Untitled Furry Thing #1

Francis had had a long day at work. The bat was unwinding by drinking too many Bloody Marys in the kitchen of his apartment. His best friend and roommate, Marco, was acting as a shoulder to cry on.

The tiger had come home from work to find Francis in this state, and so had not had a chance to change out of his uniform jumpsuit.

“I had fucking DREAMS!” Francis bemoaned, sniffling. “I wanted something, anything to look forward to. Dead end job, dead end everything. I’m a fucking waiter at the fucking Cheesecake Factory and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

“Don’t say that,” Marco said. “You’re not going to be stuck there forever.”

“You’re the only good thing in my life,” Francis said, crying. “And your big, sexy chest.”

“Whoa,” Marco said. “I mean, I appreciate it, but—“

Francis, who was running out of functioning brain cells, sobbed as he shook Marco’s shoulders. “I’ve always loved you. I’m so tired of not saying it. I’ve always loved you and I’ve always wanted you and the fact that I won’t ever have you tears me up inside!”

Marco looked at his roommate and best friend blankly.

“God,” Francis said, wavering. “I’m so fucking stupid. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t leave me, forget I said anything, don’t leave me!”

Francis lurched forward, trying to grab Marco for support. In the same instant, Marco stepped back, and Francis only barely avoided falling to the ground by leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t, urgh, leave me,” Francis repeated, before he turned his head to throw up in the sink.

“I’m not leaving you,” Marco whispered, his voice inaudible over the sound of the garbage disposal.

———

Francis had had a long day at work. The bat had a late shift every Saturday, and he had had a killer hangover from drinking too much Friday night.

He remembered nothing of the night before except for the taste of Bloody Marys and the sound of the garbage disposal.

Francis had managed to put on a decent customer service performance today, but he had been ready to go home since before he got there.

He got home at about nine. His roommate, Marco, was sautéing something in the little apartment kitchen, swaying his hips in time to some eighties pop song Francis didn’t recognize.

“Hey, babe, how was work?” Marco asked.

“Uuuaaagh,” replied Francis.

“That bad, huh?” The tiger asked, turning down the music. “You want some mushroom and steak tips, honey?”

“Yes.” Francis said, trying and failing to not sound desperate. “That sounds really good.”

Marco was a pretty good cook. Francis had previously even suggested that he try and get a job at the restaurant he worked at, but Marco was never interested.

Marco liked his current job as a car mechanic too much to switch, and Francis had to admit that he looked really, really good in a jumpsuit. Especially when he unzipped it halfway and exposed his bare chest.

It was a tragedy that Marco was straight…

“Did you just call me ‘babe?’” Francis asked blankly.

“And ‘honey,’” Marco amended.

The metaphorical gears in Francis’ head were metaphorically jammed. “Why?”

“‘Cause you’re my boyfriend, silly,” Marco said.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s true.”

“Do you remember last night when you admitted to having a huge crush on me?”

“No,” said Francis uncomprehendingly.

“Well, I guess you were blackout drunk,” Marco said. “But you told me that you wanted me more than anything else in the universe.”

“I don’t think I would say something like that,” Francis countered.

“Is it not true?”

“Um… well,” Francis paused, intending to continue when his brain started working. It was definitely true that he’d never say that. “You’re straight,” Francis said, after much deliberation. “You’re like, the straightest guy I know.”

“Well, not anymore.” Marco said, turning off the stove.

It was clear that he was building to something, but Francis was too tired and confused to appreciate the showmanship.

“You can’t just… decide that.” Francis said. “Well, I guess you can, but… God, what the fuck is going on? Is this your idea of a prank?”

“God, no, it’s not a prank. Look.” Marco pulled up his phone and showed Francis the screen.

When had he gotten so close? Francis thought.

On YouTube a video was playing, titled “Become gay hypnotic induction.”

The video had one thousand and thirty five views, from a channel with no profile image and a series of numbers for a name.

The video itself was just a black screen with dark, swirling shapes like the kind you see when closing your eyes for too long.

There was also a rhythmic pulsing, like a slow heartbeat. There were no words or other obvious sounds.

“You cannot be serious,” Francis said. “This is a YouTube video. There’s a million of these silly ‘become gay’ videos. They don’t do anything.”

“Well, this one does,” Marco said defensively. “I listened to it last night while I was sleeping.”

“And you’re gay now?”

“Yes! Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because it’s unbelievable! Even if you found the one and only stupid magic hypnotic… thing that actually works, why would you… God, this is a fucking joke. Tell me you’re pranking me.”

Francis looked up at the ceiling piteously, as if begging an uncaring god for mercy. “Why would you do that? Why would you do that for me?”

Marco took one of Francis’ paws in his own and squeezed. “Because I care about you. Because you’re my best friend. Because I love you, and I couldn’t love you the way you wanted. But now I can.”

Francis met Marco’s gaze. The tiger was looking at him in a way that he could only have dreamed of, and it was perfect, and it was terrifying. “You actually did it, didn’t you? You’re serious.”

“Yeah,” said Marco. “I did.”

“You’re crazy, you know that.”

“Maybe. Wanna eat dinner?”

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s eat dinner.”

Marco pulled Francis into a hug, pressing the bat’s face to his chest. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Francis sobbed. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled by his crying and the fur of Marco’s chest.

Marco patted him on the back. “I love you, too. I love you, too.”