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Part 5

Pulling the door open, he stood there quietly with his hands laced in front of his stomach, a small plastic bag dangling from them. It looked liked it held some clothes. I didn't know why he hadn't moved all his clothes back here yet, but I brushed it off as I reached out and pulled him into a hug, catching him off guard.

His hands held my lower back weakly as I squeezed him tightly, pulling away just enough to kiss him. Holding him by the waist, I looked into his eyes; the same green I'd just seen moments ago. I smiled, and he did the same, only he looked a little more confused.

"Hi," I said, letting him go, feeling a lot happier than I probably should have, given the nature of the argument we'd had earlier. But, for some reason, I didn't care about that in the slightly. The only way to prove I wasn't cheating was to stay the same and hope he caught on.

"I brought clothes in case you still wanted to go out," he said softly, looking at the sweatshirt I was wearing with a nervous smile, "I didn't think you'd say yes, but I brought them in case you did."

"We planned on it, didn't we?" I asked, pressing my forehead against his as I ran my hand down his arm before meshing my fingers together with his, "should I change, too?"

"No, you look perfect," he said, looking into my eyes as I chuckled, "you make a gorgeous bum."

"It takes commitment," I muttered, losing my words as I kissed him again, and his hands ran down my back, lifting up my sweatshirt. His hands buried in the waistband of my pants and he stopped contently, watching me for the longest time.

"I have to ask," he started and we both grinned like two fools in love. I knew what he was going to ask, but I didn't want to stop him, even though I didn't know how to answer. I just liked feeling his voice so close to me, "what helped you calm down and decide to go, even after I was such an ass to you?"

"Because I know I love you, and I know you know that, too," I answered slowly, still holding him in the faint light of the second floor hallway. If anyone was coming, we could hear them, "and I thought of you naked. And... I realized how much we're going through. I'd be worried if you weren't a little snippy. I wanted us to be a little... happier, because I know we both deserve it, so I decided to just go out and have fun with you."

"What made you realize this?" he asked, his hand sinking even lower and my stomach fluttered as his thumb began to brush my tail.

"I talked to this little girl today and she gave me her stuffed animal. It was really sweet and got me thinking about you," I said, that sappy side of me seeping out almost uncontrollably.

Everyone used to harass us for talking like this, but clearly they didn't know how it made you feel about yourself and the person you were sharing the words with. Everyone else and all the misdeeds of the day, or the week, or the month just seemed fade away. It probably just had something to do with complex brain chemicals, but I liked to think that it was what true love felt like.

"A stuffed animal made you think of me?" he wondered aloud, his warm breath seeping through the sweatshirt and across my chest. His hands tightened very slightly and I let our a little snort of laughter that made him smile. I could feel my stomach and chest tightening, even though I was completely comfortable.

"It was cute," I said, "the stuffed animal is just like you, you know. Pretty, but I know you're just full of fluff."

"I hate you," he chuckled, burying his face into my chest and I held him around the waist, my head on his, "I guess I just can't pictured a big guy like you liking stuffed animals. We've been together for four years and we've never had any."

"I used to have a few," I said, prying us apart even though I didn't want to. We had to get ready if I wanted to be back in time to get some sleep before work tomorrow, "I had one I slept with every night until I found you. I couldn't sleep without it. But, you should go get dressed. We'll have more time to talk about stuffed animals later."

He smiled and latched his finger into the neck of my sweatshirt, pulling me in for a small kiss as he walked away into the bathroom. I walked into the bedroom and pulled some of my nicer looking clothing from the closet; I knew there was nowhere really fancy to eat here, but I wanted to look good for Brian, regardless.

Getting dressed quickly, I tucked my white T-shirt into my pants before pulling on my long sleeve button down shirt. Looking at myself in the mirror behind the door, I checked my teeth and flattened down the fur on my head.

"You're a genius, Jack," I said to the air as the door creaked back open because of the way the apartment slanted. I started collecting my phone, wallet and other things from the table underneath the window. I still hadn't gotten a call from Meghan's father, "I hope you know that. If you make this work, I'll buy you a mate of your own."

