Bottle Rocket Dreams

Note: this side story contains spoilers to The Leaves of Fall

>”Wait, so, you and Sam are-”

“As of one year and one month, yes.”

>”A-Actu-actu-ally I-I-I think i-it w-was t-two,” Sam’s meek voice squeaks in so low you can barely hear her, like she’s whispering because she just did something wrong in correcting you

>Instead of sipping on her Dr. Bepper, she squeezes on her ears, wringing the anxiety out of them, watching your face for the telltale signs of an explosive outburst — not that you’ve had those

>Those outbursts are leftovers, something she’s working on but seems to have accepted that she has to live with

“Right, it was two!” you correct yourself with a nervous laugh

>Good job, Anon

>Your first relationship EVER and you can’t even remember when it started!

“As of two one year and two months ago, Sam and I are…”

>Your heart speeds in your chest, like a… frightened rabbit?

>Why are you so nervous?

>And it’s not from being on the school roof, feet dangling over the edge of parking lot, watching as the sun sets behind the western mountains with your friends and certified fresh qt 3.14 bunny gf

>Maybe you think Sam hates how forgetful you are

>There’s a drawn out pause as Jenna processes the wrench you just threw into the gears of her mind

>She levels an orange, clawed finger at the two of you, her face telling you she’s one more stunned ‘what the actual fuck?’ statement from you or Alex away from gulping the rest of her first beer tonight

>”One year and two months?” she says parroting your words in confusion, a thought slowly condensing in her skull

>Sam nods, a shy smile hidden on her blushing face

>Jenna’s eyes split with primal, teenage shock

>”S-So if we use my brother as an example for a relationship’s timeline (which we shouldn’t), that means… and then you guys must have already… SO IT THEN FOLLOWS THAT YOU AND SAM MUST HAVE…” the fox’s elaborate, mildly schizophrenic train of thought grinds to a squealing halt as she trails off, her question lingering in the air like the smell of the Fourth of July:

>Charred meats that spent too long parked on the portable grill you brought along; the noxious, unmistakable reek of sulfhur and gunpowder residue from the fireworks Alex brought; a lingering scent of honeysuckle and dry grass drifting by in the dusky air

>”H-H-Have wh-what?” Sam leans over to match eyes with Jenna, the bunny’s legs swaying gently with the slight breeze, tossing a shock of brown hair across her face

>The bunny brushes the hair aside and stairs expectantly at the fox, awaiting clarification

>Jenna blinks a few times, rebooting, her accusing finger trembling like it weighed fifty pounds

>All systems operational for Jenna-

>”Or, you WILL!” Jenna says suddenly, her syllables crammed together by a sudden rush of alcohol, nerves, and what we do to hide…

>…grief?

>”Oh, don’t worry about that fact of Anon and Sam’s relationship,” Alex says, cutting in with a smug chuckle “Bunnies, man. They’ve got a motor that just doesn’t quit, you know what I mean? If only we could use their lust for the cause.”

>You know it’s fucking stupid to get embarrassed about Alex ribbing you for finally getting laid, but you still glow red in the face as your friend describes Sam’s sex drive to Jenna in somewhat explicit, mostly made up detail

>You clench your free hand into a tight fist as he’s talking about how bunnies have lots and lots of se-

“Shut the fuck up, dude!” You roar. “You’re the reason ‘real communism’ hasn’t been tried; cause it won’t fucking WORK!” you throw a bruising haymaker in defense of your pure maiden waifur’s virginity

>Your half-assed fist does not hurt Alex, but it glances off that skinny twink’s arm bone, causing Alex to wince

>You were trying to demoralize him more than physically harm him, but he flinches anyway, body recoiling as much as he’s able, squeezed between you and Jenna

>”Anon, violence isn’t the answer… yet…” he whines, rubbing his arm

>”Wait, y-you haven’t… y-yet?” Jenna says, glowing red. “I-It’s been over a year! Isn’t that supposed to happen by n-now?”

“No, Jenna, Alex is being a re-”

>Sam twists her poor ears in confusion, crying, “Will s-s-s-someone p-p-please te-te-tell me what y-you guys are t-t-talking ab-ab-about!?”

>The growing pains of your relationship with Sam remind you of your growth first spurt, which came in waves throughout your puberty, still glowing within you like embers of a dying fire

>This is one of those moments of growth tonight

>You decide to be cheeky and just tell Sam, who struggles to follow Jenna’s innuendo

“Sex, Sam. She’s asking if we’ve had sex.”

>”S-Sex?” The bunny parrots back at you, gawking, jaw trembling with the weight of the word

>Without even thinking, you gently rest your hand on Sam’s knee and give her a light, playful squeeze

>She is so locked on the fact that you two have had sex that your touch startles her like she just stepped on a landmine and blew her leg off

>The bunny squeaks, shooting upwards almost six inches into the air, which in an ordinary fourth of July celebration setting, is no problem — bunnies get frightened easily, these things happen

>But this is no ordinary holiday for you four

>Also, you’re on the edge of the school roof again, watching the sunset burn off the day’s heat before the fireworks start

>There’s already small shows across town starting up

>Sam goes up like she sat on a bottle rocket…

>…and she goes down gent-

>-OVER THE FUCKING EDGE OH FUCK

“SAM!” You react with a sudden synaptic snap of muscle

>You reach out with both hands, stupidly leaning forward in the process

>You close your hands around her hoodie, right as she plummets downward with all the gravity of a feather pillow

>For a split second, relief is palpable when you arrest her movement

>You save her life (again)!

>Your hands grasp onto her hood and-

>-her momentum yanks you off the roof with her

>This is the SECOND time trying to save Sam from falling or getting pulled into something has cost you

>You go down as you knock Jenna’s finished beer bottle off

>It turns into a glass comet, which shatters on the concrete far below

>Welp

>You brace yourself for the sudden — and frankly disappointing — death you’re about to experience

>Jesus, God, Mary, Joseph, and Christ’s brother Todd (lesser-known), this is the same roof that took Mike, isn’t it?

>Wow

>They really gotta block that entrance up here that’s still in the gym; this roof has gone two and zero so far completely undefeated, about to clinch a third and fourth victim

>The GOAT

>However, before you crater alongside your certified fresh bunny gf…

>…you feel something cinch around your shirt collar, anchoring you to the roof and suspending you — momentarily — against the side of the building

>Your eyes (and anus) unclench

>You turn your head and look up

>Alex, that tall spindly fuck, has you by the shirt collar as you dangle with Sam off the side of the school

>Your friend’s pale, patchy-beard encrusted face reddens with immense strain as he tries to haul you and Sam in

>You must be heavy, because Alex really struggles and grunts, like he’s being forced to endure strength and conditioning class again

>Sam in your grasp is lighter than fallen snow. You know she’s not even one hundred pounds, what with her bird-like bones, making her as weighty as the leaves of fall that drift by come autumn

>Jenna chips in by wrapping her body around Alex from behind and pulling hard

>”Hold on guys! We’ll pull you back in!” she yells, straining, as if she’s adding anything to the effort

“Comrade Alexi” you exclaim, voice breathless and glistening with relief. “You saved us! I owe you a beer dude, seriously!”

>”Take it back!” Alex shouts through a pained grunt

“What?!”

>”I said, take it back!” Alex roars

>You notice Alex isn’t actually hauling you in, but holding you there, his right foot planted on the raised egde of the roof to give him leverage

“WHAT?! TAKE WHAT BACK!? Pull us up, dude!” you scream

>Sam’s eyes pop open

>She flails her arms a little, as if unaware she’s no longer falling

>”Say that real communism can work even though it’s never been tried!” Alex cries

>”Alex, come on! This isn’t funny!” Jenna says as she tries to pull Alex back herself. “Just… help me pull them in!”

>Despite Jenna anchoring her hold on Alex with her claws, it’s no use

>Alexi is determined

>”I’m not trying to be funny!” Alex says, teeth rammed together with strain

>This is like the three stooges, only there’s four of you, and two of the stooges in question are actually pretty intelligent

>So just the two stooges: you and comrade Alexi

>”A-A-Anon!” Sam cries, her shy girlish voice breaking with mortal terror. “I-I’m s-s-s-s-s-slipping!”

