Title: When You Say Nothing At All	
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang, Erik (Original Character)
Rating: SFW
Classification: One-Shot
Author: PumpkinBrain
Summary: Anon had a normal childhood. Parents loved him, he had friends, and he graduated high school with high marks. Fang did not. So, when Anon sees a broken girl playing music up on a stage, clothes ripped and head shaved; he can’t help but feel for her. He can’t help but fall in love either, the idiot…

 SCRREEECH

 

I burst out laughing, “Erik!” I yelled, quickly losing my voice due to another wheezing laugh. Whether it was because of a defense mechanism of some kind or if I actually found my current situation funny, I couldn’t tell you. But I was having fun either way. “Jesus. How does this car even function when you drive it like such a goddamn maniac?” I joked.

 

“I don’t know!” He laughed. “I fixed it up, it runs somehow, so I might as well.” He shrugged aggressively, putting his hands back on the wheel.

 

Shane, from the backseat, spoke up: “Yeah I—I think that’s the most fun I’ve ever had in someone else’s car.” He said, and then chuckled. “The Mexican music really adds to it.”

 

“Yeah?” I asked, turning up the radio. The sound of El Chapo began to fill the car, before the keys were turned and the entire thing shut down. “Ach, lame.”

 

Erik stuck his hand out in a chop motion, doing it slowly to emphasize his point. “You can listen to Mexican music another time, Anon. But for now, we have to go into this shady bar and listen to rock music.”

 

“It’s not shady!” Shane defended. “It’s just in Skin Row and I’ve nearly been stabbed in it. That’s like—only two bad things.” He waved his hand, giving a cheeky smile.

 

Me and Erik looked to each other, both of us giving the other a ‘really’ look. Neither of us could believe we had ended up in Skin Row. It wasn’t weird for me, given I was the group’s resident human—Shane being a raptor and Erik being a ptero—but still. Shane had some weird ass connections, I guess, so him leading us to a bar in the ghetto wasn’t all that weird… maybe sorta. Okay, it’s kinda weird. But at least I knew we would be okay. I did have a firearm in mah possession, just in case of a sitcheation like this. Or however those southerners say it. I don’t know, I’ve been stuck in Gaylifornia my whole life.

 

I pushed open the door of the Chevy, being careful not to door-ding the car next to us. It was a Hyundai in skin row, so I don’t think the driver would mind, but still. Common courtesy. Mama didn’t raise some thug that ran around dinging doors like I was some kind of prius driver. No way, damn it. I drove a Ram 2500! I may be the shittiest driver on the road, but I’m not damaging anything!

 

I smiled to myself as I held open the door for my compatriots. They gave quiet ‘thank you’s, and we walked further inside. First thing to take note of was the giant stage with people on it—near the back of the bar. The bar itself wasn’t as seedy as I thought, which was cool, and whoever was setting up the instruments on that stage looked like they knew what they were doing. A mysterious looking raptor. Well, not mysterious. Just a guy. He seemed like he knew what he was doing! Which is good. Seems we can expect good things.

 

We walked ourselves over to a random booth and took our seats. Erik stayed standing up, though. “You guys want me to go get drinks?”

 

Shane nodded. “Sure. Can you just get me a Modelo?” He shrugged, giving a cheeky smile. “Just want something chill.”

 

“Sure.” He then turned to me. “What about you? You want me to sneak you a drink?”

 

I exhaled through my nose. “I only have to wait a few more months. I’m almost twenty-one. Just get me a Pepsi for now.” I smiled, giving a nod of thanks.

 

He chuckled. “No problem, Mr. Mous.” He said. I then watched as he walked over towards the drink bar. It was in the middle of the bar itself, and seemed to be set up with all sorts of cool shit. The guy manning the bar took notice of him, and I watched as they engaged in conversation. The guy at the bar was some green stego with a chad haircut…

 

Losing interest, I turned to face Shane again. “So, where did you find this place, anyhow? I didn’t take you for the kinda guy to be wandering around Skin Row.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure about that, buddy?” He laughed. “I wander around ghettos all the time. It’s just where some of my students live. I found this bar after a particularly hard session one day, and I…” He looked off, thoughtfully. He then turned back. “I just thought the band was really cool. They play here every Friday, so I come to see them all the time.”

 

“That’s right. You’ve been talking about them for a while.” I nodded. “Well, I have high standards now. They better blow my socks off.” I joked.

 

“Oh, they will.” The blue raptor nodded. “The lead singer is great on bass, and their voice is beautiful. Very serene and quiet, though. It’s not like Green Day or anything. They do those songs sometimes, but mostly it’s the other stuff. Not…” He looked thoughtful. “Not sure how to describe it. It’s rock music, but it’s… I dunno how to describe it.” He shook his head rapidly, saying those words again. “You’ll see. It looks like they’re getting ready—“

 

I turned to face the stage, and as I did, the lights turned out. The spotlight focused on the stage, and I watched as two of the three band members were revealed. A pink stego on drums, and a dark blue sanjuanensis on guitar. Then, finally… the spotlight showed our lead singer. A blue pterodactyl, dressed up like a classic punk goth. She had shaved hair and torn jeans. She opened her eyes, and I saw that they were a beautiful orange. Like a sunset over a grassy knoll. But then… she spoke.

 

“We are Darkened Disgräce, and this is… The Unforgiven.” She spoke, softly. She leaned her snoot into the microphone as she did, and smiled at the audience. The smile dropped quickly, and she began to strum her guitar.

 

“…beautiful.” I muttered. “She’s beaut—“

 

“Fuck, I’m missing it!” Erik shouted, interrupting my words as he sat down at the booth with us. He handed me my Pepsi and he handed Shane his bottle of Modelo. “Okay. Cool. They haven’t starting yet.”

 

I watched as the girl on stage strummed her guitar, singing the slow-paced song. The melody carried throughout the song, and the chorus made me… shit, man, it made me feel. I could feel the loss, the hurt. The words in her tone. When the song was over, I couldn’t help but clap. The guy on drums absolutely killed it, and the melody was kickass. But the lyrics. Her tone, her inflection… it was amazing. She was a great singer. She was… a great everything. And did I mention drop-dead gorgeous? “Sh-Shane?”

 

“Yeah bud?” He asked, putting down his bottle.

 

“Who’s the girl?”

 

“Huh?” He asked, looking back up at the stage. “Oh, that’s Fang. They’re the person I was telling you about.”

 

“…you were right.” I whispered, watching intently. What was wrong with me? Why was I so… why was I so enraptured by this performance?

 

“…dude.” Shane whispered. “Do you… are you crushing on Fang?” He laughed.

 

“…yeah.” I muttered, not thinking my words through. I just… it just… wow. She was so beautiful. Words cannot describe how absolutely gorgeous she was to me. I didn’t like her hair a lot, I’ll be honest, but… fuck.

 

I guess I have a thing for goth pterodactyls. Who the hell knew?

 

I watched on as she continued to perform up on that stage, her bandmates helping compliment her bass perfectly. Her voice as well. If you gave her autotune, I’m sure her voice would sound the same. No kidding! She was that good! No matter what song she was singing, whether it be their own or a cover, it was insane. It was intense. At least, for me. The music wasn’t intense but… watching Fang certainly got my blood flowing.

 

…Not like that, you horny bastard. She gave me butterflies. Simple as. Watching her was interesting, and she was an interesting girl. I’d love to get to know her more. Maybe find out why Shane was referring to her as multiple people. Hopefully, she didn’t have schizophrenia, but… I don’t know if I would even mind. Pros and cons, dude. Pros and cons.

 

When the band finally finished their songs, the bar clapped. I probably clapped the loudest, though. I was a total simp if I’m being real. She would probably never even talk to me, but… a man can dream. A man can dream.

 

I could see Fang blush up on stage from everyone’s applause—which was totally adorable. There wasn’t much applause, given there were only like four other people in the bar, but I’m sure she still appreciated it. She began to speak into the microphone when the noise died down. “Th-Thanks, guys. We were Darkened Disgräce, and we hope you enjoyed our songs.” She smiled a muted smile.

 

The crowd gave one last hoorah, and the curtain closed—the performance over. I looked on at the curtain for a few minutes, still processing things. In what was only around thirty minutes of music, I had become completely obsessed with this innocent pterodactyl that didn’t even know I existed. I felt like I was back in middle school, and fuck, if that isn’t the worst feeling? Haha.

 

I turned back to my friends, and took note of them. They were staring at me, confused. I also became confused. “…what’s up?”

 

“Dude.” Erik spoke first. “We’ve been trying to talk to you for like, fifteen minutes. You would not take your eyes away from the stage.”

 

“Yeah.” Shane added. “The music’s good, but that’s… concerning. Are you really that down bad for ptero pussy?”

 

We all laughed at that, and I looked away, embarrassed. I still chuckled, but a blush was slowly forming on my face. “N-No way, man. She’s cute, sure, but jeez…”

 

“Hey man, no shame.” Shane smiled, putting his arms up. “My wife is a ptero. You know that. You were at the wedding.”

 

“And dude. I’m—I’m literally alive.” Erik chimed in, moving some hair out of his eyes. Me and Shane chuckled.

 

Then I shrugged. “Yeah, that’s true. No it’s—I’m—I’m not ashamed.” I clarified. “Just uhh… I dunno. Did you guys see her up there? How could I not like that?”

 

Erik raised an eyebrow again. “…because she looks like she sucks dick for crack money?”

 

“Woaaah—“ I said, putting my hands in a ‘T’. Shane did the same. “Timeout bro.”

 

“Yeah, dude, they’re chill.” Shane added, nodding his head in agreement with me.