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Brian asked, and I looked up at his reflection in the darkened panes of glass with wide eyes. He had somehow managed to look even more beautiful than usual.

"I might be," I lied, knowing it was probably best that he didn't know I was talking to an inanimate object. But, he seemed to already know I was lying as he picked up Jack and turned him over with an indecipherable look.

"So this is it?" he questioned, not really expecting an answer because it was an obvious one. There was only one stuffed animal in the room. He dropped it back onto the mattress, and I started to button up my shirt as I turned to him.

"Yea," I mumbled, my voice muffled as I fumbled with the buttons. Brian stepped forward and moved my hands away so he could do it himself with a keen interest directed towards my chest, "she named him Jack."

"Him?" he chuckled, leaving the top one undone as he pulled me in by the collar again and kissed the side of my face, "I hope you don't call him Jack, too."

"Well, I do sometimes," I admitted as he let go and poked my belly with a grin. He didn't seem to be in the least bit touched by the fact that a little girl had given her best friend just to make me happy, but I figured it just didn't mean as much if you weren't there, or the one who got the gift.

"I just hoped you washed it before you put it on the bed," he muttered and I fought the desire to frown. Before I had a chance to get upset, or even think about it, he grabbed my hand and guided me through the bedroom door, "are you ready to go?"

I nodded and he held the apartment door open for me, making me laugh and roll my eyes. The restaurant was nearly empty, as it always was, so we had no problem finding seats or keeping them. We got the fish every time we came here, because that was one thing we were certain they knew how to cook.

The waiter didn't seem to mind as we sat there for what had to be hours. I had told Brian that I'd drive home, so every time the waiter stopped by the table and I got a drink, or desert, or coffee, Brian seemed to get more wine. I didn't really mind, because I liked seeing him like this; laughing, and sunny, and excited. We spent the longest time just replaying memories in our heads and sharing, making the other start laughing as we remembered which time it was.

In the back of my head the whole night, I could feel something hoping that all this reminiscing would help him realize that I'd never left and I had no intentions of ever leaving. As we kept talking, I seemed to learn some things of my own about the two of us.

All our best memories, and our happiest memories, like the day we'd officially started dating, all seemed so far behind us and so distant that they weren't even our history anymore. I didn't know quite when that had happened, but it disconcerted me. I had an idea of why our old happiness was lost on us, but it didn't stop me from trying to revive the flame.

Underneath the table, he sometimes ran his foot up and down my leg, and I'd squirm excitedly. He kept his hand on top of mine, even though the parents at the table across from us kept looking in our direction. They seemed almost worried that their kids would see us, and on several occasions they did, but didn't even seem to see anything out of the ordinary. Each of his memories were cemented with an 'I love you' even though the parents seemed disturbed by it, and I knew that we were right back to normal. He didn't care what anyone thought about how he felt about me.

By the time we made it home, we were having a hard time making it up the stairs because I was pressing him up against the wall, kissing him a lot more hungrily than I thought I was capable of. When we finally made it into the apartment and locked the door, I already had his shirt half off as my hand caressed his chest and sides. He'd tug at my shirt, to try to get it out of my pants, and I'd tug on his belt to try to get him closer to me.

I pushed him against the closed door in the dim light of the overhead bulb and he panted as I started to kiss his neck, feeling the heat rising just enough to keep us both warm in the cold room. His hand shook and twitched as he grasped at the fur between my ears, moaning softly.

"K - Kurt?" he managed as I broke my myself away to toss aside his shirt. I started to nibble along the broad bones of his chest, and he moaned again, his head banging into the door as his knees went weak.

"Yea?" I gasped, unbuttoning my shirt a lot more deftly than I could have managed before. I ran my free hand down along the crook of his neck and around his shoulder.

"I - I - err, can we talk?" he sputtered, sharp intakes of breath interrupting the usually seductive flow of his sentences. I pulled off my shirt and got onto one knee so I could kiss his stomach. I was intent on kissing every inch of him that I could, now that I finally managed to get him back.

