That Day, Part 4: Bad Days

Temptation can be a terrible thing.

Like when I'm sat in bed Monday morning, staring at the screen of my laptop. An idea has come to me and trying my best to forget about it.

I'm wondering if I should try searching the internet for details about Harvey.

I mean, I could probably find something about him, right? You can probably find out something about anyone online if you look hard enough. Maybe he's on some social media web sites and I can find a profile and discover some of his interests. Or maybe there's some public records about his time as a police officer, commendations and accomplishments, that sort of thing. Perhaps even something that might tell me why he's no longer a cop.

And yet, I can't help feeling like that might be prying, invading Harvey's privacy. And I don't want to risk offending my new friend. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't do that to me, after all. 

It takes a little effort, but I manage to resist the temptation. I can be patient and wait for Harvey to be ready to tell me more about himself.

Instead, I start researching good restaurants, for when I get out of hospital and take him out to dinner. I come up with a lot of good places, but can't really settle on anything until I know a little more about the bear, his taste in food. I'll have to remember to ask him.

I close up my laptop and put it away and then lie back in bed, thinking. I want to do something more than just a dinner date. A gift maybe? But again, knowing as little as I do about Harvey, it's tough to come up with any solid ideas.

As infuriating as my lack of knowledge about the bear is, I find I'm not able to think anything but good warm thoughts about Harvey. It's just so comforting to have a wonderful friend like him, even though I'm certain it'll never be anything more than friendship, I can live with that. At least, I think I can...

“Ollie! How are you doing?”

I'm shocked out of my thoughts by the voice. It's presence here just seems so out of place, it takes me a second to place it.

I glance to the open door of my room, seeing Felix standing there, smiling at me. Just behind him is Jenny, her tail wagging behind her.

I'm a little stunned to see them there, to be honest, even though I knew visitors from work were a possibility today. It takes me a second to respond. “I... I'm fine. Not too bad, all things considered.”

The two foxes come over to stand by my bed, Felix giving me a reassuring smile, while Jenny looks concerned. It feels a little weird that I can hardly pick up anything of their scents, in particular Felix's always stronger than usual vulpine musk, which is barely registering in my nostrils.

I glance at the time. They must have decided to come by and visit me in their lunch break.

“Yeah, you're not looking too bad, Ollie.” Felix says. He hands me an envelope. “Everyone at the office sends their regards.”

I open it to find a large and colourful 'Get Well Soon' card inside, which everyone from work has signed. I give them both a smile. “Thanks. And thanks for coming to visit.”

“It was no trouble, Oliver.” Jenny takes my paw.

“Yeah, no trouble at all.” Felix adds. I keep noticing the way he keeps glancing at Jenny and suddenly I wonder if he only came because she did. I wouldn't put it past the male fox to do it simply to spend a bit of time with her, to be able to try yet again to get her interested. Maybe its his plan to show her his caring side by visiting the hospitalised co-worker.

I sigh inwardly. Nice to know my horrific attack and life-threatening injury might at least aid Felix's sex life...

“So what happened, Oliver?” Jenny asks, ignoring Felix completely.

OK, here's the thing about having something nasty like a vicious attack happen to you. Everyone who hears about it asks you what happened. It's the first question that naturally comes to mind. But as understandable as that is, every time it's asked, you then have to tell the story yet again, relive the whole horrible experience another time. For everyone who asks. I had to do it when catching up with my friends online. I now it seems I must do it with my co-workers. I vaguely ponder exactly how many times I'll end up having to tell the damn story.

But I go ahead and tell it again for Felix and Jenny. Well, I tell a slightly abbreviated version with some of the key details edited.

I tell them I was out for a drink, but avoid mentioning where. I tell them how I was followed by four guys who attacked me, but I leave out exactly why and don't mention what they said to me, giving them the impression it was a random attack rather than a homophobic one. I tell them how I was saved by a passer-by, but don't tell them many details about Harvey, like how he's as gay as I am.

“A mysterious saviour, eh?” Jenny chuckles as I finish my story. “Is he cute?” I notice the brief frown that crosses Felix's face.

I'm not sure how to respond to Jenny's question, though. Personally, yeah, I find Harvey quite attractive, but I can't really say that, can I?

“Umm...” I stammer. “I... I'm probably not the one to ask...”

Jenny laughs at that and I silently congratulate myself on managing not to give myself away. But then I go and do something stupid.

“He's a nice guy, though.” I say, trying to make conversation. “He's stopped by a few times to check in on me, make sure I'm okay. He even got me a card.” I wave a paw at Harvey's card on my night stand.

“Oh, that's so sweet!” Jenny says.

“Yeah, that's cool.” Felix agrees. He steps over and picks up the card , looking at it more closely. He  looks inside. And then an odd look appears on his face.

I'm puzzled by it for a moment before the icy realisation hits me...

Oh shit!

I remember Harvey's message in the card. Where he mentions how he's looking forward to a date with me. And Felix just read it!

I watch as the fox slowly puts the card down. He looks at me strangely. I try to nonchalantly avoid his gaze, doing my very best to keep my expression nicely neutral, with a friendly smile on my muzzle.

But inwardly, I'm panicking. Felix now suspects I'm gay and its only a matter of time until he puts it together with how private I am, how I never talk about a girlfriend. Then he'll know for certain! And how long after that before he blabs to the rest of the office? By the time I go back to work,everyone will probably know, and I'll be the butt of everyone's jokes, everyone laughing at the fucking queer. And Frank... fucking hell, Frank will make my life at work a living hell, I just know he will!

And it's all my own damn fucking fault! I just had to be a fucking idiot and draw attention to the card, didn't I? How could I be such a moron? Why didn't I put the card away?

I know the answer to that last one. It's because I like looking at it, seeing it there was so comforting. But now, its possibly wrecked a part of my life.

My stomach is tying itself in knots. I feel like I just want to go crawl under a rock somewhere. I'm hardly listening to Jenny as she's relating the gossip from the office, telling me how everyone was so concerned about me when they heard this morning.

As much as I appreciated them visiting when they got here, right now, I just want them to go, to leave me alone. There's a cold horrible tension building in me now.

At the first break in Jenny's talking, I interject. “Hey, time's getting on, I wouldn't want to be responsible for you guys being late back to work.”

She glances at her wristwatch. “I suppose you're right, Oliver. We should be getting back.”

“Yeah, we should.” Felix agrees. His voice is strangely flat. I finally dare to look at him. He's looking at me oddly, with a sort of thoughtful expression.

Oh God, he's starting to put it together. He knows!

Jenny leans in and kisses me on cheek. “You get well soon, Oliver.”

Felix simply nods at me. “Yeah. Take it easy, Oliver.”

And then they depart, leaving me alone with my ever more panic-stricken thoughts. What the fuck am I going to do now?

I spend the better part of an hour driving myself to distraction, my mind going round and round in circles, in an endless cycle of fear, panic and self-recrimination. As far as I can see, it's now only a matter of time until my secret is out at the office and my working life becomes intolerable. And it's all my own damn fault for not being careful enough! What a damn idiotic moron I am!

I badly want to talk to someone, to let this all out to someone who might understand. Unfortunately, the only one I can think of is Harvey, but its Monday afternoon, and I wouldn't want to bother him at work. He'll be visiting me later, I'll just have to be patient until then.

