The Red Ballet (Furry NSFW Gay Dark Romance)

Chapter III

I still wondered about his behaviour today. Emilio that is. It was nice to put a name to the face. Among other parts of him, which I found myself excited to see more of. But was he? When we first met, he seemed so... carefree. But I couldn't shake that something was wrong with him today. Maybe it was just a bad day, but yesterday could have been a good day. Not that I'm the most happy-go-lucky person in existence.

Ugh, I'm acting like we're going to date. Sure, having sex was something that could signify one's commitment to each other, but when you're gay, when you're someone who's considered vermin, it's more often just... a release. A release of energy, of pleasure, of... of fear. You're worth something, if even just for ten minutes in an inventory closet.

I sigh and put the key into the door to my apartment. 16.46. I ended earlier today. The owner, for once, decided to close early today. Religious holiday. I wasn't sure which. I never really cared much for religion. I had an image of Jesus thrown in the little desk by my bed. Our Jesus, the Jesus of rats. A lot of species had their own depictions of him, letting him represent an aspect of themselves. We had perhaps the most cruel way to do so. The crown of thorns on top his head, of course, but with his abdomen cut open and stitched together. His left ear cut off. A sacrifice, the ear for the survival of others, and the stomach a sacrifice for science.

"Oh, hey!"

I look up, realizing I had just been standing there in the tiny hallway that wasn't much more than the wall of the bathroom.

"Hey." I say back.

Awa gives me a grin. "You playing hookey or something?"

"Nah, I got off early. I'll be going out soon though."

Awa is a savannah hare, and my best friend from high school. It was an unlikely friendship. She, the it girl of the class, all long legs, long ears, long list of lovers. Me? The awkward rat in the back of the class, too anxious to speak much. But somehow we found each other.

"You? Going out of your own free will? You always decline going out to the club with me."

I roll my eyes. "If I wanted to squander away my meagre paycheck on watered down drinks I can just flush some spirits down the drain from here."

She clicks her tongue. "It's not about the drinks, it's about the people and dancing. Having fun. A foreign concept to you, I know."

"Hey! I hooked up in the inventory room yesterday, I'm not all dull."

"You didn't tell me that! Come on, spill." She holds up her paws, starting with them pressed together like in prayer and slowly pulling them apart. "Tell me when to stop."

"Stop." I say, letting her go slightly further than what my tongue's memory tells me of the length.

She raises one eyebrow, pouting her lips as she considers the sizable distance between the palms of her paws. "Not bad, my boy. But that's one big rat."

"He wasn't a rat..."

"That's a first for you. I almost wanna bring you out for some watered down drinks. Wait, are you going out to seeee him?" She adds a rising note the end of her sentence.

"Kinda. He came into the store today, but he seemed..." Was it ok for me to tell her? They didn't know each other. "Sick, maybe. I told him I'd swing by the ballet to check up on him."

"The ballet? Is he a dancer? A fox, maybe?"

I chortle. "A fox? Foxes don't even look at me unless it's... you know. But no, he's an ibex goat I believe. Stagehand."

"That's a pretty nice job. He gets to ogle the dancers all day. I think I saw that, what's her name... Anya when I picked you up last week, the one with the rack, you know. Well, you wouldn't know her by the rack."

"I know her. She's the demi-soloist. Her cabriolé makes her look like she's flying."

"You've got that wistful look in your eye. You should show up this Anya while you're there."

I shake my head. "No..."

"You're biting on your claw."

I put the paw behind my back. "I'm just there to check up on Emilio. Don't put dumb ideas into my head, I'd kill myself out of embarrassment when they laugh at me."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're really joking when you say such things. Anyway, I gotta run. I'm meeting Saga and Prisha to check out a new club."

"Which one?" I ask.

"What, you're gonna come? It's The Bear Den."

"Huh? That's for-"That word catches in my throat. "That's not for people like us. It's dangerous."

"Aw, come on. I'll be fine. I've had predators for clients before." She says that word so casually. It makes me wince just hearing it.

"I know you gotta make money somehow, but... You take too many risks, Awa."

"Thank you for worrying, but you sound like my mother. Not that she knows about this, she'd kill me in more gruesome ways than any of them could." She throws her pink leather jacket over her shoulder and walks past me to get to the door. "Good luck. Maybe you'll hook up in the ballet's inventory room, ey?"

I looked at the door for a while after she closed it. I loved Awa, but her life is too crazy for me. It was silly to worry about her ending up hurt. She could take care of herself, but it didn't stop the scenarios racing through my mind.

Being alone at home, I threw my dirty shirts in the overfilled hamper and stepped into the shower. I let the warm water run down my fur. But before I could start massaging the shampoo into it, I saw the reflection in the little mirror door of the cabinet above the sink, one of those that opens up. My claws dig into the pudge of my stomach, the strands of fur that always felt dirty. How could I walk into the ballet like this? It was for the pretty dancers, all muscle, sinew and grace. It was for people who could light up a room by their mere presence, like Awa. I was a dark cloud sullying the room with mine. Show up Anya, the Frost Vixen? I couldn't show up a plastic bag in the street dancing to the beat of the wind.

I turned my head and focused on the wall, the orange mould growing in the corner, as I quickly lathered up shampoo to hide the stench of my oils. This is where I belonged, in a dirty apartment that no one bothered to really clean. Why did Awa even want to live with me? She clearly thought I was boring, dragging down her mood with my sullen speech. That's why she was always out. She'd rather lay down with some drunk man she wasn't even attracted to, a man who might devour her without a second thought, than to spend a second longer than she had to with m-

I turned the showerhead off. Come on, you can't bring this when checking up on Emilio, or you might as well not go at all.

Maybe that's for the best.

I rummage through my closet and pull out a pair of grey pants and a black hoodie, pulling it over myself like a second loose skin. I don't check myself in the mirror. That would be too depressing.

Well, here we go.