>Fuck it

>Your grip on Sam is faltering

>You really don’t care about ideology right now

“You’re right, and I’m wrong! Real communism has never been tried but it can totally work!” you say, trying to re-affirm your hold on the rabbit’s hood

>At the conclusion of that last syllable, and apparently satisfied with your desperate, coerced statement, Alex roars with strain; one final effort as you begin to rise

>Up the side of the school you go…

>…and onto the ledge of roof you crawl, Jenna’s fuzzy hand clasping around your free hand the minute she can get within arm’s reach 

>The vixen cries with strain as she pulls yourself and Sam back onto the roof

>You slide over the ledge with Sam in tow, landing on your back on the roof

>Ah, just like old time

>The four of you collapse in an exhausted heap on the roof, chests heaving, desperate for hot, dry summer-night air in your empty lungs

>Nobody speaks for quite some time as you all embrace the idea that mortality is just a few innocent beers on a roof away

>And then Alex cuts loose with a dumb, fiendish giggle

>A stupid, annoying giggle that makes you want to belt him again, but you’re still too stressed out and tired

>You don’t realize it

>But you’re still CLUTCHING Sam’s hood

>”I always knew you were a believer, Anon,” Alex says, exhaling.

”Listen dude. Listen to me, okay?” you reply, still shaking out the adrenaline that got dumped in your system. “Never, EVER do that to me again, okay?”

>”If I’m not willing to kill for the cause, am I really a true flag-bearer?” Alex says in a tired reply

“Excuse me?” you sit up on your palms and staring at Alex’s dumb fucking face, about ready (once more) to kill him

>”Nothing,” he mutters, eyes still shut, tired chest inflating with air. “Nothing at all.”

“That’s what I thought.”

>Jenna is the first to stand up and dust herself off

>Her fur looks pretty disheveled — a fine coating of roof grit, gravel, dust, and some dead leaves cling to her bare coat

>”Dang it,” she says, examining herself

>You turn your focus down to Sam, who is-

>Sam is curled into a defensive ball, trembling

>Uh-oh

“Sam?” you whisper, voice soft and full of loving concern. You’re hesitant to grab her again. You’d rather not spook her any more

>But it’s when you listen closely to Sam, do you hear what she’s really doing

>Gentle sobs roll in and out of her

>Small, pathetic tears of… perhaps fear of… death? Cut a swath down her one exposed cheek

>No, this is something more profound than her own mortal peril. This poor girl has faced death more than enough time to let this incident rattle HER

>It’s about…

>”I’m s-s-s-sorry,” she says, trying to hide her sniffles. She tightens her body, hiding her face with her hair

>…you

>Uh-oh

>Fuck, it’s boyfriend time, isn’t it? Time to comfort your woman when she’s upset

>You’re not very good at this kind of stuff… still

“Why are you sorry? I’m just- I’m happy we’re alive right now?” you say, attempting reason over kindness

>When Sam’s upset or anxious or she’s having flashbacks or she’s startled or-

>You get the picture

>It can sometimes feel like you’re blindfolded

>And you’re in a minefield

>”I-I-I almost g-g-got you h-h-hurt…” Sam sobs. “B-Because I got s-s-scared, i-it almost happened a-a-ag-ag-again.”

>Oh

>Right

>Jacob, her brother…

>The uh

>Train

>”If I-I ever hurt s-s-someone as imp-important to me as you…”

“But we didn’t get hurt, did we? See? Everything’s okay, isn’t it guys?” you turn to Jenna and Alex for reassurance

>Jenna is trying — unsuccessfully — to clean her coat from earlier

>Alex, drinking a beer out of the cooler, chips in with an enthusiastic thumbs up

>….

>You stand up and nudge Sam with your feet

>Fuck this boyfriend stuff right now

>Sam needs comfort — Sam needs you to be her friend first

“Hey, guess what?”

>From behind the sleeves of her hoodie, Sam says, “…what…?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you say

>Which is true — you are saving something for her

>A little… initiation… into the past of you and your dumbass friends

>”W-What kind of s-surprise…?”

>You nudge her again with your shoe. “I’ll show you, but you have to promise to get up.”

>The bunny rolls over onto her back, uncoiling from defensive ball

>Her golden, honey-brown eyes peer up at you, glassy with tears, tempered red at the edges with pain

>You extend your hand to help her up, just like you did last October when you first discovered the altar above the school

“Come on, bunny. I’m okay, and so is everyone else. You’re just a little shellshocked right now. Let’s get you up off the ground.”

>”We’re on the roof,” Alex reminds you, sitting in a camper chair by the edge of the roof

>You glare daggers at him before turning your attention back down on Sam

>The bunny threads her tiny, fuzzy paws in between your fingers

>You clasp your hand shut, sealing her to you

>Her gentle fur on your bare skin — an exchange of sensory data; of scents; of nerves and impulses

>It’s still a little alien to have a paw threaded between your fingers

>But even more…

>It’s deeply, deeply familiar

>It feels like home

>A smile breaks across your features

“Shit, that wasn’t even your fault. I was the one who startled you, dude.”

>Once again, you pull her up with too much force, once again expecting her to weigh a lot more than she does

>Once again, she stumbles, one clumsy foot following the other

>Once again, your gravity pulls Sam’s tiny body in

>And just like last time, one year ago, she collides into (off of) your chest with all the gravity of a tennis ball

>But unlike last time, this time you manage to keep your footing, rooted in place by a firm desire to protect this bunny

>And this time you don’t shove her away when you feel a hummingbird in your heart

>Instead, you wrap your arms around her chest, holding her to you

>Minor tremors wrack her body, her hot breath steaming your shirt as she unintentionally drinks in your scent

>”I-I-I’m so s-s-s-sorry…” she whispers as her sobs peter sputter out, like the ocean rolling back to sea after a storm

>Her meager chest rises and falls with even pace- well, as even as Sam could make it

“Like I said, Sam. You don’t need to apologize. But…” you squeeze her tighter. “I know it was scary — and I’m learning that things are going to be scarier for you than they are for me sometimes — but we’re all okay. I didn’t even get hurt.”

>”G-Good,” Sam says in a whisper. “I-If I hurt another p-p-person I cared about, I-I-I’d n-n-never forgive m-myself.”

>You hold her against your chest until she wraps her arms around you

>After a few seconds more, you and Sam untangle from each other, each wearing a matching blush and a smile

>Only this time you don’t look opposite directions, trying to pretend that what just happened didn’t happen

>Alex looks like he’s about to throw up from the lovey-dovey shit, so he gets another beer out of the cooler

>Damn, after almost dying, and almost losing your bunny gf to the roof, you could go for some beer

>Nothing makes a man feel more alive or more in need of a beer a near-death experience

>Jenna, half-watching as she fidgets, tries without success to preen herself

>”O-Oh!” Sam squeaks, noticing the vixen struggling. “L-L-Let me help you. I hate it w-w-when I get gravel in m-my fur. I k-know how to get it o-o-out real quick, t-though.”

