FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Business is a funny thing. Everything can be going well, deals and exchanges passing through without even a speed bump, yet we're swamped with work anyway. Partially BECAUSE of how well it's going, even. The deal was lucrative, but it demands a pretty big restructuring of both companies' finances to account for the new state of affairs. I run a hand across my slicked-back hair, chipping away at a few more forms for the night while glancing back and forth from my pen and the clock. It's almost time to go, and there's not a chance I'm working overtime on a night like tonight.

Valentine's Day is here. Bonnie and I gave up on doing anything fancy for it pretty early into our time dating, but it's still nice to show an affectionate gesture for the occasion. Being stuck here would mean missing the flower shop before it closes, and I've planned out a rather charming combination for this go of it. One that ought to perfectly express to her just how lucky I feel to be with her.

A few idle thoughts and penmanship later, and it's finally time to go. I gather my things quickly and get to the elevator before anyone can stop me about more forms or advice or somesuch. I'm hardly the only person capable of handling such frivolities around here, so why is it that they seem keen on dragging me around at every turn...? Regardless, I'm finally in the sanctuary of the elevator. Mercifully alone, no less. And as the doors begin to close, they'll ensure my ultimate freedom for the evening.

"Fleeing so soon, Penn?" ...well, if anyone were to intrude on this solitude, I can take comfort in knowing it's a familiar face. Against all odds, I've been given a reason to hold the doors open with the appropriate portion of the elevator keypad. Normally my least favorite button among them, it's doing its best to prove it has a few uses after all.

"A sudden intrusion, Deanna? Even today?"

"Would I do it if I didn't know you liked it that way, hm?" Crafty little mouse. Deanna Florence... a simple paper-pusher and secretary around here. Always keeps her appearance professional and sleek, with that dark-blonde hair trimmed short against her silver fur, a simple white button-up, and flattering brown work slacks. Even a pair of emerald teardrop earrings hanging from those rounded, pink ears characteristic of her species. She cultivates an air of professionalism, which helps keep people off her case so long as her job gets done, and such a front helps assure people she WILL get her job done. Even as she speaks, her countenance reveals little but that aura of diligence, though she weaves in meaning through her tone and words.

"True, true. Today's a bit different, though. More private, yes?"

"I'd certainly hope so. Lucky lady, she is. What'd you decide on, anyway? You've got your options open on an occasion like this."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Seeing as that radiance she carries with her has been returning, I thought fit to go for something... innocent. Energetic. Lovingly warm."

"...so. Pink and orange, eh? If you can find them, I'd steer you towards lilies and carnations, though no one would bat an eye at a rose substitute considering it's Valentine's."

"Reading me like a book, Deanna. You and your green thumb alongside your eye for design... it's no wonder you know your stuff here." Yes... I've not had the honor of seeing it myself, but she keeps a small garden where she lives. It's limited in scope thanks to settling for an apartment as her abode, but I've at least seen what she can produce from it. Were I more prescient on this matter, I may have put in a request with her for this, though I'm sure she has her own desires to tend to in that makeshift flower patch.

"Oh, I know much more than that, Penn... you know that quite personally."

"Heh, and I'll never forget it. No one may ever find out just how exactly that little vulnerability in our partner's finances was found; that secret lies safely with us."

"There are many secrets like that, and more to come. So long as you don't forget what got you up top, anyways..."

"I wouldn't dream of it, I assure you. ...in all seriousness, though, thank you. Thank you so much. With this recent push, it won't be long before I can offer Bonnie another surprise. One that she'll be ecstatic to hear of, knowing our home is our own."

"Well, you're hardly out of the woods yet. It's a funny thing about my brand of help. Lucrative? Yes. Easy? If only. You'll be glued to that desk for weeks whenever you're here. I hope you can come to terms with that." Through her carefully-controlled visage, I can almost see... guilt? A twinge of regret? Something. She doesn't make reading her easy. All the better for our plays of words and wits.

"I accepted what I'd be getting into the day I set the strategy into motion. It was always going to be hard, I knew that. It just reminds me of what I'm working so hard for. What we've dreamed of for so long, even beyond the home..." Ah, there we are. Gone are the shreds of burden that accented her face. We've returned to her more neutral, even a bit cheerful, choice of expression.

"Good... good. So long as you understand that stability is brought about by that kind of hard work. In all facets of life. If you ever lose sight of that... well, those blissful dreams you're looking forward to may blow away on the wind. So yes, I'd say it's good you've kept yourself grounded. Keep that up, okay? For her sake, and your own."

