That Day, Part 14: Heartbroken

“Harvey? Harvey, wake up!”

A familiar voice dragged me back to consciousness. I immediately hated it for doing that as it also dragged me back into pain. Although, to be fair, not all of it was from the memories of the break up with Oliver flooding back into my head as I woke up. Some of it was from the brutal pounding in my head. The word ‘hangover’ drifted through my thoughts.

The voice spoke again. “Harvey, what the hell…?”

“Not so loud!” I hissed, clutching at my head. It felt like he was yelling directly in my ear with a megaphone.

I forced my eyes open, trying to take stock of who it was and where exactly I was. It was difficult. A headache was beating out a steady rhythm in my skull and my thoughts were fuzzy and confused, seemingly reluctant to get into any kind of coherent order.

There was a cougar in work overalls standing over me. Chuck, I suddenly realized. What was he doing here? Here, I noticed, was my apartment. I was lying sprawled out on my couch in the living room. It was still trashed, wreckage strewn about of the things I’d smashed once I got back from Oliver breaking up with me…

As soon as I thought about it, the full agony of the break up hit me once again, and a choked sob escaped my muzzle. The loss of the badger from my life, the shame of getting so angry as to make him afraid of me, the guilt at having kept so much from him and caused such a wonderful guy so much hurt.

I tried to focus my attention on Chuck. He was standing there, paws on hips, waiting patiently for me to pull myself together. He was going to have a long wait, I mused. I felt like I was never going to be able pull myself fully back together, not ever again.

Just as I was about to ask the cougar what he was doing here, I caught a whiff of my stink, my nose wrinkling. I smelt awful, a mix of tears and sweat and beer…

Of course, the beer I’d been gulping down in a vain attempt to dull the pain of… of…

I did my best not to think it, knowing full well how much it would hurt. But I couldn’t stop myself.

The pain of losing Oliver.

As expected, that thought passing though my head set off a fresh wave of cold, heart-rending agony, more guilt and shame rippling through me.

I wanted another beer. I wanted this pain to go away again. I found that the front of my shirt was damp, reeking of alcohol. I must have passed out in the middle of a bottle and spilled it on myself as it dropped out of my paw. My gaze flickered to the floor, that guess confirmed by the half empty beer bottle lying there in a puddle of amber liquid. I twisted where I lay, reaching out for it.

Chuck saw what I was doing and got to the bottle first, picking up the bottle and moving it out of my reach. “Oh no you don’t! You’ve got some explaining to do, Harvey!”

I grumbled at my beer being snatched away from me. But it was okay. I had more. Didn’t I? I vaguely remembered taking a trip out and buying several cases. But I wasn’t sure how much I had got through.

I tried to sit up, but my body wasn’t co-operating, my limbs stiff and aching. How long had I been lying there? Chuck stepped forward and grabbed me, helping me into a sitting position on the couch. He sat down beside me, and I saw the concern and worry in his expression.

“Why…?” I croaked, my throat dry, wincing as my own voice set off the hammering pain in my head. “Why are you here?”

“Because I was worried about you.” Chuck spoke softly, seeing I was hungover. “Last I heard from you was yesterday afternoon, when you called about being late back from your lunch break…”

Yesterday? That would make today Friday, I thought. I was having trouble remembering much of the what had happened in the past day or so, since the break-up (another crack of ice-cold pain sliced through my broken heart at those words). That was good, I supposed. The beer had done its job of stopping the pain of the loss, even if only temporarily.

“I tried calling yesterday, but you didn’t pick up.” Chuck explained. “And you didn’t turn up for work today, and I still couldn’t get through on the phone all day…”

I had no memory of my phone ringing. I was sure I would have remembered that, I would have leapt at it, in case it was Oliver calling to forgive me and take me back…

And then there was a flash of memory. Throwing my phone at the wall. Seeing it lying on the floor as I was about to go out to buy beer. Picking it up to find the screen covered with cracks, and it making a rattling sound when I shook it…

“Broke my phone.” I said, hoarsely.

Chuck nodded and carried on. “I was afraid something had happened to you. So, I came over and let myself in with the key you gave me for emergencies. Almost had a heart attack when I saw the state of the place and saw you lying here…” He shook his head. “Was a hell of a relief when I realized you were just passed out drunk.”

His eyes briefly flicked to the end of the couch. I followed his gaze. Ah yes, that was where I’d stacked the beer I’d bought. There were still a few cases sitting there among a collection of empty bottles.

“So, what’s going on, Harvey?” Chuck asked. “You trying to drink yourself to death or something?”

I took in a deep breath and sighed a heavy sigh. When I spoke, my voice cracked with emotion. “Maybe…”

The old cougar lapsed into silence, watching me thoughtfully as I stared off into space, lost in my own thoughts of Oliver and the mess I’d made of everything. I was such a fuck up. I always wrecked everything good in my life. I didn’t deserve love and happiness…

“Your badger broke up with you, didn’t he?” Chuck said.

I looked at him sharply. Which was a mistake, as the sudden movement of my head aggravated my headache, forcing a grimace to my muzzle.

“Give me some credit.” Chuck gave me a sympathetic look and placed a reassuring paw on my shoulder. “I’ve been around enough to know a broken heart when I see one. Even one as bad as yours.” He paused and then added. “I’m so sorry, Harvey.”

My gaze dropped to my lap as I started to sob gently, unable to stop myself. I looked at my paws resting in my lap…

The paws that had cracked Oliver’s coffee table, that had put fear in his eyes, that had shown that maybe I really was the violent monster he thought I was…

I’d lost Oliver I had no one to blame but myself. It was all my fault that I was never going to see him again…

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and I started crying, pained moans rumbling in my throat as I did. A second later, Chuck put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me against him, not saying a word, just letting me get my emotions out.