>”S-Sure,” Jenna beams politely, a little unsure as she spreads her arms and legs wide

>Her orange-and-white fur seems brighter in the waning sunset, kind of like a traffic cone at night, forgotten by the road crew after quitting time, caught in the final gasp of a sunset that’s clinging — white-knuckled — to the western slope of the granite mountains

>Lmao, Jenna’s a traffic cone

>Sam — with incredible speed — pats and brushes Jenna, her nimble hands knocking grit and dirt loose from the tangles of the fox’s orange coat

>You and Alex both watch as the girls enact a sacred ritual of womanhood: grooming one another

>Sam, entirely unaware of this sacred feminine rite, thinks she’s being helpful as hums a happy little tune while brushing down the fox’s tail

>Jenna — bullied by popular kids and cheerleaders mostly girls, is aware of the implications, but looks uncomfortable

>Alex turns to you

>”Hey Anon-”

“Nope,” you knock back a huge swallow of booze

>Brief silence ensues, minus the small bit of chatter between Jenna and Sam

“What were you asking all that stuff about Sam and I for, anyway?” you say, retrieving another beer from the cooler as Sam finishes up

>”Just curious,” Jenna responds, tone unusually flat

“You’re curious about our sex life?” you say with a chuckle

>”Yeah. I guess I’m curious about that… and other parts of being with a human… in a relationship…” she says in a low, distant voice

>”Wait, why would you care about that sort of shit Jenna?” you tactfully probe 

At that, Jenna draws herself up with a deep sigh, and then casts a longing glance to the edge of the roof the two of you almost fell from

>There, on the ledge

>In an empty space right next to where she was sitting, is 1 (one) unopened bottle of beer

>Jenna says nothing, but you notice something: her predatory jaw quivers

>Not with rage or anger, either

>That beer belongs to someone you guys know

>But he’s not here anymore

>There’s a lapse in the conversation as you all wait for someone to say something smart, or clever

>To cut into the sad tension

>At times you forget that Jenna was really, really, really into Mike

>You know Mike ‘Muthafuckin’ Sapone was into her as well, though he’d never say it out loud to anyone but you guys

>He once joked that he’d take Jenna to prom and ‘reveal his power level to the school’

>Sam shuffles over to you, her feet crunching into the rooftop gravel

>”S-So what’s my s-s-s-surprise?” she asks, peering up at you, her little pink nose wrinkling on her face, still wet with drying tears

>You crouch down to eye-level with the little bunny

“You gotta be a little more patient than that, dude,” you add with a wink

>You want it to be a little darker before…

>The surprise

>Sam fidgets with her sleeves, clearly a little disappointed

>”O-Oh… O-Okay… Then when do the fir-fireworks normally ssss-sstart?”

>Broad, CLEAN (you made her shower) ropes of brown hair drift across her face, her bangs obscuring her eyes like melted pools of amber

>”When fireworks always start, Sam,” Jenna says, trotting past you two, scowling a little, fishing out another beer from the ice-water mix

>You’re surprised to see Jenna drink this way. That’s her second or third beer already, and she already seemed a little buzzed off the first. You certainly spared no liquor expense, but Jenna?

>Well, she’s just not the underage drinking type, save a few scenarios

>And definitely not the binge drinking type

>”R-Right. And th-that’s in a f-f-f-few minutes I h-h-hope…?” the bunny stammers after her

>Sam’s fingers meet in an embarrassed bridge

>Jenna drops into another camping chair, a few seats away from Alex and says nothing

>Just stares, placid, at the beer on the ledge, like she’s waiting for it to come to life

>”It’s not dark enough yet. We can wait a little longer to celebrate this fascist monstrosity.” Alex spits on the ground. “Geeze Thumper, when was the last time you watched fireworks?”

>Sam shakes her head a little bit

>”U-Ummm…”

>You raise a startled eyebrow

“You’ve never seen a fireworks show?”

>”T-They never d-did them in my neighborhood, a-a-a-and www-we we never b-bought any of- of- our own s-s-since they upset d-d-dad.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s Sam, what’s next, you’ve never ridden a bike? Every kid should get to watch fireworks, at least once..”

>“Yeah, I don’t even like this country and every year I still watch the wasteful evil on display with Anon and Mi-” Alex stops himself short before he finishes that name

>Jenna’s knife-like ears twitch and flicker, like you just flicked the tips

>She tips her glass up against the dusk sky and drains about half the bottle in a few thunderous gulps

>”Anyway,” Alex coughs out a lungful of swallowed beer, “One of our favorite things to do as young rats was to have a few drinks and play with fireworks because-”

>Alex nods at you to finish his thought

>You’re still watching that beer that should be Mike’s

>So you channel, in a way

“‘Because fireworks are more fun with liquor and bud,’” you parrot in a voice hardly your own

>Alex laughs, “And THAT,” he points at Sam, “is the true reason we celebrate the fourth as friends. Not for this shitty country…”

>He hops up and walks over to the maintenance hut on the roof and reaches inside the door

>He brings out a weighty green duffel bag and drops it between you all

>…”but for playing with fireworks!” he unzips the bag and

>Ahhh

>The smell of gunpowder and sulfur, cardboard and glue

>A veritable arsenal of brightly colored fireworks spills out, unlike anything you’ve ever seen

>Not because they’re spectacular

>But they’re… hand-painted?

>Sam and Jenna’s noses twitch at the powerful scent of explosives in the air

“Nice haul, comrade Alexi. I… uh… think there’s a little of everything in here by the looks of it,” you say as you rummage through the bag, handing various strange explosives to Sam, who handles them with extreme delicacy

>”Jenna, what’s your fireworks experience, seeing as how Sam has absolutely none?” Alex says, handing out lighters

>Sam takes her lighter and flicks it with hood-rat familiarity

>She must have lit a lot of cigarettes for people over the years — mainly her brother and her dad

>Jenna loosely pinches what appears to be a bottle rocket by the wooden stem

>”This is some weak shit you got here, Mullen,” she says in a flat, appraising voice. “Bottle rockets? Firecrackers?”

>Alex scoffs. “Oh? Let me guess miss Ivy League, you were blowing up ant hills with M80s since before you could walk?”

>Jenna sets the bottle rocket down and continues rooting through Alex’s haul

>Her tail swishes back and forth with minor, appraising interest

>”My fireworks experience is quite extensive-”

>”So’s mine,” Alex says, cutting in, trying to shut her down

>”-AND,” Jenna continues on, “I was- I mean, I am going to an ivy league school, trying to major in chemistry, minoring in physics, and looking to land an internship with a defense contractor. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

>Alex stands there, holding a pack of ground flowers(?) in his hand, attempting to follow Jenna through a logical head maze with nothing but his wits and a compass

>”I think I can see what you’re saying,” he says with a sly grin, a pair of raised eyebrows. “Sounds like the ATF will be paying you a visit in the future. If they ask about me, don’t tell them anything, okay?”

>Jenna actually chuckles, her dour mood lifting a little

>For once, Alex made an intelligent joke, which scores some points with Jenna

>”I just have to watch how much fertilizer I buy,” the vixen quips back. “I don’t need the feds raiding my family’s cabin… again.”

>Turns out Alex has a surprisingly decent grasp on chemistry, thanks to his interest in homemade explosives, self-defense, and resistance to fascism

>These things match nicely with Jenna’s interest in homemade explosives and chemistry

>And WOW she’s putting down those beers

>Sam is… utterly lost in this conversation as they discuss whether diesel fuel or turpentine makes the best accelerant for a molotov cocktail, her rapid bunny attention snapping between the human and the fox

>But that’s not what matters

>What matters is that while Jenna and Alex play fight over who’s more Kaczinskypilled?

>Sam is grinning ear to ear, those nerves from the almost-fall almost evaporating in a cloud of gunpowder smoke

>Seeing that beaming smile light up her honey-brown eyes makes your heart skip not once, but twice, across a gay ass meadow of flowers

>It’s like seeing a bird that once had a broken wing learning to fly again

>Sam turns to you in the middle of it all, still smiling, content as could be

>TAP TAP

>Standing on her tiny toes, she taps on your chest with one furred paw — a signal you’ve come to understand as ‘bend over and listen to what I have to say’

>…What?

>You’re at least a foot taller than she is. When you’re Sam-sized, the world is a dangerous and challenging place, especially where communication is concerned

>You. Need. A. System!

>So, you folloe the S.A.M. system

>”I-I-It’s n-nice t-t-to see the ttttt-two of them get along,” Sam says in a gentle whisper. “I w-w-w-was worried t-they would-d-d-dn’t.”