At least, I think he is, he didn't say specifically, but he has been visiting me every day so far. With my thoughts all over the place I'm suddenly a little paranoid. Will he be back tonight?

I decide to check. Or rather, I feel the sudden desperate need to check, for my own peace of mind. I grab my phone and send him a quick text: Hey, hero, you paying me a visit later today?

I'm surprised at how quickly the reply comes, as a few minutes later my phone beeps and I read the reply from the bear: Of course, buddy! Looking forward to it!

That allows me to relax, not completely, but a little. I'll talk to Harvey about this mess when he gets here. I'm confident he'll be able to comfort me and help me feel better and offer some good advice on how to proceed.

But his visit is still some way off and I've got to deal with my thoughts and worries by myself until then, which is not an easy task.

No matter how much I tell myself there's nothing I can do about it now, I can't seem to stop kicking myself for not putting the card away when I had the chance. I knew some co-workers might stop by today, but still was stupid enough to leave it there for anyone to see!

And I just can't stop myself imagining again and again how things will be at the office with everyone knowing I'm gay, how awkward and uncomfortable it will be, how everyone will suddenly be treating me differently, and how Frank will treat me like dirt.

In fact, I manage to convince myself that I'll end up having to look for a new job. I even pull out my laptop and start looking online for new job possibilities. And then get slightly depressed when I'm not able to find anything even remotely worthwhile.

All in all, it ended up being one hell of a bad afternoon for me, filled with worry and stress. By the time evening rolls around, I'm feeling seriously on edge, like my whole life is about to come tumbling down around me.

I took to pacing up and down the room. My thinking is that it's probably a good idea to spend more and more time out of bed if I'm going to be going home in a few days. But it really didn't seem to do me any good at all, I just became more and more anxious with every step.

It's as I'm pacing that the door to my room opens and someone arrives to visit me. Sadly though, it is not Harvey.

It's a tall and heavyset bulldog a tight fitting business suit, someone I really didn't expect to see. My manager, Frank.

As soon as I lay eyes on him my blood runs cold. Oh God, has Felix told everyone already? Has Frank come to get a start on making my life miserable?

But he's smiling at me warmly. “Hey, Oliver!” He barks, a friendly hint to his voice.

“Frank?” I manage to stammer. “I... I really wasn't expecting you...”

He laughs at that. “One of my best workers gets stabbed and put in the hospital? Of course I'm going to stop by to check in on him!”

I return to my bed and sit down. Frank saunters over and gives me a hearty slap on the back.

“So, how are you doing?” He asks. “Bastards didn't get you too badly, I hope?”

It's hard to put into words just how uncomfortable it is him being there after the day I've been having since Jenny and Felix's visit earlier. But I have to put the effort into not letting it show, into putting on the necessary act for the bulldog.

So I shrug. “A stab wound, a broken arm, a swollen muzzle and screwed up sense of smell. I'll live.”

“Hah!” He chuckles. “That's the spirit! You'll be all healed up and back at work in no time! The office won't be the same until you're back!”

“Thanks.” I reply. I know the chances of Frank actually being concerned about me are small. As I know him, it seems far more likely he's concerned in how a drop in productivity due to a missing clerk will reflect on him and his department.

“So have the doctors around here given you an idea as to when you'll be fully back on your feet?” Frank asks.

“Well, they're hoping to discharge me on Wednesday and then...”

“Hello?”

We both turn to toward the door. Another visitor has arrived. And this time, it is Harvey.

The bear is stood in the doorway, looking a little uncertain. I glance from him to Frank and back again, a pang of fear stabbing at me. Oh God, if Harvey accidentally lets slip something in front of Frank... this could go very badly...

But what can I do? I can hardly send Harvey away, not without offending my new friend and leading to awkward questions from Frank.

“Harvey! Hi there!” I say, motioning him into the room. “This is Frank, my manager from work. He dropped by unexpectedly to see how I was doing.”

I notice how Harvey's eyes momentarily register surprise as I mention the name. I hope that means he remembers me talking to him about the bulldog before, me mentioning his homophobic nature and how I don't want to stand up to him. I hope Harvey has the good sense to not say anything that will make things difficult for me with Frank.

I am so on edge as Harvey walks over to Frank. He puts on a friendly smile and offers a paw. “Hi! I'm Harvey.”

Frank takes his paw and shakes it. “Hi. You a friend of Oliver's?”

He laughs in response.”Yeah, but only for the past few days!”

Frank looks at me for an explanation, which I give him. “Harvey here is the guy who interrupted the attack Friday night. He fought off the four guys who were trying to kill me and saved my life.”

The bulldog looks impressed. “That's great! Kicked their asses did you?”

“I did my best.” Harvey says, modestly.

“Hey, fighting off four guys and saving someone's life... that's something to be proud of, Harvey.” Frank says, genuine appreciation in his tone.

“I suppose it is, yeah.” Harvey smiles.

The conversation continues on for a little bit after that. It's all very friendly and jovial. Frank asks Harvey what he does for a living, and he tells him abut his job as a mechanic. Harvey asks Frank about himself, his interests, and the bulldog talks about how he likes to play golf on the weekends.

I almost start to relax, despite how weird this all feels. These guys essentially represent two very different parts of my life that I would ordinarily do my very best to keep completely separate from each other. And here they are talking. I can't shake the feeling that it could all go wrong any minute.

And then, almost inevitably, it does...

Frank asks about the attack, and more specifically, where it happened. Harvey tells him, because I don't have any way to communicate to him to make something up, not tell him where it actually happened. Because that's a clue that might give something away...

And it seems like it might have. The bulldog looks thoughtful. And then he says. “A lot of queer bars in that part of town, isn't there?”

There's now a dark look on Harvey's face. My nerves feel like they've been shredded as I look back and forth between the bulldog and the bear, scared of what Frank might be thinking and scared of what Harvey might be about to say...

Please Harvey, for the love of God, don't say anything!

Of course, Harvey can't read my mind, can't hear that thought, so I try to say something before he can.

“I don't really know, Frank.” I say, hoping that'll end this line of conversation. But I'm nowhere near that lucky.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure...” Frank is nodding. He then hits on a thought. “Hey! Maybe those guys who attacked you were queers?”

A little part of me is glad he didn't go for the question of why I was out for a drink in a part of town known for it's gay bars. But this is hardly much better...

“Really?” Harvey is surprised. “I don't think so...”

“Yeah, it makes sense!” Frank seems to have really grabbed on to his idea now and is unwilling to let it go. “It would take four of those queers to beat up a real guy, right?”

He's looking at me when he says it, so Frank doesn't see what I see. The looks of horror, disgust and anger that cross Harvey's face in the space of a few seconds. I am now petrified he's about to voice exactly how he feels about Frank's attitudes and make things very difficult.

Again, I beat him to responding to the bulldog. “Frank, it really doesn't matter...”

“Sure it does!” Frank rumbles. “Who knows what a bunch of faggots might have done to you if they hadn't been stopped? Harvey here probably saved your ass in more ways than one!”

I'm not sure there is anything worse Frank could have possibly said at that moment. Harvey is now wide-eyed  with shock and looks more than a little upset. I desperately hope he manages to keep his cool and not say anything.

Frank notices the bear's expression, but seems to completely misinterpret it. “I know, its a horrible thought. But you can't put anything past faggots like that!”

