The woman who lies on top of me is no longer the sexy beast I saw just a moment ago.

The electric tension between us had dissipated completely at the mention of Fang.

Even when I and Trish were long past her, there was a sliver left encapsulated within us; shared splinters wedged underneath our fingernails.

Our breathing is the only audible thing left, the light of the table lamp in the living room just barely illuminating the both of us.

My heart beats hard - so hard that I feel like a bass drum resonating with its every beat.

I can still feel her hand wrapped around my junk, but the moment is gone - washed away in an instant.

I'm trapped between the past and the future.

But I've got to keep living. Focus on the now.

This might not be permanent, hell, it might not even be here once day breaks.

Things had gone extremely fast.

But now was now.

Trish looks terrified; a deer caught in the overbearing headlights of a truck.

Her face had gone white as a sheet in an instant, she knew very well what she had said.

No words could undo it, the box had been opened.

Why did my guts wrench when suddenly I was forced to compare Fang to Trish?

It was just sex.

Well, lack of having laid with my girlfriend at the time.

I guess it was the reminder of breaking it off far too early that stung.

So I move her hand off my jewels, then I wrap my arms around her.

She's stiff as a board.

Holding her tight, I kiss her forehead while carefully dodging her horns.

It looks like she had filed them down a bit - probably before she went to bed.

I drag the blanket back over us, our previously heated bodies were quickly starting to cool off.

Once again kissing her crest; trying my luck with nuzzling it.

She shivers, relaxing once more and exhaling deeply - loosening up; if only by a bit.

Her quivering voice carries forward small words:

"I didn't mean to gloat, I know you cared for her, and I know you two never got too...", she dig her face into my chest once again to hide it away, "We've just been talking about her, and she's on my mind, and I've been worrying all day."

"I know."

"Especially when, you know, she told me everything that happened an-"

"It's okay."

"She's been on my mind constantly these last few days, I just can't let her go. Even when I'm with you, I-"

I tip her chin up, meet her teary eyes, and lift my neck up just enough to kiss her.

Her floodgates break open; her welled-up emotions streaming down her face and dripping down onto my chest.

Our kiss gets flavored by the salty droplets wedging themselves in between our lips.

But this time I'm not letting go.

For an instance, it feels like we are one; the barriers between us melting away.

I and she were the same, inside and out.

Both of us are pained by the same tragic loss, in different ways.

Two sides of the same coin.

Now we were just two old friends sharing a bed.

But this time I'm not letting go of a friend in need.

I am not letting go.

Not this time.

I will not let go.

I will not abandon another friend in need.

We break our kiss and I grab on to her with everything I have.

Then I tell her:

"Trish, I am not going to abandon you.", kissing her cheek, "I'm not leaving just because your thoughts wandered."

"Are you sure? I, she, you, I mean, that..."

"I'm sure."

"So are we fine?"

"We're fine.", I feel her naked body pressed tight against mine - her breasts compressing my battered chest, "We'll keep being fine, I'm past my business with Fang."

She sniffles, trying to force out some words that fall apart before she can utter them, before giving it a second try:

"I'm not done with her."

"But I'm here with you and that's all that matters for now. Get some rest."

"Thank you.", she looks into my eyes once more, "Can I still stay here tonight?"

"Of course, you can."

"Thank you.", then she rests her head on my chest once more, "I didn't expect you to let me. I just don't want to be alone right now."

I didn't want to be alone either; after today I really needed someone by my side.

As a friend, with or without benefits, she'd stood up for me.

Whatever this was growing into, I wanted to take part in it.

Still, though.

I had no idea if I was ready.

While my thoughts wander, I feel her breathing become heavier as she relaxes more and more, until she falls asleep - letting go of the tension she'd built up in her body.

I return to my worries; thoughts of tomorrow's troubles swirling around inside my head until I too fall asleep.

Tucked in by the black nothing - giving me an escape from the worries of the day.

A dreamless night throws me out in the morning, leaving me gasping for air; something heavy was laying on my chest.

The triceratops seems less worried than yesterday, sleeping soundly with a peaceful expression on her face.

My body, however, is feeling stiff and sore while my chest has started to hurt even more. The purple menace holding on to me like a vice wasn't exactly helping ease my aching body.

Trying to get her off me, even just a little, I carefully nudge her arm so that I can lift it off me - sliding out from under her as gracefully as I can while cursing under my breath from the pain.

This just causes her to wrap herself around me even tighter while mumbling something in her sleep.

On the second try, I get about halfway out before a sleepy cresthead yawns and looks up at me.