"Hmm. Pulling out all the stops today, are we? Still, thank you. And I promise." With that, she simply nods, satisfied as the elevator doors open at last. I part ways from her at the front door with a quiet wave and a grateful smile, beginning my trek down the street. Before reaching home, one more stop awaits me, mercifully right near the bus station.

Upon entering, the little bell on the door signals my presence; the older ferret running the front end of the florist's storefront for the evening returns to the counter, keeping an eye on me with a smile. I know what I'm here for, however, and head straight to one of the displays for a bouquet of orange and pink flowers, with lilies and roses among the arrangement. Just as the little mouse said, these are the perfect choice, with gentle, warm colors dancing among the petals. I carefully take it from its place in the lineup, get my purchase processed, and return to the bus stop with my gift in tow. I take a deep whiff of the bouquet resting in my arm; it's refreshing, much like the return of my dear Bonnie's boundless energy and vibrant smile.

One final bus ride for today and a short walk later, I'm heading through our neighborhood. This tranquil, luminous look to the area from the streetlights and house lamps against the darkness is a view I get to see most every day coming home from work in the winter, yet it never grows dull. The glows passing me by as I make my way to our humble abode, the glints off the cars, snow, and ice... nothing could be more fitting for this feeling of coming home.

The moment I open the door, something seems... different. We're having leftovers tonight to relax, yet I can smell something wafting through the air, and it's a creamy, sweet scent. I hang up my coat on the rack by the door, take my shoes off, and leave my file accordion as well; only the bouquet remains. Whatever this is, I get the feeling it'd be inappropriate to arrive looking like I could leave again at any time.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, I can't quite tell where the smell is coming from. Bonnie's been sitting on the couch, and now that she's noticed me, she seems more excited than ever, seemingly needing to keep herself from outright skipping over to me with her tail at full speed. Before I can react, she's grabbed me entirely in a hug, nearly knocking the both of us over.

"O-Ooh! Careful there, Bonnie, but... to what do I owe the warm welcome? And where's that smell coming from?"

"Hehee... oh, Penn, it's Valentine's, you know? And I figured, well, maybe I'd do something special. Nothing crazy, still a relaxing night of course, but come on, come look~" With that, she's taken me by the hand, practically dragging me towards the dining room table. Getting closer, a plate covered in wax paper makes itself apparent. The smell is getting stronger too, so I suppose we have a prime suspect here.

"I, um, figured this might be nice to try for the occasion. It took a bit of practice, but... w-well, tell me what you think...?" She gently untucks the paper from around the plate as she finishes her explanation, and I finally see what the sweet smell was: salted caramels. It's... quite surprising, if I'm being honest. I've never seen her make something as indulgent as this, let alone something as volatile as candies. A quick glance back at the kitchen, however, reveals that she did indeed make these; bowls and a pan are resting in the sink, soaking the remains of her handiwork away. There's only one thing to do, then.

"I'd be glad to, my dear." I reach down to the plate, taking a caramel from the center of the arrangement. This'll be a new experience, to be sure. I don't consider myself to have a sweet tooth, but the smell is heavenly. As it reaches my tongue, I can feel the taste spread across it; it's creamy, smooth, and soft as my teeth sink down into it, meeting little resistance aside from the salt crystals that complement the flavors that have nearly taken over my taste buds entirely at this point. It's perfect. Nothing more could be done to improve this, and I can tell she's done her best. I can only hope she sees what I feel as I slide further into a peaceful reverie, much like the rest of her cooking.

"I couldn't think of anything more fitting for today, Bonnie. Thank you." There. Everything, laid out with precision, words laid carefully between the lines to be unpackaged like a nesting doll. The best I can give her, courtesy of my specialty at work and my verbal sparring partner.

"Ah... y-you're welcome, dear." ...hm? She seems... blank. Like she's avoiding wearing any sort of expression besides a gentle demeanor. Her energy is still sort of there, but it's... hm. I can't put my finger on it. Still, I have my own gift for her yet.

"I think you've noticed by now, but still, allow me to make my own offering for the evening: a radiant bouquet, fresh from the florist and fit for the meaning of this lovely evening."

"Well, I... t-thank you, Penn. They're lovely." As she takes the flowers in hand, she looks down at them with that hollow expression for several seconds. Another moment later, she breathes their aroma in deeply. No change. She simply sets her gaze on a vase that's remained without flowers for many months, moves to fill it with water in silence, then sets them down in their place on the dining room table.