Eventually, I ran out of tears, my sobbing dying away. I felt like the worst kind of utter shit, both physically and emotionally.

Beside me, Chuck pulled back his arm, turning ton face me. “You want to tell me what happened?”

I shook my head. “Not particularly.” I really didn’t want to relive it, even though I knew that once the worst of the hangover was over, I would be reliving it over and over again in my head.

But the old cougar was persistent. “Talking about it might help.”

“I don’t think anything can help.” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I can understand you feeling like that right now. But still, getting it off your chest might help a little.”

I was still unconvinced, but I trusted Chuck, so went ahead and started talking.

I didn’t tell him the whole story, and glossed over a lot of the fine details, but filled him in on the basics. My idea of confronting Oliver’s homophobic father and how badly that went. The resulting argument that just kept on escalating into a horrible fight (although I didn’t say a word about the horrible things about my past Oliver had discovered) that had ended with me showing myself to be just the kind of angry monster he was afraid I was and him breaking up with me.

Once I was done, Chuck sighed and shook his head “Bloody hell, Harvey. You really screwed up…”

My head snapped around to face him, anger flashing in me. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you probably do.” Chuck said, ignoring my anger at him. “But it still needs to be said. I mean, that temper of yours…” He sighed again. “I wish I knew where that came from. I don’t remember you being like that when you were younger.”

In that moment, I very nearly told him. Under other circumstances if he’d said that, I likely would have explained it to him. But after having had the unpleasant crap from my past thrown in my face the day before made the whole thing too raw and painful to talk about right then.

It seemed Chuck wasn’t done chastising me. “And I really can’t wrap my head around the whole thing of you going to see his dad. For crying out loud, Harvey, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, it had seemed like a good idea at the time…” I tried to explain. That was true, but the more I thought about it, the more stupid an idea it seemed, especially after it had gone so badly. “I just thought I could make Oliver so happy if I got through to him.”

“And you seriously thought a few words wasn’t going to get through to a guy like that?” Chuck wasn’t letting up, which was getting annoying.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” I muttered, wishing he’d just drop it already.

With a sigh, he did, moved on to criticizing me about something else. “Look, Harvey, I know you’re hurting badly right, but believe me, drinking yourself into a stupor is not going to help in the long run.”

“You got some other way to make the pain stop?” I grumbled. I was starting to wish he wasn’t there, telling me things I didn’t want to hear. Even if, deep down, I knew he was right.

“But its not stopping it.” Chuck pointed out. “Just hiding it for a short time.”

“Better than nothing…” I muttered. I badly wanted to grab another beer right then, gulp it down and hope it quickly dulled the agony in my heart. But I knew the cougar would just stop me, and I didn’t have the strength to stop him from stopping me.

“Only way for it to stop properly is to face it.” Chuck placed a reassuring paw on my shoulder that was not in the least bit reassuring. “Let it run it’s course. I know it hurts badly right now Harvey, it seems hopeless. I’ve been there myself more than once. But you will get through this. It will get better…”

I’d had enough. I shook off his paw and snapped. “You got anything to say other than fucking stupid cliched platitudes?”

He frowned at me. “I’m trying to help here…”

“Well, you’re not!” I growled. “So how about you just fuck off and leave me alone!”

“Harvey…” Chuck tried to say something further.

“I said fuck off!” I said, raising my voice in anger, frustrated that he was still there.

The cougar sat there for a few moments, staring at me, trying to judge whether to stay and keep trying, or just leave. And the he reached a decision.

He stood up. “Okay then. I’ll go.”

“Good.” I scowled.

Chuck got up and headed for the door, letting out a sigh as he went. He stopped part way there and looked back at me. “But Harvey, if…”

“Just fucking leave me alone!” I yelled at him, wanting him gone.

The old cougar shot me a saddened look, and then left without saying another word, leaving me alone with my misery. I did feel a pang of guilt for getting angry with him when he was just trying to help, but it was quickly buried under an avalanche of pain, regret and loneliness as I once again thought about Oliver.

It was for the best, him breaking up with me. I kept trying to tell myself that. After all, I didn’t deserve a great guy like him. I didn’t deserve happiness. All the pain my broken heart was giving me? That was what I deserved.

Without thinking about it, I hauled myself up and shambled over to the cases of beer and grabbed another bottle, using a claw to flip off the cap. I returned to the couch and slumped down on it, bringing the bottle to my muzzle.

I barely tasted the beer as it slipped down my throat, my thoughts still occupied with my badger…

No, I had to remind myself for perhaps the hundredth time. He wasn’t my badger, not anymore.

Tears started to flow again, spilling out of my already sore eyes. I guzzled more beer, hoping the alcohol would kick in soon and dull the pain of losing Oliver. And I kept reminding myself, over and over that this was the way things had to be, that it was for the best.

At least, I hoped it was for the best.

**************************************************

It was for the best.

Those words became my mantra over the days following the break up with Harvey, that I had to force myself to repeat over and over again, hoping that maybe I would eventually start to believe it.

The first day after was the worst. I spent most of that Friday in bed feeling so utterly depressed, convinced there was no chance of me ever finding love and happiness ever again, unable to find the energy to haul myself out of bed for the most part. I cried a lot, leaving my eyes red and sore by the end of the day. My heart ached constantly, throbbing with a yearning for Harvey, to be with him again, to feel his arms around me, hugging me.

Which is probably why one of the few times I got out of bed that day that wasn’t a trip to the bathroom was to go to fetch my phone. The need to talk to Harvey just became so great and in a moment of weakness, I gave in and tried to call him.

But he didn’t answer. And I realized he was probably ignoring me. I had just broken up with him, of course he didn’t want to talk to me. He probably wouldn’t want to talk to me ever again. That set off another round of tears.