Harvey's expression darkens considerably, and I know him well enough to see the anger brewing behind his eyes. This is going to go very badly very quickly...”

“Excuse me, guys.” Frank says, suddenly stepping toward the door. “I gotta use the bathroom. Back in a minute...” And with that, he's gone.

I need to use this chance alone with Harvey to plead with him not to start anything, but before I can say a word, he's rounded on me, the anger building in him now apparently channelled in my direction.

“Really, Oliver?” He growls. “You're really just going to sit there and listen to that shit from him?”

I feel myself wither slightly under his disdain. Harvey being so upset at me just feels so horrible in so many ways. “Please, Harvey...”

“You need to stand up to him!” He doesn't seem to be listening to me, still ranting at me. “You need to challenge him on his bullshit!”

“Harvey, couldn't you just...?” I'm trying to get through to him, I want him to understand that I've had a bad stressful day and this really isn't the time...

But he's not listening. “You can do it, Oliver! I'll be right here to support you, you can...”

And then I'm ashamed to say that I snapped. All the stress, the tension, the fear, the worry that had been building up in my throughout the day, I just couldn't hold it back anymore and it exploded out of me, mixed with a good dose of anger and upset of my own.

“For fuck's sake, Harvey, could you just stop!” I snarl, far more viciously than I wanted.

That finally gets him to stop and listen. He's looking rather taken aback at my outburst, his ears twitching. “Oliver, I...”

But the damn holding back my emotions has well and truly burst now and it's not all out of me just yet. “I told you I don't have it in me to stand up to Frank!”

“You can...” He tries to say, but I cut him off.

“No, I can't!” I'm almost yelling at him now, the full force of my anger leaking into my voice and stance, and I'm so caught up in the moment, I don't care. “Just because you saved my life, it doesn't mean you have the right to tell me how to live it!”

There's a moment of silence, out eyes locked on each other, both of us seething with emotion.

He looks away first, taking a step away from me and looking down. “You're right.” He says. His voice is flat, emotionless.

“I know I'm fucking right...” I grumble. I can't keep my anger from tainting my words as I speak.

“But I can't stay in the same room as that bastard a minute longer.” He shoots back at me. “So, I'm going to go. Goodnight, Oliver.”

He turns to go, only briefly looking at me. The intense look of disappointment in his eyes, the mask of sadness and upset on his features, it hits me hard, stinging me badly.

A part of me wants to stop him, to apologise, to plead with him not to go. But the rest of me is still seething, still wrought with the stress of the day. And in the end, I say nothing as he leaves, his shoulders sagging.

Once he's gone and I'm alone, the emotions start to fade. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, bringing myself under control again.

And then the full force of what just happened with Harvey hits me. Oh God, what the fuck have I just done? Did I really just explode at him and drive him away? How could I...

“Where's your friend?”

I open my eyes to find that Frank has returned. Immediately, my instincts kick in and I'm back to doing my best not to let him in on too much.

“Uhh... he had to go, he had stuff he needed to do.” I explain.

Frank nods, accepting this. “Yeah, he probably had the right idea. Time's getting on, I should get going myself.”

I nod silently. I really want him gone. I really wish he hadn't shown up at all...

He gives me a pat on the shoulder. “So, give me a call at the office when you find out more from the doctors.” He says. “So we can figure out when you might be able to come back to work.”

“Sure.” I reply. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem, Oliver.” He grins as he leaves. “See ya!”

And then he's finally gone and I'm alone. Very, very alone.

I lie down, curling up in bed, feeling depressed and dejected, an intensely cold loneliness creeping over me. Before long, I'm sobbing quietly, unable to stop myself.

I'm managed to screw everything up so completely today. Accidentally giving myself away to Felix, which will likely ruin things for me at work. I let my worries build up inside me all day to the point where I exploded at Harvey, the wonderful guy who has been so good to me, making him upset at me and driving him away. I wouldn't be surprised if I never see him again.

I look at my phone on the night stand. I'm tempted to call him, ask him to come back. But what if he said no? What if he's decided I'm not worth the effort being my friend? What if he's realised I'm weak after all now he's see how I am with Frank first hand? Finding out any of that tonight would be more than I could handle, with how terrible I'm already feeling. I've no idea what it would do to me.

So I lay there, crying at what a stupid screw up I truly am, making myself feel more and more worthless. I'm so alone... I so desperately want to talk to someone, want someone to hug me and tell me everything is going to be alright. But there's no one...

I've had a very bad day, most of my life seems to have gone wrong and I'm feeling so lonely and upset. With that in mind, perhaps what I did next is understandable and forgiveable, even though it is a huge mistake.

I reach out and pick up my phone. I scroll through my contacts, find a particular number, and dial it.

It rings several times before it's answered. And then I'm hearing a voice I haven't heard in more than a year. “Oliver! It's been too long! How are you?”

I take a deep breath and reply. “Hi, Justin. And I'm not doing too well. Actually, I'm in hospital...”

* * * * * * * * *

I'm not doing too well on Tuesday morning.

That's actually something of an understatement. I woke up feeling like shit. I didn't sleep at all well, thanks to the knowledge of how I'd screwed things up with Oliver the day before preying on my mind, guilt and shame keeping me awake.

What a fucking idiot I was! I told myself not to be pushy with the badger in helping him, and yet that's exactly what I went and did! Pushing him until he exploded at me with an anger I didn't think he had in him. God damn, it had been so shocking, it had stung so much, to see Oliver directing so much anger at me. It really hurt, but I feel like I deserved it...

I try to tell myself that it was that Frank's fault, his homophobic crap wound me up much more than I thought it would. But that's just me making excuses. I should have kept myself under control for Oliver's sake, I should have supported him rather than pushing him until he snapped at me.

It had been so tempting to go back to see him again later, after I could be certain Frank had gone, so I could apologise. But in the end, I didn't want to face him again so soon, there'd be too much of a risk of him still being angry at me, and I didn't think I could stand seeing him upset with me again so soon. So, I simply stayed at home, feeling more and more depressed by my screw up.

So, Tuesday morning comes and I haul myself out of bed, tired and miserable. I don't even have work this morning to keep me busy and distract me from my thoughts. I told Chuck about how I'd need to pay a visit to the police station today, and he gave me the morning off to deal with it.

After getting out of bed, I lounge around my apartment for a while feeling sorry for myself, trying to put off the trip to the station for as long as possible. I can't stop replaying the events of my visit to Oliver over and over in my head, continually cursing myself for making such a mess of it, digging myself deeper and deeper into depression.

It takes a supreme effort of will to stop myself. It's doing no one any good whatsoever. I screwed up, that's all there is to it, I'll have to deal with it and fix it. I'll visit him tonight as usual and apologise profusely and I can only hope he forgives me. Until then, I need to put it aside and get on with the day.

I shower and get dressed in some smart clothing. I make myself breakfast, even though I'm not all that hungry. I spend another hour or so after that sitting on my couch losing myself in crummy daytime TV shows.

Yes, I'm just wasting time. I'm am seriously not looking forward to what I have to do...

But eventually, I can put it off no longer. I grab my keys and my phone and leave for the police station. Before long, I'm stood outside the building that used to be such a big part of my life.