"Well, I-I, the candies were good to try out a bit, but maybe we ought to have dinner before dessert. I'll get it ready." I'm left confused and worried as she wears a smile that isn't quite right, getting the frontmost leftovers from the fridge to reheat them. What's happened here...? Where there should've been radiance as strong as that bouquet's, there exists only a cold impassion, masked in positivity. I'm sure of what I gave her, even double-checked with Deanna, so... where is this coming from?

Dinner passes by without a meaningful word. Bonnie keeps switching her gaze between me and her food as she picks away at it. All we can seem to talk about is our goings-on at work in the most basic sense, and I can't bring myself to try to bring up this tension. It just... just doesn't feel right. How does one address a problem with no idea where it's coming from? To do so in a negotiation is to forfeit what little ground you've gained. I... I'll need to think of something later. Anything. This is getting unbearable.

...it really will need to be later, though. The moment she finished her food, she stood up to put her plate in the sink and retreated upstairs. She didn't even touch the caramels. I take another and turn it over in my hand, examining it. Smooth, shiny, and perfectly-encrusted with crystals of salt on top. Perfection, taken from its lode of identical treasures. Chewing on it, it's as rapturous as the last, but something feels... off, and for all I could contemplate regarding the taste, this uneasy feeling only offers hazy half-answers when I try to decipher it. Perhaps I should retire for the night as well. I've no better ideas, and it feels wrong to even think about work at a time like this.

After covering the caramels in their wax paper again, even just heading up the stairs feels like walking through a patch of briars; ill-advised, unnerving, and like my chances of suddenly feeling a sharp, stinging pain throughout my being are only increasing with every step. Still, I... I need to do something. Even if it's just being there and acting like things will be fine. Opening the door to our bedroom, I can see Bonnie's already curled up in bed. It's fairly early for that, but she seems drained. Like all that life I saw in her these past few weeks has faded away, without a trace. I resign myself to getting dressed down for bed as well, grabbing my soft, dark green flannel shirt and bottoms from their resting place in the dresser. With those on, I see to settling myself into my own side of the bed.

The tension from dinner is still here, but it feels thinner somehow. Like it's all around me in a lightly-suffocating fog rather than a focused, palpable energy between us. I can't say I'm fond of either feeling. I turn over under the blankets, facing towards Bonnie. She has her back to me, and she seems intent on staying there. I can barely even see her breathing... little movement, no sounds, yet she doesn't seem like she's sleeping. Just existing, in a state of limbo.

Even now, I can't find the words. There's one thing left I could try, but... well, I suppose it doesn't matter how paltry my chances are anymore. I slowly reach out a hand, laying it on her upper back. She jumps a little at the sensation, then goes still again. Not the worst reaction I could've gotten. With that vague approval, I gently grip her shoulder with my other hand for leverage and begin rubbing in firm, gentle circles, working my way down her back, paying careful attention to areas I remember being sensitive from some particularly passionate nights early in our time together. I feel like I'm doing this right, or as best I can, at least. I begin to hear a few sounds from her: those airy, high-pitched whimpers that would grace my ears up close when I would find every little inch of her that responded favorably in a close embrace. They're muddled, though, mixed in with weak breaths that sound almost... distressed.

"Penn, I-I..."

"Yes, darling?"

"I just... I c-can't, I feel so exhausted, I... I just can't. Please... I'm s-sorry, I'm... sorry..." She's shrinking into herself more and more, and the state of limbo she laid in earlier is gone, replaced with uneasy quivers and barely-audible apologies entering the air again and again, a broken record of helplessness. It seems I had something to lose for trying this, after all.

"Alright, dear... please, let me know if I can do anything. I'll be here. It's going to be alright." I almost expect a response, but all I'm met with is silence. She's broken out of her spiral for the time being, at least. If that's truly all I can do to salvage tonight, I should take the opportunity to rest. Maybe tomorrow will go better without the holiday weighing on us.

So here I am, eyes shut, awake for hours on end, feeling little but a small, thorn-like sting whenever a pained whimper escapes my dear Bonnie in her sleep.

* *

Once again, I'm near the end of the workday, and it feels like nothing's improved from last night. I can't stop thinking about Bonnie, that moment she seemed to lose all the life she'd regained in recent times, and the near-breakdown she had when I tried to make amends. Even this morning, she seemed to be on auto-pilot. Get dressed, make breakfast, clean up, go to work... her morning ritual, condensed down to a matter of subsistence. Everything's regressed back to how it was a month ago, and all I'm left with is the constant worry that I've done something wrong. That I can't do enough.

