The Love we Hide (Gay Furry Romance/Thriller story) MA15+

C1P4 - Skimmer *reworked*

I sat alone at the cafeteria table, holding the greasiest burger you'd ever bare witness to in both paws, and that oil soaking into my brown fur is a tough sensation to ignore.

It was food, and I was grateful for that, but smothering it in fat isn't going to help the customers. Let alone students trying to retrieve brain power in these trying times. I sat alone by choice. From here, I had the perfect view and eavesdropping distance to any other table, all arranged into the instinctive groups made in Highschool.

The jocks, the thugs, the criminals, the chicks, the nerds, the sluts, the band, the rejects, the book-worms, the IT idiots, the idiots who think they're IT, the brace-face girls, the couples, and the teachers pets. All sitting around in circular, differently decorated tables.

We've got furs sitting outside in the cold from being unpopular, to furs sitting being suffocated in other furs' body heat from being too popular. We've got a table for gays who are being bullied for being gay, the table of bullies who are gay but still in denial. A table for gay bullies who bully straight furs. A table for gay furs posing as straight to try and not get bullied. A table getting bullied by bullies, who just don't like tables for some reason. Even now they're kicking at its wooden legs and calling it names.

The only similarity that links them all, is that they're all perfectly arranged in this stupidly organized hormonal-hierarchy. Packed to the brim. Every table littered with species of all shapes and colour, uniting over something very temporary, something that's gonna be real forgetful next year when the tables are rearranged, and this grouping all starts again. Its survival, really.

But here, at my miraculously empty table - despite it being one of the largest, and most central to this oversized cafeteria - it wasn't survival; no, my friend, its living. There's a reason why no one disturbs me at this table: this is the home of Rust Talonmock. And Rust is the most popular fox in this school, purely because of how stupidly helpful, hot, and handy he is. Yes he's got a lot more 'h's to his name, one of them being that he gets a lot of the girls very horny - so him sitting alone is an act of restraining himself from all that pure 'mating craziness'. The weird thing, is that he actually likes just sitting and eating alone.

"Gives me time to think." He had told me a while ago.

And, me, not very popular me, is the only fur who he ever allows to sit with him. No one more, no one less. Just me, the lucky German Shepherd. How good's that? 

Now, being the top fox doesn't sound like a big deal. But you've got to remember that fox's are the number one species in terms of... well... everything. Except for the sports department - that seems to be reserved for tigers and wolves.

Given that we've got thousands of students in this school. Rust is some hot shit. A literal celebrity. Quite a few furs are scared to even talk to him - even though he's probably the easiest-going fur that they'd ever meet.

There's a name for this little table of ours. We've earned it, from doing... well, nothing at all. We're called the 'Skimmers'.

Say you were to visualize the school as a river, flowing soft water down in one direction, we're at the very top of it, at that rock bank where the water start. Top of the hierarchy, and like a skimming stone, that skims along down the full length of the stream, we can hang out with any group in the school without consequence. No one is bothered by us, which goes to show how important Rust's reputation is, given that a 'fag-boy' such as myself can hang out with homophobic bullies and not get slapped around too much. Sometimes I spend time with them just to annoy them about this. Come to think about it, that might be how I grew to know Mike.