The Way Back

Most people would think that dying in a bus seat would be depressing, but I don’t think I’d mind too much. A bus at late night? Like, after midnight kind of shit? Give it to me. They’re comfy. One of the undiscovered wonders of the modern world. Better and more satisfying than pillow talk after a movie marathon on a lazy winter’s evening.

It’s a good thing that it’s not too crowded, so I can take up more than one seat. One o’ clock on a Tuesday plus a record cold in Tundratown made sure of that. I’m not usually one to shy away from being felt up, but having to squeeze up against some asshole I barely know is worse than it sounds.

I might actually fall asleep like this. Knees drawn to my chest and all, leaning on the seats. The view outside is just breathtaking, starlight and all that, and the heaters on this ski bus are really killing it right now.

Now, normally that’d be a problem since I would end up missing my stop, but my bestie for the night is perfect for that. He’s an uptight ram who can’t seem to let a minute go by without asking me––

“Anneke, you’re sure you know where we’re going?”

Lifting my cheek off my knee, I turn my head and take in the wreckage that currently calls itself Remmy Cormo. He’s sitting upright (like a total square) and twiddling his hooves like a middle schooler on a first date. His phone ran out somewhere around fifteen minutes ago, so it seems that now he has nothing to do except harsh my mellow every time I think I’m comfortable.

“Chill,” I begin, managing to sound like this isn’t the fifth time I’ve reassured him tonight. “We take this bus to Taiga, then we transfer to Downtown. It’s fine, cotton puff.”

I’m not a psychologist or nothing, but I think he has trust issues. Maybe his intuition is acting up and sensing my master plan, my Moona Lisa of getting someone to have sex with me, and it’s tripping him out. Or maybe he’s just nervous being around a pred—business as usual.

Let’s put him at ease, then.

“Hey, Rem,” I purr. “You like coffee? Or are you more of a hot chocolate kind of guy?”

His surprise at my voice is quickly replaced by wary confusion. “Both are alright. Rem?”

“It’s a cute nickname. No, but if you had to pick.”

“It’s just depriving my normal name of it’s torso. To drink right now? I don’t feel that tired, so hot chocolate, I guess.”

I nod my head, starting to smirk. “Then boy, do I have the place for you!”

“Not too sure if I’m up for a drink right now, though.”

Ever sell something to someone who didn’t want anything? I haven’t, but Cormo’s giving me the look that I imagine every salesperson has seen at one point. That’s fine. This isn’t the time to freak out, I remind myself as I stretch my back lazily, twisting the other way so he doesn’t see my eye twitch.

When I come back around my bait has changed accordingly. The hot chocolate isn’t important, the place is. And I can still get him to the place.

“You come by Tundratown often? Probably not, right? See, it’s not as cold for you because you literally have a sweater on 24/7, but getting wet wool also seems like it’d be a bitch so I’d be watching out for that as well. You probably have mixed feelings about this place.”

“Yeah. Pretty spot on, actually,” he stares at me weirdly, both because he’s surprised and because he’s suffering from whiplash at how fast I changed gears. It looks like he doesn’t want to say anything, so I guess he’s resolved to go with the flow. “You’ve been here a lot, then?”

“Not for a few months. It’s a little out of the way, so I’ll only come here if there’s a super rad party going on. This place, though. This fuckin’ place. Best food you can get at this time of night—as long as we’re excluding the Nocturnal District. You’re gonna want to marry me after I bring you there.”

“I doubt it,” he deadpans. “Don’t we have to get home anyway?”

Shaking my head, I stand. “This specific bus that we’re transferring to is a piece of shit. Takes forever to come. Not that I mind someone who takes their time.”

He groans at my waggling eyebrows as the bus stops.

“I don’t have cash.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I brought some just in case I happened to make any pit stops.”

The mechanical doors fold open and let in a veil of coldness. We’re at Taiga.



We step off onto a rather wide stop, with a really long bench and filthy glass panelling scratched to hell. Once again, we’re the only two in the area. There aren’t any houses around, only apartments, and the one store that’s open is secretly a drug den or something. I know because this guy we used to be friends with threw house parties all the time on the next block over. One night we saw this tiger get stabbed outside of it and then limp inside. I don’t remember what that was all about but five minutes later he walked back out, smoking a pipe like nothing had happened. He was still bleeding, but I guess he couldn’t feel it anymore? Those were fun times.