And then the thought occurred to me that maybe he was off fucking Marcus to make himself feel better and the pain of that image in my head made me slink back to bed, vaguely hoping I’d fall asleep and never wake up again, because then my agony would be over.

The next day was a little better, but not by much. It didn’t help that for the past several weeks, Saturday had meant a date with Harvey. But that Saturday night was going to spent sitting in my apartment, lonely and miserable.

However, I knew I had to start trying to pull myself together. I couldn’t obsess about Harvey and the break up forever and the sooner I got over it, the better. Besides, I had to at least get myself under control enough to face another black cloud on the horizon.

I was going back to work Monday morning.

Yeah, the timing seriously sucked, having to return to the job I hated with the bullshit-spouting homophobic manager, just days after the most painful break up of my life. But it couldn’t be helped.

So, I spent much of that weekend focusing on trying to bury and suppress my feelings, to bottle up all the pain and loneliness and abject misery I was going through. The fear that I might have an emotional break down at work and make an embarrassing spectacle of myself was very real, and I wanted to avoid that horrifying possibility at all costs. Because then everyone in the office would want to know why, and that would be uncomfortable and difficult to deal with…

At one point on Sunday afternoon, in another moment of weakness, I allowed myself to briefly fantasize about Harvey. I imagined him turning up at my door suddenly, telling me how sorry he was for everything, begging for another chance, saying that he loved me. And me forgiving him and taking him back and getting to be happy again.

But I immediately felt stupid for thinking that. It wasn’t helpful to entertain such ridiculous ideas. That was simply not going to happen. Harvey was not the guy I thought he was, plain and simple. There was no way he was going to do anything like that. And I forced myself to look at my cracked coffee table again to reinforce that idea.

And yet… Some part of me seemed to stubbornly cling to the hope that I had been wrong about Harvey, that there really was some explanation for everything, that he was and always had been the wonderful bear I had fallen in love with. I did my best to quash that part of my thoughts but couldn’t seem to quite do it completely. Deep down, I think I didn’t really want to, not yet, like it was still too soon to completely give up hope, no matter how silly or fanciful or unrealistic. I knew that wouldn’t last, over time such thoughts and fantasies would fade. But for now, I just had to live with them and the feelings of pain and loss they inflicted on me.

Monday rolled around, bringing with it a feeling of dread as I got up that morning and got ready to go to work, imagining all kinds of worst-case scenarios as to how it could all go horribly wrong.

Maybe Felix had let slip the fact that I was gay and the whole office now knew, and I was in for a day of being treated like a disgusting pervert by everyone, particularly Frank. Maybe I wasn’t as in control of my emotions as I liked to think I was, and the slightest thing would remind me of Harvey and cause an emotional break down. Maybe having to listen to Frank’s crap again would cause me to snap and out myself to him and office, ruining all the effort I’d put in to keeping my sexuality a secret.

There was no telling what was going to happen. The only thing I knew for certain was that I was really not ready for this. But I had to do it anyway.

When I arrived at the office, the thought struck me as I entered the building that so much had happened since I had last set paw there. I’d been attacked and nearly murdered, met a wonderful guy (At least, I’d thought he was wonderful, I forced myself to add), I’d finally managed to start to move on from Justin, I’d started dating a new boyfriend and… and…

And then I’d lost him, broken up with him…

I had to stop for a moment and compose myself, forcing back the tears that threatened to spring from my eyes again. I just about managed it, and after several deep breaths, continued on my way to the accountancy department and whatever waited for me there.

It turned out what was waiting for me was normalcy and mundanity. Everything was just the way I remembered it, the same people doing the same things, the same work to be done day in and day out. It reinforced the feeling that after some progress made during my time off, my life was now firmly back to square one. A life of loneliness, without love or happiness.

Oh, everyone welcomed me back, of course. I had the expected round of everyone telling me how they’d missed me and how glad they were I was okay, and I was looking great. Frank made a big speech in front of the whole office welcoming me back to the team, saying how good it was that I’d bounced back from being attacked by ‘those fucking queers’ and how I must be looking forward to getting back to work.

I didn’t believe for a second that he actually cared about me one iota. His speech was all just for show, I knew that all too well. All he cared about was that now I was back, more work could get done, productivity would go back up, and it would make him look good.

So, I settled back in to my monotonous soul-crushing job. There was already a hefty stack of paperwork waiting for me on my desk and with a heavy depressed sigh I started dealing with it all.

I barely talked to anyone that first day back. I was just too focused on remaining composed and not letting myself get emotional and embarrassing the hell out of myself, and that took a hell of a lot of effort. There was also the fact I had to get used to getting my work done with one forearm still in a cast. At least that provided some distraction.

Oh, my co-workers tried to engage with me now and again. But I would always respond with the simplest answers possible, showing no interest in getting into anything even close to an involved conversation.

The only one I really felt guilty about was Felix. He tried the hardest and I had started to think of him as a sort of friend.

The fox came up to my desk, shortly before lunchtime. He leaned against it and gave me a smile. “Hey, Oliver.”

“Hi.” I said, flatly, only giving him the briefest of glances before focusing back on work again.

“Guess it must suck, having to be back here.” He said.

“Yes, it sucks.” I agreed, not looking up, keeping my eyes on the columns of figures on my computer screen. I was hoping he would get the hint that I didn’t want to talk at all. But he didn’t, he seemed determined to try and be friendly.

“It’s been a while since we spoke.” The fox said, still smiling at me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine.” I replied. It took an effort not to say it through gritted teeth.

Out of the corner of his eye, I could see his smile faltering. His ears were twitching nervously, and I realized he was really genuinely interested, trying to be a good friend. I was hit with a stinging pang of guilt that I wasn’t in the kind of mood where I could be friendly back. I had to keep a tight clamp on my emotions for fear of what would happen if I didn’t

“Cool.” Felix nodded. He looked uncertain as to how to proceed. He glanced about, making sure no one was within earshot and then leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “How’s things with… y’know…”

It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he meant. He was asking about Harvey, my boyfriend. He didn’t know the bear was no longer my boyfriend, so the intense stab of pain in my broken heart was really not his fault. Even if, in a brief shameful moment, I blamed him for it all the same.

