Never Too Late

Together

"Huh, what's that?" Briggan asked, not sure what he heard.

"I said happy four month anniversary, you cutie." Mastace chuckled, bumping into Briggan in a playful manner.

"Oh," Briggan said, his ears and tail drooping in mild embarrassment as a light shade of pink played upon his cheeks. "Happy fourth months, babe."

"You seem distracted today. What's the matter?"

"Nothing, hon."

"Can't believe that we've been together that long?"

"It just seems shorter than it is, and that's not what I'm thinking about."

"Oh?" Mastace rested his elbow on the wall and leaned against it with a smug grin. "Then what is it?"

Briggan didn't answer. Mastace looked at him, and he lost his grin. 

"What is it?" he asked again, this time being much more worried.

"The past," Briggan turned and continued walking down the sidewalk to get to school.

Mastace followed. "What about it?"

"My family... that is, when I had one."

"What do you mean?"

Briggan froze, mid-stride. He took a few seconds before he responded. "I'm not ready to talk about that just yet." His voice went back to the cold, void feeling that he had prior to meeting Mastace, who said nothing about the sudden change in tone but made note of it. 

It's a touchy subject. I'd better approach this with care. "Well," Mastace said, "I'll be right here beside you whenever you're ready."

"Thank you," Briggan said, and that was the last thing he said for the rest of the walk. 

Briggan sat in his Geometry class and brewed in his thoughts. He didn't take any notice of the lesson being taught and he didn't pay any attention to anyone else that might be saying anything, whether they be talking to him or someone else. He was, in essence, oblivious to the world around him. 

His thoughts were focused on the memories that never seemed to relent in their attacks on his mind. Screaming filled his head. That and an incalculable number of hours spent crying alone or raging at a God he was beginning to doubt the existence of. His thoughts took him places he knew he didn't want to go, but he could do nothing to resist. His only bet now was to get to where he couldn't be seen on the verge of a severe breakdown.

Mastace had been lucky enough to convince his AP English instructor to allow him to practice an oral presentation for another class freely in the hallways. The classroom had been feeling stuffy all of a sudden, and he had the feeling that he should get out as soon as possible. He paced up and down the corridors, feeling strangely on edge. He tried to ignore it and focus on his practice, but the more he attempted to suppress his gut instincts, the more he began to feel sick to his stomach. 

Finally, he gave in. Mastace began to look around the school for the source of his discomfort. He looked where ever he could, but avoided the classrooms due to the classes still being held. As he came across one of the bathrooms, he thought he caught the sound of... sniffling? Someone was crying, and likely needed some kind of support. 

Mastace walked into the men's room, passing the threshold slowly. He kept this pace until he laid eyes on who it was that had been crying alone in the least commonly used restroom on campus. Briggan. 

"Hey, what's going on? What's the matter, darling?" Mastace sat beside Briggan, gently hugging his boyfriend to soothe and console the distraught wolf. 

"Panic attack..." was all Briggan could say before being overcome with another set of sobs. 

"I'm so sorry, sweetie." Mastace said. He began petting the top of his head and lightly stroking his fur. Briggan leaned into Mastace, his crying diminishing down to a whimper here and a whine there. "You're gonna be okay, bud." Mastace continued. "I won't leave you until we're certain you're alright, I promise"

"I believe you," Briggan said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I believe we'll make it through this. Together."