“Huh,” you grunt, observing Jenna and Alex, who are currently rooting through the fireworks stash, discussing the chemical makeup of the fireworks Alex bought off the side of the road

>Jenna — who has started maybe her third beer by now — slurs a joke about how that could actually be a good thing since they might be homemade, packed fun with farm chemicals

>It is nice

>You were worried that with Jenna back on a summer break with Mike… not here… Alex being himself, and you and Sam being a new item, it would really fuck with the dynamic and make things awkward

>But, so far, so good

>You’re surprised Jenna even showed up tonight — she’s a homebody at heart, but she was the first one at the school when the sun started to go down, just like your message said

>Though you do notice something about how animated she is right now

>She’s… never really been a drinker, at least for as long as you’ve known her. Sure, maybe a sip here or there, a swipe at the bottle if you will, but never like this

>She’s on three

>She’s on three and a… half…

>Well, shit

>Maybe she started drinking in college? It’s not like you haven’t picked up the pace a little yourself

>Maybe she just wants to prove she can ‘hang with the guys’?

>In that case, she’s fucking lapping you and Alex

>”H-Hey Anon!” Sam squeaks, a small bit of excitement creeping into her tone. “N-Now can I ha-have my surprise?”

“Oh shit, that’s right! Your surprise!” you say, clapping your hands together — a sound that’s a little much for sensitive ears in the vicinity

>You go to the duffel bag and retrieve two long, sparsely decorated cardboard tubes, wearing stripes of red, white, and blue, a fuse sprouting at the tip

“Ta-dah!” you exclaim, extending one of the cardboard tubes to the bunny. “I made sure Alex but us a few of these!”

>”A-A-A-Anon,” she says, examining the tube closely.“There’s no wr-writing on t-t-this. W-What is it?”

>Something about homemade fireworks?

“I guess it tracks that if you never played with fireworks you wouldn’t know what these are, huh? These — Alex tells me — are roman candles. But I can’t be sure, since it looks like someone made these in a one-room shack and inbred redneck children finger-painted them.”

>Sam cocks her head, a few strands of hair crossing over her small face

“Do you at least know how a roman candle works?”

>”N-N-N-N-Nope,” she shakes her head, ears flopping side to side with weight

“Jesus Christ, Sam, these are the best fireworks ever. You don’t know what you’re missing out on here,” you say, excitement building in your chest. “This is going to be so fun. I swear you’re going to have the best time. Roman candles are really cool.”

>”T-T-There weere a f-ff-ff-few more in the b-b-bag, b-but I only gg-ggrabbed two b-b-before Jenna g-g-got the others,” she points

>Jenna and Alex are on another part of the roof, channeling their autism into opening up one random fireworks to see if either of them can identify their chemical composition

>Oh, and Jenna is nearly finished with her beer

>She sways in an uneasy crouch alongside Alex, her muzzle pressed close against a ripped-up firecracker

>As if she’s sniffing it for chemicals like those anthros that work at the airport

>Maybe she’s doing exactly that?

>Fuck if you know — time for another beer down the hatch

>And hey…

>….homemade roman candles…

>…what could go wrong?

”Hey Sammy, while they’re busy doing their dumb nerd shit, you wanna play wizard wars?” 

“The rules of wizard wars are simple. First, we need to stand back-to-back.” 

>You stand back-to-back with Sammy, who is at least a foot shorter than you are

>In your hands:

>A bootleg roman candle — one for each of you — and a lighter

>One for you, one for Sam

“Then we each walk ten paces forward, away from each other. And no looking bac-”

>Before you can finish your instructions, you hear rabbit feet exploding off the graveled surface of the roof for in rapid succession, onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten paces…

>You break the cardinal rule of wizard wars and look over your shoulder

>Sam’s is standing — back still turned — ten paces from you

“We’re supposed to take the steps at the same time,” you sigh

>Sam turns her neck, one of her amber eyes peeking out at you from behind a shag of brown hair

>”S-S-Sorry!” she squeaks. “Let me c-c-c-ccccc-come back to you-”

>You groan

>Sometimes this impulsive bunny…

“No, no, just… stay where you are and turn around again when I say so, okay?”

>”O-Okay!” Sam says, alarm rising in her voice, trying desperately to do the right thing for her ‘surprise’

>You take ten paces into the gravel to at least make this fair for Sam

>You stand in front of the ledge, looking down on the beer Jenna left behind

>Mike’s beer

>From your periphery, you can see Jenna’s orange body leaning forward, watching you

“Okay Sam,” you say, raising your voice so she can hear you. “When I say, ‘GO’, light the wick at the end of your roman candle, and then turn around to face me.”

“G-Got it!” she ss-s-s-says

>You stare hard at Mike’s bottle as Sam waits for further instruction

>God, you really miss him right now

>Like a lot

>He’d probably love to play wizard wars again

>Welp, guess you better induct Sam into the council

>Mike would have loved to have a rabbit familiar

“Three!”

>”He-hey A-Anon, w-wait, I forgot to a-a-ask you s-s-something…”

“Two!”

>”W-what do I d-do after I-”

“One!”

>”T-Turn around?”

>Not hearing Sam’s meek voice, you flick the wheel on your lighter and bring its sprouted flame to the fuse

“GO!”

>The fuse sparks up, throwing golden shards of light onto your wrists as you spin around, extending your arm towards Sam in a dueling pose

>The bunny’s eyes are enormous bowls of golden light as she mimics your action, her arm trembling

>”W-What’s g-g-going to happen?” Sam says, as the fizzling fuse disappears inside of her roman candle

>You grin a huge, mischievous grin back at your sweet innocent Sam

“Magic.”

>There’s a moment of silence between the two of you

>And then…

“FIREBALL!”

>KER-THUNK

>The roman candle jumps in your hands with such force that your arm shoots upwards with recoil

>Jenna and Alex snap their heads at the source of the noise and watch as you shoot bootleg fireworks at your bunny gf

>A scorching red ‘fireball’ hurtles towards Sam like a comet, dragging a trail of sparks behind it

>Sam’s bunny legs churn as she darts to the right, avoiding the fireball all together with a girlish scream of terror

>Probably not the first time she’s had dangerous things thrown/shot at her

>The explosive charge ricochets off the ground behind her, skipping into the night sky and detonating right behind Sam, showering her in a blizzard of sparks

>”A-A-Ano-”

>Sam never finishes calling your name

>The ensuing concussive blast is so loud, that it makes your ears ring, even from a distance

>You can only imagine what it’s like for Sam and Jenna’s sensitive ears

“Holy fucking shit! Where the hell did you get these!?” you exclaim, looking down at your roman candle for a split second

>Which proved to be a mistake

>Sam’s fireball rockets out of her own roman candle with a hollow KA-THUNK

>The explosive streaks forward

“OH GOD!” you holler, throwing yourself hard to the right, onto the gravely hardtop of the roof

>Above your head, the fireball crashes into Mike’s beer, detonating into shards of hot glass and sticky beer

>All of which coats washes over you

>But you’re not worried about how wet your shirt gets, or how painful it is to have — what is effectively a bottle bomb — go off right next to you

>Jenna shoots up, throwing aside her fireworks

>”MIKE!” she shrieks, as if Sam had just shot the spiritual reincarnation of Mike Sapone on purpose

>And that’s the last thing you hear, as the shockwave swells in your ears

>You clamp your palms over your ears in desperation, trying to block out the high-pitched ringing

>It’s no use

>It sounds like a swarm of locusts is living in your skull

>Your eyes unclench

>Your eardrums scream in agony as you pull yourself to your feet

>Sam

>Where’s Sam!?

>You locate Sam still on her feet, cowering against the maintenance hut, back pressed against the brick siding

>And… Jenna? Striding towards Sam, fangs glistening, growling with predatory rage

>The bunny defensively twists her ears

>She could probably outrun Jenna

>But when fear takes over Sam… she freezes

>Sam says something that fails to stop Jenna

>You scramble onto your feet and cut loose with a protective shout, sprinting towards Jenna and Sam

>Jenna grabs Sam by the shoulder, anchoring one claw into the fabric of her brother’s hoodie

>Your legs burn, flush with lactic acid, as your blood vessels and capillaries swell adrenaline

>Oh fuck, Jenna looks like she’s about to beat the hell out of Sam

>Over a fucking beer!?