“It’s all fine!” I hissed, with far too much annoyance than I should have. “Please, Felix, I have work to do…”

Guilt welled up in me as I glimpsed the hurt look in his eyes and his ears went flat. “Okay, Oliver…” He murmured, ducking his head. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it…”

He padded away, his shoulders slumped. I was left feeling even more depressed and guilt-ridden than I had been before. He’d just been trying to pleasant and I’d pushed him away. Apparently, pushing people away is something I did, like I did with Harvey…

I had to stop working for a few moments at that point to remind myself yet again that breaking up with Harvey had been for the best. I couldn’t tell if I was starting to believe it yet or not.

The worst part was that I did actually want to talk. Perhaps not with Felix, and definitely not in the office in the middle of the day. But I wanted to talk to someone about what I was going through, to get off my chest how I felt about the break up, about all the pain and loneliness I was having to endure.

But I had very few people I could talk to about such stuff. Recently, I had come to rely on Harvey as the one to talk to when something was bothering me. That was obviously no longer an option.

The next best option I could think off wasn’t too much better. Justin. Although he was a friend who would gladly provide me with a shoulder to cry on, it just seemed like asking for trouble to talk to an ex-boyfriend who I had only just started to get over and who had feelings for me at a time when I was emotionally vulnerable.

The sad thing was, if I really wanted to talk to someone, there wasn’t really any other options I was comfortable with.

I shook my head and pushed all those thoughts out of my head. I had to focus on work…

Eventually, the end of the day came, after what had seemed like a thousand years. I didn’t even bid goodnight to anyone as I left, heading home to a cold and lonely apartment, for an evening of depression and feeling horrible about myself and my life.

It surprised me that I actually managed to avoid giving in to the idea of calling Justin. Well, on that Monday at least.

The fact was that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep up that resolve. Every day was looking to be pretty much the same as Monday, perhaps without people talking to me unless absolutely necessary as they should have got the message from my behaviour that I just didn’t want to talk. But everything else, the monotonous work, the soul-crushing grind, the occasional homophobic remark from Frank… it would all be the same, and it would continue to pile more and more misery on me and grind down that resolve. It felt almost inevitable that I would eventually give in and call Justin.

Even though I was certain that would be a bad idea…

*****************************************************


Well, that had been a bad idea…

You’d think that attempting to use alcohol to deal with the pain over the break up was pretty obviously a bad idea, but it seemed to take me a little time to figure it out. In fact, that thought didn’t occur to me until I was sitting in my shower, head a pounding mess, body weak and aching, feeling sick to my stomach.

It was mid-morning Tuesday. I’d woken up sprawled on my bedroom floor in just my underwear with no memory of how I’d got there. My memories of the whole weekend from Chuck leaving my apartment to that moment, were a blurry jumbled mess, just bits and pieces that I didn’t know how to fit together.

I was immediately in pain. Physical pain. I’d been drunk before but never that drunk for that long, so I suppose it made sense that the aftermath was worse than I had ever experienced before.

My eyes felt sore and crusty and I was rewarded with stabs of pain if I opened them too much and let in too much light. My head felt like a whole army of construction workers were beating on the inside of my skull with massive sledgehammers. My stomach was cramping badly, adding fresh ripples of pain to the collection.

The only good thing was that I was feeling so shitty, it distracted me from thinking too much about my heartbreak over losing Oliver.

It had taken a massive effort to get off the floor and half-stagger, half-crawl into the bathroom. After a few minutes throwing up in the toilet, I had to sit down on the floor and rest a moment.

It was then I realized how bad I smelled. The stenches of body odour, sweat, tears and beer competed in assaulting my nostrils. And under it… a slight whiff of sex?

That confused me until one of the blurry bits of memory had flashed to the front of my mind. I had jerked off at one point, thinking of Oliver, convinced it would ‘get him out of my system’ and help me feel better. I couldn’t remember what string of drunken logic had led me to believe that, but it hadn’t worked.

But point was, I smelled atrocious. I was pretty sure I hadn’t showered all weekend, not since the break-up. In my depression, taking proper care of myself just hadn’t seemed very important in the grand scheme of things.

So, I had tried taking a shower, which had required more effort which my weak body complained about. It wasn’t until hot water was cascading over my body that I realized I was still wearing my underwear. But then I didn’t have the energy to reach down and pull off the boxer shorts. Hell, I didn’t even have the energy to remain standing. I slumped against the wall of the shower, sliding down to a sitting position.


And that was when I realized the blindingly obvious that all that beer had been a bloody stupid idea.

Par for the course, for me, I decided. I tended to fuck things up. I’d fucked up my life, my relationship, it shouldn’t really have surprised me that I had fucked up my body as well.

Then and there, as my headache flared up again, that was when I promised myself that I would never drink alcohol again.

I followed that up with the resolve to start pulling myself together. Yes, I had lost Oliver, and that was probably going to hurt for a long, long time. Yes, it felt like my broken heart was never going to fully heal. But life had to go on. It wasn’t the end of the world. It just felt like it…

I’m not sure how long I sat there in the shower, eyes closed, the hot water washing through my fur feeling good, perhaps the only thing I was able to feel good about.

I tried to piece together what I could about the past several days and mostly failed. I had vague memories of drinking lots of beer. I think I might have lost my temper and broken more things at one point. There were several flashes of breaking down into crying fits whenever I saw the toy guitar on the shelf in the living room. The only memories I had of eating were just snacks to silence a rumbling stomach. It was entirely possible I hadn’t had a proper meal all weekend.

