaz answered without a beat, drumming her index finger on her temple, "Just as I taught him. I should probably teach you a trick or two, Durham."

"Oh, that's not needed, Miss-"

"Like how to recognize an obvious setup, for example."

Before the young coyote could even breathe, music began blasting on the other side of the screen – a song that he and Miguno immediately recognized as the 'Happy Birthday' song.

"Happy Birthday tooo youu..." Miss Diaz, Gera and Miguno began singing at the same time, on-pitch but breaking here and there, making Durham remove his arm around his hyena to bury his face into his palms.

"Oh no..."

"Happy Birthday tooo youu..."

But the surprises didn't end there – oh boy, they escalated. Soon after the second line, multicolored balloons and confetti dropped from the ceiling and filled the edges of the screen. Daryn's obnoxious singing voice joined the other three as well, before the older coyote appeared, swinging on a fucking rope.

"Oh my god what the fuck..." Durham couldn't believe his eyes. There was his father, hanging onto a single thread of rope from the ceiling that swung left to right – and the guy was looking at him and smiling! And singing terribly!

"Happy Birthday tooo youu, Durham,"

To make sure his heart bursted, the privacy curtains moved suddenly, and the grinning faces of Collot, Jack, Voss and even fucking Legoshi peeked into the bunk, joining the song.

"Happy Birthday tooo youu..."

Miguno raised his snout and kissed him on the cheek. A certain giddiness bloomed in the younger coyote's chest, and by the heat gathering on his face – he damn sure started blushing too.

His complete family was there.

"Fuck..." he definitely wasn't wiping off tears, "When the fuck did you even come in?" he asked, looking at Legoshi's shaggy muzzle.

"Just recently," the big wolf answered timidly and Durham knew he was fiddling with his fingers behind the curtains, "I missed so many of everyone's birthdays that I pledged I would never miss another."

He tried not to smile, he really did – but with Miguno rubbing his spotted head under his chin, the guys -even Legoshi!- smiling at him proudly, his dad, Gera and Miss Diaz cheering at him through the line...

A sob escaped him.

"Th-Thank you," he sniffed, and the tears began flowing. He was so goddamned happy.

"Thank you."

Durham would like to say that all those stories where people make their way to the roof of a building to stargaze or some shit are utter bullcrap. Because let's face it - light-pollution is a thing and it's a serious issue in most cities around the globe. Not a single star can penetrate through that veil of artificial lighting that surrounds settlements like a protective bubble, which – Durham thought was unfair. The stars projected their light for millions of light years just for you us to marvel at it, and what do we do? We make our own light and forget about them and their hard work.

Kinda uncool, isn't it?

Whatever, Durham didn't care today. Because today he may stand atop of the dorm's building, the pitch-black palette of the night sky filling his vision from all sides with not a single star visible – but he had his own star right next to him; with an arm wrapped around that slim torso.

Honestly, if Miguno didn't exist, the coyote would have probably gone down a dark path. A path where his mother dictated his every movement – fucking bitch got off with a slap on the wrist because she had money for a good lawyer – and he would have never had such an easy way of figuring out himself. He would probably be kind of an asshole, with the only happiness being is that of the pride he got from dancing to his mother's songs.

Miguno was a star, plain and simple - 'cause when the hyena shined, the world looked twice as good of a place as it actually was. When Miguno laughed that hyena laugh, Durham's grin curled with each and every beat, and when Miguno made music, Durham danced to it willingly.

He liked sports – football mainly. He liked when people gave a shit about him and respected him. He liked his dad, Miss Diaz, Gera, the boys of 701 and some other random people – but none could come close to what Miguno was to him.

Because he would die for every single friend of his – but for Miguno, he would live.

"Let's go back before the baboon find us," his star said, grabbing his hand softly.

Durham snorted, but danced to the music.