FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 4.

17:20, Monday, the 5th of March. 2028.

---

By the time I got home, the sky had already started to dim, streaked with that thin, watery orange that made everything look quieter than it was. The house smelt faintly of dust and laundry soap. For once, I didn’t mind the silence.

I’d survived the day.

“Ikaw ba ‘yan?” Called out my mother as I was stripping my coat off. I paused for a moment and let the words settle, my native language filtered through my father’s English. “May nagawa ka bang mabuti?” That old question — have you done anything good — like she expected the answer to be no.

A little fast, but I managed. “Yeah, well, kinda,” I called out. “Tom’s taking me to a big work thing on Wednesday. He said to wear something formal, so I’m going to town tomorrow.” I kicked my shoes off and placed them at the bottom of the steps.

“By yourself?” she asked in English, that tiny upward lilt she used when she thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. Her voice carried clear over the sound of rattling utensils and the quiet hum of water. In the pan was chicken adobo, drizzled with herbs and vinegar, steam curling up like incense.

“U-Uh, yeah. Well, maybe. I might see if someone’s free after work.”

“That’s good,” she said, still not turning, as if the pan deserved more attention than I did.

I slid past her, grabbed a snack and headed up the stairs, my hand trailing up the chipped paint of the bannister. “Joshua is coming at six,” she called out. “He’s bringing Katrina Mae and Karl.” Her favourites, of course.

I paused. Mae and Karl. Yep. Those two… It should be okay, I thought to myself as I headed up the stairs, phone in my hand. I kept it on do not disturb when at work, only allowing emergency calls to come through, or when I knew something was coming up. That meant that when I turned it off, a dozen or so messages would come barrelling through. I skimmed them, discovering that more than a few were from a familiar dragon.

I didn’t open my messages. I was too… excited? Too jumpy. There were so many possibilities that I didn’t want to disappoint myself. There was a picture, too, according to my lock-screen notifications. “IMG_4659.JPG”

My legs felt shaky. It could be anything. A picture of their tent, merchandise, a field, a tree, and something else that totally didn’t have my face flush and hands shaky. I didn’t have any pictures of them, only the memories of that afternoon, how they’d looked, felt, and sounded.

I took my phone back out and went to type in the password. Stopped myself. Not yet. I needed to sit down, take a break, and brace myself. I entered my room, stepped over a discarded crisp packet and slumped down into my chair, knees shaky.

First, of course, I skimmed the unimportant pings. Facebook, my abandoned Instagram and Waterstones. The only direct messages I’d gotten were from my mum wishing me a good shift, which were always sweet and always left me feeling bad that I hadn’t responded after she’d sent them.

She wasn’t bad. If anything, she was the opposite. Making sure I was clothed and fed and cared for, she was just… herself.

Then I opened the messages from my latest contact.

07840######

> Testing.

> Hey.

> Hey.

> Ah. Work. Loser. Can’t even reply. Gay.

I reread those few short lines twice, savouring them. The connection. Not being face to face, or, well, face to snout, there was this… barrier. This wall of ignorance. A nice blockage between me and whatever the truth was. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but it felt… convenient? Easier?

> Thought about what you said. Family and shit. At my sister’s right now cause her mate is out. Her kid is so cute.

> Can I tell her I met someone?

> I told her.

> Sorry.

> She said I could stay the night. I’m in bed now. So soft. Had some proper food. Gonna melt.

I double-checked the time. It’d only just turned four.

And then the picture, which I avoided like the plague. I scrolled back up, reliving the earlier messages, experiencing those emotions one last time. Could’ve been anything – they were Hrod after all, and maybe – maybe I wanted… no, I wanted it to be anything. I wanted to see them again, like we’d been. It made my head spin and palms sweat.

Scroll.

And.

It was… nothing.

Well, not nothing, merely something. Hrod lay on their front, in a large bed, snout held in a paw, the other holding the camera, their long snout stretched into a smile so cheery it made their eyes crinkle. They weren’t even being smug, merely content, and out of everything I’d seen, out of every expression and sound, that smile was what made me react the most.

Cole Macapagal

> You look cute.

Delete.

> Nice.

Far too dismissive.

> You’re gay.

…It would work, I said to myself, but I didn’t want jokes just yet. I wanted to say something nice about them, about the picture. They’d taken it for me. They wanted me to see, I realised, and I wanted to look. I mean, obviously I did; I’d been almost disappointed that the photo hadn’t been taken from a more flattering angle.