 

“Well sorry, I’m just observing. I don’t think she’s that attractive.” Erik threw a hand out in a pseudo-shrug, and took a sip of his beer. He exhaled as he swallowed. “But if you like her, I’m not gonna judge. She’s just not my type. She doesn’t look… crazy, so I can’t tell you not to stick your dick in her.”

 

“What is she, skim milk?” I whispered, taking a drink of Pepsi.

 

“What?” Erik asked.

 

“Nothin’.” I chuckled. Stupid inside jokes my beloved.

 

“But either way, dude,” Shane spoke up, leaning over the table. “If you like them—go for it. I don’t see a ring on their finger.”

 

“…” I stayed silent for a few moments, considering his words. I leaned back in my seat as I moved my eyes towards the stage again. She was behind those curtains. Either that, or she had long since left the building. No wait! There she is. She’s sitting at a table with her band—they’re eating some chicken wings. Looks like they’re having a good time.

 

“Dude, go talk to her.” Erik whispered. “You got this.”

 

“But she’s—with her band, ‘n shit..” I trailed off. A blush slowly formed on my face again.

 

“So? They’re guys, they’ll understand.” Someone whispered. Not sure who—their voices can sound similar sometimes.

 

“Well, yeah, but…” I sighed. “What if one of ‘em is her boyfriend?”

 

“Then that would be awkward, wouldn’t it?” Shane asked rhetorically. “Two people on a date right in front of you.”

 

“Not really.” I fought. “They’re a band.”

 

“Dude.” The raptor deadpanned. “I’ve never seen them kiss or hug either of them, and they eats food here every night that I’m here. You’re good. You’re chillin’.” He reassured, putting his hands out and doing various motions. “Go talk to her.”

 

“…” I scratched my chin. “I dunno…” I whispered. They both groaned, and slammed their heads on the table. “Hey!”

 

“Sorry, but fine. Don’t talk to her. We can’t force you.” Erik muttered, bringing his head up off the table. He then coughed into his hand. “Cough. Pussy. Cough.”

 

I exaggerated a frown, and he began to laugh. Bastards.

 

“Oh, they’re leaving.” Shane said, pointing.

 

“What?” I asked, turning my head back to their table. He was right. They had left their food scraps, along with some bills I could barely see. They were all standing up and shaking hands. What the hell? Are they really leaving?

 

“Dude, here’s your chance. Go!” Erik egged me on.

 

“I—I-“

 

…and within a minute, Fang was out the door, never to be seen again.

 

“…fuck.” I whispered.

 

“You’re goddamn right, fuck.” Shane scoffed. “Dude. Next time we come here, you’re talking to her.”

 

“How do we know there’s gonna be a next time?” I asked, thinking I got one over on him.

 

He stared. “Because you’re head-over-heels for the lead singer.”

 

I slammed my own head onto the table. Motherfucker, he’s right. I had only known her for thirty minutes, had only seen her for that time; and I was head-over-heels in love. I was crushing on a random-ass pterodactyl girl.

 

Argh.

 

…Around two weeks passed, and no matter what, I couldn’t get Fang out of my head. I felt like a goddamn schizophrenic the way she would follow and invade my thoughts constantly. Well, actually… either a schizophrenic or an internet neckbeard. Who was the guy that was so obsessed with that one singer he sent her a bomb and then killed himself on camera? Alvaro Castillo? Whoever it was, I was starting to feel like that. I had obviously never done anything to that extent, but with how much she was on my mind, I started to feel bad for her. Like… if she knew how much I considered her, she would think I was a stalker or some shit. So, obviously, I had to do something about it. Which is why I began to ask around. Erik’s solution was telling me to go back to the bar, sooner rather than later. Only problem is that I was the only guy who got Friday off this past week, and now this current week. And I was fucking—dude, I was tired of waiting. I couldn’t take it anymore. Shane and Erik or not, I was going back to that bar, and I was going to talk to her. Even if I didn’t get her number or a date or something, I would feel better knowing I at least approached, right?

 

So… that was my mindset as I walked towards the bar. I had no idea what I would say, but my buddy Toshi always told me that you never want to script your interactions. So… let’s hope that he’s right!

 

Noticing that, once again, there wasn’t a bouncer; I laughed nervously to myself as I opened one of the double doors. Almost immediately, the smell of alcohol and old peanuts invaded my senses. Guess I didn’t pay enough attention to my surroundings to notice that last time. S-Somehow. Either way, I was now inside the bar. The live music, if the last time is anything to go off of, would be starting soon. So I went to the bar, got a Pepsi, and sat my ass down.

 

And after fifteen minutes of scrolling through Instagram, the lights dimmed. Thank God, the pressure was killing me. I immediately put my phone to the table and craned my neck to view the stage. This is it. This is the performance—I need to pay attention. Toshi said not to script shit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get talking points. And a proper talking point would be her BAND! Obviously. So… I took out my earbud, and smiled as she introduced the band. Same people as last time, obviously. I watched intently as she adjusted the microphone, and then..

 

…she began to strum her bass.

 

Once again, the music she played blew me away. All of it was new music, new songs, new covers. It had only been a few weeks since I had seen her play last, but… she had already gotten new stuff in. She had already written new music; either that or her band members did. And lemme tell you… it was great. I think my favorite song they played that night was ‘Lost in Translation’, which was a song about two people fighting and then coming back to each other when they realize it was just a misunderstanding. It was honestly beautiful, and worked really well as a rock song. The band seemed to swap between slower rock and proper rock on a… on somewhat of a cycle. I wonder if it has anything to do with who wrote the song itself. I’m sure their creative visions all vary.

 

Though, eventually, after the final song was played and the last lyric sung; the curtain got drawn, signaling the end of the performance. The noticeably-smaller-than-last-time audience clapped, and the band shuffled around inside the curtain, fixing their gear up to leave. Either that or leave it there overnight. Whatever worked best for them, I guess…

 

When the band walked out from behind the curtain, they took the same table as last time—maybe it was reserved?—and ordered the same thing, chicken wings. And… creepily, I watched. I tried to read their lips to see if I could get a read on what they were saying. To, uh… hopefully, get a better idea of what to talk about with Fang. I needed some more bullet points, you know? Haha…

 

ah… fuck. God, I’m such a weirdo.

 

Hopefully I can keep my weird behavior on the DL when we talk. I don’t wanna scare her off, after all. Uhh… I exhaled through my nose as I held a hand on my chin, pretending to be reading something on my phone as I watched everyone eat chicken wings. The two band members that weren’t Fang seemed to really enjoy them. Well, wait. Hold on. Is… huh? What? Okay… is Fang even eating them? I don’t think I’ve seen her eat a single chicken wing. That’s… concerning..

 

I continued to view her eating habits, rather than just her. She was eating food, but… not any substantial amount of it. She only ordered a small amount of french fries, and when she got them—which was, oddly enough, delivered after the chicken—she scarfed them down, as if she were a rabid animal. She had practically licked her plate clean. And… well, I did what any reasonable man would do…

 

…I felt my face soften in concern, and subconsciously added ‘offer to buy her dinner’ on my list of bullet points. Nobody should have to be that hungry, not someone as special as her. Creepy obsession be damned. She doesn’t deserve that shit, not someone as talented, and certainly not as… beautiful, to sound blunt—as Fang. Nobody deserved it, of course, but her especially, goddamn it. I couldn’t let her sit there and starve. But… how do I… how do I even approach that? ‘Hey, I noticed you’re not eating because I was watching you for an hour straight. You want some food?’ Like—hell no! I’m not a crazy person, and I don’t want to come across as one. There may be a lot wrong with me, but at the of the day, most of my friends refer to me as ‘horrifically average’ for a reason.

 

I kept overthinking and overthinking, not realizing that Fang was already getting ready to leave, and I had been staring off into space for probably over ten minutes. And by staring off into space, I mean beaming my brights directly into the back of her skull. Fuck. When I realized I was being retarded, I sat ramrod, looking everywhere but forward as she stood up to leave.

 

Her and her bandmates left the bar moments later, and then it finally hit me: I had shit I needed to be doing. I had a plan here, as scuffed as it may be. I can’t chicken out now. I can’t chicken out ever. What if this is her last show? What if she quits music? What if she dies? Bottom line, what happens if I never see her again? What happens if this is the last time I ever lay eyes on the most beautiful woman I had ever seen?

 

Well…

 

I’ll regret not taking this chance, that’s for damn-fucking-sure.

 

So… I stood up. I scratched my bald head, I straightened my button-up, I smelled my own breath, and I nodded to myself. It was go time. I either do this now, or I never do it. Two options, and only one was viable. I am not a pussy. I was not going to BE a pussy. It wasn’t going to happen, and I will make sure of that. After one last patdown, I breathed to myself. “Let’s rock.”

 

I marched myself away from my table—making sure to leave a tip behind—and walked over to the exit. I pushed open the doors, and recoiled slightly at the cold air. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t hesitate. I continued walking, searching around for a blue ptero as I did. Given it was dark out, it was… well, it was a bit of a hard task, I’ll be honest. But eventually, I found her. I jogged slightly to catch up, keeping my fingers crossed in the hopes that I wouldn’t scare her too bad. But we’ll have to see.

 

When I finally caught up, I spoke. “Excuse me, Fang?”

 

She stopped in her tracks, and did a slow turn to face me. It felt like a million years went by before she was standing forward. But when she did, I gave her a nervous smile. Her neutral face quickly turned into a scowl. “Oh, it’s you.”

 

Huh? ‘It’s you’? “W-Whaddya mean?”