Immediately blushing once she has taken in her current situation, she tries to hide by pulling the covers up above her head.

Once she’s a bit calmer, she peeks out with rosy cheeks, ready to strike back:

"Good morning, beautiful! Never thought I'd wake up coiled around you."

She was all too precious.

The blood was rushing up to my cheeks, she remembered yesterday and didn't seem too bothered about us cuddled up.

She even seemed glad to have woken up like this.

If she remembers yesterday, I had something I needed to share:

"It was cozy cuddling, you're not a bad friend to have."

She eyes me up, the smug aura reaching its peak - it's like I can see 'ominous' signs floating around in the air around her.

"Friends, is that what we are when we wake up like this?"

A sudden twitch of my member as Trish's leg accidentally brushes over my morning wood breaks up our flirtatious conversation with an awkward pause.

I've got my heart in my mouth as we both try to gauge our situation.

Then she giggles, teasing me with her thigh while sweet-talking me:

"Ooooh, someone's awake! You seem to be feeling better today, huh?", the soft skin of her inner thigh very much contrasted with the scaly outside of her leg, "How about we resume where we left off?"

My breathing was growing heavier, she really knew how to convince me. I close my eyes, letting my other senses do their part. At this point, you'd need to hold me at gunpoint to cease - and even then I might hesitate. She was a powderkeg, but right now that was exactly what I wanted.

I love the kind of woman that will actually just kill me.

Caressing my chest as she continues stroking me, I take the opportunity to reach my hand down under the covers, grabbing her ass, eliciting a surprised, yet excited, yelp.

She tilts her head up for a kiss and I give in, tasting the lingering taste of yesterday mixed with a mild morning breath. It wasn't the rose petals on the bedsheets type of scene, but it was real.

She was real.

We had peeled off our respective facades; now sharing our true selves.

Kneading her cheek with one hand, she starts moaning, while I move my other hand up to her chest where I run my fingers along her collarbone.

She moans, her leg spasming slightly as her body shudders - she's more sensitive than I'd imagined. Her leg shaking hits me too and I bite my lip to not make too much noise.

Our tongues intertwine as we explore each other. Finding the middle ground in how we kiss; we feel it out as only first-time lovers do.

The dreaded awkward question comes creeping, so I shoot my shot when we take a small break from making out to refill some oxygen:

"So, and this ain't personal, but... Are you... Clean?"

"Clean?"

"I mean, tested."

She laughs, lifting her leg off me and draping one arm in a semihug around my neck, before answering:

"I almost thought that you would throw me into the shower like some sperg. Yeah, I'm clean and I assume you are too?"

"Yep, as healthy as they come."

She looks down at the raised tent, before giving me a wily glare:

"As healthy as they come."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Kick your ass and drive home."

"But you'll miss me, though."

We both chuckled, it was nice to let the worries of yesterday blow away. At least for this moment, we were safe from the troubles that awaited us.

I felt safe.

I felt at home, once again.

After so long adrift I knew where I was heading.

I didn't know the destination or where we'd end up along the way.

But I knew what path to follow.

And I would miss her, though, even if it wouldn't be the end of the world should we would part.

Who knows how serious this would turn out to be?

She interrupts my thoughts:

"Hey? You're zoning out - come back to me, skinnie.", her touch pulling me back to Earth.

Sliding her hand under the covers and along my body, affirmed her need to bring my focus to the now.

Teasing me ever so slightly; running her fingers down the length of it.

She moves her other hand down under the covers towards her own crotch, purring softly as she pleasures us both; her previously intense stare softening up as her eyes lose focus.

Moments pass, into minutes, I lose track of when I am as Trish leads us both on, until she crawls up on top of me; locking me in place with her legs as she grinds against me.

With the blanket off, I see her body in all its natural splendor; the morning sun's golden rays illuminating and highlighting all her hues of purple.

The woman on top of me was all I wanted right now - I feel her slide up and down my shaft; wet sounds escaping our intermingling parts.

There was no need to worry about the distant future.

Our breathing becomes irregular as she thrusts her hips full force while I grab onto her chest.

When she finally eases up, she gives me a foxy look:

"Are you just going to lay there, monkey?"

I was not going to let life pass me by, I had to seize it; grab it by the throat, and steer my own course.

Retaliating, I muster all my strength - easily displacing the cocksure stego that with a yelp loses her balance.

I push her down on her back - standing above her on all fours as we both pant, the bed suddenly feeling all too small to express our feelings in.

This was what being alive felt like.