I stare up at it for a few minutes, taking deep breaths. I haven't been back here in four years. After what happened, I hoped I never would have to be here again. I used to love being a cop, I loved this place. Now, I look at it as a source of shame, the place of my disgrace, where things fell apart for me so completely.

I head inside and am immediately struck by the smell, the familiar mix of scents that my brain associates with my old life here. The scents of a wide variety of species, with an undercurrent of sweat, paper and metal, as well as the slight antiseptic tang of the scent neutralisers that most public buildings pump into the air use to try and create a more pleasant smelling environment, particularly for the benefit of those species with a stronger sense of smell. The neutralisers rarely work very well though, as for budgetary reasons, they have to be bought cheap, and the cheap stuff is never powerful enough.

The smell sparks off all sorts of old memories of this place which I force from my mind straight away. I need to remain focused. Do what I need to do and then get out.

I am thankful that at least the desk sergeant on duty isn't anyone I know. I'm hoping to run into as few people I know here as possible. I slowly walk across the smooth floor to the desk, past the rows of uncomfortable looking plastic chairs.

He looks up at me as I approach. He's a young and stout-looking boar. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yeah.” I say, doing my very best to keep my nerves under control. “I'm Harvey Kemp. I'm here to see Officer Philips about signing some paperwork.”

He nods. “Take a seat, sir.” He says, as he reaches for the phone on his desk. “I'll let him know you're here.”

I sit down on one of the plastic seats, which are just as uncomfortable as they look, and settle in to  wait. As I do, I glance about the waiting area. It's exactly as I remember it, the feeling of familiarity is overwhelming.

Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice. One of the many I'd really wished I wouldn't be hearing today. “Hey, Nichols, and word on...?”

I look up as the voice trails off. And there he is, stood just behind the desk sergeant, who has turned towards him. He's looking at me.

Officer John Donovan, a tall lanky panther. He and I have known each other since the police academy, we graduated together, were rookies together and were good friends. Until everything went to hell and he chose to believe the worst of me and I realised that perhaps we hadn't been as good friends as I thought.

His initial shock at seeing me wears off quickly, his eyes narrowing as he doesn't look away from me for a second. “Nichols, what the hell is he doing here?”

The boar at the desk glances at me, looking confused at the sharp tone in Donovan's voice. “He's here for Philips, something about being a witness... something wrong?”

“Huh.” The panther replies, eyes still locked on mine. “I... I'll tell you later.” He shoots me a look before resuming his conversation with the boar.

I remember that look he gave me. It was the exact same look of hate and disgust he gave me the last time he saw me years back. It drags up an array of unpleasant memories. I look down at the floor, old feelings of shame washing over me.

My eyes remain fixed on the floor as I wait. It seems the best way to avoid seeing anyone else until Philips gets here. I focus all my attention on the floor, doing my best to keep all thoughts and memories out of my head.

“Mr. Kemp?”

I look up at my name to find Philips standing beside me. “You OK?” He asks.

“I will be.” I tell him. “Once I'm done and out of here.”

The husky police officer nods his understanding. “Come on, follow me.”

I get up and follow him. He leads the way past the front desk into the station beyond. My anxiousness rises and I my eyes are scanning all around, on the look out for familiar faces.

However, I neglect to look behind me, and so am taken very much surprise when a voice bellows. “What the fuck is that God-damned son-of-a-bitch doing in this station?”

I can't help but wince. Of all the voices I could have heard then and there, that was the one I least wanted to hear. Eddie Dixon.

Turning slowly, I see the big burly wolf standing in a doorway a short way down the corridor behind, a sneer on his muzzle, his brownish-grey fur bristling. He must have noticed me passing.

His eyes meet mine and there's an noticeable increase in tension in the air. This is him, the one more  responsible than anyone else for the downfall of my police career. I can see the thin faded scars across his muzzle and face, as well the three small nicks missing from his right ear. I gave him those scars. I'm the one who did that to his ear.

It fills me with a combination of shame and pride. Pride, because the fucker deserved it for what he did, and shame because it's a reminder of how he got the best of me, of how I allowed him to ruin my career and my life.

Although I'm filled with so much conflicted emotion at seeing him, I manage to maintain enough of my wits about me to to keep my muzzle firmly shut. There is nothing I can say that will make this situation any better, but there is plenty I can say that could make it a hell of a lot worse.

Philips intercedes, stepping between me and Dixon. “He's with me, Captain.”

Captain? I look again and see what I hadn't noticed before, being more preoccupied with his face. The insignia on his uniform. Holy shit, the bastard actually made Captain...

“Well then, Philips.” Dixon snarls. “Perhaps you can tell me why this shit-stain of a bear is here with you?”

“He's a witness on one of my cases, sir.” The husky officer explains. He keeps his voice even and professional. “He's just here so I can finish off the paperwork.”

Dixon is still obviously extremely unhappy about me being there, but settles slightly. “Then get it done, Philips.” He says, a harsh edge of bitter hate to his words. “And then get that bastard out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.” Philips replies, simply.

The wolf shoots me one last hate-filled venomous look before turning away. As he turns, I'm hit by a flash of memory...

Dixon is turning away from me, laughing his nasty laugh, the one he's been taunting me with for months.

“Well, you had it coming, cocksucker!” He's chuckling. “The nerve of a faggot like you, joining the force...”

In my paw is the official letter of reprimand for what happened, yet another dent in what had once been a spotless record. And it's because of that fucking wolf. It's all because of that fucking wolf. He's been tormenting me for so long, doing so much to wreck my life without me being able to do a damn thing about it.

And now he's laughing at me.

The anger, the frustration, the loneliness, it comes bubbling to the surface. My paws clench into fists, crushing the letter.

I know I shouldn't do it, I should calm down, not give in to the emotions. I know I'll regret it, that if I do this, it could end my career. But after everything, I just don't care anymore.

I launch myself at the wolf, roaring wildly, claws out...

“Mr. Kemp?”

Philips speaking my name snaps me back to the here and now. He's looking at me with concern.

“I'm OK.” I assure him. I notice Dixon has gone.

“This way.” He says, leading me once again along the corridor.

“How long has Dixon been a captain?” I ask as we walk.

“A few months.” The husky officer replies.

“Huh.” I mutter. “Talk about failing upwards.”

Philips chuckles slightly. “Tell me about it. The guy's a worthless asshole.”

“Some things never change then.” I say, shaking my head. It's bad enough he wrecked my career as a cop. The fact that his own career seems to be going so well is just adding insult to injury. Grief at the loss of my police career hits me for the first time in a good long while.

Philips leads me to a doorway through which is a small cramped office obviously shared by several officers. There are six desks squeezed in here, about three more than could comfortably fit in the room. Each desk has its own computer and various piles of paperwork. There are several noticeboards on the walls, to which are pinned a variety of posters, mug shots, reminders and schedules.

I've never been in this room before, but it is so similar to the office I used to work in elsewhere in this building that it's just plain uncanny. It feels so damn familiar. And once again, that pang of grief hits me again as I realise how much I miss my old office.

There's only one other officer in the room at that time. A stag who I recognise, but for the life of me, I can't remember his name. He's not someone I ever really knew. He recognises me as well, and I get another look of disdain thrown at me. I do my best to ignore it.

I'm led to a desk in the corner and Philips sits down at it, motioning for me to take a seat in the empty chair to the left of him. I sit down. At least this office is relatively private. Less chance of accidentally seeing people I know.