>Jenna brings one arm back into the night sky, her fangs clacking together in a vicious display of primal predatory anger

>Jenna says something to Sam, as the bunny shrinks down against the hut

>And Jenna might have brought her razor-sharp claws across Sam’s face had you not got there just in time

>You wrap your hands around her raised arm and pull back, like trying to throw a gigantic, weighty lever back

>You can feel a growl rattle in her body as she struggles to free her arm

>The sounds of the world returns to you in a flood of sensory data

>The choir of summer crickets reaching a crescendo

>The gentle, spiced wind that gusts by, carrying with it the scent of gunpowder

>Your heartbeat thrumming in your skull as you fight to hold back Jenna

>Jenna shouting, “LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKS!”

>Alex shouting back, “NO! STAND DOWN COMRADE!”

>Sam struggles as Jenna’s claws dig into her hoodie

>The bunny winces, her face screwing up in pain

“Jenna, just fucking relax for a second, alright? It was just a bottle of beer — we have more-”

>The vixen snaps her head towards you

>At first you see what you expect — brows narrowed, eyes wide with anger, fangs bared and glistening with hunger

>”It belonged to Mike! That was HIS beer you fucking blew up, you goddamn idiots!”

>”Just… stop trying to hurt Sam. If you want to hurt someone, hurt me. It was mostly my fault, anyway.”

>At that, Jenna’s arm slackens a little, too exhausted to continue

>That, or you’re a lot stronger than you think

>You notice a shift in her green eyes as they glass over with fresh tears

>Once split open, pupils narrowed into slits

>Becomes submissive, ashamed

>And then?

>The bottom falls out on Jenna’s rage

>She drops her hold on Sam, who squeaks with immense relief 

>The bunny retreats behind you

>Alex releases his grip on Jenna and plods a few cautious steps backwards, ready to defend himself

>The orange fox slumps over, curling her neck down and putting her face in her hands

>Then comes the pain

>Jenna sobs deep, chest-heaving sobs, while the three of you watch, unsure of what the fuck just happened, and what the fuck to do

>Through the filter of her fuzzy orange paws, she sputters something

“I-I’m so sorry Sam… God… I- I was so a-a-angry.”

>She wipes the tears out of her eyes and turns to face you all

>Sam shrinks into you, just a little

>”I miss Mike like you w-wouldn’t believe. My first relationship, my first kiss… the promises he made…. what we could have been in time… and I never got to say goodbye to him. But that’s not an excuse to hurt any of my friends,” she says, pointing her eyes down in submission

“We all want him back,” you look at Alex, who gives an affirmative nod. “Even Sam wants him back.”

>You put one arm protectively around Sam, who still cowers behind you

“I know exactly how you fee-”

>”No, you don’t,” Jenna cuts in, shaking her head, still sniffling. “You still have Sam and Alex. You’re all still in school. You all have futures.”

>You raise an eyebrow

>”I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but my life has been a fucking disaster since Mike died.”

>”What are you fucking talking about, fox?” Alex raises an eyebrow. “Your life’s over because Mike is gone? There are plenty of guys out there. Human and anthro. You’re not a fucking failure because your first boyfriend sacrificed his life to save the world.”

>The vixen collects herself with a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping, her posture slackening as she slides down the door of the maintenance hut

>The door with a sizeable hole in it, where Vannessa Doermuth once tried to punch right through your skull

>Good thing you ducked that one

>She turns her head up and looks at you three, her face stained with tears, yet sobered by sincerity

>She looks even smaller than Sam, shivering in the night air against the door

>”I need to tell you all something — something that’s been building inside for far, far too long. It needs out.”

>”We get it, you’re an angry lesbian and you’re in a love with Sam, and-”

>Once again, your fist glances off Alex’s arm bone

“Shut the fuck up dude! We are not going down this road again — not with Jenna, not right now. Okay?”

>But instead of quieting down at Alex’s joke, Jenna eases up with a little laughter at what she might have perceived as a joke

>Oh, if only she knew how truly dumb and sincere Alex can be

>”Trust me, if I’m a lesbian, then it’s news to me. I fell HARD for Mike. Too hard,” she says as she sighs. “I never said goodbye to him that night. And that lack of closure hasn’t just haunted me-”

>You hold Sam extra close as Jenna pauses for dramatic effect

>”-it ruined me.”

>The four of you are back on the ledge again, feet dangling, bodies faced towards the glittering lights of the city

>Small, personal amounts of fireworks detonate in the sky above Ranchview with colored salvos of lights and sparkles

>You suck down a beer, letting the liquor warm you up

>To your right is Sam, only this time you have one arm firmly wrapped around her tiny frame — right at the waist, like a seatbelt

>At your left is Alex, his yellow beanie pulled down over his head, ropes of dark brown hair spilling out as he knocks back a sip on his drink

>Jenna holds hers with both hands and takes greedy swigs

>You can tell she’s already more than drunk, and debating lighting the proverbial candle that is a genetic predisposition to alcoholism

>To Jenna’s left is Mike’s unopened beer, closer to her now, as if he was there, his warmth shielding the vixen from all the pain and hurt she’s gone through since his departure

>”How much do you know about foxes and love?” she starts, breaking the silence. She looks at the three of you, green eyes low and beaten

>”I-I know a little b-b-bit about foxes,” Sam says. “T-There used to be a f-ff-family of them ne-nee-next to my h-house g-growing up.”

>The bunny, still a touch gun-shy from almost having her face clawed by a predator, extends a brave, trembling olive branch

>”I w-w-w-wasn’t really allowed to p-play with t-the kits, e-even though t-t-they c-came to our door s-sometimes. D-Dad th-thought they were all…”

>She searches for the word, sorting the crude and speciest language of her father down to the many, many words he had for predators

>”S-Snapjaws.”

>You gasp

>Alex gasps

>Jenna doesn’t even flinch, despite being the target of such slurs

>”I haven’t heard that word in a while,” she adds with a small, brave chuckle, before sinking — like quicksand — into the undercurrent of her emotions and memories. “I guess I was wondering if you knew that fox’s mate for life.”

>You had forgotten that fox’s find one mate — ONE — and stick with them for life. Thick or thin. In sickness and in health. For better or for worse

>Till death do they part

>But not for foxes, especially not for a confused, young, trapped-between-a-chemical-messenger-and-the-gravity-of-reality Jenna

>Sam squeezes your arm like a kid squeezes a stuffed animal when she’s overwhelmed

>But there’s more than just concern, anxiety, and fear for Jenna in her touch

>It’s gratefulness for your presence

>A silent thank you for being in her life, a non-verbal only people in love can read; a language spoken only by you and Sam

>Something you realize will never happen again for Jenna

>The vixen tips her bottle up to the moonlight

>She swallows down the pangs of hurt in big, greedy swallows

>”When your own biology is the enemy, you only have small say in who your heart beats for for the rest of your life,” she says with an exhausted breath, head swimming with drink. “And Mike was…”

>”Y-Y-Yours?” Sam squeaks

>Jenna nods and takes another swig, downing half her bottle in one go

>”Mike was mine mate. Whether he knew it or not. Whether even I knew it or not. When he was taken from me, my biology never got the message,” she says as she turns towards you and you specifically

>”And when you and Sam destroyed ‘Mike’s beer’ playing with the fireworks, I think it felt like you were taking Mike from me again — not that I blame any of you for what happened.”

>”It’s not rational,” she continues. “Believe me, I know. Love is irrational to all species, especially foxes. We fall hard, fast, and forever, sometimes for the wrong — or right — people. But when you finally figure out who your mate is, and they’re ripped away from you…”

>She turns her head towards the town, green eyes filling with moonlight and the occasional sparkle of amateur fireworks

>”There’s a cascade effect.”

>Alex hums thoughtfully, still nursing his beer. “What do you mean?”

>Jenna sighs, gathering herself.

>”I guess I’ll just come out and say it: I’m on academic probation.”

>Wat

>You cock your head like a dog

>So does Alex

>”You were the fucking VALEDICTORIAN, Jenna. How is that even possible? We all took bets on what your GPA would be — none of us guessed lower than a three-eight.”