This whole place is kind of a nostalgia trip, actually. Me and Wolt really did come here a lot. I’ve seen this stop and the surrounding area so much that I just feel drunk looking at everything. I’ve sure as hell never been here sober. The scratches on the glass look the same, maybe with a few more scribblings of “CUNT” on the side.The snow even looks the same, but that’s a given.

All in all, Taiga Street is exactly like how I left it. Perfect. This place isn’t home, but I know it well enough to feel comfortable here. And I’m gonna have to be comfortable enough to show Remmy my top game and get him in me by the end of the night.

“So, where’s this place that you were talking about?” he looks around, spying the drug den I mentioned earlier. “Because if it’s that place I’m going to refuse to follow you on the grounds that you want to take my kidneys.”

“No, no, it’s on the next street over. Come on,” I slink over and tug his arm towards a big line of apartments. He doesn’t move.

“If you think I’m gonna follow you into a dark alley, you’re very wrong.“

“Don’t be a pussy. I realize that that’s kinda your thing but it doesn’t make sense here. Look, can I ask you something?”

I walk, every heartbeat feeling like another step in the snow until he sighs and follows after me.

“What?”

Oh, god. I didn’t think this far ahead. Okay, he’s here. He’s here. He’s here! Sure. Let’s talk about that.

“Why’d you come out today?” I blurt out. My voice sounds hushed over our feet crunching the snow beneath us. “I-I mean, it’s not really out of character for you to just tag along when we go do shit, but when I saw you earlier it seemed like someone replaced all your coffee with piss.”

He shrugs. “Free food.”

Right. Al was treating us. “Same, T-B-H. Did you like it?”

“The food?”

“The night market.”

He hums absentmindedly, mulling the question over. “Yeah. It was nice.”

“Good to know,” I nod my head in approval, skipping ahead of him as we reach the mouth of the alley. “If I’m remembering right, this alley should take us to the 24/7 greatest coffee shop in the entire world. Fun fact! The bathrooms are also super clean, and the floors are surprisingly comfortable to kneel on.”

A vague noise of disgust murmurs from behind me and I enter the alley with my prey in tow.

The alley is born out of the space between two parallel apartment buildings. Windows line us on all sides. Some are closed off, but most–starting from the second story up–are loud and alive with muffled music and light. It (the light) bounds outside and zig zags, drifting down to where we are. I can’t see the stars because of these rooms, but in a way they’re like little stars of their own. Loud and obnoxious sources of light that dumb people find too much meaning in.

“Are you okay?” Remmy asks, suddenly in front of me. I must have stopped moving.

“Isn’t it pretty?”

“What? The alley?”

“No. Well, you know,” I look up at the lighted apartments above us. “Pretty is the wrong word. It’s a nice atmosphere. Relaxing. I’ve been in this alley before just to stand outside. All these parties…the good feelings leak outside. If you want to, you can come in and join the people, but if you don’t then you can have some time to yourself but still be near other mammals. Do I sound insane?”

“You sound like a sloth on pot, but I think I see what you mean.”

We continue walking down the path, Remmy always staying a foot or two ahead of me. The music and laughter from all that celebrating trickles down the walls. Hints of drunken happiness reach our ears. “It’s a nice way to look at things,” he continues. “Most people would be pissed they didn’t get into the party in the first place.”

“That’s the difference between me and most people,” I skip ahead of the grazer, swaying my hips.

“If you say so,” Cormo snarks, grinning like the cheeky ball of fluff that he is. “I’d certainly say you’re not like most people.”

What is that tone of voice. Flirt? Jab? He didn’t sound like he was trying to rib. I check him out, and while he has a decent poker face, I can see that he’s just as shocked as I am. There’s a very revealing look of “What the hell did I just say?” in those weird packing peanut eyes. I think I’ll go with ‘flirt’ for this one. Accidental, maybe, but still a try at a flirt. Oh, Sheepy McCloudwool, you had me worried for a second, but as it turns out, as usual, I was never in the wrong.