Philips gives me an odd look. “Okay,” he says, “I know it's really none of my business, but I really want to ask. Dixon's scars... the stories I've heard...”

What the hell, might as well be honest. “Yeah, that was me. But he managed to scar me as well.” I wave a paw at the small piece missing from my left ear and to the small scar on my muzzle.

He looks at my scars with interest. “So, it's true that you were kicked off the force for assaulting a fellow officer?”

Shame burns in me, but I can't deny the truth. “Yeah.”

“And the charges of gross indecency?”

That's new to me. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

He shrugs. “It's one of the stories I've heard. I knew they couldn't all be true.”

I think I know where that might have come from. I had always guessed Dixon must have made up all kinds of lies and rumours about me once I was gone. But this is the fist time getting actual confirmation.

“No.” I tell him. “I beat the crap out of Dixon, that's it.” I realise how bad that sounds, and try to defend myself a little. “But its a lot more complicated than that... it's kind of a long story.”

“Yeah, I imagine it would be.” He nods. “But I've pried into your life enough. Let's get you done and out of here.”

He pulls a folder from a pile on his desk and opens it and we get to work. He goes over everything with me, makes me read through my statement again. Once he's sure everything is correct and in place, I sign what I need to sign to confirm it's all true.

And then he's leading me back out of the building, and I'm feeling relieved that this whole damn experience is very nearly over.

Nearly, but not quite. It seems word got around quickly that I was back in the building. On my way out, I'm treated to a lot of familiar faces passing me in the corridor, no doubt turning up in that part of the station simply to get a glimpse at me.

Many of them are simply familiar, officers I never really knew. But there are a few former friends. Don Jackson, the hyena who's life I saved once. Jonathan Cruz, the stallion I helped and advised when he was having trouble handling his first few months on the force. And my former partner, the German shepherd Tony Briscoll, we've watched each others backs so many times, shared so many beers.

Whether I know them or not, I don't say a word to any of them. I just slink past them, eager to get the hell out of there. But I notice their looks, feel the hate, the disdain, the disgust that is directed at me. It all bores into me, stinging me to the core.

When we reach the front desk, Philips says goodbye and that he'll be in touch if they need anything more from me. I don't hang around, exiting the building as fast as I can without running.

Once back outside, I waste no time heading back to my car. As good as it feels for that to be over, my nerves are shot, I need to put more distance between myself and the station. I can no longer stand being so close to the place.

The whole experience has served to dredge up a slew of extremely unpleasant memories and feelings that I had managed to keep buried for a long time. The familiarity of the place, the faces I knew, it was all a reminder of a world, a life, that I'm no longer a part of, that is lost to me forever. And it's a life I miss, a life I've never really completely let go of...

I make it back to my car and sit behind the wheel for a few minutes, unsure what to do next. I've still got plenty of time before I need to head into work.

I'm feeling horrible. I've not felt this low in years, my emotions all so raw and strung out. And it all coming right on the heels of what happened with Oliver...

And then it hits me. Oliver. That's what I'll do. I'll drop by the hospital, pay him a surprise visit. I'll apologise and patch things up with him. That will help me feel a bit better, I just know it will.

Twenty minutes later, I'm walking into the hospital. As I make my way towards Oliver's room, I start figuring out exactly what to say to him, composing my apology in my head. I even start to think that maybe now is the time to tell Oliver the story of why I'm not a cop any more. Perhaps talking about it, getting it out, will help me feel better about it.

I turn into the corridor outside the badger's room and notice that his door is open. As I get nearer, I can hear talking and laughing coming from within. I hesitate, stopping in my tracks, pricking up my ears...

“I'm so glad you're here, Justin.” I hear Oliver saying. “But you really didn't need to take a day off work for me...”

“Hey, my favourite badger is in hospital after a horrible experience.” A new voice says. It sounds smooth and silky. “Of course I'm going to be here for him and give him plenty of hugs. In fact, come here you...”

“You've given me enough hugs already, Justin.” I hear Oliver protest, but its not serious, there's a chuckle in his voice.

“Oh, my dear Oliver!” The other voice laughs. “There's no such thing has enough hugs!”

Curiosity gets the better of me and and lean carefully around the door, glancing inside. Oliver is in bed, but sat beside him, hugging him warmly and lovingly, is a fox, his red fur glossy and immaculate. The badger's eyes are closed as they embrace. He's smiling and  looks content.

I pull back from the door. Suddenly, I can't bring myself to go in. Oliver looks happy. I don't want to go inflicting my pain, my bad mood on him, just so I can try to make myself feel better.

Plus, I recognised the fox. I saw his photo in Oliver's apartment. This Justin is obviously an ex-boyfriend who's come to visit. Someone the badger is happy to see. And then there's a new feeling added to the already volatile mix raging within me. A lumpy, painful, stinging feeling that I can only identify as jealousy. I'm jealous of that fox, hugging Oliver and making him happy.

I slowly walk away. I already upset Oliver enough the day before, there's no way I'm going to go in there and upset him further by interrupting things between him and this Justin. Even if it hurts me. And it does. A lot.

I drag myself back to my car. I drive back to my apartment, miserable and dejected. As soon as I get home, I fling myself onto my couch and bury my face in my paws, determined not to cry, not to let my wild emotions get the better of me.

This day... its so quickly become one of the worst of my life. I'm tired, I'm lonely, I'm depressed. I'm once again grieving for the loss of my life as a police officer. I managed to upset Oliver so much I drove him back to his ex.

I try to tell myself that maybe that's best for Oliver. This Justin probably knows the badger a hell of a lot better than I do, he can likely do much better job of comforting him and being there for him than I ever could. Maybe Oliver is just better off with him.

Even if that were true, and I really don't know whether or not it is, it doesn't help me feel any better. I so badly want to be the one comforting Oliver and being there for him. But I'm no good for that right now. Maybe I never truly will be...

The day doesn't get any better as it goes on. I stay there on the couch, thoughts and feelings swirling round and round in my head, refusing to die down, up until the time when I eventually I have to get changed and get to the garage to go to work.

But work just adds more frustration. The events of the morning are so distracting, I'm constantly making mistakes, grabbing the wrong tool, removing the wrong part, picking up the wrong paperwork. And each mistake makes me feel worse, which in turn just leads to me making more mistakes.

After grabbing the wrong size spanner for the fifth time in an hour, I snap. I fling it against the wall with a roar of frustration and kick the tool box, spilling tools across the floor.

“Fuck it!” I snarl, grimacing at the stinging pain in my toes. Kicking a heavy metal tool box is never a good idea. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” My paws are clenched into fists. I feel like punching something...

“Harvey!”

I jump at the voice. Chuck is behind me. The old cougar is glaring at me, a harsh and stern look in his eyes. He is very much not happy.

“Harvey, I think you should go home now.” He says, firmly.

This takes me by surprise. “What?”

“I've been watching you and you're far too angry and upset right now.” He states, almost daring me to deny it. “When you're working with tools and machinery, that can lead to serious injury. You just hurt your foot, and I will not give you the opportunity to hurt yourself any further!”

“Chuck, I...”

“And don't you dare argue with me!” He stabs a finger at me. “You know I'm right. So, go home, cool off, deal with whatever the hell has got into you. I'll handle your workload here.”