She gives in, letting me dominate her this time; the balance of power had shifted. A mix of fear and anticipation flashed through her face.

Feeling all too content, I lean over on one of my elbows while my other hand moves down to her loins, teasing out gentle whimpers as I stroke the inside of her thighs; just barely brushing my hand against the prize.

When I finally touch her, she bucks her back; pushing back against my hand. She's dripping wet, easily allowing me to slip in two fingers; causing her to moan even louder as her back arches and her chest pushes up against mine.

Kissing her chest, teasing her nipples, while I let my hand work its magic, she turns into clay easily shaped by my touch.

No need to think about the future when this was the present.

We were both ready for it. I look into her eyes; she nods and I nod back.

Then it hits me.

FUCK. Condoms. Where did I put them? Excusing myself:

"I'll fetch some rubbers."

Biting her lip, she nods and lays still, awaiting my return. Her eyes follow me as I go through my bedroom.

What in the goddamn? Not on the bedside table, not in the drawer, not under the lamp, and not in my wallet.

Like a rutting bull in a china shop, I tear through my bedroom in search of my elastic friends.

There were no survivors.

A voice breaks my fervorous search:

"Try my handbag, dweeb. Innermost pocket."

Jumping into action, I speedwalk into the living room so as to not accidentally slap my soldier boy into the doorframe.

Sure enough, the inner pocket is easy to find, and there lay multiple condoms still stuck together in the ammunition belt.

Why had she brought this many? Why had she brought them at all? I start walking back and call out my victory:

"Found them."

"Took you long enough.", looking over at me with burning heat in her eyes.

"So mind telling me why you brought these to see an old friend?"

A sudden rush of blood to her cheeks shows me more than her words ever would. Yet she vehemently tries to defend herself:

"I, it's just, that there's, a, well they're always good to have around?"

"Even when heading here for lunch?"

"I can't say I expected this, I just keep them around!"

A skeptical smile thrown her way and all of a sudden she was just an embarrassed girl once more, turning her gaze away.

Hell, she was really damn cute when her guard was down.

Unwrapping one and throwing the rest on the nightstand, we resume where we left off.

Time flies when you’re fogging up the windows.

About an hour later, we're cuddling up against each other listening to some new band that she 'absolutely had to share with me’.

Which is actually quite good. She seems to have figured out my taste from glancing at the CDs I kept by my stereo.

Idle chatter, small kisses, holding each other tight.

Aftercare was almost as good as the act itself.

Almost.

We share our thoughts, our plans, talk about our lives, and recent happenings.

Showering together; sharing one last touch before we have to jump into our regular clothes and return to our regular lives.

Feeling her soft body contrasted with her sharp scales and kissing her under the pouring water was heavenly

Getting out, we get ourselves some simple breakfast; settling on pizza rolls and the last scraps of the salad.

A classy meal, well suited for the upper class.

Once we feel done, we put the dishes away and lie down on the couch, since the bedroom was drenched in the smell of sex.

Spooning her in the daylight was different, it felt more personal. Sharing a normal day with her was leagues away from sharing a bed.

What were we, at the moment? How should we proceed? I'll just ask:

"So what do we do now?"

"We've got the day to ourselves, don't we?"

"I wouldn't mind spending it together."

"Neither would I."

"But, what are we?"

"Two friends enjoying a day off."

"Just two friends?"

"For now, at least."

"How about a proper date then, some day? I would like to just spend the day at home with my friend today."

"That doesn't sound all too bad. Maybe.”

“Should I start booking a table at Moe’s? They’re quite busy these days.”

“Don’t be a jerk. But! Since you're my suitor, did you have anything in mind?"

“Well, I-”

“Never mind, this is just purely hypothetical.”

"Well, since you already beat me up, boxing or MMA goes out the window."

"Low blow, jerk.", elbowing me in my side; hitting a bruise and making me wince in pain.

"You started it. Speaking of blowing low...", I reach out one hand to grab her butt, feeling it up as we lay cuddling.

"In your dreams, asshole.", yet she grinds herself up against me.

We hold it in for a few seconds, then our childish banter makes us both erupt in laughter.

My life had got flipped-turned upside down, for now, I'd like to take a minute just sitting right here.

Fang drifts back into my mind, how she'd come back into our lives - indirectly setting me and Trish up on a collision course.

There was something left to do before we could fully relax:

"There's something you promised to do this week.", shooting a glance in her direction, "And the telephone won't get lighter if you wait."

"I know. But I really don't want to. Let me just enjoy this moment"

"Wouldn't today be the best day for it? I'm here for you right now.", I kiss her on her neck as I let go of her butt and wrap my arm around her.

