Just Another Romance (A Gay Furry Story)(COMPLETED)

Fight, Flight From The Roost

The car ride home is silent.

When Ryan unlocks the door to the apartment, I walk in without a word, steaming with hate. I peel off my shoes and socks, and land on the couch with a resounding flop. Ryan closes the door behind him, and doesn't even make an attempt to interact with me; instead, he just hovers in the kitchen, reorganizing pots and pans and the like.

It doesn't matter.

I can't even think clearly anymore. The car ride home was more than enough time for my mind to work out what had happened.

The distant clanging of pots in the kitchen is the only thing that snaps me out of my spewing thoughts of hate.

Ryan drops something, and a loud clang echoes throughout the entire apartment. He lets out a string of curses, and the rest of his handful of pots and pans come tumbling down.

I glower, and mumble, "Just keep it down, okay?"

Ryan lowers his ears, obviously hurt. He throws the pot that he's holding in his hand onto the ground, and glares at me. "No one fucking asked for your opinion, right now, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, getting up from the couch. I slowly walk into the kitchen, and loom over Ryan's wavering figure. "Is what I say not even that important anymore?"

Ryan takes a deep breath, and lets it go. He pinches the bridge of his nose and says, "Pup, you know that's not exactly what I meant..."

"Then what do you mean, then?" I hiss, and the tone of the room goes dark. "I don't ask for much, Ryan. Hell, I can count on one hand how many times I actually ask for someone to do me a favor. So what does it mean when someone does the exact thing that I asked them not to do?"

Ryan starts quivering, and his eyes become glossy. "Pup..."

"I told you! I can't have a stiff do their magic on me, I can't take that kind of treatment!" I yell, my voice cracking. The guilt that's been building up in my throat now is at it's peak. "All I wanted was for you to not get someone to help me..."

"Mitchell... I-"

"No!" I slam my hand against the table, but it hurts me more than anything. I wipe my eyes, and I'm surprised to find tears staining my face.

Ryan stands up, and looks awkwardly at the hand resting on our table. He waits, waiting to see if I'll say anything, and speaks his mind. "I... I didn't know what else to do."

"No shit."

"I just... I tried, okay?" Ryan takes a step closer, and I involuntarily take a step back. "I thought I could fix you, okay?" He balls up his fists, and I'm worried that he's going to start breaking something. "I was naive enough to think that I could help, that I could do something and maybe help you move on. I thought I could actually help someone, instead of just letting them die like my brother. But everything that I do just shatters like a mirror, and... I can't fucking do this by myself anymore..."

"Ryan..." I shudder. His voice is low, and I can tell that he's on the verge of crying. "What... what do you mean?"

His laugh is hollow, like an empty skeleton. "You really seem to be asking that a lot," he says sourly, and turns his back. "I just... Mitchell. I've tried everything I can to help you, but I ... I don't feel like I'm good enough for you."