I wondered if that meant-

Yeah, it did.

Probably.

> Cute. ❤

I left it at that. It was nice, clean, and honest. I hoped they’d like it and wondered if it would get me any—oh, right.

> Glad you and your sister are hanging out. I wish I could melt in bed lol but I’ve got-

07840######

> Fuck yeah I’m cute.

Cole Macapagal

> -but I’ve got family coming over.

I paused. The number was bothering me. I changed his/their name to The Smarmy One and got back to it.

The Smarmy One

*> Knew you'd like that pic, you little freak. And yeah, it's good. She's way better at cooking than me. Works at a bakery on Wyrm’s Way. *

Cole Macapagal

> How am I a freak!!? You sent it!

Add an indignant gif, and we were golden.

The Smarmy One

> Duh. Cause I knew you'd like it. But yes. I am very cute. Adorable, mayhaps. Sometimes I'll walk by a warren and watch them stare.

Cole Macapagal

> A pain in my ass maybe.

The Smarmy One

> Maybe for your birthday.

Cole Macapagal

> I should’ve seen that coming.

The Smarmy One

> Should’ve seen it what??

> Coming?

> Should’ve seen what coming?

Cole Macapagal

The Smarmy One

> Hehe. Don’t be such a softscale.

> You’ve DONE worse.

The flow broke, my fingers hesitating above the cracked screen. They didn’t continue, but I wanted to, so, with some shake to my movements, I did.

Cole Macapagal

> I have no idea what you’re talking about.

But…

> I am a truly innocent soul. 😇

The bubbles bounced up and down, each ripple sending a pulse of nerves through me.

And then my phone began buzzing. My eyes widened, and I nearly dropped my phone onto the ground, only to quickly catch it, the device shaking in my grip. Whether nerves or the vibrate function, I knew not. What I did know was that I’d answered before realising I'd done it and that Hrod was speaking.

“Cole, are you there?” They asked, voice quieter than I was used to. “I figured since you were replying so quickly, you had at least a little bit of time, right?”

I wet my suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, I'm here. I just wasn't expecting it is all, hah. H-How are you doing? How's your sister?”

“She's good, she's good. Oisin is soooo cute, and he thinks my spines are cool. Can't wait for him to get his own – I didn't have the heart to tell him his won't be as big.” They took in a slow breath, sounding genuinely happy. “Mixed race-” I flinched. "-Dragons tend to have troubles, sometimes physically, but spiny drakes and archons are close enough that it's not too bad. You, uh, ever see a half lindwurm? Chest to the ground even with four legs. Funny as shit, but rough.”

I nodded, despite them not being able to see the gesture. “Oisin…? Oh! Your nephew?”

“Yep. He's just turned ten. I've been showing him how to make little boxes.” The giggles that followed had me smiling and my fingers tapping against my thigh. "It's free labour, and I only get him to do the super easy stuff, but it's bonding. He likes comics too, by the way, so I said you did and that you've got posters.”

“You did? W-What’d you say?”

“Just that you liked Dragon Ball, had some manga, that sort of thing. Uhh, I said you worked for the government and were important, which he thought was cool – Sister did too.”

I wanted to be upset and felt, if only to myself, that I should have, really – they were overstepping; we hadn’t even said what we were, or if we were anything, and they were telling their family about me. And yet… and yet that last little bit, where they’d been proud to tell them about me, being proud of me, it made that fade.

“Hah… yeah. Technically I do, but it's not super important… I’m basically just an assistant to an actually important person.” I sat further back in my chair. “But-”

“Cole, babe, a job is a job. It’s more- oh, shit, sorry, what were we saying?”

“Just…” I paused, trying to figure out how to word it without sounding braggy.

“Y-Yeah, I completely cut you off.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Yeah. You… You were saying?”

“My boss said he’d be taking me to a big work conference this Wednesday, meeting other departments. He even said to dress nice, so I’m going to head into the city after work tomorrow if you want to hang out.” I bit my lip. “Just shopping for clothes. Nothing scandalous.”

“Hey, as long as I can drag you to a craft store, that’s perfect,” they chuckled, and I noticed that their voice had dropped and compressed, like they’d lain down. “I need wood and a new saw – mine’s rusted to shit, dude, like, totally warped. Made an order a while back a huge pain in the ass.”

“You made something for someone?”