 

“You’re the guy that’s been staring at me all night.” She grumbled, and put a hand in her purse. Shit. “Gotta say? Not a fan of that. And how do you know my name, huh? Are you a stalker? Have you been following me around?” She spoke rapidly, getting closer and closer. Making more and more assumptions. I had to back away from her. “I knew I should’ve taken someone as a body-guard… urgh.” She growled, and then turned to face me again. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t pepper spray you right now.”

 

“I-I-,” I stuttered. “I uh—“ My back hit a wall, and I looked around, trying to come up with something.

 

“Spit it out!” She yelled, and I continued to panic. But I have an idea!

 

“I know Shane!” I exclaimed, trying desperately in vain to come up with something that could prove my innocence. I had been completely innocent. Sure, staring is a little weird, but it’s not like I wanted to harass her! I was just doing what everyone said to do, which was talk to her. Who knew it would turn out like this?

 

“Shane?” She asked, not letting up. “Gonna have to be a little more specific. I know a few Shanes.” She narrowed her eyes.

 

“Shane Wright! I’m friends with Shane Wright!” I said, namedropping. I then began to spout off info. “Pterodactyl guy, totally ripped, has a wife named Louise, uh,” I tripped up. “Uh, uh—loves Shia LaBeouf movies—“

 

“Oh, Shane!” She realized, her voice going up a few octaves. “Oh, I love that guy. You know him?” She tilted her head. She wasn’t smiling or anything yet, but she had realized. Okay. I’m… I’m on a good track here.

 

“Y-Yeah! He took us to see you play a few weeks ago, and—and I really liked your band.” I chuckled. “I wanted to come see you guys play, and I wanted to talk to you about it but I was too nervous to approach you when you were sitting down to eat.” I rubbed my head. “Sorry if I was staring. I was just zoning out and being an idiot.”

 

She blushed lightly. “Oh, uh… thanks.” She looked away. “S-Sorry I got all mad about it. I’m happy you enjoyed the music.” She smiled softly. “What did you want to talk about?”

 

Uh oh. I didn’t think I’d get this far. I gotta think of something, quick. “Uh,” Wait, I got it! “Those songs that you guys play—who writes them? Aside from the covers, I mean.” I laughed.

 

“Oh, like, who’s the songwriter?” She asked, removing her hand from her purse. My shoulders dropped in relief. “It’s actually me and one of the other guys, Matt. He’s the one on guitar. He mostly does all the cool punk rock stuff, and I usually write the crappy slow stuff.” She clarified, smile still on her face.

 

“It’s not crappy.” I fought. “Those are some of my favorite ones. I loved Lost in Translation.”

 

“W-What?” She asked, her face turning even more scarlet than before. “You… you remembered the name of the song?”

 

“Of course!” I nodded excitedly. “It was fantastic! Your bassline was written in so perfectly—had it been any other instrument, it wouldn’t have worked. Having more bass and less guitar really made the song stand out.” I sperged.

 

“Oh yeah?” She said, smirking and tilting her head. “If you like my bass, you should hear me on guitar. I’m way better at it.”

 

“You’d have to show me sometime.” I nodded. Now… time for the moves. “When do you guys play next? Maybe we can figure something out.”

 

She looked away, and looked… thoughtful. Like she was considering something other than her next concert date. Weird. I wonder what she could be thinking about. Her blush was growing, though, so it… huh.

 

“What’s your number?” She asked, finally. “I can text you some stuff.”

 

“M-My number?” I asked, my own self finally blushing.

 

“Just for band stuff!” She fought, sputtering out as she tried to explain. “I-!”

 

“N-No, you’re fine—“ I shook my head. “Just, uh… you got a piece of paper?”

 

She nodded, and took out a small blue’s clues-esque notebook. She removed a pen from inside her top and handed it to me. I sweatdropped as I grabbed it, and she coughed. I then wrote down—wait. Forgot to click it. I then wrote down my number, including ‘Anon’ at the bottom.

 

I handed it back to her, and she read it. “Anon, huh?”

 

“UhNon,” I clarified. Then I nodded. “And yeah. Shitty family naming scheme.” I laughed. “I still give my dad a hard time over it, but I respect him too much to change it. Y’know?”

 

“…wonder what that’s like.” She whispered, looking down. She then exhaled and looked back up at me. “Anyway, cool. I’ll text you some info. For now, I think I gotta get back home, so… I’ll see you around?”

 

I nodded. “See you around, Fang.” I said, and then gave her my best smile.

 

She smiled, waved, and then walked in the opposite direction.

 

“And hey!” I shouted. She turned around. “If you ever need a bodyguard, I got your back!”

 

She snorted, and shook her head. Score!

 

I smiled to myself as I considered our interaction. It was short, but… sweet. Dangerous near the start, but I was able to pull it back in and fix shit. I even gave her my number!

 

…hopefully I wrote my number down right. It would be embarrassing if I gave her the wrong number. She’d think I’m a total dick. Not that I’m a saint, but… fuck. Why am I explaining it to you? I’m making perfect logical sense. I shook my head as I turned around and began to walk away. I followed the street lamps until I got to where I had parked my truck. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I pushed in the clutch and stuck the key in the ignition. The diesel engine of the RAM 2500 roared to life, and I set the stick in neutral as I let it idle.

 

…wait.

 

I…

 

I gave her my number. I talked to her. We talked. We both talked—like humans do. In conversation. We had a conversation. We smiled and laughed. Smile. I made her smile!

 

“I made her smile?” I asked myself quietly. I turned down the radio. “I…”

 

I then looked up at the roof the truck, and chuckled.

 

“I made Fang smile.”

 

<<<<>>>>

 

Over the course of the next week, me and Fang would text back and forth a lot. We found out we had some mutual interests—most notably, our love for Green Day. She mostly liked the more obscure stuff, though. I was an ‘American Idiot’ kinda guy while she was a ‘Dos!’ kinda person. If that made sense! It probably didn’t, but in actual, current event news: I was currently on my way to the old bar, a few hours before the band is supposed to play. For one express reason.

 

Fang is going to show me how she plays guitar. She’s going to show me, and I’m excited for it! It should be pretty fun. If her guitar skills are anything like her bass skills, then I’m going to be absolutely blown away. Obviously. I would probably be blown away either way, but… still. It’ll be cool. Man! I wonder what songs she’ll play. Will it be an electric or an acoustic? Maybe I can get her to play Stairway to Heaven…

 

I considered all of this as I walked up to the back door of the bar. It was accessed through an alley to the side of the building, said alley being… absolutely disgusting and gross. Graffiti covered every wall and floor surface, along with the smell of trash being absolutely overpowering. I’m pretty sure I saw a few used needles lying on the ground, too. But… I guess that’s to be expected from Skin Row? I wouldn’t know—as I’ve never lived here—but I’ve heard it’s pretty ghetto. And even seeing the main streets has showcased that. The bar itself is kinda nice, though. Even if it is a little seedy. So… I wonder what else they’re hiding?

 

I dunno. I knocked on the door three times, which is what I was told to do. After a few seconds, three different locks unlatched, and the door opened up; sticking to the wall as the hinges creaked. Fang’s ‘Dino’ strength opened it pretty easily, though. When I made eye-contact, her eyes lit up. “Hey, Anon. Glad you could make it.” She smiled.

 

She opened up the door the rest of the way, and I nodded. “Glad to be here. Can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.” I said, and walked inside. Fang shut the door after me, latching the locks again.

 

When she turned back to face me, she shrugged. “Eh, nothing much.” Fang muttered, pushing off the door and walking farther inside the room. Various instruments and pieces of equipment were lying around, all of them on those standup tables from Walmart. You know the kind. “We’ve got about an hour or so until the show starts, so I was just going to show you a few things, like we talked about.”

 

“Sounds good.” I nodded, not realizing we only had an hour. I thought we had more time. Oh well… “So, what’s the first thing on the agenda?” I interrupted my own thoughts.

 

“Well, that’s up to you.” She chuckled, and walked behind a table. She threw her arms out, showcasing two instruments on a table. One was an electric guitar, the other acoustic. The electric guitar was a white design, with what seemed to be pink highlights near the left side. Looked cool. The acoustic guitar was a simple wooden design, but it had a sticker on it. I couldn’t make it out, so I walked a little closer. Fang took that time to speak up again, “Acoustic or electric, it’s your choice. I’m pretty good at both, not to toot my own horn.”

 

“I don’t doubt it, Fang.” I snickered. I leaned closer to the acoustic, and could finally make out the sticker:

 

HotWheels

Acceleracers

 

I leaned my head back up, and Fang spoke. “Hey, what are you—“

 

I bumped my nose into hers, and quickly jumped back. “Sh-Shit sorry—“ I rushed out, my face turning hot. “I just wanted to see the sticker, I didn’t mean to—“

 

“That’s alright—“ She interrupted, her own face turning red. “I didn’t… I should’ve..”

 

…Both of our flames died out, neither of us having energy to continue sputtering. I sighed, laughed, and wiped my brow, despite not any sweat being present. Fang did the same.

 

After a few more moments of silent staring, I spoke up. “Well, anyway..”

 

“Anyway…” She coughed, turning away. Then she turned back, and picked up the acoustic guitar. “You just wanna do acoustic first?”

 

“Whatever you think is best.” I shrugged.

 

“Well, I’m asking you.”

 

“And I… think that it’s up to you.”

 

“Goddamn it, Anon.” She giggled, and shook her head. She looked over the guitar, and adjusted it in her hands. She strummed a note, and raised an eyebrow. She tuned it, and then strummed again. She smiled and nodded. “Alright cool.” She whispered, and then looked up at me. “Okay. It’s been a while since I’ve played, but… any requests?” She gave me a toothy grin.