"Right now?" I muttered, holding him around the waist with both of my hands, my thumbs feeling the way his stomach had a perfectly chiseled crease where it met his pelvis. I was having a hard time breathing as I smelled some of our old home still on him in the form of cologne.

He held me softly around my muzzle and lifted me to look at his eyes. He looked distraught, and confused, and sad. It made me distraught, and confused, and sad, like he was about to admit he was the one cheating on me.

"I meant to do this before things got this heated," he said, but I had a hard time hearing him over the almost painful throbbing in my pants, "I need to talk to you because I should have done this a long time ago."

"Please don't say this is what I think it's about," I whispered, collapsing backwards onto the couch, my T-shirt messy and my fur messier. He sat beside me with about a foot of space, just like the other night.

"I wanted to apologize when I first came here, before we went on the date, but you looked so happy, so I didn't want to ruin it. I thought, maybe if we went out to dinner and we made everything fine, I could just forget about it. But it's still bothering me, so I have to tell you something."

I looked at him blankly, my heart beating faster than it had been when I was down on my knees, and my stomach hurt more than it had when I was pulling off his shirt. I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear what he had to say, because I was completely comfortable with being ignorant if it meant we were happy. But, I'd ben with him long enough to know that it'd kill him if he didn't say something, and it'd kill me because he'd be withdrawn.

"And?" I managed, feeling my dinner churning. I was beginning to regret not being the one to have drank all those glasses of wine. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the nervous anticipation.

"You know how I was angry because I thought you were cheating?" he blundered, looking away from me and my heart dropped. I wanted to throw him into the wall, and I wanted to throw myself out the window, and I wanted him to just forget about saying it, so I could at least pretend I didn't know that's what he meant.

"Yea," I said, my voice low and raspy.

"Well, when we first started dating, I was with someone else, too, for the first three months. An ex I was having a hard time getting rid of. I couldn't just leave him, because he depended on me for too much. He expected too much from me."

I mouthed wordlessly for a while, like a fish drowning in the air, and he just looked at me uselessly as he saw that I was having a hard time stopping myself from crying. I wasn't even afraid that he was cheating on me now, because there was something inside me that I'd never felt with all the one night stands. It was something important and inseparable from us. I was just shocked.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I said, barely able to make my voice louder than a whisper.

"When I... said the things I said today, it was because I was feeling guilty. I felt horrible, and I felt like an ass, and I was an ass. For the four years, I didn't tell you, because those three months with my ex weren't important, they weren't anything. But, I saw how you were pulling away, and it just brought all my fears back. I don't know, I guess I knew how much you depended on me, and I thought that you were pulling away, but I didn't want it to end up like it did with my ex. Only staying together because we thought we couldn't live without each other."

"I can't believe you," I chuckled mirthlessly, burying my stinging eyes into my hands as I groaned loudly, not caring who I woke up.

"Kurt, please, I didn't love him. I didn't touch him, or anything. You're the first person I've ever loved, and I mean that. I was only with him because I needed to help him get a job, and be fine on his own. It wasn't because I loved him, it was because I felt bad for him," he rambled quickly and I just continued laughing, feeling tears trying to force themselves out every time I stopped to take a breath.

"I don't give a fuck about him, Brian," I said, feeling the edge of a growl sneak into my words as my lip twitched.

"What?" he said, shifting on the couch as he turned to me. I just couldn't bring myself to look at his face, because I thought he was the only one out there that I could trust completely and without reservation, but it turned out it was a lie.

"I'm not mad that it's the truth," I barked and squared my jaw, finally angry enough to look at him with a fiery intensity, "I'm not even mad that you hid it from me. I'm mad that you'd rather try to throw the blame on me than just be honest about it!"

I was mad that Brian had accused me of cheating instead of just admitting he'd done it. But, when had I ever really been honest with him? I always held back the things I wanted to say because I was afraid of what he'd think, or because I'd hurt him, or even because I was afraid of myself.