The thing is, he's right, I am in no fit state to work. But that really doesn't help me in the slightest. In fact, it simply adds to my hurt feelings, another screw up to add to the list, another sign of how much of a sorry state my life is in, of how bad a day this is...

I head home, ever more frustrated and angry with myself with every passing second. And then I do something that I really shouldn't. I stop off at a liquor store on the way home and buy a case of beer.

In my defence, I wasn't really thinking, and least not with any degree of good judgement. And I feel like I need the beer. After the day I've had, I need a drink, certainly, but its more than that. I'm hurting so much and I want it to stop, but I have no one I feel like I can turn to, no one to talk with about all this shit, no one to comfort me and help me. The only one I would have wanted to to talk to is Oliver, but that option isn't open to me any more.

I know alcohol is not really the answer, I know it won't solve anything. But it might dull the pain some, and that seems to be the best I can hope for right now.

So, I get home, and with my fridge now stocked with beer, I settle in for an evening of drinking, misery and self-pity. Anything more than that just seems to be beyond me right now.

As I'm flopped on my couch, guzzling my first beer, I think of Oliver. He'll be expecting me to visit today, unaware that I already tried to. Obviously, that's not going to happen now.

I put aside my beer and fumble for my phone. I send him a quick text: Sorry Oliver, not able to visit today. You keep on getting better. Talk to you soon.

Once it's sent, I stare at my phone, wondering if I've done the right thing. What if the badger wants to see me? I shake that thought off. He has Justin to keep him company today, I think, bitterly. And in the mood I'm in, I'd just make things worse between us.

I switch off my phone, he case he tries to get in touch to ask why. And then I fling the phone aside in annoyance. I hear it hit the floor and skitter away into a corner somewhere. I return to my beer.

I don't know for certain how long I'm sat there, drinking and thinking about the sorry state of my life, about the horrible painful day I've had. But eventually, there's a knock at my front door.

I glance about, confused, my head feeling fuzzy. Who the fuck could that be? I go to get up to go answer it, but pause, looking at the collection of empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of my couch. There's five... no, wait, its six... or is it seven?

I don't remember drinking that much, I remember the occasional trip to the fridge for a fresh beer, but that many?

As I stand up, I feel a little unsteady on my feet. Yeah, maybe I have had a few too many. And I don't know if its helped at all. I'm still feeling so God damn fucking awful.

I stumbled to my front door and yank it open to find a familiar raccoon stood on my doorstep. “Marcus?”

He looks at my, concern and worry written all over his face. His musky scent hits my nostrils. “Harvey? Are you OK? What's going on?”

It takes a little effort to focus enough to reply. I'm starting to feel tired and light-headed. “What... what are you doing here?”

“Chuck was worried about you.” He explains. He sniffs at the air and his nose wrinkles, I guess he can smell the alcohol on me. “So worried he called me, and you know how much he hates me. He said you were all pissed off and upset at work. I tried calling you, but I couldn't get through...”

“Switched my phone off.” I say. “Didn't want to talk to no one...”

He sighs. “Well, I think you need to.” He plants his paws on my chest and gently pushes me back into the apartment, stepping inside and closing the door.

“I just want to be alone...” I protest.

“Well, tough luck, Harvey.” He states. “Because I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me. C'mon.” He takes my paw in his and guides my back to the living room, sitting me back down on the couch. I don't protest any further. I just don't have the energy.

He casts a disapproving eye over my collection of empty beer bottles and sighs. “Oh God, Harvey, what the hell is going on?”

The raccoon sits himself down beside me, placing a comforting paw on my leg, looking at me with expectation in his eyes.

I'm unsure what to say to him. As good a friend as he is, there's so much I have never felt comfortable talking to him about. Like my time as a cop and why it ended. I have never talked to him about that and he eventually seemed to accept that I never would. And today is not the day for that to change.

Similarly, I don't really feel like talking to him about things with Oliver and my screw up. I don't know why exactly, just that he's not someone to talk to about that. Maybe due to the lectures and emotional psycho-analysis I'd inevitably be subjected to as a result.

“I... I've just had a very bad day...” Is all I manage to say in the end.

“I kind of assumed that.” Marcus says. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” I say, trying and failing to sound firm. Instead, my voice is weak and cracked.

He places an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Harvey. Talk to me, I'm here to listen.”

“No.” I say it again.

“Still the same closed off private guy, eh Harvey?” And then he's hugging me, arms wrapped around me affectionately, muzzle brushing against my neck, his aroma filling my nose.

I close my eyes and do my best to relax into it. The physical comfort feels nice and sort of soothing.  I start to feel a tiny bit better...

But then I'm suddenly wishing it was Oliver there hugging me like that, rather than hugging that fox of his. Jealousy wells up in me again and I almost pull out of the hug.

Instead, I find myself imagining that it's Oliver hugging me. I do my best to block out Marcus' scent and lose myself in that fantasy. I feel stirrings within me, a deep need for this, this for this close physical contact.

I've had an extraordinarily bad day. And I've always found that on bad days, you're more likely to make mistakes. Right then, I make a huge one.

Lost in the moment, the fantasy that it's Oliver there, I pull back slightly from the hug and kiss Marcus, pressing my muzzle against his and forcing my tongue between his lips.

He accepts it for a brief second but then pulls back, looking surprised. “Harvey?”

“Please...” The pleading word escapes my lips before I can stop it. It's been such a terrible day, a big part of me desperately wants to feel better, feel good, no matter what it takes, even if its only physical. And Marcus is here right now, so close to me...

The raccoon hesitates for a moment longer and then kisses me back, his paws running over my body, massaging and groping. It feels good, its been so long since anyone did that to me. And when I close my eyes and think of Oliver, it feels even better.

I know this is wrong, I know it's a mistake. But my judgement is clouded by alcohol and misery. I desperately need to feel something other than pain, something even halfway good. And Marcus' paws caressing me gently, and me caressing him back, that feels good. I haven't been with someone in so long...

And then I make the biggest mistake I've made in a long time.

I don't stop Marcus as he takes my paw and leads me towards the bedroom...

* * * * * * * * * *

I wish I'd stopped myself.

That's the thought running through my head within five minutes of Justin turning up.

When I called him, it was good to hear his voice, his concern as I told him where I was. And just as I thought, he came running. About an hour later, he arrived at my hospital room and without saying a word, he grabbed me and hugged me tight.

And it felt good. Very good. After the bad day I'd had, a nice hug really helped.

I won't lie. It is so good to see him, and of course, he hasn't changed a bit. He never does. A handsome and athletic fox, his beautiful red fur all glossy and always perfectly groomed, no matter the situation. Dressed in his usual designer brand shirt and tight jeans.

And his sweet vulpine musk. As he's hugging me, I can smell it, even through my swollen muzzle. I've missed that scent. It reminds me of all our times together, all the wonderful memories of the days when we were madly in love, an inseparable pair.

We start talking, me filling him on more details about the attack, and its so wonderful at first. Justin is here with me, like a piece of my life that has been missing. I still love him so much, a part of me always will, and that part is thrilled to be in the same room as him once again.

But then, I'm hit by a feeling of deja vu. I've been here before, felt this way before. Back when Justin first reappeared in my life after walking out in me, when he wanted to be friends. This is exactly how it felt at first.