"I still don't want to."

"You're acting like a kid."

This statement gets an immediate reaction as she furrows her brow, squints with her eyes, and pouts her lips playfully before she retaliates with:

"You're a ruthless bully, can't you see I'm already worn down?"

"Big girls don't cry. Plus, you didn't seem worn down this morning; you should have some life left in you."

"Asshole.", breaking her masque of disapproval she lets out a laugh as she rolls over on her back, shaking her head thoughtfully, "Some days I don't want to be an adult with all these adult responsibilities."

"Things were more simple when we were young."

"Amen."

"Doesn't mean we need to overcomplicate things, the only thing that changed is that we can pick which fights to fight now."

“And what men to lay with.”

“Can’t say I’ve chosen any men to lay with.”

“Pffffft.”, she sets up to punch me but opts instead to just wrap her arm around my waist, "D'you know one thing?"

"Not unless you tell me."

"I and Lucy never fought that much until the band, when she started to doubt herself. Doubt her identity.", playing with a curl and rolling it around her finger, "Then she suggested that she might not be Lucy."

"Was that when the whole Fang thing started?"

"I think so. I don't really remember all the details.", she looks away seemingly distraught, "Do you have any smokes?"

“What about Fang?”

“Smoke first.”

"Why?"

"I really want a smoke. Reaction to stress."

"My last is there on the windowsill.", pointing over to the packet I'd left there a few days ago.

"Ah, if it's your last I re-"

"The last one I'd never smoke. Hopefully.", scratching my slight stubble, "I promised myself to quit. It's more of a reminder now, I'd gladly give it away."

"Well, thanks. Coming along to join me?"

She slips out from underneath me and heads over to the window - picking up the packet and the lighter as she makes her way to the balcony. She looks over her shoulder one last time to check if I'm coming.

I nod, getting up and coming along with her.

The balcony was warm, the sun wasn't at its zenith just yet, but the scorching heat had already poured in over the city. It was getting close to noon.

Trish avoids leaning on the metal railing, opting instead to grab a seat on one of the chairs, I take the one on the opposite end of the table.

She lights it and puts down the lighter on the table, resting her hand on top of it.

It comes naturally; I lean a bit to the side and extend my hand, laying it on hers; holding it gently.

These small gestures always become second nature over time - similar to putting away shoes for winter and then slipping back into them when spring comes.

It comes and goes by the season.

Trish asks:

"So, you want one final drag? Relive your old tobacco temptress?", reaching the smoldering stick over to me as if to hand it over.

But I have chosen my path and I'll live by it. Even if the nicotine abstinence was starting to make itself known. So I tell her:

"No. I told you, I quit."

"Suit yourself."

I had chosen, I was no longer adrift. So I tell her:

"I'd rather just sit here, holding your hand and enjoying the moment. Living in the now."

"When did you become such a charmer?"

"As soon as you strolled in."

"Pffffffft", blowing a raspberry at me before she took another drag, "You better not be expecting a round two."

"Never did. I imagine it was a fluke of luck that you were that good. I’d only be disappointed next time."

The competitive spirit of the fiery horned menace is ignited. She spits out:

"Oh yeah? You believe yourself to be hot shit, then?", jabbing at me accusingly with her whole hand; shaking some ash off the cigarette that lands on the table, "Prove it."

"You just want another ride."

"Is there anything wrong with that?", tracing small circles over the back of my hand, "It has been a while for the both of us."

"Had."

"Alright, 'had', but that doesn't mean we have to live in celibacy for the rest of our lives? It's just sex."

"Maybe later; you still need to call Lucy."

"Why are you interrupting my calm moment with that once more?"

"Because it'll always be in the back of your head, no matter how much you push it away."

She goes silent, her finger stops tracing circles as she just rests her hand on mine.

"Let's not make things too awkward for her, just ask if the two of you can meet. Then, if she accepts, try asking if she wants to have a sit-down with all three of us."

"Of course. No need to tell her everything yet."

Especially not everything about me and Trish.

She swipes through her contacts, stopping on 'Lucy'. The picture is still one of those from High School when she wore her punk nonbinary attire.

Putting out the cig in the ashtray, she pushes the 'call' button.

Trish was going to be shocked once she saw the new Lucy in person; how worn down she had become over the years.

Damn, what if Amber is around Fang too? Had Trish heard about her kid? About her husband?

It felt weird to not have Trish be Amber's godmother.

Like the universe had shifted by a few feet and misaligned reality.