 

“Stairway to Heaven?” I asked, looking for an open spot on the table behind me. I moved a bag out of the way, and sat my ass down. I turned to face Fang again, only to see her giving me an unimpressed look. “What?”

 

“Really?” She asked, scoffing. “I’m insulted.”

 

“What?” I raised an eyebrow, and then smirked. “Can’t do it?”

 

She gave me a deadpan, and then, without looking; strummed the opening to the infamous Led Zeppelin song. She got every note perfectly, and my eyes widened as she continued on. She even began to whistle the flute part of the song as she continued to strum. When it got more intense, she opened up her mouth. “There’s a person… who’s sure… all that glitters is gold… and that the guy in front of he—“ She faultered. “Th-them, is an idiot…” She snorted. After that, she stopped playing. I felt myself shrink, and as I frowned, she set her guitar back on the table. “There. Happy?”

 

“M-More than happy.” I stuttered, and laughed incredulously, my sadness from before forgotten. “Oh my God! You’re amazing!” I praised, putting my hands to my knees.

 

“Sh-Shut up…” She muttered, looking away. Her face turned red slowly. “That’s the most average song someone can play on a guitar. Give me something better, you dweeb…”

 

“O-Okay.” I nodded. “Can you, um, can you play Tyler’s Last Words?”

 

She stared at me for a few seconds, totally lost. Damn it. “…what the fuck is that?” She asked.

 

“Nothing. It’s just a song. Uh…”

 

“Whatever.” She shrugged, interrupting my stutter. “You want me to do Wonderwall next? Or how about Hot Cross Buns?”

 

“…can you do those?” I asked. She groaned, and I chuckled. I knew what I was doing at that point. I didn’t know Stairway to Heaven was a bother, but Wonderwall, I knew that one. I also knew the hot cross buns bullshit, but that’s from doing recorder in the second grade. “I’m just fucking with you. Do Through the Fire and the Flames.”

 

“Oh, nice. A challenge.” She laughed. But then she looked down at her guitar. “I actually do better at this song when I’m distracted. Talk to me a little bit.” She said, and then began to strum. She got into a groove, and then started… well, shredding. She was shredding an acoustic guitar. Holy shit… I can’t believe she’s…

 

Wait, she wanted me to talk. “Uh, right.” I nodded. “Uhh… what should I talk about?” I asked.

 

“I dunno. Ask me some questions or something.” She strained.

 

“Uh, okay—what’s your last name, Fang?”

 

“Aaran.” She answered, and I quickly noticed that her skill somewhat improved. Her fingers began to move more fluidly. “My name is F-Fang Aaran.”

 

“Alright, good to know.” I nodded. “Uh, uh…” Pressure’s on now. Fuck. “What do you do in your spare time?”

 

“I like to… draw, and listen to music, and make music…” She whispered, beginning to get more into the song itself rather than the guitar solo. “Keep it going.”

 

“Alright.” I nodded, slapping my knees. I have an idea. “What’s your favorite flower?” I asked.

 

She chuckled, but answered anyway. “Not big on flowers, but I like daffodils.”

 

“Nice, nice.” I smiled. “What’s your favorite restaurant?”

 

“Old spaghetti factory.” She answered, continuing to strum. “But these are getting odd. Trying to take me on a date or something?” She teased, and her smile faltered when she missed a note. “More questions.”

 

“Right.” Man, this is weird. Maybe I should just ask something obvious. “Uh, uh… are you a boy or a girl?”

 

She stopped playing.

 

…What? What the hell? “Uh, did…” I looked away. Was that something touchy? “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“…no.” She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s… I’m.. uh, I’m…” She strained. “I’m n-non-binary.”

 

“Oh.” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh!” I realized. “Oh, so like, your pronouns are they/them?”

 

She hesitated, looking away slightly. But then she nodded. “Yeah. They are.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I whispered. THAT’S why Shane was using those pronouns! “I… kinda feel like a dick now. I’ve been calling you a girl this whole time.”

 

She sighed. “It’s… fine.” She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal. Do you want me to play any more songs?” She asked, segueing her words abruptly. “Or do you wanna switch to electric?”

 

I considered my options for a moment. I didn’t really know any acoustic songs to list out, as I normally listened to rock music and stuff. Green Day and Speedwagon and Sum41, not country music or whatever else uses acoustic guitar. Definitely not Jason Mraz. I think. “Does Jason Mraz do acoustic stuff?” I asked, not really wishing for an answer, more just talking out-loud.

 

“Yeah, he does. Sometimes.” She shrugged. “Why? You want me to play some?” Sh-they asked, strumming.

 

“Nah. We can move on to electric, actually.” I nodded.

 

“Sounds good.” They smiled.

 

…Beautiful.

 

…

 

After waiting out the remaining minutes, filling the silence with various electric strums and power chords, it was finally time to start the show. Fang’s other band members showed up, and I got to meet them. Charles and Dwayne were their names, and they were pretty chill dudes. Said they had met Fang at this very bar, and formed a full band after talking about how much they loved music with them. The two of them already had plans for a band, you see, but neither of them knew bass. Fang did, so the band was formed. Neat stuff.

 

But eventually, my time came, and I had to walk out from back stage and down into the normal seating area. I did my usual thing and got comfy, ordering a lemonade to drink as I sat down to watch the band. When the lights dimmed and the curtains opened, I leaned forward in my seat. Here it is. I had just watched her play guitar for about an hour, so now, it was time to watch th-them play bass. I recalled them saying they were better at guitar, but I still think they absolutely kicked ass at bass.

 

Wait, shut up! It’s starting…

 

The spotlight shown down, and there they were. Dressed in the clothes I had seen them in not even ten minutes ago, they had the microphone in their hand. But they weren’t introducing the band. They… were saying something else. What…?

 

“I’d… like to dedicate this performance to a friend of mine.” They spoke. “I haven’t known him very long, but he’s… he’s great. He cares about my interests and doesn’t know how to be negative about anything. I… I can see myself being friends with him for a very long time.” They smiled. And then, they pointed at me.

 

My cheeks flared red as I looked around. No way. They were… they were pointing at me. “What..?” I muttered.

 

“This performance is for you, Anon. Talk to me after the concert.” They winked.

 

But then, they smiled.

 

…I felt all my nervousness melt away as I watched her lips move.

 

“This next song is called American Idiot.”

 

<<<<<<>>>>>

 

“I’m telling you, man, I think I’m in love.”

 

“Dude, you—I feel like you’ve said that already.” Shane muttered, rubbing a hand to his forehead. “What’s stopping you from asking her out? You’re already friends with her, aren’t you? I’m sure she likes you enough to go get a fancy dinner with you or—or see a movie, or something.” He shrugged lightly.

 

“Well, sure.” I sighed. “But… fuck. I don’t—“

 

“Dude just do it.” He said, and grabbed my arm. “Please. If you don’t, you’ll regret it forever.”

 

“…I… I know that, but…”

 

“Anon.” He deadpanned. “I told you to talk to her, didn’t I?”

 

I raised an eyebrow, but played along anyway. “Yeah…?”

 

“And I also said nothing would go wrong?” He asked, leaning in closer.

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“And I also said that you would gain a friend out of it?”

 

“I don’t remember you saying that.” I chuckled.

 

“But it happened.” He pointed his hand out. Five finger point, like a karate chop. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

 

“…” I stayed quiet for a moment, and then took a sip of monster. “Nothing can go wrong if I ask her out, and I’ll gain a girlfriend out of it.”

 

“Yes!” Shane nodded enthusiastically. “You’re getting it. Okay, okay. If you ask her out…”

 

“…nothing bad will happen.” I repeated, nodding.

 

“Yes. And you will gain…” He trailed off, and moved his hand in a circular motion.

 

“A girlfriend.”

 

“YES!” He cheered, throwing his arms out. The two other people in the break room looked at us, and Shane lowered his hands. “Sorry. Anyway—“

 

“Yes, I get it.” I sighed. I put my hand on the table. “I just… I dunno. That’s harder than it sounds.”

 

“Well, of course it is. But how about this,” He leaned towards me, as if he were a salesman trying to sell me something. “you have her number, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah. She gave it to me after our first conversation.” I nodded, answering his question. But… I feel like I already knew where it was going. He was predictable sometimes.

 

“Give her a call right now, and ask her to go see a movie.” He threw his arms out. I sighed, and rubbed my forehead. “Dude. What could go bad? C’mon. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

 

“…no.” I sighed again, accepting. The final stage of grief. “I just… I… what…”

 

“Stop thinking.” Shane grabbed my shoulders. “Stop thinking and just… do. Trust me.” He said, and looked into my eyes. His eyes were… green. Huh. I don’t think I’ve noticed that before. “Okay?” He muttered, interrupting my thought process. Fuck. I was totally looking into the depths of his soul there.

 

…I’m still doing it. Fuck. I’m stalling. “Am I stalling?”

 

“Yes.” He nodded. “Gimme your phone.”

 

I complied, and handed it over to him. He clicked the power button, swiped up, and turned his eyes back to me. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t amused. I chuckled and entered my password in when he turned the phone my direction, and then he was in. All it took was a few seconds of him moving stuff around and clicking buttons before he put the phone to his ear. I began to bite my nails at the sight. Fuck. Why did I let him do that? Why did I let him call Fang for me? Talk about a huge mistake, I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for—!

 

“Hey, Anon. What’s up?” A familiar voice spoke through the phone now being held up to my ear. Huh? When did he—? “…Hello?”

 

Oh, shit. I’m retarded. “H-Hey, Fang! What’s up? What’re you up to?” I spat out, grabbing the phone from Shane’s hand. I gulped, and he gave me a thumbs up.