>She starts laughing, disgusted with herself

>”My GPA?” she giggles, the hoppy scent of beer lingering on her breath

>”My GPA is in the toilet right now. Tell you what, I’ll kiss whoever can guess what it is,” she says with that same, self-hating chuckle

>”T-T-Three-zero?” Sam says

>Jenna shakes her head, almost relishing how far down she’s fallen

”Two-four,” is your answer, though you really want this top stop

>You fucking hope it’s not two-four

>The fox cuts loose with throaty, drunken laughter

>”Too high!” she cries, enjoying the game. “Way too smart for Jenna Orthorn!”

“Hey Jenna, maybe we should stop? This is starting to get sad-”

>”One. Point. Six.” Alex declares as he folds his arms across his chest

>Your friend stares at Jenna, awaiting confirmation of his guess

>”DING DING DING DING!” Jenna throws up her arms, spilling some of her beer onto her shirt and the top of her head

>She grabs Alex by the shoulders and draws her orange muzzle close, her quivering, inexperienced lips just a hair’s breadth away from kissing the human

>Almost

>Alex doesn’t move a fucking inch, rooted in place like an autistic statue

>He still looks at Jenna with a slight frown, arms crossed

>As if he knew this was going to happen

>”Don’t kiss me,” he says in a cold, disapproving voice. “It’s not proper.”

>As if suddenly imbued with a sober moment from God, Jenna’s drunk blush reddens to a deep scarlet as she draws back into herself, wounded and shy

>”I-I wasn’t actually going to kiss you, I hope you know that,” Jenna stammers

>Unmoved spiritually or intellectually, arms crossed, and stern as a father lecturing his fox child

>”You need to take your schooling more seriously. Don’t you realize how much potential you have?” he lectures on, stern and fatherly. “Forget Anon’s grades. Yours made him look like he should be sent to the mines. How are you failing classes with a brain like yours? Don’t you care about your future at all?”

>Jenna answers Alex by draining the remainder of her beer, tipping the bottle high into the moonlight

>”I can’t focus on classes, which is bad, since I’m failing all of them. And I’m not happy in my dorm, alone with my feelings and thoughts for hours. Food has no taste. Music sucks. There’s no joy in my life, and there probably won’t be again. It’s like…” Jenna stares placidly out at the city as it blossoms with amateur fireworks

>All in anticipation of the show in a few minutes

>”It’s like I’ve had my arm ripped off, but I still feel like it’s attached to my shoulder — at least my mind and heart do. I try to move a limb I don’t have, and I know it’s not rational, I know it sounds stupid, but it’s… it’s not my choice!” Jenna suddenly shouts, her voice desperate yet tempered with anger. “I don’t want to feel this way forever, do you understand me? But I will! Because my fucking biology doesn’t remember his funeral like I do!”

>She breathes in ragged breaths

>”My body is physically incapable of accepting that he’s gone. Fuck me, I’m a widower at nineteen. Do you know what it’s like to live like that?”

>”Help me understand. It can’t be that hard to just… let something — or someone — go… right?” you chime in, ignoring Alex’s dig at your GPA, and Jenna’s sudden frustrated outburst. “Not to sound rude, but Mike was all of our friends. Alex and I miss that little asshole like you wouldn’t believe, but we’re not letting him ruin our lives.”

>Sam stiffens up against you, no longer a warm, soft presence pressed into your side

>She looks like she wants to say something

>”I-It d-dd-doesn’t www-work like ttt-th-that,” she says in a minicule whisper

“What was that?” you say, giving your girlfriend a slight nudge

>”I-I said, it d-d-d-doesn’t w-w-work that way,” she clarifies in a louder voice, one that draws the attention of Alex and Jenna to the bunny

>You look down at your bunny girlfriend, who no longer clings to you like a lost puppy, but instead sits with her hands on her knees as she stares craters into the ground below

>She points her face down and narrows her eyebrows — not in anger, but in thought — as she tries to search through the broken home of her mind for some way to express herself

>”Y-Y-Y-You c-c-c-can’t just d-d-d-dddd-decide to stop t-t-thinking about someone who isn’t around anymore,” she says. “Y-You feel them w-with you, a-alwyas. L-Llike when you’re w-w-watching TV, or g-g-going to bed. D-Drawing. O-O-Or eating lunch. S-S-Sometimes when you’re h-h-hurt o-or in p-p-pain you go l-looking for them b-because y-y-you miss them, and t-t-they can take you away from t-t-the hurt. So you t-try to fi-find them around the h-house. You search d-down the h-halls of y-your m-mmm-memories for wh-where you lost th-th-th-them. B-But they’re…”

>Her words catch on the vise around her throat

>She pauses and exhales a deep, held-in knot of anxiety

>She twists the sleeves of her hoodie as she searches for answers on the cement beneath her

>The hoodie she’s always worn, for as long as you’ve known her?

>Her older brother’s hoodie, olive green, and now freshly washed by you just a few days ago?

>Oh

>Now you see what she’s getting at

>”…t-they’re not there anymore…”

>The death of her only sibling and protector has ruled this bunny’s mind for almost a decade

>Jacob now lives rent-free up there with a balcony, a garage, and a swimming pool

>Fuck, losing him completely altered Sam’s DNA as far as you’re concerned

>”S-So I t-think I-I-I know what y-you’re talking about, J-JJJenna,” Sam concludes

>”How… How do I move forward then? How did I pick up the pieces of what’s been broken, and put it back together the way it was? I don’t think I can live like this — no, I KNOW I can’t live like this,” Jenna declares. “I swear to God if I can’t get off academic probation I won’t have to kill myself because my parents will do it for me.”

>Sam winces, as if struck across the face by an invisible hand

>Jenna’s joke about hurting herself must have tweaked Sam’s nerves

>Plus, Jenna’s more than drunk by now

>”I-I don’t k-know if it’ll eve-ever go back together a-a-again,” Sam says as she fights through the fear

>Jenna watches, green eyes fixed on Sam, waiting for a silver lining

>But there is none

>One last laugh track to accompany the comedy

>”Y-Y-You can t-t-try to put it back t-together the way it was, bu-but t-the c-cracks wi-will always s-sss-show. A-And you g-g-get cut on the loose s-s-shards. I k-know I still g-get cut. It-It’s not going to be the s-s-same,” she says

>”Don’t tell me it’s fucking hopeless Sam, I c-can’t handle this type of stuff right now,” Jenna shrinks back into herself

>The distant rattle of amateur fireworks punctuates the silence with shimmering crackles and concussive blasts 

>Little blossoms of colored fire appear over the glowing street lights of Ranchview

>”N-No, wait,” Sam says at last, drawing up from her own reserves of courage. “I w-w-want to show you ssss-something.”

>The rabbit draws a lungful of smokey, sulfury, gun powder-scented air

>She runs a paw through the shock of brown hair atop her head, brushing it off her eyes. “B-Being b-broken d-down by t-t-tragedy ‘o-only k-kills the weak ones.’ T-That’s something my brother used t-t-t-to say to me. He always told me t-t-that what I felt back then w-will never g-g-go away. He felt it too, s-so he tried to p-protect me from it.”