The phone rings as she stares warily at it; a landmine held only inches away from her face, ready to blow up at any moment.

Dial tone.

Maybe it would go to voice mail? Spare her the pain for now.

The echoing and drawn-out note; awaiting an answer.

What if she didn't pick up? It would leave the troubles of today for another time. Giving Trish temporary peace of mind.

Then the unmistakable 'click' of a receiver echoes out like a gunshot. We hear Lucy's voice through the speaker:

"Mmmmmyeah? This is Lucy speaking?", a groggy ptero picking up.

"Hi! This is... Yeah, this is Trish."

"Oh, hey! Glad to hear from you again. So what's gooooood?"

"I was just wondering if you want to meet up sometime this week?"

"Uhhhhhhn... Yeah, I should be able to make that work.", a loud yawning, "Sorry, had to work late yesterday and you sort of woke me."

"Oh, I didn't mean to. My bad."

"You couldn't have known", another yawn, "So what did you want?"

"To meet?"

"Fuuuuuuuuck; still a bit slow. Yeah, I'll check with work once I'm awake. Any day in particular work for you?"

"All evenings after 6 work for me since it's a bit of a drive from work."

"Sweet. I'll try and switch shifts, I'll get back to you.", some mild shuffling about sounds out through the phone, "But for now, I would like some more rest. I'd love to talk more. But, bed."

"Hah! Get some rest, I'll talk to you later."

"Lateeeeeer, skateeeeeeer"

Click.

At first, it seemed like everything had gone right.

They would finally see each other again.

Then I notice it:

Trish is shaking and it looks like she's going to start crying any second now.

Taking the phone out of her hand and putting it down on the table, I get up and pull her into my arms.

She whimpers out:

"I'm sorry, I couldn't ask her to meet us both. Just... It was too much. I don't know. I just don't know."

"It is fine, babe."

"Babe?", her sadness tucked into my chest exchanged for a surprised glance upward, "Already at the point of pet names?"

"Sorry, do you prefer purple menace?"

She laughs; her anxiety defused, before leaning back into my chest. She whispers:

"I don't mind."

"'You don't mind' or 'you like it'?"

"Shuddup."

"Alright, purple menace."

She goes quiet, kissing my chest, then looking up at me:

"Could you do it again?"

"Of course, babe."

"Kiss me."

So I lean down and our lips meet halfway. I could get used to this.

Her curls brush against me as we share a simple peck on the lips before Trish turns her head so that we can rest our foreheads against each other’s.

Time slows down as I feel her heartbeat up against me.

We were alive.

We had both survived this far.

It would also be quite nice to tell Fang that I and Trish had reconciled.

Maybe we should avoid telling her some details, though.

How would her husband be? How would Amber be? What had her life really turned out to be?

Would she even want me to come to visit? She had told me she wanted me out of her life.

Yet, she had been considerate enough to tell Trish about me.

Was there something worth saving left?

I hold Trish tight against me, for now, this was all that mattered.

Life would sort itself out if I just kept pushing through.

From within my embrace comes a muffled voice:

"Hey, Anon?"

"Mmm?"

"I did my part for this week. You should talk to Stella."

"Should I?"

"Yes, you should. Don't leave it be."

"I don't want to."

"That's why you need to do it."

"I promise to do it. Just... Just not today."

"Why?"

'Why' was a great question.

Why? Because I didn't want to spoil today and my time with Trish by having to sort out a tangled mess of an old relationship.

Because I didn't want to deal with the hardest conversation I'll ever have.

Because I didn't have the strength in me to do it.

Because I knew that whatever I and Trish had going on would be imbalanced by talking about my old feelings for Stella.

I had no idea what I would feel.

I was already unsure of what I'm currently feeling, just imagining it had everything stirred up.

It was worth a shot to try explaining it:

"I'm worried about not being able to handle it when you're here."

"For what reason?"

"I feel something for you; I'm already confused enough for one day."

"Oh.", her previously caring expression peeling back and revealing a vague sense of unease, "How's that, then?"

"I like you, I want to see if there's more for us. But I also loved Stella; things will be complicated."

She suddenly tries to squirm out of my grip.

So I try and hold on to her, but it's apparent that it's not just a spur-of-the-moment burst.

When I let go, she takes a step back. She asks:

“Do you still love her?”

“I don’t know, I care for her. But I don’t love her.”

“Would you go back to her?”

I can’t answer that question and Trish notices my hesitation.

She looks at me with the same panicked expression that Stella had the last time I saw her.

The second time hurts just as bad as the first time.

