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Chapter 58: Free Flow

It felt to Roger that fate was conspiring against him. Everything that lead up to this point seemed to be for naught; that it created a situation that merely taunted him with his desires dangled in front of him. It was torturous.

The rest of the day was spent studying. At least doing that he could mask his disappointment. He began to question why he had even hoped that a life of happiness with one he desired. If he had only thought about the situation from the start, he would have seen the obvious signs; he would have made sense of it and detached himself. It was too late, now. He would suffer for his mistake.

He was so adverse to it in the beginning. However, if he was truly against it, he thought, then he would have fought against it harder than he did. No, he knew that he merely had tricked himself. He had fallen for the trap. His heart felt heavy.

Every so often the wolf would put an arm around him. It was soothing and painful at the same time. He accepted the curse along with the blessing, though. He knew it would not last forever, and this was the chance he had to enjoy what existed, while it remained.

He thought to sabotage it, but he could not bring himself to do so. Perhaps he could preemptively confess, but he could not find the words or opportunity. When he thought about it, his voice fled and he shook with anxiety. It was almost a permanent state of being on the verge of tears, but he managed to hide it well enough that no one was any the wiser.

It was a burden to bear, and it was his. A secret he would carry, if he had to, to the grave. Why put the problem on anyone else? he thought. It would only cause problems. Rather, he would cause problems. That was not something he wanted to be known for.

All he could do, he concluded, was support the wolf on his road to a better life. Mary was perfectly capable of making Roger happy, he believed, and he knew that if she could do that, then she could make Hunter happy. The wolf needed it more than he did, he figured.

When the pangs of hunger struck them, Roger offered to retrieve some food. He suggested that the wolf stay in his room and continue studying while he prepared dinner, and Hunter acquiesced.

He made his way down to the kitchen, realizing that his paws were clenched and shaking. He bit his lip and attempted to calm down. He murmured to himself, "Why am I so mad? This isn't like me."

He grabbed fairly simple foods and began to make whatever came to mind. His body worked by itself, as his mind was occupied. He nearly forgot fairly many things and almost burned a few others, but all was well for the most part.

His head was swimming. It ached, it throbbed. He felt dizzy. He pressed on.

Roger brought the food upstairs to the wolf. They ate in silence. When they were done, he brought the plates back down without a word.

Upon his return, he noticed the wolf was standing. He seemed distressed, judging by the awkward stance and folded ears. His face seemed strained and his brows were furrowed, but not in an angry or confused sort. He seemed concerned, perhaps.

It was confirmed when he asked the fox, "What's wrong? You've been acting weird."

Roger shook his head and attempted to smile, but failed. His face was tired from having been tense for nearly the entire night. He looked away and said, "I'm okay, just... just a bit stressed out."

"Is it something I did?" the wolf asked him. He took a step forward.

"No, you're fine. It's fine. I'll be fine, anyway. I just... need some time," Roger responded.

Hunter had stepped in front of him. He then put his arms around the fox and embraced him, rubbing his back, whispering in his ear softly that all would be well, and that he had a friend.

Roger was caught off guard. At first surprise filled him, and then ease, and then he felt warm. The entire situation played through his mind briefly, and then he could not hold his composure a moment longer. Tears welled up in his eyes and he began to sob quietly into the wolf's chest. All the emotions he had bottled up had returned in force, and he lost control.

The wolf turned off the light and laid him on the bed, laying down himself in front of the fox who merely was hunched forward, eyes shut with tears running down his face. He shook and his body was tense and every breath was forceful.

The wolf whispered, "You don't have to tell me what's wrong. It's okay. I'm here for you, though."

Roger sobbed harder at the words, in relief and pain. It was such a great thing to him to have the wolf as a friend, and it was an even greater pain to lose him. He had hoped he could hold out longer, at least so the wolf would not have to see him this way.

He wanted to say something, anything, but he could not fit words in his choked sobs. It felt as if the world pressed down on him. It was difficult to breathe and he began to feel overheated.

It continued on for a few more minutes before he regained some control, but the tears did not end. All that he could do was to sniffle silently and avert his gaze from the wolf, who stared directly at him.

The exertion took its toll on Roger, and he immediately began to feel it when his heart rate decreased. Reality felt like it was falling away, and darkness took him.

He fell asleep as his tears flowed freely.