And suddenly I just know, with every fibre of my being, how this is going to go, because I've been through it before. I'm still in love with him, so being around him, knowing that we'll never be anything more than friends, it's going to hurt more and more. By calling Justin, I've gone and invited more pain into my life.

Fucking fantastic... A bad day of stress and misery and I decide to top it off by dumping more heartache onto myself.

After we talk for an hour, me feeling more and more uneasy at him being there, I tell him I'm getting tired and should really get some rest. I'm thankful that he accepts this and says his goodbyes. I tell him I'll call him as he goes.

That night, I cry myself to sleep, trying to take some degree of comfort from the thought that at least tomorrow couldn't possibly be much worse than today.

I wake up Tuesday morning with a sense of optimism. Yeah, yesterday was bad, but after a nights sleep, my emotions have calmed somewhat, I'm able to think a little better.

Maybe Felix won't put two and two together and realise I'm gay. There are plenty of times when he's shown himself to not always be the sharpest tool in the box. And even if he does figure it out, that doesn't necessarily mean he's going to tell everyone. Maybe he'll have enough decency to respect my privacy?

I'm still uncertain, there is still a huge lump of worry in the pit of my stomach, but I'm no longer fearing the worst. I guess that's progress.

And Harvey... I'm now more sure I will see him again. I'm fairly certain he'll stop by today for a visit. I'll then apologise and explain about everything. He's a great guy, he'll understand, I know he will. Even if he doesn't visit, I'll give him a call and talk to him. It won't be the same as talking to him face to face, but if it ends up being the only option I have...

And then there's Justin. What a bloody stupid mistake that was! But at least he wasn't here for long. I just need to avoid calling him again, reopening that door any further.

Unfortunately, it turns out I have very little control over the situation with Justin.

Mid-morning I'm sat in bed, reading, doing my best to relax, when I'm caught off guard by a familiar voice.

“Hey, Oliver! How's the best badger in the word doing today?”

I look up to see Justin standing at the door, a wide grin on his muzzle. What the fuck?

“What the...?” I stammer, shocked at his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, silly!” He giggles, walking over to my bed. “I couldn't stand the thought of you here all alone all day.”

“But... your job...” I say.

He waves a dismissive paw in the air. “Oh, I took the day off. So I can be here for you.” And with that, he throws his arms around me and gives me another of his wonderful epic hugs.

As much as I enjoy the warmth and closeness of this fox as he embraces me, I know its a dangerous enjoyment. The more I enjoy being with him, the stronger my feelings will get and the more it will come to hurt later.

But I can hardly tell him to go, can I? Not after he's taken a day off work in order to hang out with me and keep me company. To be honest, I am kind of touched that he's done that and I'm unable to stop a warm smile reaching my muzzle.

He pulls back from the hug, but keeps his paws on my sides. He laughs as he sees my smile. “You always did love my hugs! Here, have another!”

“Justin...” I try to protest, but its too late. His arms are around me, pulling me close. I let myself lose myself in the hug for a moment, savouring it. I really did miss those hugs.

When he releases me, he gives me an affectionate kiss on the cheek as he pulls back. He then sits down on the bed beside me, holding my paw.

“So, you didn't answer my question.” He says. “How are you doing today?”

“Better than yesterday.” I tell him, simply.

“Better physically or emotionally?” He says, raising an eyebrow.

“What... what do you mean?” I stammer in surprise.

“Oh, Oliver.” He laughs, playfully ruffling the fur on my head. “I still know you so well. When I was here last night, you were in a real bad emotional state. You're still very good at hiding it, but I could tell. You really had me worried.”

I feel simultaneously guilty and heartened by him being worried about me, caring so much about me. I sigh and hang my head, having to remind myself to keep my feelings for Justin under control.

“Hey, if you don't want to talk about what was wrong, that's fine.” He says. “I won't pry. But I am going to be here for you today if you do, or just to keep you company if you don't.”

“I'm so glad you're here, Justin.” I say, the words of appreciation slipping out easily. A part of me even means them. “But you really didn't need to take a day off work for me...”

“Hey, my favourite badger is in hospital after a horrible experience.” Justin says, soothingly. “Of course I'm going to be here for him and give him plenty of hugs. In fact, come here you...” He reaches for me yet again.

“You've given me enough hugs already, Justin.” I chuckle, pulling away from him.

“Oh, my dear Oliver!” The fox laughs. “There's no such thing has enough hugs!” And then his arms are around me again and I don't resist, closing my eyes and leaning into it.

I snuggle against him in the hug, his warmth comforting. A smile is soon plastered across my face and feeling of contentment is flowing through me. I just can't help it.

Suddenly, I get an odd feeling, the fur on the back of my neck prickling. It feels almost as if I'm being watched. I open my eyes and pull out of the hug, looking about, but there's no one here but me and Justin.

“Something wrong?” The fox asks.

“No.” I shake off the weird feeling, turning my attention back to Justin.

As difficult as it will ultimately be to have him hanging around today, I am kind of glad of the pleasant and friendly company. It's a nice change from the stressful visitors of yesterday.

We talk, with the occasional hug and cuddle thrown in for good measure. We catch up on how things have gone in the past year since we were last in contact.

He tells me about his job as a building inspector, how he got a promotion and a big raise about six months ago. He seems very happy with how his career is going and relates various stories about some of the crazy and ridiculously unsafe stuff he's come across in the course of his work.

I talk about my job for a bit, but that doesn't last long as there's not much to tell. I'm still in the same job with the same co-workers. His very diplomatic about it, but I can tell he's a little disappointed in me about that.

At lunch time, he saves me from the hospital food by heading out to a nearby sandwich place and buying us something to eat. He gets me a chicken salad, apparently remembering how much of a favourite it is of mine. I manage to successfully guess what he gets for himself. A tuna mayonnaise sandwich. He loves his tuna. I have a fond memory of the first time he ever took me to lunch, and he gave me this wonderfully eloquent speech about how a properly made tuna mayonnaise sandwich is pure heaven.

After lunch, the subject of conversation turns to our personal lives. He tells me about how he's had a few boyfriends in the past year. A polar bear weightlifter who he describes as 'a beautiful mountain of muscle' but who turned out to be a little too vain and self-obsessed for Justin's tastes. And there was a cute cougar who was, as Justin put it 'an expert at snuggling', but was apparently far too clingy and possessive for the relationship to last too long.

My end of that particular conversation is over very quickly, having been single the whole time. This takes Justin by surprise.

“Really?” He says, genuinely shocked. “How can a great guy like you be single for so long?”

I honestly wish I knew the answer to that one. “I have no idea.” I shrug. “I guess I just haven't met the right guy. Either that, or I'm just too damn picky.”

“Hey, better too picky than not!” He laughs. “You're less likely to wind up with relationships you just regret later. Like me and that rhino with the wrestling obsession... Donnie? No, wait, it was Derek. I ever tell you about him?”

Of course he has, but I don't object to him telling the story yet again of the guy who seemed sweet at first, but kept insisting more and more on taking him to wrestling matches on their dates. And then wanting to wear wrestling gear in the bedroom...

This is one of Justin's quirks, he just loves to talk about his collection of ex-boyfriends and the adventures, or sometimes misadventures, he's had with them. Even back when we were a couple, which if I'm honest, could sometimes be rather annoying. Constantly hearing about all the fun times he had with his past boyfriends, it could sometimes make me feel a little... well, inadequate and boring. I always seemed to be rather dull when I compared myself to his array of adventurous and interesting past lovers.