>There are certainly times you wish you could have met Sam’s brother

>You have… Mixed feelings on him, now that you’re so much closer to Sam

>”But I am l-learning to live w-with those thi-things that a-a-are inside of me. Like a s-stutter that n-never goes a-away,” she says

>Then, without warning, Sam pulls her green hoodie up over her head…

>…and off

>You stifle a drunken gasp in your chest

>You really haven’t seen her take off her brother’s hoodie in front of people… ever

>A deepening maroon blush graces her fuzzy features, face glowing with warmth that bubbles beneath the shag of her fur like magma

>Sam wears a Batman t-shirt, one that’s far, far too big for her lithe frame, and likely not made for her species or gender

>Probably her brother’s, too

>The bunny’s rail-thin torso swims in the faded-blue graphic tee, depicting batman slugging the joker right across the chin

>She then extends her arms out to the moonlight so that the rest of you can see the point she’s trying to illustrate

>To you, it’s ordinary fur, as you’ve always remembered it on your sweet Sam:

>Brown fur — enough to run your fingers through, coats the length of her arm

>But when you look closer, you see what Sam is trying to show Jenna and Alex — hell, even you

>The razor marks are like canyons all across her fragile body — none self inflicted

>The burn marks set in rings, where her bastard father tortured her with a car’s cigarette lighter

>The patches of fur that never regrew after being viciously torn out at some point by someone

>It all starts to click in your mind, like a late train finally chugging into the station at last

>”T-T-These scars are mine,” she says with faltering confidence

>Her arms shake as Jenna drunkenly leans in close to examine

>”You did this to yourself, Sam?” Jenna says in shock

>The bunny shakes her head, her ears swinging with her neck

>”N-N-No!” she squeaks. “Never! My d-dad, mom, b-brother sometimes, and a f-f-few neighborhood kids-”

>”Your dad was a fucking monster who should have been in prision long before he ran into us,” Jenna growls, cutting in

>”All those p-p-people hurt m-me in w-ways t-t-that will never h-h-heal. In my mind, t-too.”

>She drops her arms to her side and stares hard at the fireworks going off all over town — the small personal shows in advance of the (several) professional artilleries likely about to light the proverbial candle

>Flickers and shards of phosphorescence glow in her huge, honey-brown eyes

>”T-there are scars all over me f-f-from the ye-years that J-Jacob t-t-tried to t-t-teach me to be s-strong.”

>Sam turns her eyes down again and lightly shakes her head

>”The s-scars and welts t-that won’t heal — ever — are my r-reminder of the br-brother I lost, and the t-terrible things my dad di-did to me. E-E-Every day, w-when I l-look at my body, I see them.”

>Sam trembles next to you, like she has a slight chill running through her little body

>You respond by draping your arm around her, one free hand holding your near-empty beer

>”B-But you all t-t-t-taught me so-something im-im-imp-” she stammers, her teeth ramming together with anxiety, unable to complete her thought

>Like a small go-kart engine sputtering, trying to start

“Important?” you finish her sentence for her with the assist

>She nods, exhaling a puff of air as her body settles. “Yeah. That. J-J-Jacob t-t-taught me t-t-to take a hit from h-h-him or d-d-dad, and n-now I can take a l-lot of pain. But y-you guys t-taught me to a-a-accept the sc-scars, and everything that goes with them; e-everything that I can’t ch-change. The t-things t-that will n-never, ever change.”

>You look over at Jenna to gauge her reaction to what Sam is saying, because it makes sense to you

>Jenna holds Mike’s beer against her chest like she’s hugging him

>Two souls apart

>”You’re saying I’m stuck being this broken fox for the rest of my life, then? That I’ll always feel this deep sense of loss?”

>Surprisingly, Sam breaks into a gentle smile

>Her attempt at communicating some kind of girl-to-girl sentiment you can’t understand

>”Y-You m-might never h-heal, Jenna. I d-d-don’t know if I will either. But you’re not g-going back to the w-w-way you were b-before you met M-Mike, a-and I can’t b-bring my brother b-b-back to life. You and I have to m-move forward. I-In rabbit t-terms, if we ever slow down, we die.”

>”But it fucking HURTS,” Jenna says, slurring up her syllables. “It hurts so fucking much, and it hurts every single day. My biology is working against me, and I don’t know how to make the feelings stop. So I drink, and I skip class, and I don’t eat, and I don’t talk to people,” she says as she holds ‘Mike’ out in front of her, the amber bottle catching strips of moonlight, glowing in the dark of the roof

>”My liver can handle what my heart cannot.”

>Without responding, Alex hucks his beer off the roof, into the dark below, sick of this shit

>The empty spins end-over-end before dropping out of sight below

>Then comes the sound of glass shattering in the darkness

>Just like when yourself, Sam, Alex, and Mike all did this in October

>Alex stands up and dusts himself off with a palm and a sigh

>And then

>Alex says maybe the most intelligent thing you’ve heard him say in a good many years of close friendship

>”You’re a survivor, Jenna,” he towers over the vixen, glaring down at her, challenging her in a way. “I think I finally understand what Sam is trying to say now. The world is a shitty, unfair place, and there are some hurts that never go away. Sometimes they’re just… scars you carry on your body, or on your soul. And when you carry on, the scars…”

>Sam examines her carved up wrists again

>All the faded marks seemed etched into her skin with the heavy hand of abuse — God knows how she truly got half of them

>”T-T-They scab over, eventually,” Sam says. “M-Mine faded aft-after a few years. B-but the marks will n-never go away.”

>Jenna’s clover-green eyes light up with something as she internalizes something about herself

>It’s like swallowing a boulder

>Alex points to the smokey sky above, right as a bouquet of fireworks blossom in the night behind him

>Show’s started

>Your shadows are plastered against the surface of the roof — Alex’s against the maintenance hut

>”Mike isn’t up there, watching over us, Jenna!” he roars, voice straining over the concussive blasts of the professional show down the road. “He’s just not! And I’ve had to accept that, just like Anon has had to accept that. And he’s not at the bottom of this, either!” Alex points at the still-full beer bottle Jenna cradles against her chest, like a toddler holding a stuffed animal away from a bully

>Alex squats down low, to Jenna’s level, swaying with alcoholic grace, his blue eyes narrowing

>He jabs at Jenna’s chest fluff, just below her delicate collarbone

>The vixen gasps, but doesn’t recoil like you expect when a human pokes at her

>Instead, a drunken blush scours her face

>The fox looks at Alex, eye pleading, like he’s about to deliver the killing blow, say something in his drunken stupor that would give her the courage to jump

>But Alex has a rare moment of brilliance, when he says,

>“He’s in here, even if you don’t want him to be. So you either CHOOSE to keep on living, or you can take a dive off this roof, and join Mike in hell.”

>At that, you cock back your arm and whip your empty beer bottle into the night

>It shatters below, the shards of your collective rebellion against trauma now glittering below like a crust of diamonds, illuminated by another salvo of professional fireworks 

>Sam whips her crushed Dr. Bepper right after you, like two comets chasing one another through space, only to end up as craters

>You all turn to look at Jenna, as if waiting for her to do the same

>Frankly, you don’t know what to expect

>Jenna stares intensely at ‘Mike’ for a good few seconds, flinching ever so slightly as the sharp hiss of fireworks reaches her sensitive ears

>She brings the beer bottle close against her chest

>She whispers something you or Alex can’t hear to ‘Mike’

>But Sam certainly can. Her ears twitch ever-so-slightly

>The bunny wraps an arm around you and draws closer until you’re smashed together

“Sam?” you whisper to the rabbit, “What did Jenna say?”

>She brings her mouth near to your ears, and with a moment of hesitation, says in a whisper, “She s-s-said, ‘I’ll s-still be waiting for that fi-first dance you pro-promised.”

>’first dance you promised’

>Mike promised a dance with Jenna?

>Holy shit, what if it was for prom?

>…

>What the fuck, Mike?! You would have given him so much shit for falling for a vixen after how many times he’s explicitly told you that he ‘doesn’t want fangs around his dick’

>And now you’re pretty sure he was going to ditch you guys to go to the prom with a fox?!

>The fact that his short ass isn’t around for you to dunk on rots in your stomach like you swallowed castor oil

>Jenna’s never danced with anyone. She’s just not the type

>And Sam?

>You fucking know Sam has never danced with anyone before

>Jenna looks once more at ‘Mike’

>She looks at you all, green eyes blinking-wide with the pain of all the footprints she’s ever left

>And the fear she expects ahead

>Despite this fear

>With a gigantic heave of her chest

>Like shucking a weighted jacket

>Jenna brings her arm backwards, high behind her predatory skull…

>…she squeezes her eyes shut to the sound of fireworks bursting in the sky above…

>And she brings her arm forward

>Then 

>She releases her hold on ‘Mike’

>And

>In small measure

>She lets go

>Of what she once was

>As she watches the bottle turn

>End-over-end

>Full of light

>Sailing through a phosphorescent strobe

>To the dull roar

>Of a grand finale

>And the world to come

>The pop and hiss of fireworks drowns the brittle staccato of glass shattering below

>None of you say anything for a good few moments as your shadows grow and retract with the neon light

>Jenna stares, near-gawking the mess below

>”Come on,” Alex says, now standing. He extends his hand to the vixen

>Jenna’s green eyes flick to the offering, perhaps still shell-shocked by the lightness in her body

>Like she’s finally dropped a portion of the weight she’s carried since Mike’s untimely death

>”That was a start, comrade,” Alex says, “but there’s more work to be done.”