Beyond that, there was nothing coherent I could put together. I don’t know how I ended up on the bedroom floor in just my underwear. I don’t know how many of the gaps in my memory were a result of being blindingly drunk or the result of being passed out.

Eventually, I managed to pull together enough strength to haul myself to my feet and finish showering properly, slipping off my boxers and using copious amounts of shampoo to get my fur clean.

By the time I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself, I was feeling a little better, more alive. The pounding in my head was my next priority.

I fumbled in the bathroom’s medicine cabinet for some aspirin. As I held the bottle in my paw, I paused for a moment, staring at it. The thought flicked across my mind that I could just swallow the whole contents of the bottle, go lie down on my bed and go to sleep and maybe never wake up again. Put myself out of everyone’s misery, end once and for all the intense aching pain at losing Oliver…

But I rejected and pushed away that thought as soon as it appeared. I knew that there was no chance at all of me every doing something like that, but it was a little disturbing that some part of my brain could even think it, even when I was at the lowest I’d probably ever felt.

After gulping down a few aspirin with some water, I staggered back through to the bedroom, just wearing a towel around my waist, and sat on the end of my bed. While waiting for the painkillers to kick in, I tried to think what to do with myself now.

Work was out of the question. Even if I was physically in a fit state for it, I wasn’t too sure I still had a job, not after being so rude to Chuck and not showing up for several days. Something else I had managed to fuck up that I could add to the list.

That was a worry for the future though. For the moment, I had to sort myself out, recover from my heartbroken drinking binge. That meant lots of water, some proper food, and plenty of rest.

When I was feeling a little steadier on my feet, I wandered through to the kitchen. It was a mess. Cupboards hanging open, dining table chairs knocked over, open bags of food scattered around, some empty, some not. It seemed that when I got really drunk, I just didn’t care about tidiness.

I didn’t have too much energy for cleaning up at that moment, so I just grabbed a glass and filled it with water, then picked up one of the chairs and sat down.

Sitting there taking occasional gulps of water, I tried to pull my thoughts together enough to plan what to do today. Just focus on today for now, I told myself. Put everything else out of my head for now, like Chuck, the job…

…Losing Oliver…

The thought popped into my head before I could stop it. I had to put down my glass of water and press my paws to my eyes as I desperately fought back tears as new pain tore at my chest, a pain no aspirin was going to help with. The badger was gone from my life and I had to get used to the idea of never seeing him again, never hugging his body against mine again, never getting to see how his whole face lit up when he smiled…

Stop it! I scolded myself, doing my best to suppress my thoughts of Oliver and only partially succeeding. Dwelling on the break up would just drag out the pain and heartache. Sooner or later, I was going to have to start moving on and it would be better of it were sooner rather than later.

So, I forced myself to focus on that day and not… a certain badger.

My stomach was still kind of queasy, but also empty. I’d need food sometime soon. But I was still pretty weak, I wasn’t sure I had the energy to cook myself anything. I could call somewhere, order some food… but then I remembered my broken phone. Crap.

So, go out somewhere, get something to eat. Maybe see about buying a new phone while I was out. That sounded like a good plan. And hey, some fresh air and a little exercise would probably do me good.

While it all sounded good and simple in my head, the reality of it was more difficult. Gathering enough strength to just get my fur dry and pull on some clothes proved to be pretty challenging. Not to mention searching for where I’d thrown my jacket when I’d got home from buying beer a few days before. And tracking down where I’d dropped my keys.

All in all, it was nearly two hours from deciding to go out to when I was actually stepping out my front door. I was still feeling somewhat weak, but at least the headache had died down some by then.

There was a small diner a few blocks from my place. Not the greatest food, which is why I didn’t eat there very often, but it was still okay, and not too expensive. Plus, it was the nearest place I knew to my apartment, so I wouldn’t have to go far. I really wasn’t up to a long walk.

I took my time, not pushing myself too hard, enjoying the fresh air and being away from my messy and stuffy apartment, spending the whole walk doing my best not to think about… my now ex-boyfriend. When I arrived at the diner, I was proud of myself for managing not to think his name and only be on the verge of tears twice. That seemed like progress of a sort.

At the diner, I treated myself to a hefty meal of steak and potatoes, with some nice healthy steamed vegetables. My stomach had calmed down by that point and I was feeling pretty hungry, so even though I’d had better, it still tasted great. And by the time I was done, I was feeling a lot better overall.

Filling my stomach gave me enough strength for the other task I needed to do while I was out, buy a new phone.

I found a phone store a few streets over from the diner and eventually picked out a nice sturdy looking but relatively inexpensive one. It wasn’t exactly top of the line, like my last one, but it would do. Besides, I wasn’t made of money and really couldn’t afford anything too fancy and expensive, especially since there was a chance I was now unemployed.

As I strolled back to my apartment, I was feeling good. I mean, I was still hurting inside, still had this deep sense of loss and my heart ached for Oli… for a badger I was trying to avoid thinking about. But compared to how I had been feeling after the break up, I felt good.

I was starting to feel like I could get really get through this. It would take some time, but I would get over the break up and start over. I had a new phone, complete with new number. Possibly I’d have to find a new job in the near future too, if I’d really pissed off Chuck too badly. This could be a whole fresh start for me.

Yeah, that’s the way to look at all this. I told myself. I was pleased with myself, feeling hopeful and optimistic.

That didn’t last long. Only until I got home.

Then, in my empty and lonely home that was never again to be graced with a certain badger’s presence, that hope and optimism crumbled away, leaving only the pain of my broken heart behind, a deep cold ache in my chest that threatened to overwhelm me.

And then I made the mistake of letting myself look at the toy guitar sitting on a shelf and it did overwhelm me.