 

“Nothin’ much,” She breathed in sharply, and then exhaled slowly. “Chilling outside, smoking a cig. What about you? Isn’t this when you normally work?”

 

I nodded, despite her not being able to see it. “Yeah, I’m on break. Shane’s here with me right now.”

 

“Oh, cool! Didn’t know you guys worked together. Tell Shane I said hi.” She said.

 

“We don’t work together. He just hangs out in the break room.” I joked. “Do—Do you wanna talk to him?” I asked, and Shane swiped a hand over his neck in a panic. Ope, shit—

 

“Nah, it’s fine. Just as long as he knows I’m saying hi. I… mostly just wanna talk to you right now.” She giggled. I blushed furiously at her words, but knew something else was coming. “How are you doing, Anon?”

 

“I’m… uh, fine…” I sweatdropped. God, I sucked at this. Wait, what am I doing? “But, wait. Did you say you were smoking?”

 

“Uh, y-yeah?” She answered, immediately sounding more nervous. Like she didn’t want me to know that.

 

“…that’s…” I put my arm on the break room table. “You’re a grown w—dino, but… those are bad for you.”

 

“I… I know.” She sighed. “But what’s it to you?” She snapped. “I can smoke if I want. You’re not my dad.”

 

“…I know I’m not your dad.” I twirled my finger. “But… I just care about you. You know? I don’t want you getting sick.”

 

She stayed silent on the other end for a few moments. I could practically see her shifting uncomfortably. After a few more moments, she spoke up again. “Let’s… just… what was it you were saying? You said you were fine?”

 

Oh, okay. “Y-Yeah, fine…” I trailed off.

 

“You don’t sound fine.” Fang said, their tone shifting quickly. “Everything okay? Is this about the smoking?”

 

“N-No, uh… just…” Fuck. But no. I can’t abort. No aborting. “Just had a question.”

 

“Well, what’s up? You’re killin’ me over here, dork-ass.” She laughed mirthfully. “I’ve got my cig put out. Talk to me, big guy.”

 

Shit. Okay. Here goes. No more stalling. “Fang.” I said, nodding my head with confidence. “…Do you want to go get some food sometime?” I blushed. “You—uh, you can pick the restaurant, if you’d like.”

 

“Go and get food? That’s what you were so stressed about?” She laughed. “Dude, That’s—“ She stopped.

 

…What? Why did she stop? Did she realize what I had actually said? Was she angry or considering it? God, women are so confusing. No wonder IFunny hates them so much. They— “What, like a date…?” She asked, and my blush returned in full force.

 

I practically jumped. “Y-Yeah, like a date. Would you…” I coughed. “Would you be interested?”

 

…the line was silent for a few moments. I tried to remain calm; I had been overthinking a lot of stupid shit recently. Being silent after being asked a question like that is perfectly reasonable. And, thankfully, after a few seconds; the line picked back up. “Um. Y-Yeah, sure.” She chuckled and coughed at the same time. “I’d… I’d like that. You wanna pick me up from my place at 6 and we can go from there?”

 

“…s-sounds great.” I said, trying to hold back the absolute elation. “I’ll be there. Text me the address, if you don’t mind?”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

“Cool.” I smiled. The line went silent once again, so… I spoke up. “And… thank you.”

 

“I should be the one doing that.” Fang whispered. “Thank you, Anon. I think we’ll have a great time.” She said, a smile present in her tone.

 

“I think so too.” I chuckled. “See you later tonight?”

 

“Can’t wait.” She giggled.

 

“Buh-bye.”

 

“Catch ya.”

 

I removed the phone from my face, and ended the call. I stared at my basic Lock Screen as it flashed the time: 11:02. I didn’t think much of it, and turned my head back up, away from the phone. And… Shane stood there, gawking. But… with a smile on his face.

 

“Yeah, alright. I was wrong.” I scoffed.

 

“Not that. Dude, what did they say?” Shit. I forgot about he—their pronouns. Whatever!

 

“…they said yes.”

 

…We ended up getting a noise complaint from one of the customers.

 

<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>

 

That night, I stared at myself in the mirror for what had to be way over an hour, going over every minute detail. The pimples that remained from my teenage years, the lack of hair, the lint on my shirt, the bridge of my nose, the blackheads on said nose, whether or not my shirt clung to my not-fully-dry body, the scent of my deodorant, the smell of the cologne I was using… all of it. I was going over all of it, and worrying about all of it. I knew Fang probably wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t the most handsome guy on the block (especially because my ‘nice shirt’ was just a buttoned-up version of one of my normal black overshirts) but… I wanted to be. I wanted to be the most handsome guy on the block. For he—them. Goddamn it. For them. Them!

 

I want to be handsome for them. Wait, that’s backwards. Didn’t I just say Fang wouldn’t mind? Shouldn’t I be doing this for myself? Well, I am. But I’m also doing it for them. So… I guess both. Shit, also, wait. Hold on hold on. Fang is… Fang goes by they/them. Them. Fang is non-binary. Does that… does that make me gay? Or, bisexual? I’m not dating a woman. At least, not… I mean… biologically, she is. They are. So…

 

Fuck. I’m giving myself a headache. I can’t think too hard about this liberal stuff, Erik tells me it’ll rot my brain. I think he’s right. I don’t really involve myself in politics, but if genders give me this much of a migraine, I think that tells you something…

 

I’m getting so off-track, good lord. I have to go pick up Fang soon. I don’t think they have a car. I do, though. My beloved Mandy. The truck of all trucks. Diesel kills me with how expensive it is, but that mileage is worth it. It’s way better than that shitty HEMI. 11.6 MPG… got me fucked up, yo. But the diesel gets better than that. I have no idea how much better, and google won’t tell me, but it’s better!

 

Now, I think it’s about time I leave my apartment. Grabbing my keys from my pocket, I waved goodbye to my gato and walked through my living room towards the front door. I slapped the top of the old CRT television balancing on a ‘free’ control center and watched with bated breath as it wobbled slightly…!

 

…

 

Phew. Okay. I nodded my head, and continued out the door. I passed by the cracked mirror on my way out, shooting it finger guns. I opened the door, exited, locked it behind me, and speedwalked down the stairs outside. I feel like I’m in a rush. Why am I in a rush? I shouldn’t be rushing. I slowed down as I walked down the stairs. I breathed in the clean air; preparing for the gross air of Skin Row. I stepped out onto the pavement, and looked around, clicking unlock on my keyfob. It was getting a little dark already. Sheesh… shaking my head, I stepped off the curb and pulled open the door to my truck. I climbed in, stuck the key in, put the stick in reverse, and drove out of the area. I was on my way out of the apartment complex within three minutes, and on my way to the address Fang had given me. I punched it into my iPhone 7—I can only afford one cool new thing at a time—and watched as it routed me in the proper direction.

 

I turned up the music on the radio, and shifted into third as I sped up. “I’m on my way, Fang.” I muttered. I pat the daffodils I had lying on my passenger seat. I didn’t want to bring them inside, so I’m glad they were out here. I probably would’ve forgotten them otherwise…

 

Thankfully, given I don’t live too far away; it only took around twenty minutes to get to Fang’s address. I was removing myself from my truck and triple-locking it before I even knew what I was doing. Which… was a good thing.

 

I chuckled to myself as I walked up to her door. She lived on the bottom floor, thank God. But… I quickly took notice of the area around me. There were at least three homeless humans within direct vicinity, there were a few dirty needles lying around, an LA Beast sticker on the mailbox nearby (not a bad thing), and some broken beer bottles here and there. I quickly began to feel uncomfortable as I waited for her to answer her door. That feeling only got worse when I heard them unlocking more than two locks…

 

But when I saw their face, all of my worries melted away, replaced with happiness and ecstatic-ness. I don’t even know if that’s a word. It probably isn’t. But HAAAIII FANGGG :3333

 

“Hello, Anon.” They giggled, opening their door up more. They were wearing the same outfit they normally wore, and I guess they took notice after I looked it over. “S-Sorry I couldn’t dress up.. I don’t have a lot of money, and I never went to prom…”

 

“Well that’s… that’s alright, Fang. I understand.” I smiled. “I don’t exactly have a lot of spare fundage either. I still have an iPhone 7.” I laughed, pulling said phone out of my back pocket to emphasize it.

 

Fang walked out of her house, and began to speak as she turned around to lock her door. “You think that’s bad? I still have a Google Pixel.” She snickered, sticking her key into the slot and turning it.

 

“A Pixel? That’s not bad.” I shrugged, and smiled as she turned around. I stopped her. “Before we go, or continue this conversation, I want to give you these.” I said, chuckling. I held out my hand, and watched her face light up as she looked on.

 

“D-Daffodils?” They asked, looking up at me. They grabbed the flowers and smelled them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Anon. I’m.. I’m so happy you remembered.” She smiled, giving me a tearful look.

 

“Of course.” I smiled back. “I had to give you something nice. Now come on. We can keep them in my truck while we eat, no reason to spend much more time here…” I trailed off. “And you said something about a google pixel? Not a bad phone.” I began to walk, and she followed behind me. “Unless you mean the first one. Because if you do, that’s… uh… concerning?” I trailed off slightly.

 

“I mean the first one.” They confirmed.

 

“…oh my God, you poor soul.” I whispered. She snorted, and smacked me on the arm. I laughed as I unlocked my truck.

 

“You’re a dweeb, you know that?” They said, hopping in the passenger seat. They set the flowers in a cupholder in the back seat. “Oh, wow. This is a nice car…”

 

I jumped in the driver’s seat. “Thanks,” I grunted, adjusting myself in said seat. “I spent my mortgage on it. It’s probably the nicest thing I own.” I joked, and she laughed. Success.