>She studies his offering for a moment longer

>And then, shaking out a cocktail of adrenaline and fear…

>…she clasps Alex’s hand, as he hauls her up and onto her feet

>Seeing Alex pull Jenna onto her feet…

>…watching the sheer, misplaced determination of your lanky commie friend…

>…the renewed strength reborn inside of Jenna?

>Even seeing her stumble a bit as she tries to stand?

>Still learning to walk again in her new skin?

>It makes you wonder what it would have been like for Mike and Jenna — a human who detests dancing, and an inexperienced fox — to really have that sought-after ‘first dance’

>Mike had two left feet, and Jenna doesn’t look graceful like most anthros

>Speaking of

>Your idea from earlier at last crystalizes in your mind

>You know what to do next, though you’ve never done this yourself

“Alright Sam, your turn,” you say as you stand

>And as you pull your weight upwards, you use your strength and Sam’s weight to sweep Sam her up, off the ledge…

>…and into your arms

>”A-A-A-A-A-A-Anon, w-wait!” she cries as you easily heft the undernourished rabbit into a princess carry

>Fireworks boom overhead, so you barely hear her

>A furious rush of crimson washes over the rabbit as she stares up into your face, draped in night’s shadows, which only relent as another salvo detonates a few blocks away

“Sam, we’ve been together for how long?” you say, smug as shit, carrying Sam away from the ledge in your arms

>The poor bun is too swept up (literally) in being princess-carried to give you the right answer

>”O-One year a-a-a-and o-o-one month?” she squeaks, not sure what to do with her hands

>You smirk

“Two months, but close enough, bunny. And can you fucking believe that you and I didn’t go to prom?”

>”I-I’m s-s-s-sss-sorry tha-that I d-d-didn’t want to g-g-”

>You cut off her scared stammer by planting Sam on her legs

>She teeters back a little, but swiftly regains her balance with grace

>The bunny stares up at you, practically hugging herself

>She must think you’re angry with her — a sudden change of color and heart brought on by envy, maybe

>But no

>Your intentions are far, far purer than the intentions of her father, or brother, or anyone that’s ever snapped at her like a crowbar against a windshield, or a belt whipped against your raw back

”I think it’s wrong that you and Jenna have never had a proper first dance. You’re both beautiful young women, and I may be a shitty boyfriend, but I’ll be fucking damned before I let my bunn go without a proper first dance.”

Sam squeaks, shaking out her mounting nerves. “I-I d-don’t know h-how to d-d-d-d-d-d-d-dance!”

”It’s easy, I think. Anyway, just… uhhh… take my hand and I’ll show you something I saw in a movie,” you say

>You extend your hand to Sam, just like Alex did to Jenna

>With trust

>With love

>With understanding

>And with her own trust, and the immeasurable well of her own love…

>…she places her small, trembling paw in your pale hand…

>…activating your trap card

>You take her hand and raise it up a bit — but not too much, so she’s comfortable

>Now YOU have to bend to plant your hand on Sam’s hip

>The bunny squeaks when she feels your hand on her boney flank

>You sway, gently, like a leaf on the wind, as you direct Sam to put her spare paw on your hip-

>CLAP

“Sam, that’s my ass,” you whisper, as Sam — still learning the art of dancing — blindly grabs a handful of your rear-end

>S-S-Sorry!” she gasps as she corrects herself

“Nice try bunny, but now I gotta get you back,” you smirk as you shuffle, no intention of grabbing some bunny buns

>The smell of sulfur and gunpowder is rich in the air

>”Okay Sam, now just follow my lead, alright? Nothing complicated.”

>She peers up at you, brimming with admiration and curiosity, her eyes practically glowing in the dark

>”O-Okay…” she says, apprehensive, a blush still bright on her cheeks

>The two of you dance alone beneath the fireworks

>Your bodies are no longer pale-white, or brown and covered in fur

>They’re red

>White

>Blue

>With long gaps of darkness in between

>Jenna and Alex, standing side-by-side, watching you and Sam sway to polyrhythmic symphony of explosives, a song only you and a special rabbit can hear

>Shadows fifty feet tall sway to a beat with no rhythm. Soon, Sam settles into the back and forth, your feet and legs mirroring one another

>You step forward, she steps back

>You step to the side, she foll-

>She stumbles a bit, but you stay rooted in place, holding the bunny aloft

>And then you’re back in rhythm

>And Sam?

>Pretty soon she nestles in close to you, no longer searching your calming features for the next moves, waiting for a changeup

>Now she’s buried in your chest, letting you guide her, the muscles in her legs and hips moving with unconscious grace

>Scenting your body, inhaling your presence

>Above you — and all over town — the intensity of the show(s) explodes

>No longer a coordinated assault of aerials, the good old boys at the Ranchview Fire District cut loose with the last volley of the night

>A final barrage sent to God, detonating in the clouds above before they can even sniff the smell of starlight

>The noise is overwhelming for Sam, her ears flexing and twitching with every explosion

“Sammmmmyyy…” you lean in, whispering gently. “The show’s almost over, kid. I think it’s time for your finale.”

>”My-My-My what?” Sam says, disengaging from your chest a few inches as the two of you continue to pace left, right, forward, and back

>Perfect

>The fool

>You have her right where you want her

“Spin rabbit, spin!” you say, then suddenly raising your arm high above Sam’s head, guiding her into a gentle pirouette, her inertia hardly enough to make her falter

>The little rabbit involuntarily twirls, her ears spinning with her

>And when you’re done

>As the fireworks boom overhead one last time

>Sam unwinds like a spool

>She goes stumbling back, away from you

>But you hold onto her, joined at the hands

>You tighten your grip

>And instead of crashing out into the gravel

>Sam’s on her feet, her chest heaving with exertion and sudden fright

>But she raises her free hand in the air

>Like yours

>Like two halves of the same whole

>Alex breaks the sobby, sappy shit by clapping

>Jenna joins in, a jealous blush scouring her face

>”Real beautiful guys, seriously, but we missed the fireworks,” he says

>You and Sam point your head to the sky, like chickens gawking at rain clouds

>Curtains of smoke mist through the air

>A light summer wind carries the smell of gunpowder to your nose

“I guess we did,” you say, vaguely sad. You look down at your girlfriend and sigh. “Sorry… I really wanted you to see your first fireworks show.”

>She swipes a few ropes of sweat-slickened hair out of her eyes

>”I-I-It’s o-okay. T-T-This w-w-was better,” she says

>Sam’s lips curl up into a smile. “And b-besides. T-T-There’s always n-next year f-for the show.”

>Jenna cuts in, her arms laden with bottle rockets

>”Why wait until next year when we have an entire bag full of unused bootleg fireworks?”

>And so

>Until the fireworks bag is spent

>Until the beers are all drunk and tossed over the ledge

>Until the food is all eaten

>The four of you shoot fireworks off into the night

>Each one named after something life took from you

>Watching them detonate into shards of glittering color

>Until the wounds that you said will never heal

>Scab over

>And the burdens that weighed you down

>Lighten

>And the people you lost

>Return to you that night

>In the gun smoke haze

>Of bottle rocket dreams

Art by DC

Happy Sam week!

Oliver Hart

Author of Foxing, Leaves of Fall, Liquid Courage, Beating the Heat, A Red Winter, Weber’s Gambit, and many other stories. He primarily writes hmofa, but dabbles in most genres. Interests include, writing, reading, technology, and music.

Stories: Foxing, The Leaves of Fall