Oliver. I’d lost him, fucked up our relationship with my stupidity and secrets. What were the chances I was ever going to find someone as wonderful and special as that badger again? Someone I wanted to be with as badly as him? That I felt as comfortable with?

And even if I did, I would probably just fuck it all up again, like I always did. I’d drive them away, and then I’d be right back here again, heartbroken and miserable.

Perhaps it was time to just finally learn the lesson that I was meant to be alone for the rest of my pathetic life? Give up trying on the boyfriend front and learn to live with the horrible loneliness, avoid the inevitable pain of future break ups. Let Oliver be my last relationship…

Perhaps that would be for the best.

Tears welled up in my eyes yet again and I didn’t even attempt to stop them, and I didn’t think I could even if I wanted to. Crying and sniffling, I shuffled towards my bedroom. I dropped the box containing my new phone unopened on the couch as I went, it just suddenly seemed completely unimportant as thoughts of Oliver filled my head.

I missed him so fucking badly, I couldn’t deny that. I wanted him there with me more than anything, even if he was yelling at me for being such a fucking idiot, or glaring angrily at me, or whatever. Because being with him was always better than not being with him. But I was never going to be with him again…

A fresh wave of heart ache washed over me, accompanied by a surge of anger. At myself for screwing things up, and at him, for breaking up with me and causing me this pain. Which led to a flash of guilt, because I couldn’t blame Oliver for dumping me, it had been all my fault…

All those conflicting emotions crashed around in my head as I entered my bedroom, peeling off clothes and just letting them drop to the floor, finding it difficult to care about tidiness. When I was down to my underwear, I crawled into bed and curled up into a ball, letting the tears and emotions flow freely.

And eventually, I cried myself to sleep…

****************************************************


I had cried myself to sleep for several days in a row…

It was a result of the daily soul-crushing grind of work combined with the intense loneliness of spending each following evening alone in my apartment, and all wrapped up in the ongoing agony of the break up with Harvey.

I continued to keep on telling myself that it was for the best, that this was the way things had to be, but it seemed to be having very little effect. Every day, I missed that damn bear and wanted to be with him, in spite of everything I had learned and what had happened. Tuesday night, I had even once again given into the nagging temptation to talk to him, to just hear his voice, and had called. But he hadn’t picked up, and I was certain he was ignoring me. I mean, of course he was, why on Earth would he want to talk to the guy who dumped him?

After several days of the horrible mix of work stress and heartache and loneliness, on Thursday night, I finally broke down and called Justin, needing to have someone to talk to properly about what had happened and how I was feeling. Maybe it being one week since the break up helped finally push me over the edge, I don’t know.

He picked up after several rings and I wondered if he had been considering if it was a good idea to talk to me. I could sympathize.

“Hello Oliver.” The fox said, and I could pick up on the edge of caution in his voice.

“Hi Justin.” I said, glad of a familiar friendly voice nonetheless. “Sorry to bother you…”

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” The fox’s caution was suddenly replaced with concern.

“How did you know something’s wrong?” I was confused.

“Oh please, my dear badger,” Justin said. “I know you well enough just to tell something serious is wrong from the tone of your voice. So, what’s up?”

I took a deep breath and hesitated. I’d been wanting to talk to someone for the past week, but now that I actually had Justin on the phone, I wasn’t sure I could go through with it, dredge up all the painful memories and relive the fight with Harvey and the break up.

But in the end I decided that keeping it all bottled up any longer would ultimately be worse, so I forged ahead. “I broke up with Harvey.”

“Seriously?” Was Justin’s shocked and spluttered response.

“Yes.” I said simply, trying not to sound too pained, but utterly failing.

“Oh crap…” Justin paused for a moment. “Did you figure out…?”

I knew what he was getting at. “Yes, I figured out that I was in love with him.”

“Ah.” Justin sighed. “Well, I’m so sorry to hear that Oliver. That can’t have been easy. How have you been holding up?”

“Not particularly well.” I said, being brutally honest. “Having to go back to work this week didn’t help.” I didn’t need to say any more than that, as he was well aware how much I hated my job.

“Yikes!” He said, and I could picture him wincing on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, that wouldn’t… hang on, when exactly did this break up happen?”

“A week ago.” I replied, not seeing how that was important. “Last Thursday.”

“Huh.” Was all the fox said to that, lapsing into silence.

After a few moments, I prompted him to go on. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing…” Justin said, which I suspected wasn’t quite true, but didn’t press him on it. He turned the conversation back to me. “So, what happened? If you feel up to talking about it, that is…”

“The whole reason I called is that I needed to talk to someone about it all…” I allowed myself a half-hearted chuckle.

“Well, I’m happy to provide such a service, my dear Oliver!” Justin said, warmly. “So…?”

I took a deep breath and explained it all to him. The visit from Marcus, the revelations about the bad stuff in Harvey’s past that the bear had been avoiding telling me about. Harvey visiting and threatening my father. The big fight that had led to all kinds of things coming up and ended with Harvey cracking my coffee table and me breaking up with him.

Justin listened to it all, remaining quiet and attentive, only interrupting here and there to ask questions to clarify things.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver.” The fox said once I was done. “That seriously sucks, what with you having fallen for him…” He trailed off. “Although, that Marcus guy seems a little suspicious.”

That comment caught me a little off guard, coming a little out of the blue. “What do you mean? He at least told me the damn truth in this whole mess…”

“Did he though?” Justin said, apparently wondering out loud.

“Yeah, I checked up on what he said…” I pointed out.

“Come on, Oliver, you’re smarter than that.” Justin said, with a hint of disapproval. “A few online news sources? You know media is always going to focus on the worst aspects and sensationalize stuff for the sake of getting readers…”

“Doesn’t mean what they write isn’t true.” I said,

“No.” Justin said, and in my mind’s eye, I could just see him rolling his eyes as he responded. “But it does mean giving a fair and accurate accounting of events isn’t their primary objective, so should perhaps be viewed with a little scepticism.”