They laughed, warm and soft, and it made my stomach flip. “Yeah, I mostly recreate trinkets from my home world – in case you haven’t been paying attention and have only been staring at my ass, which… you have, by the way.” I smiled, comfortable that they couldn’t see it. “I make, like, pipes for herbs, puzzle boxes, little chests and even notebooks, but my biggest source of ‘income’, if you can even call it that, are figurines.”

I looked over at my shelf, where a long, wooden lindwurm statuette sat. One of the few things I’d actually bought from them. “Yeah, I saw them. They sell out pretty fast, right? That’s dope.”

“Mmghhghmgmg.”

I laughed. “What? What the hell was that?”

“Pig trotter,” they said, words slurred. “The, uh, this guy saw me on Facebook and wanted a full chess set – just the pieces – and I said bet. Then I noticed that the, uh, cover of my tent had leaked right onto my stuff, so they were fucked, and I had to use my talons. Took forever, and one of the Archons is missing a horn. I, uh, said it was on purpose. He liked them, I got paid enough to survive another winter, and here we are now.”

“Daaaaaaamn.” I leaned further back. “It’s good you got them finished in time, but yeesh. Were they cheap to replace, at least?”

“Nah, it wasn’t too bad. I made a profit, at least – I used some of it to buy a SIM card, and ta-da, I can send you flank pics. Neat, right?”

Bang.

The door flew open.

My phone flew from my hand as I quite literally jumped, stomach tensing so tightly it left a stitch in the muscle. “Cole,” said my cousin, eyes on me. “Down. Now. Aunt Dari has been calling you.” She paused, squinting. “What were you even doing?”

“Talking to someone,” I said, half snapping. “You could’ve fucking knocked. Christ.” Quickly, I snatched my phone up, managing to hear Hrod still talking. “S-Sorry, Hrod.”

“I hear women.”

“Woman, actually.” Climbing out of my chair, I followed my cousin into the landing. “Cousin.”

“Ah. Good. Women are bad. Hey, so do you want flank-”

She took the phone off me and tapped the red button. I immediately snatched it back, scowling. “Don’t touch my stuff, Mae. That was important.”

Mae frowned, dark lips curling sharply down, bright amber eyes narrowed just a degree, and that look, the sudden suspicion, made my fury flicker. She was sharp and keen, as much as it pained me to compliment such a stingy… ‘person’. Always digging, always making others' problems her own, trying to fix things. Made my skin crawl.

Worse still, she didn’t say anything more; she strode on past me, delicate hand sliding down the bannister of the stairs.

Cole Macapagal

> cousin. mean. hung up on you.

The Smarmy One

> xD

> Go eat dinner you loser.

I put my phone away and followed after Katrina-Mae. The flank pic – it stuck in my head. I realised, as I joined my mother in the kitchen, that I should have said yes. I’d had a good day; I ‘deserved’ a treat. Sure, it was Hrod, but… I mean, it was just a picture.

I stepped around my mother and began helping sort the food. She didn’t thank me; she never did. It was just how it was. The meals were plated, each portion measured just right, and brought into the dining room, where my uncle and cousins were sitting. I wondered what they’d say if I mentioned Hrodvitnir.

Good, bad, demeaning?

A toss-up, really.

Wine was next, and I poured myself a glass to start before taking a seat near the middle, where I knew my mum would sit. My uncle was at the head, his daughter and son flanking, so I was beside Karl, who was checking something on his own phone and getting a dirty look from his sister for it.

Mum poured everyone else a glass before finally taking her own seat.

“Cole,” she began, just as I was lifting up the first forkful of food. “Tell them about your meetings this week.” I opened my mouth. “He's doing important work.”

I ate the food first and then had a sip of wine. Sweet and tangy, almost like yogurt.” The council has had me helping out with community projects. But, uh, this Wednesday the higher-ups want me in a proper council meeting with the other departments. I'm going to go pick up some professional clothes this Wednesday with a-” Pause. “-Friend of mine.”

Another little drink, as I could already guess where the conversation was going.

Ugh. Wice rine. No, wait. Rice wine. Tasted funny. I preferred fruitier stuff.

“Ethan?” Mum asked. “Is he still away at university for… electrical engineering?”

I shook my head. “No, he's finished. Just looking for work now, but apparently it's tough to. He's said he might be moving back, actually.”

“That would be nice; you two were always close.”

“So, how'd you get the council job?’ my uncle asked, eyes not meeting mine, posture tight. “You didn't go to college for it.”

Another little sip.