But I never mentioned that to him. I loved him so much, I didn't want to risk offending or upsetting him by telling him how much it bothered me. And as I said, its something he loves to talk about, I didn't want to take that away from him, just because of my insecurities.

Talking about Derek the wrestling rhino leads him into a chain of stories. From Derek, he moves onto Andy, the coyote who was a wannabe pro boxer who liked it rough in the bedroom. And then I'm once again listening to him relate the story of Newton the panda, the laid back wannabe artist who was living off his trust fund, and the many escapades they had during the course of their stormy relationship.

Before he can finish the story of Newton, he's interrupted by the beeping of my phone. I apologise and pick it up. It's a text message from Harvey.

Sorry Oliver, not able to visit today. You keep on getting better. Talk to you soon.

I look at the message on the screen for nearly a minute before it sinks in. Harvey has decided not to visit me today.

I'm suddenly awash with guilt. I must really have pissed him off yesterday over the whole thing with Frank for him not to want to see me again just yet. I take some comfort from the 'talk to you soon' part, but still, the message hits me like a ton of bricks, dragging down my mood and filling me once more with misery.

“Something wrong?” Justin suddenly asks.

I look up from my phone to see the fox looking concerned. “Ah... it's... it's just Harvey. He's not coming to visit today.”

“Harvey?”

“The guy who saved my life.” I explain. I'd told him someone had saved me, but hadn't told him too many details.

“Oh right.” He nods. “Has he visited often?”

“Every day since the attack.” I tell him. “He got me a card as well.” I point it out to him.

He reaches over to pick it up and examine it. “How sweet... if a little cliché...”

Oh God, never get Justin started on the subject of greetings cards. You'll end up on the receiving end of a full-throated lecture on what a useless and paper-wasting industry he believes it to be...

Justin reads the message inside the card. “Oh? You two are going on a date?” He grins the mischievous grin I've seen on his face so many times before.

I roll my eyes at him. “I just said I want to take him to dinner to thank him for saving my life.”

“Sounds good.” He says. There's a twinkle in his eye. “So he's gay then?”

“Yes, he is.” I nod.

“Is he hot?” The fox asks, smiling. “Do you know if he's single?”

And then I realise why I didn't tell Justin too many details about Harvey. Because he'd probably then be interested in the bear.

The image pops into my mind of Harvey and Justin together as a couple. It makes me cringe and feel a weird combination of jealousy and loneliness. I quickly push it out of my mind and resolve to try and never imagine anything like that ever again.

“Justin, I...” I try to say how much I think it would be a bad idea.

He cuts me off by laughing out loud. “Oh, Oliver, I'm just messing with you! The look on your face when you talk about him, and when you found out he's not visiting. I can tell you like him...”

“Yeah, I do.” I say. “He's proven himself to be a very good friend...”

“And he's just a friend is he?” Justin smirks at me.

“Well...” I consider lying, but I know Justin will see through any lie in a heartbeat. The truth it is then. “Yeah, I'm attracted to him, he's a great and wonderful guy. But I really don't think he's interested in me that way.”

The fox puts a comforting arm around my shoulders. “Hey, it's his loss then. You'll find the right guy, Oliver, I know you will.” He then hugs me warmly again.

I know he's just trying to reassure me, but it just serves to set off the thought in my head. What if I have found the right guy for me, but he's just not interested?

Shortly after that, Justin has to step outside for a bit as a doctor comes into examine me. After plenty of poking and prodding and manhandling, I'm given he news that I seem to be healing well and I should be able to be discharged and sent home tomorrow morning. I'm cheered up a little by this news. I am so sick to death of this damn hospital.

I don't tell Justin the news though when the doctor leaves and he comes back in. I'm afraid that if he knew, he'd insist on taking more time off in order to drive me home. But I don't want him to do that. I really need to minimise my time with him, in order to minimise how badly I know its eventually going to hurt.

Instead, we spend most of the rest of the day watching TV together, doing something we used to do all the time when we were living together. Watch the worst programme we can find, and then crack jokes about it's awfulness throughout.

It's fun and all, but the whole time, I have Harvey on my mind. My thoughts on the bear and him not visiting are a worrying and unpleasant weight at the back of my mind. I hope he's okay. I hope he's still okay with me. I hope it won't be too long before I hear from him again...

Eventually, the time comes when Justin has to get going.

“I need to get home and get some sleep.” He explains. “Got to get back to work tomorrow.”

“Well, thanks for coming.” I say, honestly. “Thanks for keeping me company today.”

“It's been fantastic to see you, Oliver.” He says. He pulls me into another hug and then kisses me on the cheek. “And I'm so glad you're going to be OK. We should get together again soon, hang out some more.”

“Sure.” I nod. But as tempting as that might be, I'm hoping it doesn't happen.

“Hey!” He adds, an idea suddenly occurring to him. “Maybe you're new friend could join us next time? I'd love to meet him and thank him for saving my favourite badger!”

Although I'm really not too sure about that, I try to be polite. “Sure, maybe.”

Justin heads for the door. “Goodnight, Oliver. Take care of yourself.”

I smile at him as he goes. “Goodbye, Justin. I'll call you.”

He laughs and winks at me as he departs. “Or maybe I'll call you!” And then he's gone.

Oh God, I really hope he doesn't start calling me.

Don't get me wrong. I like talking to him. Him being here today was nice, it was comfortable and familiar. But at the same time, his presence has dredged up all my old feelings for him. I still love him very much. And even then, immediately after he's gone, it's starting to hurt, knowing he doesn't feel the same way about me, that we'll never be more than friends.

Already the familiar cold heartache is creeping in. I remember it all too well from last time. And I just know any time spent with Justin, even just talking to him, is only going to make it a lot worse.

I try to turn my thoughts away from the fox, but end up just thinking about Harvey instead, which is a whole other source of unhappiness. But at least its something I can do something about. When I see him again, I can apologise and explain about the bad day I'd had.

My eyes drift to my phone. Why wait? After all, he was insistent I call him if I needed anything. Well, I have the need to tell him how sorry I am.

I dial his number and wait. And wait. And wait. But there's no answer. He's not picking up. Maybe he's just busy?

I put the phone aside and watch some TV for a bit. Half an hour later, I try to call him again. But once again, there's no answer.

Dejected, I give it up. He must really not want to talk tonight. I'm about to put my phone away, but find that I can't. Some part of me just can't handle the idea of going a day without saying anything to Harvey. So, with no other option, I send him a text.

It takes me some time to write it though, to figure out exactly what to say. I want to avoid saying something wrong and upsetting him further.

Eventually though, I settle on something: Tried to call. Hope you're OK. I'm sorry about last night. Look forward to hearing from you.

It's only after the message is sent that I feel able to put my phone away and try to get some sleep.

But my thoughts remain miserable and troubled. Justin's visit has raised an unpleasant idea in my head. He's reminded me of how difficult it is to be friends with a guy you have strong feelings for, how much it can hurt.

And my feelings for Harvey just seem to get stronger and stronger. What if they get too strong? What if I end up in a situation with the bear like I'm in with Justin, where it hurts to be just friends with him? I could end up losing him from my life.

That awful thought brings tears to my eyes and plagues me as I fall asleep...