I shook my head. I really didn’t want this conversation to veer off on a tangent into a debate on the accuracy of news media. I tried to get back on track. “What exactly are you saying about Marcus?”

“All I’m saying is that he seems a little suspicious.” Justin sighed. “He shows up and gives you some small fragments of the truth, devoid of context and explanation. Just enough to get you doubting Harvey.”

While that was certainly accurate, I had a bit of a hard time accepting it. I mean, the things he had told me were true, I was sure. It wasn’t as if Harvey had denied it during our big argument. But had I been manipulated by that raccoon for some reason? Had I made a big mistake and just assumed the worst with regard to the bear? That was an incredibly unpleasant thought…

“Do you…” I asked, somewhat hesitantly. “Do you think I made a mistake breaking up with Harvey?”

Justin’s reply was soft and quiet. “My dear badger, I’m not saying anything either way. What matters is if you think it was a mistake.”

I thought about it for several moments. And my eyes drifted to my cracked coffee table and there was one moment in particular I couldn’t help thinking about.

“He turned out not to be who I thought I was.” I said, with more confidence than I felt. “It was the right thing to do.” However, immediately after the words had left my muzzle, some small part of my subconscious thought: But was it really?

“Okay, Oliver.” Justin said, accepting my word on the matter. “Are you holding up okay? If you want, I could come over, give you some hugs and comfort in person, help you feel better.”

On one level, that was certainly tempting, having the closeness and comforting warmth of a friendly hug. But after giving it some consideration, I ultimately rejected the idea.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I said. Then I felt I had to hurriedly explain. “I mean, I appreciate the offer and I’m sure some hugs would help, but it’s probably best we stick to talking on the phone. It’s just with me being lonely and emotional from the break up, and both of us having some degree of feelings for each other… Well, there would be temptations that would complicate things between us if we gave in to them…”

“That’s a good point.” Justin said, quietly. He sounded odd again, like he was thinking about something. I hoped I hadn’t offended him by rejecting his offer.

My worries were cut off as he revealed something. “You’re right, it would be a bad idea. Especially as I’m currently single.”

“Oh?” My own pain and troubles were momentarily forgotten, my focus fully on how my friend was doing. “Things with Hector didn’t work out? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Justin said with a chuckle. “You know me. I knew it wasn’t going to last with him, and it’s not as if I was in love with him or anything. Although it did end sooner than I was expecting…”

“What happened?” I asked, even though talking about Hector was bringing up memories of the fight with Harvey and the revelation that the wolf had been saying stuff about me. And Harvey had lied and kept it from me…

To protect my feelings, a part of me reminded myself. Because he cares about me and didn’t want to see me hurt…

That threatened to set off a whole new wave of heartache and conflicted feelings, so I pushed it aside to give my undivided attention to what Justin was saying. Unfortunately, what he was saying didn’t help me stop thinking about the bear now missing from my life.

Justin was explaining. “I dumped him at the party the night we met you and Harvey. He had a few drinks and started badmouthing the two of you. I won’t repeat the crap he was spouting, but it was pretty bad. Suddenly, the asshole didn’t seem so hot anymore, so I dumped him. The night wasn’t a complete wash though, managed to have a one-night stand with a cute snow leopard…”

“Harvey did mention Hector insulting me that night…” I said, feeling a sting of pain as I reminded myself of the fight with Harvey and finding out that he’d lied and kept that from me.

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Justin let out a sigh. “He did mention he and Harvey had an unpleasant conversation when they went to get drinks and it really pissed him off…”

That made me picture Harvey standing up for me, defending me to that wolf. Despite the pain associated with the bear and his actions, that image actually got me a little thrill out of me, the idea of Harvey caring that much about me…

But I had to force that thought away, reminding myself that the issue was not whether or not Harvey cared about me. It was whether or not he was the guy I thought he was…

Before I could stop it, the traitorous thought bubbled up in the back of my mind that maybe the fact that he cared that much about me helped prove that he was…

I shook off that thought. Or at least I tried to, but it seemed to hang around in the back of my mind. I tried to get back to focusing on the conversation with Justin.

“Anyway, fuck Hector.” The fox was saying. “He’s out of the picture now and I’ll find someone else soon enough. I always do. Hey, maybe the next guy will even be someone I want to be with long term!”

While I admired his optimism, I found that difficult to believe. It was difficult to picture Justin ever settling down with someone long term.

“I’m more worried about you.” Justin said, suddenly becoming more serious. “Harvey was your first relationship in a while, and you were in love with him. This has got to be pretty rough on you.”

“It is.” I admitted. “And it’s probably going to be rough for a while longer. But as much as it hurts and sometimes feels like it’s never going to get better, I know I’ll survive and get through this eventually. I’m just not looking forward to going back to square one.”

“Oh, my dear Oliver.” Justin said soothingly. “You most definitely will not be back at square one.”

That confused me. “What do you mean?”

Justin seemed to be unable to stop himself letting out a smug sounding chuckle as he explained. “Whatever the deal is with Harvey, whether he is who you thought he was or not, the fact is that your relationship with him has changed you. You might not see it but being with him has improved you.”

“How do you mean?” I was still confused, unable to imagine what he could be talking about.

“You’re much more self-confident than you were.” The fox went on. “I mean, you called him your boyfriend in public! I would never have imagined you ever doing that…”

“That’s one thing…” I said, unconvinced.

“You also told me you kissed him in public.” Justin added. “Which, to be brutally honest, if anyone other than you had told me you’d done that, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

“Yeah, I did do that I suppose…”

“You also managed to not call me right after the break up.” Justin wasn’t finished. “You had the strength to shoulder that burden for a week by yourself. That surprised me. And beyond that, you managed to turn down my offer to come over. I mean, your reasons are good, you were right to say no. But no offense, the old Oliver wouldn’t have done that. He’d have given in right away even of it was wrong and wouldn’t help in the long run.”