 

“Well, that explains the iPhone 7. Now, I got another question for you.” They said, turning their head to face me. I put a finger up, and turned the key in the ignition. It roared to life, and then I nodded to her as it began to idle. “Are you insecure about the size of your penis??” She asked, practically shouting over the loud engine.

 

“What??” I yelled back. “Can’t hear you over my really loud and cool truck!” I said, continuing to shout.

 

“You’re still a dweeb!”

 

Sure am.

 

After that bit of fun, I put the thing into gear and peeled out of the neighborhood. Goodbye homeless people, hello normal road. Thank fuck. If I had to spend another minute in Skin Row, I probably would’ve forcefully removed my own skin. Or something just as drastic. Thank God I never had to live in a place like that growing up. I hadn’t lived in Volcaldera all my life, but the town I was from was pretty nice as well. Me and my family have always been… rather well-off, so I’ve never had to avoid more than one homeless guy at a time. Never had to carry a knife around, either. I carried a gun, of course, but that’s because I’m based and second amendment-pilled…

 

“You got any music?” Fang asked, interrupting my thought process.

 

“Huh?” I asked. I then realized what she said. “Oh, sorry. Here,” I handed her my phone, “Put something on. Bluetooth should be connected already.”

 

“Alright.” She nodded, grabbing the phone. “Thanks.”

 

I nodded an ‘mhm’, and they. THEY. set out upon pulling up some music. I guessed they would play some rock, maybe some death metal. Or maybe music from their own band. And… after a few seconds, music started playing. Familiar music.

 

“Hey, this is…” I muttered, realizing what it was. “I recognize this.” I chuckled.

 

“Yeah!” They squealed. “We got our music up on Spotify! Isn’t that cool??”

 

I turned my head to look at them, and noticed how… excited, they were about it. I didn’t know how all of that Spotify stuff worked, but I figured it had to be pretty difficult to get your music on there if they were this happy. Either that or they’re just easily excitable, which I haven’t really seen during my time of knowing Fang. So… this was a big deal. I found myself smiling. “That is cool. Good job, Fang.”

 

She blushed slightly. “Hey, you’re supposed to be excited… don’t be sentimental, you jerk-off…” She huffed.

 

I just laughed. “Whaddya mean I can’t be sentimental?? What if I like being sentimental?”

 

“Well I don’t like it, so stop doing it!”

 

I rolled my eyes, and shifted into fourth. We’re nearly to our destination at this point. “Whatever, girly.” I muttered.

 

…when the truck went silent, I realized my error. I quickly turned my head to face Fang. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

 

“That’s… that’s alright.” They nodded. “You’ve been pretty good with it. I don’t mind a slip-up.” She whispered, staring off into space.

 

“…you… you alright?” I asked, noticing her lack of any kind of expression.

 

“Y-Yeah.” She looked down. “I’ll be fine. I’m a strong girl.”

 

“Whatever you say…” I whispered, and did a somewhat sharp turn into the parking lot. I saw Fang reach for the little handle thing and cringed slightly. Didn’t mean to be that rough with it...

 

I rolled over a divot as I looked around for a parking spot. Should be one around here somewhere. I don’t often come through this area, but it’s a parking lot. It cannot be that hard to navigate. And… it wasn’t! I found a fitting parking spot—that wasn’t a FUCKING COMPACT SPOT—after a minute or so. And within another minute, I was out of the truck and leading Fang towards the big gray building. Said building had a sign on the front:

 

Nimbus Winery

 

Now, I’m not stupid. I can’t access or get into a real winery, nor a brewery, nor a non-seedy bar. Which is why I didn’t take Fang to a winery. I honestly have no idea why this place is called ‘Nimbus Winery’, because I’ve never gotten any kind of wine from here. I don’t even know if it’s still an actual winery—but I do know ONE thing. It has a restaurant inside. A very specific restaurant. A very special restaurant…

 

“Oh, you… you remembered? You remembered this too?” Fang muttered, turning their head to face me. I saw a soft smile on their face when I turned my own to make eye-contact. “You bastard… Thank you…”

 

“No problem, Fang.” I nodded. And then I chuckled. “What happened to not being sentimental?”

 

“Shut up.” They blushed, shaking their head as they laughed. It was such a great sound. “Let’s go get some spaghetti. I’m starving.”

 

“Sounds good,” I laughed, and grabbed the door to the winery entrance. I held it open, and they nodded as they walked past. I walked into the area, taking note of my surroundings. Various planter boxes lined the walkway, and on either sides of the small place, there were buildings and shops. An airsoft store, a toy store, mini golf, and then… finally… our destination.

 

“The Old Spaghetti Factory.” I whispered, viewing the sign as it came into view. The dim glow from it gave it that rustic feel, and I practically felt at home already.

 

Various dinos were standing outside of the restaurant, and I was reminded about how this was in Volcaldera. The population is 20:1 with dinos and humans. Right… ah, whatever. It’s not like it matters at the end of the day. We’re here for spaghetti, not accidental racism. I mean, well—it’s—fuck. What’s my point here? I.. I don’t… I think I should just move on.

 

We stood at the back of the line, watching as it slowly whittled down. But while we waited, I figured I’d make some conversation. “What’s your favorite thing to get here, Fang?” I asked, turning to face her.

 

She stopped dancing in place suddenly, looking immediately flustered at the question. I snickered softly to myself as pink exploded across her face. I guess she didn’t expect the question. “I-Uhm.” She stuttered. “I like the spaghetti…” She looked down, and I could see her putting her two index fingers together. She didn’t actually do it, but that’s what it was reminding me of. “I used to get it all the time growing up, when I would come here with my family. I would get the spaghetti, and… oh, Naser would just get bread.” She chuckled. “He was always a fan of the bread. Mom would tell him to order real food, but she would always cave after a while. She was like that, you know?” She looked up at me, and into my eyes. Her eyes looked… Longing. “She didn’t care what you did, as long as you didn’t break rules and were happy. She… she would do anything to make us happy.” They whispered, looking back down at the ground.

 

I stepped towards her, and put my arm around her. She moved her head to look at me, and I gave her a smile. She gave me a tearful one back. And then we… just stood there for a few moments. It would’ve been a picture-perfect moment to kiss, but… both of us knew it was a bad time. Both of us knew that that’s not what this was about. Fang was hurting, and needed comfort. That’s what it was about.

 

Eventually, though, the line whittled down too much and we had to let go of each other. Before I did, though, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly. “I’m here, Fang. If you ever wanna talk.”

 

She gave me a soft smile. “Thank you, Anon. That means a lot.”

 

I nodded, and then turned my head to face the guy at the counter. The orange lighting of the restaurant around us cast a glow on him, and he looked esoteric because of it. He was a sanjuanensis, though. Maybe that was just his skin color. Or maybe it was a combination of both? Maybe that’s why they had him working the front desk? That would be cool. Using a dino’s individual skill and look to assign—

 

“Uh, sir, I asked how many are in your party?” The man spoke, interrupting my thought process.

 

“Oh, shit.” Fang muttered. “It’s just us. Sorry.”

 

“Y-Yeah, what they said.” I nodded my head towards Fang, who now looked more uncomfortable. “Sorry about that. I was lost in thought…” I chuckled nervously.

 

“Not a problem, man.” He waved his hand. “Just go ahead and find a table, there should be some over in the section next to the train.” He nodded.

 

“Thank you.” I nodded my head in return. I wrapped my arm around Fang again, beginning our journey through the hustle and bustle of this restaurant.

 

Tables surrounded us on all sides as we walked into the main area. A giant train sat in the middle of the restaurant, also filled with various diners and hungry folk. That actually looked really cool. “Are we allowed to sit in the train?”

 

Fang shook her head. “It’s for parties of four only. Sorry.” She flashed me a sympathetic smile. “But there are some booth seats nearby.”

 

“Well, yeah…” I muttered, sitting down in a booth. Fang sat across from me. “But I wanted to sit in the cool train.” I looked up, and raised my hands slightly. “Is that so much to ask, God!?” I raised my voice slightly, to emphasize that I was mocking yelling.

 

My joke got across, though, because Fang giggled. “Shush. People will stare.” She said, waving her hand in the air. Bars. “We can go inside the train next time we come here.”

 

“Next time?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in a cheeky manner. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

 

I watched as her face turned red, and she began to splutter out a response. “Uh—I didn’t. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t mean it like that!” She fought. “That just slipped out…”

 

I shrugged. “Hey, it’s fine by me. If you wanna start planning the wedding, as well, then…”

 

“Oh my God, stop, please.” She muttered, slamming her head into the table. I burst out laughing, and all she did in response was put her hands on her head. She grunted out something a few moments later. “You’re the worst.”

 

“Proud to be!” I said in-between laughs.

 

She raised her head up slowly after. “Ugh. Can we just have a conversation, or something? Can we segue into that?” She muttered, the smile on her face betraying her true feelings.

 

“Well, uh… sure.” I said, giving another shrug and another chuckle. “What do you wanna talk about?”

 

“I don’t know. Uhh…” She looked off into space, and then turned back to face me. “Got it. Do you have any pets?” She turned her head cutely.

 

“Oh, uh—yeah, actually!” I nodded. “I have a cat named Gene. He’s an orange tabby, and he’s great.”  I smiled, putting my chin in my hand as I thought about my little guy. “He’s around three years old, and I’ve had a lot of fun taking care of him..”

 

“Oh, you have a cat too?” She asked, smiling softly. “I have a cat. He’s a Russian blue named Kitty.”

