My Grand, Frozen Heart part 1
Any constructive criticism will be taken under consideration, along with comments.
In the winter night of the suburbs, I walked home from meeting with a friend until 8:30 pm. The amber floodlights above shone the snow a flaxen gold. With my hands in the pockets of my heavy, black coat that reached my boots, I listened to the crunching of the tiny ice crystals. Then, something caught my attention. Up ahead, was a wolf being beaten by two people.
"Hey!" I yelled, and the two evaded the scene. Running to the wolf, I saw he was unconscious, and badly bruised. Thinking of how he was so badly maimed, it reminded me of myself during middle and high school. I picked him up, and carried him home with me. In the snippets of light that occasionally lit his face, I saw an orangish brown face, clotted with bumps and blood-seeped fur. His shirt was ripped in some areas, moisturizing the black cloth. His dark blue jeans were dirty from being on the litter strewn asphalt street.
Once we reached my house, I set him down on the couch adjacent to the fireplace. It was currently unlit, where a fresh batch of chopped wood from my warehouse sat. I went into the guest bathroom, where I got a piece of toilet paper, and wet it with soap and water. When I returned, I set the drippy paper down on the coffee table, and gingerly removed his shirt. He didn't budge too much, which was a good thing. Examining his torso, he had a beautiful body. A large pectoral region, compared to myself, but his stomach was more flat than toned or rounded. Mine was toned but slightly sunken in. With the soapy toilet paper, I dabbed his wounds with caution. They were light cuts, not too deep, and should heal after a while. I worked from the bottom up, already finishing his stomach area. His eyes fluttered when I brushed my paw through his fur, searching for the final cut on his chest.
"Huh?" He said. I merely lifted a finger to my lips, motioning him to be quiet, then continued. He didn't say anything until after a good thirty seconds of silence between us. His breathing was slow, but heavy, smelling of women's scented lotion. That scent always made me uncomfortable, mainly because it reminded me of my father.
"So, um," he took a pause before continuing, looking perplexed a bit, "w-what happened to the guys beating me up?"
"I scared them off," I said, "when I saw you, I knew I couldn't leave you there for the vultures to come back and finish their meal." He let out a quick laugh, showing a charming grin that made my heart painful with an elevation of my pulse. For once in a long time, I got a compliment from someone, which meant the world to me. He quickly winced, though, because his muscles tightened, causing pain on his wounds.
When I was finished, I got up to throw away the bloody rag. When I got back, he was waddling in place, looking at his pants.
"Want a dry pair of jeans?" I asked, him nodding with his face still looking down and away from me. "Ok, follow me." Obediently, he followed me up the stairs, then we "U" turned to the left where my bedroom door waited. Once we entered, I showed him where my pants were, then exiting the room for his privacy. Downstairs in the kitchen, I took out some sushi I recently got. Sushi is my favorite food item, and this wolf is the first guest I had in my house since when I was younger. A minute has passed, and I creatively organized my table for two, each with a cup of warm, green tea, four pieces of sushi each, and a pair of chopsticks for each of us. He came down, in shorts, the ones I never wear. Mainly because I easily get cold and prefer jeans over shorts.
"So, what are we eating?" He asked, scratching his belly.
"Sushi with green tea." I said, my mouth watering on how appetizingly beautiful I organized the sushi. Each plate had a Nigirizushi on top of three Futomaki rolls. Two drops of soy sauce dyed the centers of each roll, wasabi very lightly outlying the Futomaki. During the meal, we talked about what he did, why got beaten up, and other personal stuff. I learned that his name was Scott, and that he loaned a few people money he didn't repay.
That night, he asked to sleep with me, and I nonchalantly agreed to his request. I cradled him and myself to sleep.
The next morning, he was gone, and a note rested in his place. "Dear Neath, I thank you for showing such courtesy to me. I'll try to repay them, but I also need to do it on my own, so I can not accept for money. Sincerely, Scott." I felt a bit upset that he left 5K, but I also do admire him trying to repay the debt of kindness I had bestowed upon his shoulders. But that kindness couldn't be paid back, nor would I want anything in return. Recalling back to that moment, I do believe that one of the culprits were a bull. But that's all I can remember of the shady figures.