My expression lights up, sly grin snapping over into a giddy smile as we walk out of the alley, turning onto the next street over. Not too sure what the name is. Whenever I’m here it’s for the sole purpose of going to Alpacacinnos. As it stand, there aren’t too many cars parked here–a sign of the dead hours, from what I gather.

The place should be down the street. Once I’m there I think I’ll be able to really put the moves on. I really was beginning to have my doubts but it seems like when Annie knows, she knows. Wow, I need to get that on a t-shirt or something.

Speaking of shirts, mine is essentially see-through right now. Thin white tank tops in snow’ll do that to you. I wonder if he’s noticed?

“Hey–“

“Anneke,” Remmy interrupts from behind me. “Oh. Sorry.”

Huh? More flirts, perhaps? Absolutely not passing up on that. “What’s up, sheep?”

“I, uh, I don’t think that I ever thanked you.”

What.

“For going back with me,” he reminds me playfully, smiling at my lost expression. It’s strange. He doesn’t really smile at me, now that I think about it. It’s definitely a nice thing to see. “I didn’t ask for anyone to come with. You could have just gone home, you know.”

Trying to gauge an appropriate thing to say back proves to be a little awkward, but I manage to fumble something out of my  abashed brain. “Oh, riiiight. Yeah. No. Yeah. Don’t mention it. We found your phone pretty quick anyway. I didn’t have anything to do tonight. We’re going home anyway, so it’s not like I’ve lost anything.”

Okay, I’m freaking out a good bit. Not because of the weird nice Remmy all of a sudden. There’s layers to this. It’s that I’m slightly worried about what I just said to him, is why I’m freaking out. Because I don’t get worried about what I say to people unless it’s something real fuckin’ stupid, but that right there was just normal interaction.

The streets around here are a lot more desolate than what I remember. I mean, it’s cold, yeah, but it’s not that cold. It’s beautiful out here! You would expect at least one person to be admiring it. In the alley it wasn’t too prominent, but the moon is shining bright tonight. The light bounces off the snow and makes everything look blue. It’s very chill. If we weren’t on a mission I’d want to snap a photo or something.

What do I even want out of this? We pass by empty, closed, unlit stores, and a null feeling grabs my shoulders.

See, I haven’t really courted anyone like this in a while. No. No. Wrong word. I keep using the wrong words to describe things. Courting would imply dating, and romance. Which I’m opposed to because…

“Hey, Annie. I think it’s closed. Permanently.”

Remmy’s voice stops me and turns me around. He’s standing in front of yet another abandoned shop, and the faded sign above it tells me that this is, indeed, where Alpacacinnos used to be. Thing is, it doesn’t tell me much else. Where I should see a bunch of hungover people getting coffee and donuts at two in the morning, I see nothing. Nothing but black and what’s most likely a used needle and some broken glass.

My plan is dead.

“What the fuck,” is all I can utter, and then I find my volume button. The fur on my neck and my head and really just anywhere else stands straighter than it has in a while, surely making my hair look a little too rooster-like for comfort (as it always gets when I’m mad, but that doesn’t matter too much right now). “What the FUCK HAPPENED? I was here, like, two months ago! They can’t just gut this place like it was never a thing in the first place!”

Remmy looks like a wolf getting called upon in math class. I’ve been yelling–– a bit too loud and for what seems like no reason—because he doesn’t know exactly what this place was, or what it meant to me, or why this would have been the perfect place to go tonight.

That’s okay. I can’t blame him for that.

“Sorry,” he offers up.

“It’s okay,” I assert, accepting his unneeded apology. “This area’s always been sketchy. Stuff closes down every day. No problem. We’ll go back.”

We trot down the street, side by side, walking back the way we came. The blueness of the world and the crisp cold in the air don’t feel too good anymore. Run down establishments greet my peripherals for the second time. Now it’s like they’re staring at me, like the black void through the panes of glass is just a series of eyes watching and waiting for my next move.

We enter the alley once again. The parties above us still seem like they’re going strong. I’m surprised that we couldn’t hear them down at the grave of the greatest coffee shop in the fucking world. At least they stayed exactly where I left them.