“Job centre,” was my quick answer. “I mentioned being good with numbers and people, and it's better than data entry, at least. I get to actually help. Tom said if I keep doing as good as I am, he'd start showing me how to do his job, so when he leaves I can take over, which would be really cool.”

“And that doesn't need a college degree?”

Wice rine.

“No. Not every job that isn't McDonald's needs a diploma.”

He dropped it and began talking about Mae’s nursing and how well she was doing. Accolades and exaggerations since I knew she was an intern at an assisted living facility, not some up-and-coming doctor, and yet I felt like a baby for sitting back, feeling sour over a little dig.

A little ways into dinner, after a few more comments, some more forkfuls of food and gulps of wine, I began to feel… wound up.

Like I'd been squished and squashed into a box, and the walls were always closing, always trying to trap me closer into… something. Like I was… just supposed to exist. The neck of the bottle shook as I poured another glass, glad I’d been ignored the past fifteen minutes.

Forks clinked. Someone coughed. Then, like clockwork—

“You got a girlfriend yet, Cole?” Karl asked.

“He’s so secretive,” Mum laughed, too loud, too quickly, before I’d even gotten the chance to speak. “Never bringing any nice girls home from work.” Again, a giggle that was too cheerful, followed by her reaching over and patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve always worried me.”

…

“...Worry me,” I echoed. “Why would I—what do you even mean by that?”

“Don’t twist my words.” The warmth left her voice. She lifted her glass again, eyes on the wine instead of me. “You always twist my words.”

“Then say what you mean.”

I couldn’t help the way my eyes, heavy from drink, slowly swept over the table, taking their time to settle on my mother, making it seem like I was glaring at her.

She sighed, long and theatrical. “I’m just being silly, petal. I just worry sometimes that you won’t… settle. You’re nineteen, and you’ve never brought home anyone. Only that Ethan boy. It’s not normal.”

Shock overtook the haze.

Then static. A constant, persistent buzz.

“Normal,” I said, the word catching.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You can’t just work forever, love. Life isn’t only about your little job. You’ll be lonely.”

That one landed. Hard.

“I’m nineteen,” I said. “I-I’m not going to start a family before I’m twenty, just because you did.” Shaky, I took another sip, longer, just so I’d have some thinking room. “And- and what if I don’t bring home any pretty girls? Is that worrying?”

The buzz hurt and made me aware of every sound in the room. Even my own breathing, the blood in my ears and the rustle of fabric, the clink of utensils.

“Cole, I do not appreciate being spoken to like that.” Her nostrils flared in indignation, lips curling in a grimace. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Everyone needs someone. Something to build toward. You can’t just drift.”

“I have someone,” I said, too loud. The room seemed to pull back around me. “They’re nice. They don’t care about my stupid job. They just like ME.”

God, why couldn’t I see properly?

Everything was… blurry, and my eyes were starting to hurt.

I wiped at my eyes, my sleeve wet for some reason. “They talk to me like I’m real and—”

“They?” The word slid out of her like a blade.

I barked out a laugh that didn’t sound like one, more a gasp. “YES. THEY. I-It’s not hard to call them that.”

She blinked once. “You mean it’s not a girl?”

That was it — the air just dropped out of me. I wanted to laugh again, or shout, or explain, but all that came out was, “No. Not a girl. Not a guy either. Just… them.”

Her expression didn’t change, not really. Just softened, pity dressed up as understanding.

The kind that said you’ll grow out of it.

Something in my chest folded in on itself. The sound in the room dulled until all I could hear was the faint buzz of the light and the clink of someone setting a fork down. My breath came too fast, too shallow.

Then everything went sideways. Heat, noise, the table, the looks. I was moving before I realised it, the chair scraping, the plate spilling, glass shattering on the floor.

No one said a word.

I stumbled, half drunk, down the hall, phone already in my hand, the other snatching my coat from its hook like it was instinct. The door slammed shut behind me, loud as a gunshot. The stars were faint that night. I wondered if the ones on Hrod’s world were brighter. Probably. No light pollution.

No one followed me. That was the relief. That was the shame.

I sat on the kerb, hands shaking, trying to remember how to breathe. Then I did the only thing I could think of.

“H-Hi,” I said, my voice small and tinny in my own ears. “Can I get a taxi to… Wyrm’s Way? Yeah, LS19, the, uh, dragon place. It’s for a Cole Macapagal, at 35 Vinery Mount. LS9.” I swallowed. “Quick as you can.”

Payment went through. The call ended.

For a while, I just sat there, palms pressed to my eyes, trying not to think of anything at all.