 

“Kitty?” I snorted.

 

“Hey, it’s a perfectly viable name!” She pointed. “Besides, we’ve had him since I was a little gi—“ They froze. “We’ve had him since I was a little kid. He’s an old man now.” She squeezed her cheeks, presumably in an attempt to mimic an old man. Or something. I don’t know! “He doesn’t have a lot of years left, but I’m making the most of them. I took him with me when I moved out.”

 

“Ahh, nice. Glad you’re giving him proper care, Fang.” I chuckled. “Me, well, I got Gene when I moved out. He was my housewarming present to myself.”

 

She giggled. “You gave yourself a cat as a present? That’s fair, I guess.” She shrugged.

 

“Yeah, it’s—“

 

“Hey wait wait.” She interrupted. “Moved out? I’m trying to connect the dots in my head, I’m sorry. How…” She looked away. “How old did you say you were?”

 

“Oh, I’m twenty.” I nodded. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

 

“Okay, okay, twenty… not even old enough to drink..” She looked down at the table, whispering as she did. “God, am I… does that make me a creep? I’m twenty-four…” She looked up, and into my eyes.

 

“So?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m into older women.”

 

“You are?” She breathed. “Oh, thank God.” She laughed. “That was almost scary… hey, wait!” She snapped, pointing her finger at me. “I’m not that much older! You make it sound like I’m forty!”

 

I snorted. “I wouldn’t have a problem with that either.”

 

“Ewww!” She recoiled. “Dude, that’s nasty! Forty?!”

 

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” I shrugged, playing with the menu in front of me. “‘I wouldn’t like you if you were aging?’” I asked, rhetorically. Now… come on. Take the bait.

 

When I saw her cheeks flush red, I knew she did. Score. “N-No, I… I just…”

 

“Yeah, see?” I smiled. “Creep or not, I think you’d prefer I didn’t have a problem with age. I believe you’d look gorgeous at any age.”

 

Her face turned scarlet. “Wh-Whatever, fucker.” She scoffed. “You can feel how you wanna feel, or whatever. I can’t stop you.” She shrugged, and then her eye turned evil. “But I better not see you flirting with my mom.”

 

“Never in a million years.” I said, sitting ram-rod.

 

“Good!” She nodded. “Now, I have another question. You’re twenty and you live alone, am I right? Or do you have roommates?”

 

“I live alone.” I nodded.

 

“How.” She asked, deadpanning.

 

“Wh-What do you mean how?” I asked incredulously, laughing at the start of the sentence. “It’s not too much of a dent in my pay.”

 

“Where do you work?” She asked, leaning closer. “Fuckin—you the son of Bezos, or something? Because if you are—“ She leaned back. “I mean—I gotta know about that. That’s something I need to know about.”

 

“No, God no.” I waved my hands. “Nothing like that. I’m a manager at Walmart. It’s not a very cool job description, but it actually pays pretty good.” I chuckled. “Enough to afford my own place, at least.”

 

She looked away, raising an eyebrow. As if she were considering my words to herself and herself alone. But then, she turned back. “That adds up, actually. Well done. You’ve passed the test.”

 

“Oh, did I??” I said with mock excitement. “What do I win??”

 

“Iunno. You want a kiss on the cheek or something?”

 

…I blushed at the thought. “A… a kiss?”

 

She blushed as well. “On the cheek, you dork—!”

 

“Hey, guys! My name’s Stephen and I’ll be your serv—“

 

“GAH!”

 

<<<<<<<>>>>>>

 

The rest of the date was actually quite eventful, but I don’t feel the need to bore with the details. We had conversation over a spaghetti dinner. I got the chicken parm, actually. Absolutely delicious. Kinda small, so it makes the price not really worth it, but the taste definitely was. I would probably want to come back here at some point. Preferably before I make a car payment, though. Haha.

 

But as me and Fang walked back to my truck, our bellies full of delicious Italian food, I spoke up. “Hey, so…” I trailed off, getting her attention.

 

“Yeah?” She asked, already sounding tired. “What’s up?”

 

“Did you wanna do anything else?” I asked, turning my head to face her. “I don’t have any other plans, but if you wanna like…” I scratched my neck, feeling my face heat up. “If you wanna come back to my place and watch a movie or something, we can…”

 

She blushed, and looked away. The street lamps nearby illuminated her as she continued walking, not really paying attention to where she was going, but not being klutzy enough to trip over anything. She walked with a practiced grace. And it… was beautiful.

 

Oh, fuck me. Analyzing her walk cycle? I’m too far gone…

 

“That would be nice.” She muttered, interrupting my train of thought. “Even if you do have something malicious planned, like wanting to sell my organs on the dark web, I think I’m too tired to argue. I could really go for a nap on your couch…” She sighed.

 

I chuckled. “Yeah?” I asked, raising my voice slightly as I finished the word. “We can head back to my place. I’ll put on a shitty movie; you’ll be lights out in five minutes.” I promised.

 

“If it were anyone else saying that, I would be terrified…” She joked, opening the passenger door. “Now come on, noble stead. Drive me to a place I’ve never been before.”

 

“If you say so,” I grunted, jumping into my own seat.

 

Key in ignition, engine roar, gear shift, tire squeal, gear shift, gear shift, gear shift and swear, swerve, gear shift, gear shift,

 

And within fifteen minutes we were back at my house. Simple as, honestly. I unlocked the door as Fang crossed her arms. “C’mon, dweeb, it’s cold…” She muttered, giving a mirthful chuckle shortly after.

 

“I got it, I got it. Gimme a sec…” I muttered, finally turning the key in the right direction. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t get stuck. That would’ve been embarrassing… “You’ll get your rent when you fix this damn door..” I muttered, slowly walking inside.

 

“What?” Fang asked. “What’s that about rent?”

 

“Spider-Man 3.” I said, turning to face her, expecting her face to light up in recognition. It… didn’t. “You don’t remember that?”

 

“Remember what?” She asked. “How can I remember something from a movie I haven’t seen?”

 

“WHAT?!” I yelled. When Fang put her hands over her… nonexistent ears, I flinched. “Ah, sorry. It’s just, uh, you’re kidding.” I scoffed. “Right?”

 

“No, I’m not.” She answered genuinely. “I’ve never seen a single one of those Spider-Man movies.” She shrugged. I feel like we’ve been doing that a lot recently. Hm.

 

Wait, back on topic. “Well, shit. I guess I know what we’re watching…”

 

“Can’t promise to stay awake.” She muttered, sitting down on the couch.

 

“Can’t expect you to, girly.” I shrugged (again) and grabbed my tv remote.

 

…when I didn’t get any kind of a response, I turned to look at Fang. And she… she seemed lost. “Fang?” I asked. What’s… wait. Wait. Fuck. Fuck! How did I do it again!?

 

“…girly.” She muttered. They. They muttered. They then slowly stood up. “C-Call me that again.”

 

“I’m sorry, I—“

 

“Zip it.” She snapped. “…Call me girly again.” She softened. And then her shoulders dropped. “Please.”

 

“…girly.” I said, confused as all hell.

 

“Again.”

 

“You’re girly. You act like a girl.”

 

She stayed silent, but… began to walk around. Pace. Like she was trying to figure something out, but didn’t necessarily know what. Either that, or she knew, but was having trouble reaching a proper conclusion. I wonder— “I do, don’t I?” She stopped, turning to face me.

 

“Wh-What?”

 

“I…” She looked down to the ground. “I act like a girl. I look like a girl. Stupid shaved hair or not—“ She slapped her own head. “I’m… I act like a girl. I even considered wearing a skirt today, you know that…?” She asked, her voice breaking slightly. Uh.. what… what was this turning into?

 

“Fang?” I asked. She ignored me.

 

She turned her head to face my mirror, and… the mirror shattered.

 

And when it did, something within Fang broke.

 

“…what am I?” She asked, her voice straining and her eyes getting more and more wet. “Who… who am… who am I supposed to be?” She whispered, turning her body to face me.

 

I remained there, television remote in my hand. I was caught completely off-guard by all of this. I didn’t expect her to start having some kind of existential breakdown in my living room… but fuck. She’s expecting a reply. “What… what do you mean?”

 

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” She snapped, getting huffy (yet still crying) “I—Look at me, Anon!” She threw her arms out. “I’m dressed like a girl! I have breasts! A vagina! By all intents and purposes, I’m a girl!” She yelled. But then she deflated. “But if… if I’m a girl, then… why did I…” Her knees wobbled. “Why did I spend so much time being non-binary…?” She whispered to herself. And then, she turned to face me.

 

“Anon, I… who am I?”

 

…I didn’t say anything. How could I say anything in this situation? I didn’t know what to answer her with. I… I knew she was Fang, but… I can… actually, wait.

 

“You’re Fang.” I nodded. I expected her face to shift, but it remained darkened. I faltered slightly but trucked on. “You’re Fang, and no matter who—“

 

“My name is Lucy.”

 

“What?” I asked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Wh-What did you—“

 

“Lucy.” She looked into my eyes. Hers were… so empty. “My real name is Lucy. Not Fang.” She whispered, looking at her own hands. As if she were trying to decipher who they belonged to…

 

“Well, Lucy… I—“

 

“Please don’t call me Lucy.” She interrupted. “It… I’m sorry to keep interrupting, I just—“

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I whispered, walking up to her shivering form. I tried to put my arms around her, but she pushed away.

 

“No, not… not yet.” She shook her head. “I need you to answer my question first.”

 

“O-Okay,” I agreed. “What’s your question?”