The vultures decide to be merciful and don't find something for me to do for them before I escape at the end of my shift. Unfortunately, that includes Deanna this time, so I can't see if her tendency to know what to say when it needs to be said can aid me. All that's left is to escape the desk work for another day, down the elevator. Get out, ride the bus, go down the street, get home... my evening routine that feels so insignificant now in the face of what's happened at home. It's not helped by the overcast sky and the scent of moisture making it clear tonight won't be a pleasant one. What little snow is left will be cleared away or turned into an awful slush.

Home again. Here to face the aftermath of what I can only describe as a perfect storm of a night. Bonnie's here on the couch again, this time scrolling through something on her phone. A website for some kind of game? The archer and wolf companion she's reading up on are quite striking. Still, when she notices me, all I receive is a blank look and a near-automatic response of getting up off the couch. Seems she's heading to the fridge. Leftovers again... we're beginning to run out, but I can't fault her for that with what she seems to be going through.

Dinner is a mirror image of last night, but with even less conversation. Her only objective seems to be relieving any hunger she might have, with no expression on her face to indicate any sort of enjoyment from the taste. Unsettling, considering I'm having the same slow-cooker potato soup as her, and it's as smooth and creamy as the day it was cooked. Can nothing bring her joy after what happened...?

Her portion eaten, finished with swift, mechanical rhythm, she deposits her dish in the sink. I expect her to head upstairs again, maybe return to the couch, but instead, she hesitates, then reaches into a cupboard, removing a small box. As she closes the door, she simply stands there in thought. This time, however, I see a smile begin to slowly form where there was nothing only moments ago. She's... that spark is back. Faint, but growing by the second.

"Something on your mind, dear?"

"Oh... not much. I had some caramels left over from the display last night, so I set them aside. Clover didn't have any company for Valentine's since Kylie's had Jill to spend those sorts of evenings with. I thought I'd surprise her by bringing her some of the final batch. Maybe see if she thinks it compares well to our last practice." So, the practice she mentioned last night was with Clover? I suppose it makes sense. The two had been visiting quite a lot lately, and I'd never smelled anything like those caramels in the house before Valentine's.

"The ones we didn't finish are safely tucked away, I assume?"

"Oh, yes. These are specifically for her, no need to worry about that. Honestly, with how she reacted to taste-testing some of the later attempts, I... I'm really looking forward to how these last few will be received." The smile on her face is growing wider, and her tail is wagging for the first time since I greeted her last night. Is... does Clover really make her that happy? What does she do that gets Bonnie so worked up like this? What is it I do that somehow takes it all away? What's going on...?

"Bonnie, dear? If you wouldn't mind me asking, what about your visits to Clover's have been energizing you? Filling you with life, even? What makes you feel so rejuvenated there?" As I carefully weave the question together, Bonnie's begun gathering her things to go. Her shoes and her purse have already been properly fitted to her, but she seems distracted by the question now, hugging her purse strap as she joyfully considers her response.

"Oh... well, I suppose she- I feel so exceptional when she's enjoying my cooking or a treat we've bought together. Every little expression, blissful sound, and compliment to the chef just... fills me with this sort of warm, fluttery feeling. When we play this game she showed me or watch a show we've found together, even discuss an old pastime of hers, everything feels so animated. I find myself wanting to keep up with her. I want to reciprocate what she's done for me. From the night she took me in, to the morning after, to every little thing we've done afterwards, she's made me feel... w-well, I guess the words are... lucky. Special. Like I'm not just- I mean, like I've done well. If that makes sense."

...I don't know how to process this. I could see her getting more and more excited with every passing word. She's absolutely giddy at the thought of seeing Clover again, even after what we've just gone through that left her a dead woman walking. She's... her energy, her sunshine, it's...!

In that moment, a feeling overwhelms me. A cold, detached feeling. One that is growing uncaring of what might happen, despite the rest of me screaming its objections to its idea. An idea that will do nothing but ignite the noxious haze of tension that's been building between us, one that can do no good. And yet, I find myself uttering two words. Vicious, unfair, fatal words. Ones that I can never take back.

"...don't I?"

In the middle of reaching for her umbrella, she freezes. She doesn't even grab it when she finally starts moving again. I can see her eyes go wide as she slowly turns to face me. All I muster the will to do is sit here, soup growing cold, as I watch the exuberant energy drain from those formerly-radiant blue eyes as they stare right through me. Her lips try to move, but not a single sound escapes them. As her expression grows more and more distressed, she begins clutching hard at the little case of caramels, some sort of desperation beginning to drive her movements. ...this is wrong. I need to say something, but what could I say after wounding her so?

So before I can find the few words that could amend that mistake, the door closes behind her.