Remmy grabs my paw, and I realize that I’ve been walking fast for a while now. He looks worried.

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he immediately drops it, looking embarrassed. Sure thing, Cormo. It was the physical contact that had me confused. Not the fact that you stopped me for no reason. I was so not okay with us holding hands that I had to turn around and give you a weird look, because that’s something that I just can’t have.

The lion, the lamb, and the endless fucking river, talk about shit I can’t have. The one thing I wanted, just…ruined. Done. Over. In less than two seconds I’m back to the drawing board without any kind of progress.

Needless to say, I’m not having a good time.

“What?” My voice is terse.

“Do you want to, I don’t know, talk about it?”

“It’s not important.”

“Really? Because from the way you’re acting it seems like the world is ending in two minutes.“

“Why won’t you fuck me?”

There’s a pause. A weak, flabbergasted “What?” squeaks out of him.

“You heard me,” I answer him, decidedly not turning around. I don’t want to see anyone right now. “Can you just explain to me, like, why? I know it’s not because I’m not pretty enough. You like the way I look. No point denying it. Everyone’s seen how you look at me. And Avo. Hell, even Charlie sometimes. Probably Betty, if you haven’t run away at the sight of her every time she’s come by. It makes literally no sense to me. I wouldn’t have had to–wouldn’t have NEEDED to bring you here in the first place if it did. So tell me something that I don’t know, Remmy. Give me an answer, because I know it doesn’t look like I can take a hint, but I can, and you aren’t giving me any.”

Suddenly, heat rushes to my face and I feel embarrassed when I should be feeling vindictive. That whole spiel sounded a lot cooler and dramatic when I was coming up with it, but hearing it out loud without any background music or moody lighting totally just kills the magic. Absolute bullshit. The snow crackles harshly under my feet as I continue through the alley, all but stomping on the freezing ground. I wonder how the residents of the ground floor feel here. Bunch of mammals walking by all the time: it must be hard to get any privacy. These poor fuckers probably just never open their windows or blinds.

Almost in time with my steps, Remmy begins to follow. I expected him to answer right away, but I guess I made it clear that he needs to tell me something that isn’t filled with horseshit. The two of us traverse through the alley, past the cracks in the brick walls and the poorly buffed, worn down graffiti. A third of the way in, underneath an especially loud, rowdier sounding party upstairs, he pipes up.

“You’re crazy.”

The remark makes me stop dead in my tracks, but Remmy practically glides past me when I go to look at him.

“You’re absolutely fucking insane,” he says again, almost in disbelief. “Just when I might have thought that you were an actual person underneath it all.”

Prick. I pad after him, eye twitching like mad. “I wouldn’t talk to me like that if I were you, grazer.”

“Sorry,” Remmy offers up, artificially apologetic. “I’m just wondering where you’re coming from with this, because you can’t be drawing from anything that I’ve seen. Annie, you barely talk to me other than to harass me about screwing you. Any reasonable person would have stopped by now. So I guess it’s you who has to give me an answer, now that I think about it. Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Suck a dick, Cormo.” I can’t believe this. “I am NOT obsessed with you.”

He scoffs. “Then you wouldn’t be trying so hard.”

That’s the end of that. We both strut out of the alley and into the lonely island that is the bus stop. The snow has started to fall again, bringing a sudden chill that I barely feel both as a result of being too pissed and what may or may not be frostbite. Remmy keeps ahead of me, walking towards the benches with a purpose.

Asshole. This would have been so easy if he had just bitten the bait. Like anyone else. Like literally everyone else. I’m not wrong. I know I’m not wrong. The hell’s his problem, anyway? ‘Obsessed’. Fuck him. I talk to him plenty. He makes it sound like I’m some slut with a scoreboard filled with the names of every name on Pack, and he’s the only one I haven’t crossed off yet.

Am I? Hypothetically speaking, if I haven’t really thought of him in any other context, I mean.

Remmy sits on a bench but I keep walking. There’s a bus coming in from the side that he didn’t see. It arrives as soon as I plant my feet at the curb, stirring up the winter air in its wake. The doors open before I can shiver, and I step on, softly nodding at the driver as I do.