 

She stayed silent for a moment, looking at me with pure desperation. Looking at me, hoping and praying that I had the answer she was looking for. But… I don’t think I did. After a few moments, however, she spoke: “Anon… who am I? Who am I supposed to be?”

 

I remained silent, as she had before. I… I don’t have a proper answer for this. So I… I think it’s time to be honest. “I… I don’t know, Fang.”

 

“Whaddya mean, you don’t know?” She asked, her voice shattering. She was about to start crying again. “Please… just tell me. Pick something for me. Make me… make me whole again.” She walked closer and closer to me, reaching out, begging, praying.

 

But I couldn’t do what she wanted me to do.

 

“That’s not my decision to make, Fang.” I muttered, not moving an inch from where I was standing.

 

“That’s… that’s not your…” She blinked. And then, it set in. “It’s NOT YOUR DECISION? What do you MEAN? What are you talking about?!” She screamed, her wings flaring out. I took notice of how… thrashed, they looked. I hadn’t taken notice of her wings before, but now that I’ve seen them… it was obvious to me. She was preening. And not in a healthy manner…

 

I shook my head. What can I do? I can’t worry about that right now. Obviously later, yes, but not right now. Right now it’s about the identity crisis.

 

“Answer me!” Fang yelled. Shit. Guess I got carried away. “Y-You’re my boyfriend! You’re supposed to help me make these decisions!” Wait, what?

 

“Wh-What?” I asked. “Fang, we’ve… we’ve been on one date.”

 

She lowered her eyebrows. “But I thought you loved me.”

 

I froze up. Completely. It’s… if there’s one thing I can’t respond to, it’s that. If there’s one thing I can’t say anything in reply… it’s that sentence. That question. It was just… it was too early. It was way too early. We had never even kissed. Before today, Fang didn’t even realize I liked her. So… why was… why was she acting like this? I had never seen her this… emotionally unstable.

 

…But then, Fang scoffed. Like she couldn’t believe my actions. Actually, more like… my lack of them. She couldn’t believe I hadn’t done something. She… she couldn’t believe I didn’t throw down my dignity, throw down my honesty and admit to loving her; despite us only knowing each other a little over three weeks. She couldn’t fathom it. And so… she stormed out. She walked out of the apartment, and I was left standing there, dumbfounded.

 

When everything finally clicked in my head, and I realized where she had gone, it was… it was already too late. So… so I just sat back down on the couch. I didn’t feel like playing the movie, so I just sat there. I unbuttoned my shirt, and sighed. Continuously reading the description for the movie, over and over and over again. Trying to consider and think. Think about where all of this went so wrong…

 

<<<<>>>>

 

I slammed the door to the apartment, leaving behind a stupefied Anon. Good. Hopefully, he can sit there, wallowing in his own misery; realizing over time what he did wrong. Motherfucker. Who did he think he was? He got all close to me, sidled up to me, flirted with me, pretended to be in love with me, went on dates with me…

 

…treated me with respect, showed me attention… treated me like a woman. Always listened to what I had to say, cared for my opinions and respected my identity…

 

So… if he was all of that ‘nice guy’ schlock, then why… why couldn’t he help me? Why couldn’t he tell me the answer? Either that, or… why couldn’t he get mad? With me, or at me. I didn’t care which. If he got mad with me, we could put our heads together. If he got mad AT me, he… he would be like dad. And sometimes, that’s all I want.

 

I know, weird, right? Spent so many years hating my father, only to miss his methods. Miss who he was as a dino. He.. he was a respectable man. He knew he had a daughter. He wanted his daughter to remain his daughter. Not…

 

Not whatever this thing is. This thing wearing black. This thing with a shaved head. This thing that… that has no future. This thing that should’ve… should’ve just listened to her dad… listened to the people around her. But… but she’s trying! She’s trying to listen! It’s just… Anon… Anon won’t…

 

He won’t tell her the answer.

 

But why? Does… does he not care?

 

Maybe that’s it. Maybe he just never truly cared. Either always saw you as a woman, always saw you as non-binary, or… never saw you at all. I’m not sure which one would be better! All of these options sound great!

 

…I sighed. Sighed to myself. Maybe that’s just… the truth. Anon doesn’t care. Nobody cares. Why should they. I just… it’s… God, I need a cigarette. I shook my head and reached a hand into my pocket, attempting to pull out the menthol goodies. Oh, wait. Shit. Not in that pocket. What about my other… nope.

 

Damn… where are..

 

…

 

I left them at home. Because I… because I—

 

“But… I just care about you. You know? I don’t want you getting sick.”

 

I… I left that at home. Because I didn’t want to smoke during our date. I… I didn’t want him to think I was a heavy smoker. I didn’t want him to worry about me, because… because I knew he would. He… he cares. He’s always cared.

 

…so…

 

…why?

 

Why won’t he help me? Why won’t he answer my question? Why won’t he tell me… why won’t he tell me who to be? Why won’t he tell me who he wants me to be?

 

I’m… I’m so ugly. Inside and out. I’m an ugly person, full of ugly lies and ugly looks. My shaved head looks like shit, my clothes are torn… so why? Why does he care…?

 

“I believe you’d look gorgeous at any age.”

 

That…

 

I wiped tears away from my eyes.

 

That motherfucker.

 

<<<<>>>>

 

…It felt like hours later when Fang came back. I had probably sent over fifteen texts, her reading all of them but never responding. I even tried calling a few times but it went to voicemail each time. After the second phone call, I just put my phone down. She was alright; alright enough to ignore my texts. The only thing I can hope for now is that she… ever wants to talk to me again.

 

I don’t know what I did wrong, honestly. Everything I said… going through it in my own head, it was the best thing for me to say. Had I lied to her, told her to be a girl, she wouldn’t have been happy. She wouldn’t have been herself. She wouldn’t have been Fang. She… she would’ve been Lucy.

 

And I didn’t fall for Lucy.

 

But as I was saying, she… she eventually came back. I was rubbing my forehead, wondering if I could’ve said anything in a different tone when she wandered back in. I had never bothered to lock the door. But when I turned my head to face the door, and saw her tearful face, I jumped up off the couch. “Fang!”

 

She moved her eyes slightly, making bare-minimum eye-contact with me. “…hey.”

 

“Fang, it’s good to see you.” I muttered, walking around the television set and over to her. She stayed stock-still as I put my hands on her shoulders. “Are… are you alright? Are you hurt?”

 

“Not physically.” She whispered, and then gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry for running off like that. I’m… I’m sorry for putting that pressure on you.” She looked down. “I fucked up.”

 

“Hey, it’s… its alright.” I chuckled. I gave her shoulders a rub. “It’s alright.”

 

“N-No, it’s not.” She spoke, her voice cracking and shaking. “It’s not alright. I’m so… I’m so broken. And I.. I demand you to fix me, but you obviously can’t. I can’t expect you to.” She cried, wiping her eyes. The mascara smeared along her cheeks. Then, she chuckled. “And then I call you my boyfriend to try and guilt you into doing it. What the fuck is wrong with me…”

 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.” I insisted, shaking her slightly. “You’re… you’re just going through a tough time. You’re confused. Confused about a lot. And… there’s nothing wrong with that.” I shook my head. Then, I pointed to the couch. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

 

She nodded silently, and I led her over to where I was sitting not minutes prior. My own tears somewhat stained the cushion, but I ignored those. Men don’t cry. Anyway, I sat down with her, and held my arms around her. She continued to whisper. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, Fang. All of it’s okay. The love stuff, the boyfriend stuff, the identity stuff. You… you called me your boyfriend earlier. And I… I would love be your boyfriend.” I chuckled. She giggled as well, but looked away. Gotta reel this in, but… I.. fuck. “—But I don’t know if I love you.”

 

She winced at that. “A-Alright.”

 

“Not done.” I shook my head. “Now, what I do know, is that… no matter who you want to be, I’ll be there.” I whispered.

 

She turned her head to face me, looking me in the eyes. Her own eyes were watery and leaking. “H-Huh?”

 

“…I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but Fang… I… I have your back. Okay? I’ll be here. Always.” I nodded. I tightened my hug on her, and she leaned into it.

 

She stayed silent for a few moments, seemingly considering. But then, she opened her mouth. “I… I need to talk to my dad, again. He… he’d be happy to hear this.” She chuckled. “But… Anon, I wanna be Fang. I don’t want to be… I don’t..” I let her consider what she wanted to say. All my attention was on her. “…I wanna be your girlfriend. Not your partner. If… if that’s okay.” She asked, turning to look at me again.

 

“…if… that’s what you wanna be, then sure. You’ll be Fang, my girlfriend.” I smiled. And then… she smiled. A beautiful sight. But I had more to say. “And of course it’s okay.”

 

I… looked back towards the tv. The movie sat there, unplayed and unwatched. But I think that’s alright. I think it’s… okay. Fang leaned her head into me, and I smiled softly.

 

“Everything’s always okay.” 

[Archivist's Note - An image of Doomer Fang and Anon cuddling on a couch is inserted here. It is located in this directory under the same name as the fic.]

[POST-NOTES]
    Thanks for reading guys. This is a bit of a divergence from what I normally do, but I had the idea and figured eh fuck it this’ll be kino. Got the idea on January 3rd. Glad to see it come to fruition.

    And it kinda was kino. I had fun writing this. Hope you guys had fun reading it!

    Fun Fact: Shane and Erik are based off friends I have in real life, Shane and Ethan. Ethan’s name was changed because of the OC character Erik that I fucking love a lot. He’s hilarious to me and my buddy Toshi. If that name sounds familiar…

    Gahah. Thanks for reading, guys. Love ya.

    Shoutout Nick for the peak art.