I zone out, in my moments of clarity in between I hear Trish explain how she has had a great time but she needs to get going.

I know that Trish was afraid of us getting close, should I soon decide to leave her behind.

She tells me that it was nice to reconnect, but that what had happened was just a one-time occurrence.

I tell her that I don’t want it to be, yet she’s hell-bent.

She insists that she must be leaving; preparing to create distance both emotionally and physically.

At the same time, I hold them in: my worries, my emotions, my fears, and how much I actually wanted her to stay.

At this point, she needed to make her own decision. She knew how I felt and what I wanted.

She knew I needed to sort out things.

I wouldn’t leave her for Stella, yet when I try to tell her that she just blows me off.

When my senses returned, she had already left.

I am left standing by the door, unsure of how long it had been since she'd gone away.

I feel the handle; the door is still open.

Turning the lock and walking back inside, I try to think about what had just happened.

Grabbing a soda from the fridge, I head for the balcony to get some fresh air.

The sounds of the cityscape drown out my thoughts for now and the soda activates my senses of touch, taste, and smell.

They're good distractions to give me some time.

Looking out over it, the world feels indifferent.

It moves along just as it always has, unwavering in the face of us people's squabbles.

Something catches my eye: Trish's car is still standing in the parking lot.

Pulling up my phone, I send her a text:

"See that you haven't left the parking lot. You OK?"

My phone bleeps; text sent.

Sipping on my soda, I wonder if she just took a cab home.

I can't believe I gave her my last cigarette.

The absurd thought makes me laugh - or is it the released tension of everything that has happened that makes me do it?

My phone buzzes:

"I'm OK. Tired. Driving soon."

"You sure? You didn't look OK."

There's a pause as she thinks of a reply.

What was she worried about? This whole freakout came out of the blue.

Oh well, another lost relationship wouldn't affect me.

It was just a shame since it had been nice for the three days it had lasted.

Might as well call Stella now that Trish was heading home.

The thought wasn't as dreadful now that I have faced one demon today.

The great dragonslayer, Anon, heading off to fight another windmill.

My phone buzzes once more as I pick it up to start dialing an all-too-familiar number:

"I need time. I need to think. Call you later."

Giving her some space would be exactly what she needed for now.

I feel a shiver run down my spine.

Talking to Stella now would tear me down completely.

I'll put it off for tomorrow.

I'll contact Trish a few days from now if I haven't heard anything from her by then.

So I send out some texts to old friends from the Navy, maybe one of them would like to hang out; talk old memories over a beer, maybe get me a foot in the door for a job that didn't suck ass.

No responses.

What do you do when everybody tolerates you, but nobody wants to be with you?

Everyone slips away, nobody wants me.

Every feeling I have for others felt wrong, none of them felt real.

Then I felt hatred for Trish for so very long - genuine hatred burning like hellfire.

I wanted to blame her for everything, I expected her to hate me back.

I wanted to feel some real emotions again.

But I couldn't bring myself to keep hating her.

Then she hated me - yet also cared for me.

That finally felt real, it felt tangible.

Then I cared for her.

I never expected to like her as more than a friend.

It just came to me.

But I really like her and that is my new reality.

These were real emotions.

Her car had pulled out of the driveway when I wasn't looking, hopefully, she made it home safely.

The day passed by slowly, the hours barely crawling by. The empty apartment wasn't as daunting as I expected it to be, but without company, the echo of my footsteps was deafening.

Looking for jobs was still a tedious process, but looking through my inbox I see that I have actually gotten some replies to my previous send-outs yesterday. A burger joint, a cleaning firm, a Dino-Mart, and a corner store specializing in vacuum cleaners.

Splendid choices, now I just have to pick my poison. Any job was better than sitting on my ass and waiting.

Well, Dino-Mart was a pretty chill gig and not far away from this apartment. They wanted staff for evening shifts and since I'm nocturnal that wouldn't really be an issue.

Would also bring me the closest to Fang's current life that I've ever been.

Yet, if I wanted to spend time with Trish I'd need to have evenings available since she worked days.

I wanted to spend more time with her.

I barely knew her.

She barely knew me and now she wanted to distance herself.

Still, I wanted more.

There would be a day when she would just walk out of my life, she probably didn't want this to be anything serious.

She was so scared of being left behind that she’d rather cut me out before anything happened.

So keep it surface level, Anon, just let it pass by you.

It was just a temporary fling, naught else.

Nothing more than that.

When did things get so complicated, once more?

Then it all comes rushing back.

The fear, the anxiety, the pain, and the loneliness.