"But, I'm being honest now, doesn't that count for something?" he asked, and I knew he couldn't even place any certainty behind his statement, because he knew he deserved everything I was throwing at him.

I wasn't strong enough to just ignore it, and move on, and accept that he was trying to be honest, and loving, and all mine. I shouldn't just ignore it, because he should be the one groveling at my feet, since I'd been the one spending all my time at his.

"I think you should go," I said shortly, pushing myself from the couch, backing away from him. I wanted to cry because of him, and I wanted to cry with him. I would have done anything to be able to forget what I was feeling right now and go back to the happy place we'd been back on the date. It almost seemed like it was part of a dream on some distant land now.

"Can we please talk about it?"

"Not right now," I grumbled, trying to force the anger away so I didn't show him just how far I felt myself sinking, "I have work in the morning."

"Do you want me to pick you up?" he tried, looking for any reason to try to buy back the love he'd destroyed along with my ignorance.

"I'll just walk," I grumbled, turning to open the bedroom door, looking at the twin bed, wondering if I'd made the right call after all.

"But -"

"Just go!" I shouted, wheeling around on the spot, pointing at the door with a stiff finger and stiffer lip. He nodded sadly as he grabbed his shirt and keys before walking out the door. It clicked shut and I breathed deeply, feeling the seething sting of betrayal crawling along my skin.

Looking around the room, I skated over the mirror and my messy clothing. Ripping my shirts over my head, I fought with them before letting out a loud roar as I threw them against the wall. They landed on my bed beside stuffed animal and I growled like I was a savage. My anger was pointless, and directionless, and childish, but I didn't know what else I could do, because I didn't know who else to turn to so I could release it.

"What?" I shouted, "What are you looking at?!"

Swiping at him angrily, he slapped against the wall and fell back onto the brand new mattress, his green eyes still looking at me calmly, and coolly, just like the little girl's had. I felt my eyes well up and my lip quiver, not sure if I was angry or sad. Pressing my fingers into my eyes, I felt the physical pain almost mask everything else that was floating through my head.

Collapsing onto the bed beside Jack, my head hit against the wall with a deep thud and it made me curl my legs up to my chest and cry like a child. If everyone was to be believed, you stopped crying, and blubbering, the moment you turned into a teenager, because you had so much to prove and so much to lose. Either everyone was wrong, or I was just different.

I guess crying was just one of those things that no one was supposed to do in public, especially if they were men. Even if you did cry in the privacy of your own room, or your own home, you weren't supposed to acknowledge that it ever happened. Crying had always made me feel stronger, because it felt like I was accepting the things that were happening in my life, even if I was supposed to be a rock about them.

I'd seen Brian cry several times, but I guess that's because he's more comfortable with himself than I am. I don't think anyone's ever seen me cry, even though Brian has come close to it on many occasions. Why was it that I couldn't seem to show my true emotions around him? Was it that I was still afraid to open up to him?

And why was it that Brian could be so open with me; share his hopes, and his dreams, and his fears, but he had to lie about something that was so important? I guess I could understand why he did it, because I'd done it myself a few times.

He was afraid to completely break that fragile trust that had started falling apart ever since we'd moved here and started having to rely on each other for everything. We just made up lies and lived in them so long that they ended up feeling so real. We looked so strong, but we were really so weak.

That first night we met, if Brian had not stayed, I never would have talked to him again. I knew the moment I woke up next to him that it was the truth, but over four years, I tried to give myself too much credit, and I tried too hard to dilute the truth. I just wanted to feel better about myself, but in the end I made him look like the bad guy because all I could do is sit here and wonder what else he might have lied about.

I wondered if he knew that our lives would intertwine like this, or if I had completely shattered all his preconceptions about hook-ups. Did he expect it to fail, too? Is that why he just held onto his ex? Because he was afraid to be alone?