I stayed silent, mulling that over. On one level I was feeling vaguely like I should be offended at the implication that I didn’t have that much strength or self-confidence before. But on another level, I had to admit that he was sort of right.

“So, whatever else Harvey may or may not have done,” Justin was still talking as I was lost in thought. “He has helped you grow, to be a better more confident guy. That progress isn’t lost because the relationship is over. You’re not going to be back at square one.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I had to admit, turning his words over and over in my head.

“Of course, I’m right!” The fox laughed.

We talked for a little while longer after that, but it was really just unimportant small talk, and I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention, my mind drifting to the things Justin had said, about me being better and more self-confident than I had been before. And it had been all thanks to Harvey.

And I had repaid him by dumping him without even giving him a chance to properly explain himself. That thought came with a painful sting of guilt.

The call with Justin ended with the promise to stay in touch and talk again soon, and when we hung up, I found myself feeling marginally better for having talked to someone about things. But at the same time, I was also more confused and conflicted.

I had broken up with Harvey for the right reasons, I was certain of that. Except, I wasn’t really. There were nagging doubts that I had been doing my best to supress and ignore that had come bubbling up again as a result of the phone call.

Perhaps I had acted too rashly. Perhaps I should have been calmer and heard his side of things. Perhaps I shouldn’t have broken up with him…

A glance at my cracked coffee table helped quell those thoughts again. The bear was not who I thought he was…

Or was he? A part of my sub-conscious chimed in. Sure, he got angry and broke something and it had been scary. But it had happened after a big emotionally-charged argument, during which I had been needling and attacking him. Could I really blame him for momentarily losing his temper like that? At least, not without accepting some of the blame for it myself…

And he didn’t hit me and at no point gave any indication that he would. Throughout our relationship he had always been caring and compassionate and supportive and…

A deep growl of frustration rumbled in my throat. Thinking like that was pointless. What’s done is done. Things with Harvey were over. And from the way he had ignored my attempts to call him, it was obvious he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. Beating myself up was not going to help me get through this…

I had to focus on moving forward, on getting over the bear and on with my life, such as it was. I had to keep telling myself that the break-up had been for the best.

I just wished I could know for certain if it really had been the right thing to do…


****************************************************


I wished I could know if what I was doing was right…

That was the thought running through my head as I sat staring at the screen of my new phone, thumb hovering over the buttons.

It had been several days before I actually got around to unboxing and setting up the new phone. The days since I had bought it had been spent resting, still feeling ill from my drunken binge and generally wallowing in depression and self-pity over the loss of Oliver and how badly I had screwed everything up.

A few times I managed to pull myself together enough to briefly clean up my apartment some, straightening the mess I had made of it since the break-up. Well, except for the living room. Every time I set paw in there, my eyes were inevitably drawn to the toy guitar sitting on a shelf, which in turn just set off more bursts of pain and heartache and loneliness. In the end, I started avoiding the living room whenever possible.

The logical thing of course would have been to get rid of the thing. But no matter how much looking at it might have hurt, there was no way I was ever going to throw it out. It just meant too much to me. Perhaps I was being overly sentimental, but I didn’t care.

Yes, I could have put it away somewhere, out of sight. But I didn’t feel ready for that step yet. Doing that would be accepting that things with Oliver were well and truly over. While I knew in my head that they were, that I would never see the badger again, I don’t think my heart was prepared for that quite yet. So, the toy guitar remained on its shelf and I just had to live with it for the moment.

When Friday morning rolled around, I finally seemed to be doing better. Well, physically anyway. I was still very much mired in deep depression, my heart aching. But I was enduring it. And I finally remembered the new phone.

I sat on my couch in the living room as I pulled it out of the box and started setting it up, doing my best to keep my eyes carefully pointed away from a certain shelf.

The phone was easy enough to set up. It was just a simple pay as you go thing, but it would do the job. The real pain was having to input all my contacts. I had no way to transfer them from my old broken phone, the new one being too cheap to have the necessary features to import them. I had to re-enter them all manually, from memory and old address books.

In the middle of doing this, I found myself coming to a sudden stop as I realized I had put in Oliver’s name without really thinking about it and had been about to put in his number, having it memorized.

I spent a fair amount of time agonizing over that, my thoughts going back and forth. We were broken up now, should I really be putting his information into my new phone? What good would it do? It wasn’t as if I was going to try and call him, was I?

Of course, I wasn’t going to call him. I knew that would be just too damn painful and would cause more heartache, maybe even for both of us. And yet… not having his number in my phone felt so wrong. I just didn’t think I was ready to live in a world where Oliver’s contact details were not in my phone. Not yet.

In the end, I put the number in to make myself feel better, because I sure needed it, telling myself that I could delete it later, when I was well and truly ready to finally let go of Oliver and the vain false hope of a reconciliation that some small part of me was clinging to deep down. Was it the right thing to do? I sure as hell didn’t know.

Just I was also unsure about one of the other numbers after I entered it. Not about adding it to the phone, but about calling it.

I wanted to talk to someone, to beat back some of the loneliness that was crushing me if nothing else. And he seemed like the best candidate, even if talking to him might very well open a whole can of worms. It could get complicated.

For several minutes I sat there with paw hovering over the phone, debating in my head whether or not to make the call. But in the end, the need to talk to someone won out and I called the number, desperately hoping I wasn’t making a big mistake.

He didn’t pick up and it went to his voicemail, which deflated me a little. I left a message in the hope that he would get back to me soon.

“Hey, Marcus, it’s Harvey.” I said, failing to prevent my voice cracking with sadness. “I need to talk. Things have gone bad; you were right about everything…”


To Be Continued…