The thought of losing everything again was daunting.

Desperately trying to raise another sandcastle when the waves kept crashing against the shore.

Pushing together the small grains of sand that one’s existence consists of, hoping to make sense of it.

Well, that's just life.

Everything gets washed away in the end.

I might as well try to achieve something.

The day comes to a close, I didn't have the guts to call Stella today.

I'll do it tomorrow.

After finishing my dinner, I might as well head to bed.

There was nothing left that I wanted to do.

Yet sleep brings me no rest, the bedroom feels all too empty when once again it's just me laying here on this massive bed.

Nightmares haunt me: visions of heartbreak, loneliness, and once again drift apart from the people I cared for.

Stella is there too, her sudden reappearance in my talks with Trish had pulled her back into my mind.

I wake in cold sweat well before my alarm rings.

It's 4 in the morning, yet I'm wide awake.

There's no way I'll fall back asleep.

I get up and get my day moving.

Breakfast; same routine, yada yada yada.

For the first time in forever, I spend the morning shitposting to make time pass by faster.

I need to call Stella today.

I need to get this out of the way.

I want to be able to choose my own path.

To clear things up before I give Trish a chance.

If I even had a chance left.

The hours crawl by slowly.

Not a single response from my old Navy friends.

It isn't unexpected, but I wish that at least one of them would care to text me back.

Maybe we weren't as close as I'd imagined.

Baiting some newfags on the Finnish sauna-enthusiasts forum with a carefully crafted gaslighting about the newest Old Document V re-re-re-release trailer was second nature.

Muscle memory took over, the traits of a master baitsman reappearing.

Hmm.

Maybe not the title I should adopt.

Especially since I posted the exact same bait twelve years ago.

The IP ban was well deserved.

I must have lost my touch.

Yet it neither felt good nor did it distract me.

My head was full of thoughts; my skull felt as if it would burst wide open.

I didn't know what to do with myself, I didn't know what to do about everything that I had gotten myself involved in.

Somehow time had passed to around 11 now.

Still no response from Trish.

"I did my part for this week. You should talk to Stella."

I kept coming back to Trish's words.

She broke through her fears and called Fang.

I needed to do my part now.

The couch felt safer than a chair, so I get up and walk over.

I had slacked off on putting away the bedding I put forth for Trish, so I just lay down there.

It still smelled like her.

I didn't know whether it was comforting or dishonest to call Stella while Trish was on my mind.

I am a degenerate.

A filthy dreg crawling through the depths of depravity.

But I loved it.

Right now it was all that I had left.

Might as well use my momentary lapse of reason to do something reasonable.

Blip, blip, blip, blip, blop, bleep, blip, blop.

Bleep.

One last chance to chicken out.

Bloop.

Pressing the dial button now would put everything back on track.

I don't know where this ride would take me.

Bleep.

The dial tone starts pouring out of the speaker like fumes spewing out of a dying machine as it's drawing its last breath.

Trish's face drifts past behind my closed eyelids.

One last chance.

Finally moving on, finally living it through, finally tying up all loose ends.

The click of someone picking up:

"Helloooo, you've reached Stella, who am I talking to?"

The words stick in my throat. I haven't talked to her for so long, yet it's like we never parted.

There's no way I can just say hi.

No way to put things right with just a cheerful hello.

Stella retries her introduction:

"You're talking to Stella, who is this?"

It hurts.

Her voice is cheerful as if nothing had happened.

My words tear at me like barbed wire.

Yet I force them out.

It's like sticking one’s fingers in their throat to puke after chugging down all too much booze.

You just have to do it, force yourself to fight your natural instincts.

It's painful, but it works:

"Hi. It's me."

Silence.

A deafening silence.

Heavy breathing on both ends.

Two samurai standing on opposite ends of a field, staring each other down.

Or two lost kids trying desperately to fix what is broken beyond repair.

Her voice cracked, yet standing strong, greets me:

"Hello, you. It's been a long time."

"It has."

"How have you been?"

"Terrible."

"Same."

"But I have started to recover."

"Glad to hear it."

I hear the idle noises of the shop in the background.

It prompts my next question:

"Are you at work? Do you have time to talk?"

"I'll take a break."

"Over the phone or do you want to meet?"

"Can you get to the park outside of our old regular lunch place?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"An hour from now."

"I'll see you there."

A sudden click ends our conversation.

She hung up on me; the phone lay dead in my hand.

I would meet her in an hour.

It felt unreal.

I had dreaded this for months, yet when it stood here staring me in the eye it felt as if the darkness was about to grab hold of me once more.