It was kind of the same for me, I'd just held onto my ideas that all men were stupid so I didn't have to feel I was the only one out there who wanted something real, or something that would last. I guess that one thought was the thing that had kept me alone all those years. I didn't want to let anyone get to know me, so I made them stay at arms length. I didn't want them to know who I was because I didn't want to know who I was either.

I was afraid to love, but I was too afraid of being alone to hate, and now that I knew I was in love, I was pushing him away. I'd been with him for four years, but I was still afraid to be honest, so he was, too.

As I held Jack to my chest and leaned with my back against the wall, in the total darkness of the bedroom, I looked at my phone that had fallen out of my pocket. I just stared at it for what had to be days, just waiting for the screen to light up, just waiting for him to call me, to tell me he was sorry, so I could tell him I was sorry and that I still loved him more than anything.

But I knew that this would be the time when Brian wouldn't come home if I didn't try to reconcile first. When I told him to leave, and he turned around, and complied, he thought that I was telling the truth. He thought that I wanted him to leave. But I wasn't, and I couldn't expect him to know that, because how can you tell if someone's being honest when you weren't sure what the truth was?

At the time, when I was angry, it may have felt like I wanted him to leave and never come back. But, now, I didn't even know. I was positive that all I wanted was to hear his voice say I love you one more time. I wasn't mad that he'd broken the trust, because, in reality, I wasn't even sure it'd been there.

Flipping open the phone, I hoped I'd have a missed call, or a voicemail, or even a text message, but there was nothing. Brian was too afraid to talk to me. Jack was the only one who could stand to be around me anymore, and that was only because he couldn't see what a monster I became when I secretly knew I was the one to blame.

He sat on my stomach, looking up at me with both his hands in his lap, just as pensive as always. Nothing bothered him. I was the only one worrying, even though I didn't know why. I could fix things with Brian if I just picked up the phone and told him I wanted him back here, on the bed, in my arms. But, I didn't call him.

How long would it be before he was tired of this sick game of ping-pong? How long would he been willing to think that this constant arguing was as good as he could get? At what point would 'good enough' no longer be good enough? How could I manage to fix all this and make it work?

I guess the only thing I could really do was take a leap of faith and hope he'd catch me. I just had to hope that he'd know I'd do the same if he leapt for me. We knew everything about each other; our fears, our dreams, and our little personality quirks. Or, at least we thought we did.

What was there left for me to do other than be completely honest, so he could be completely honest? I was afraid about his reaction, or even about my reaction, but I guess the funny thing about fear is that it's always a lot worse before you do what you're afraid of. I knew if I just threw myself in headfirst and completely submitted to everything I was afraid of, I could count on Brian to be right there with me. And when we emerged from the turbulent seas, I'd be able to feel his hand in mine.

We may have not been honest about everything in our past, or about our hopes for the future, but there were just some things you couldn't lie about, even if you wanted to. It's impossible to look into the eyes of someone you love and tell them to leave without feeling that curious feeling of wonder in your chest.

What if they did leave? How would you survive? How would you get them back? Would things ever be the same? How could you fix everything that you'd broken?

Every time I shouted and he winced in shock, I knew I wanted to tell him I'd never hurt him. I knew he could see that in my eyes, because he always came back, because he knew what I was really trying to say. The only thing that tainted our perfect relationship was fear, as is so often the case, and I knew that fixing it was something only I could do, because he'd tried to take that leap of faith and I'd forgotten how to catch him.

There was still time to find him and coax my way back into his arms. I didn't even care about work in the morning as I scrambled to my closet, retrieving the sweatshirt I'd worn earlier. Tugging it over my head, I turned to Jack and patted him on the head softly, making him tip over clumsily.

"I know I said I'd buy you a mate, but I'm having a hard time telling if you're gay or not," I said to him with a smile as I opened the bedroom door and found my coat.

It hadn't been decided yet if it was going to snow tonight or not, but as I looked up at the sky, I could tell it was threatening to. It was definitely cold enough. Fumbling with my back pocket, I made sure I brought my wallet and my keys.