The bus is crowded. It’s not one of the ones with individual seats, either. They’re benches, and once me and Cormo hop on we’re all but squeezed into a vacant space on one. Why no one standing took it, I don’t know, but it doesn’t happen. We end up pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder, and I think I might die. I don’t imagine he’s too pleased with our circumstances, either.

It’s a matter of time before I start feeling sleepy. Regardless of everyone else on the bus, I’m at the end, in between a sheep and a metal armrest preventing me from being shoved off by the sheer number of passengers. I can make this work, as always. The unpredictable stumbles of the bus are actually a little soothing. My eyes close before I know that they’re moving, and as soon as the black fills my vision, it’s gone, almost like an extended blink.



In front of me is a blurry outline of the empty bench in front of me, and as it gets clearer I’m made aware of the fuzzy feeling in my brain. Common sense makes me realize that I dozed off for a minute or two. The bus is empty, now, and in a hazy sense of panic I whip my head towards the stop list. When I see that we’re still by Trip Street, I nearly faint in relief. We’re fine. I’m fine. Pack isn’t for a while, but I sure as hell aren’t missing it any time soon. Now that I’m perfectly rested, I mean.

The sudden slowing of my heart rate’s most likely playing a role, but I realize that I’m feeling a lot warmer than I did when we first got on. As soon as I notice that I’m leaning on something my pillow fidgets underneath me.

My eyes flick upright to catch a glimpse of what I must have looked like just seconds ago. Remmy’s slumped over, completely conked out and looking oddly conflicted about something. I lean in closer, examining his face more out of curiosity than any intent to do anything weird. I’ve never seen a sheep so up close before, but they have fur on their faces. Always just thought it was skin, but no. The fuzz is there.

His exhaling stops abruptly, and it’s only then that I notice just how close we are, but make no effort to move. Warm air softly brushes against my cheeks, followed quickly by a tingling sensation.

Man, what the hell am I doing? Am I really trying that hard?

Remmy opens his eyes, and I snap back, nearly hitting myself on the window in the process. “I—I’m not—wasn’t doing anything weird, I swear.”

He simply looks at me.

I clear my throat. “Sleep well?”

“Where are we?”

“We still have a ways to go.”

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. The low humming of the engine becomes louder and louder with every passing second.

“So, any reason why I was tickled awake by aardwolf breath?”

“I just woke up from a nap but I saw that you were sleeping too, so I wanted to go back to sleep. I guess I was…counting sheep?” I offer, grinning weakly, engine buzzing louder and louder in my ears. I’m not a creep, I have not participated in creepy activities, I do not watch mammals sleep, at least without consent.

A “snrk” comes out of him as he leans back into his seat, casually draping an arm behind it. “I wasn’t complaining. Should probably thank you. If we were both snoozing we would have probably missed our stop.”

Holy shit. It’s like––wait, but if I just talk, then what happens? Like he’s gonna take my not-bait.

“It was a good place,” I start. “You would have liked it.”

He gives me his attention, and I don’t know what else to do so I keep talking. “They always had this deal for summer that they never bothered to take off. Two drinks for the price of one. They had nice, greasy food too. The kind that you always want when you’re drunk. I don’t remember too much about who worked there, but they weren’t bad because if they were, I definitely would have.”

“That actually doesn’t sound too bad, right about now,” Cormo rests his head on the window, expectant for me to keep talking.

What is this? This isn’t real. Forgetting the fact that he is literally waiting on a response from me––Actually, never mind. The sheep is smiling. A small smile, albeit, but that’s a good sign. Because I’m talking. Don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but sure. Keep talking.

I wonder what I look like, right now.

“It was my good luck charm, you know? Every party hosted in Tundratown, I would just go out to Taiga, find Alpacacinnos and buy whoever it was that night a donut. That was my move.  He would always return the favor by bringing me home and giving me a cream filled pastry of my very own.”

Another laugh brings my focus back to his face. Still smiling. Smiling more, actually. That wasn’t even good!

“You don’t ever turn it off, do you?”

“And you don’t ever stop breathing,” I coo back at him. Admittedly not my best. “Look, I…There’s a lot going on, and I think that I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know for sure that I’m doing it wrong.”