Still, it didn't scare me.

The emptiness was comforting, things would work themselves out in one way or the other.

The hole inside of me would stop hurting and get filled with other things over time.

I still had lingering traces of Trish's perfume on me.

The bedding carried faint memories of her.

Maybe that was the last time our lives would intersect.

Everything was happening at once.

Fang, Trish, and Stella.

The only ones left to get back in touch with from the old days were Rosa and Reed.

Get the gang back together.

I'll let those two rest for a while longer; one day at a time.

I grab my messenger bag and head out into the blazing sun.

The bus ride downtown wasn't bad, the AC was broken as usual - yet it didn't matter.

It felt inconsequential compared to what awaited me.

Pushing away the fear, pushing away the guilt, and pushing away the sadness building up inside me.

Things would sort themselves out.

Getting off and walking the last few blocks gave me time to think about what I'd say.

I ended up choosing to just let my emotions unravel naturally.

It felt disingenuous to have a speech prepared.

I get there fifteen minutes early; Stella's already sitting on a bench.

She's wearing her classic summer outfit: a cerulean strappy dress, sandals, and a thin, almost see-through, slate cotton shirt to cover her shoulders. Roronoa Ruffy-model straw hat on her head.

Her sweet flowery perfume is carried by the wind, breaking through the scent of the city intermingled with the smells of nature from the park.

I never knew how much I really missed her until I saw her.

I wave carefully when I get close enough.

She waves back.

We look at each other.

I know I must look like a mess, there was no way I could keep all these emotions inside me.

She looked tired.

A far cry from the energetic stego picking up the phone at work.

The distance between us can't be bridged just by walking closer.

Miles of wasteland were stretched out in front of me.

It just comes naturally to me:

"I've missed you.", taking the last steps over to her and sitting down next to her.

She looks shocked, but recovers swiftly:

"You disappeared and you never explained why or to where."

"I know."

"I understand that you were hurt, but you ignored that I still cared for you."

"I know."

"I wanted to be there for you."

"I know."

"CAN YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE? CAN YOU PLEASE TELL ME WHY YOU JUST REAPPEAR AS IF NOTHING EVER HAPPENED?!", her tail is whipping through the air with terrifying whipcracks accenting her outburst.

By instinct, I lean in to hug her.

She's fuming and she beats at me with her fists.

Why did every woman in my life want to beat me up?

I try to explain:

"I went invisible, I was hurt."

Her anger ebbs out, she feels more tired than angry:

"I know. I wanted to be there for you, to help you, I never intended to hurt you."

"But you did. Things happen, sometimes. I'm not mad at you."

"You aren't mad at me?"

"It's okay, Stella.", kissing her on the forehead, "We're okay. I'm sorry I disappeared."

She hugs me back, wrapping her tail around us.

I had missed this.

All the memories come flooding back: all the time spent in her apartment, going out, sharing our lives, working together, and living in sync.

Tears are falling.

I don't know if they're mine or hers.

She starts to quiver, aggressively pushing her face into my shoulder.

Holding back her breakdown, her voice doesn't carry her words fully so instead she whispers:

"I know what I did was wrong, but I couldn't help myself. I knew you kept beating yourself up over Fang, I didn't want to lose you."

"You never needed to coddle me to have me be yours."

She looks up at me with wet beady eyes, carefully inspecting me:

"What I wanted to say back then..."

“Stella, there’s no need to rush.”

“I need to do this, please, just listen to me!”

She steels herself.

I see her bracing for saying those big words.

The ones she had been carrying.

The words she would forever regret holding on to if she didn't put them to the world.

I see her opening her mouth in slow motion, her beak moving so as to let those heavy words out:

"I love you, Anon. Please be mine.", slightly opening and closing her beak as she pondered what to follow up with, "I'm sorry I couldn't say it before."

She must have been spring-loaded with this question ever since that day.

Tension building up inside her ever since she feared that she would lose me in that hospital; even gathering strength for long before then.

Everything was going insanely fast.

Could I say it back?

Should I say it back?

Would I mean it?

Is that what my heart desired?

Stella was already caressing my chest, moving her head up toward mine to sneak in a kiss; sealing her promise.

I had probably lost Trish already.

Was there anything worth going for, with the triceratops?

Stella didn't need to hear my words, we both knew there was something left between me and her.

An ember still carrying the remnants of our lingering flame.

Such a strong emotion never dies, it just changes shape.

This was my final decision.

The fork in the road where I would choose my own destiny.

I have never been more terrified.