He blinks, dumbfounded and silent, waiting patiently for me to continue. Nothing to say. At all. Ugh.

“I really don’t know.” Words leak out of my mouth. “I’m trying. You got me there. I’m really trying here, which sucks because trying sucks. Too much happens when you try stuff. I mean, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know.”

It feels like I can’t stop puking. “I mean, I’ve been a dick, right? Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been dicking you hard because I’m doing everything wrong. Rem, I don’t know what I want from you. Just, I don’t want you to not like me because whatever I want, it’s not that.”

“Uh–“

“No wait, I know one thing. I’m sorry. I should apologize to you. For the dicks. Let’s forget about everything. And start over. I really hate that term, but I’m using it. For you. Let’s Groundhog Day everything between us, except the opposite. So we don’t live the same days over and over, but we remember them kind of fondly sometimes, but mostly pretend that they never happened. You know, I never actually saw that movie, but is that okay? Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Okay.” Remmy looks like he just stepped off a rollercoaster, and like he’s scared I might just shank him right now, but there’s an understanding in his eyes.

“Okay?” I ask, grinning hopefully as I extend a closed fist. For bumping purposes.

Not a second goes by before he gently presses his fist against mine.

“Yeah. Okay.”

We nod at each other, over and over, and are nearly thrown off the bus when it stops.

The bell rings. We’re at Pack Street.



What to do, what the hell to do. I step off the bus and shuffle towards the general direction of our building. Somehow, by some miracle given to me by god knows who (probably god), I’ve managed to save myself from certain death. Now, what? I’m shooting blanks.

Talk more, right? But I can’t just talk forever. What if––

“Annie. I’m over here.”

Remmy’s at the stop, sitting suspiciously straight. He motions for me to sit beside him. I trace my steps backward and do so.

When we’re nice and comfy, looking like a couple of hobos, he starts to speak. “You didn’t think that you were the only one who needed to ask for a do over, did you?”

“Well, yeah?” I tell him. I’m not a humble person but I still have no idea what he would need to open up about.

“You…You’re right, and look, I’m not a predo, lets make that clear, but you’re not exactly the worst looking.”

Cute. So cute. The whole “predophile” thing can be solved later, but as nice as this all is I don’t feel like wasting any more time. I turn and lean the entirety of my back against him, kicking my legs up onto the bench. “We’re friends now, aren’t we, Cormo?”

“What?”

“Look, if we’ve started this whole new chapter in our relationship and all, you’re gonna have to be more open than that.” Reflexively, I go for his dick.

I stop halfway there; a glitch in my programming. This is wrong. The wrong move. It’s not gonna end up like how I want it to. I just got to where I needed to be. How? I don’t know. But that was the point, I think.

Sliding around so I’m facing him, I move my paw to his face. A simple pulling motion and our lips meet for the first time.

The kiss is nice. A little nervewracking, somehow. It’s at that halfway point between a peck and “just married”. I hold it for as long as I can, which only proves to be a few seconds before I decide that I want to see the look on his face.

Thoughts are practically broadcasted by his expression. Did I really just let that happen? Why aren’t I moving? Why can’t I just shove her off of me? Cliche stuff that someone would think in those trashy pred/prey erotica novels. The ones that they sell in the bargain bin at the gas station. He’s being such a dumbass about this that I have to stop and laugh at him, but it seems like the only thing I want to do is smile.

“Nothing to say, Cormo?”

“Uh. I–that was, very, something.”

“Something?”

“Yes. That was something.”

“Good to know.”

Fascinated. That’s what we are. With each other and with this moment, really. We stay at that stop for so long that another bus comes by. The driver looks miffed when we decline his service, but what can we do?

We walk in tandem, past the dead grass and the broken bikes, down the sidewalk and past the other buildings, greeting friends and acquaintances who walk by. The stars are oddly clear tonight. They’re shining bright in the sky in a way that I haven’t seen before. They make me feel alive. We keep each other in step, talking about nothing, playing “who can groan every time Annie makes innuendo”, arguing about why wool is the best or not.

When we get to the front, I open the door for Remmy, and he thanks me as he trots in.

We’re home.



((so much love to Comicanon, who helped me make this fic the best that it could be))