A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling,
Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.
(William Shakespeare, sonnet 20)
Wolf stared at his empty tray, drumming his fingers on the table. A glance down at the communicator on his wrist told him that it was 8:32. He'd give it a few more minutes, then he'd have to go. He'd probably come too late.
Glancing over at his side, he could see Marth looking at him. "Ten minutes," the prince said.
"Thirteen minutes."
"Same thing."
Wolf alternated between staring at his tray and staring at the entrance, picking up his spork every once in a while to jab at some kind of green crap the cafeteria workers called food. He glanced down again:
8:34
Growling, he threw his spork onto his tray, then picked the tray up. "I'll be right back." He made his way over to the trash can, frowning. Fox had said he'd be here, so why hadn't be shown up yet?
Once he'd dumped his tray, he walked back over to the table, sitting down and keeping his eyes trained on the entrance. He looked at his communicator again.
"You know, time's going to continue moving at the same speed no matter how many times you check it."
Wolf felt his ears go down. "Gee, I never woulda figured that out, Prince He-who-points-out-the-obvious."
Marth shrugged, then craned his neck, pointing. "Hey, there he is."
Wolf's head snapped to the entryway. Fox and Falco were approaching them, jabbering to each other about something. As usual.
He wondered what it would be like to speak to Fox like that on a day-to-day basis. To be on the same team as him, to be his friend, to room with him...
Wolf realized with a pang of guilt that maybe that was why he had always hated Falco so much. Maybe he had been jealous of the bird—his free life, his popularity, and his interactions with Fox. Maybe he—
"Hellooooo?" A golden-furred hand appeared in front of his face, and he gave a start when he realized that it was Fox's.
"Err..." He fumbled for something to say that wouldn't make him seem like as big an idiot as he felt he was. "You're late."
"I'm not late for anything. You're the one who has a match in five minutes. Besides," Fox said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "it's all Falco's fault."
"Well then maybe we should get going? And it's always Falco's fault, according to you."
"You don't have to be in a big rush. The only reason they want you there ahead of time is to make sure you aren't late. None of the matches ever start on time. And it really was Falco's fault this time," he said, frowning. "He had to get ready for his match."
Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Falco fights today?"
"Yeah, exactly. At 11:30. The knucklehead didn't even look at the schedule until this morning."
"Sucks for you." He couldn't help feeling a bit of satisfaction over Fox looking at the schedule for him but not for Falco.
"So, uhh..." Fox was looking away, unmoving as he spoke, "you want to come watch the match with me?"
Trying to mask his surprise, Wolf answered in what he hoped was the same smooth tone Fox had used. "I guess."
"Okay then," Fox said, his fingertips drumming the table in the same manner as Wolf's had minutes earlier. A sign of nervousness, perhaps?
Satisfied with the outcome of the conversation and not really wanting to screw everything up now, Wolf turned his attention elsewhere. Falco and Marth were a couple of seats down. They were chatting about something, but he couldn't make out the words. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were talking about him, assessing him, betting on him.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a slow, steady breath. He hadn't realized until just then exactly how much was riding on this one match. "I think I should get going." He sent Fox an expectant look.
There was a brief pause before Fox spoke. "Yeah, okay. Come on." He stood and took a few tentative steps towards the exit.
"What about them?" Wolf pointed at the others, who were still talking, oblivious to his and Fox's movement.
"Don't worry about them. Marth'll catch up, and Falco's going to eat breakfast anyway."
"Alright. Lead the way."
He trailed behind Fox, not really paying attention to where he was going, his eyes once again following the swishing of the vulpine's tail. Fox went down the stairs, saying that it was quicker that way. Not long after they left the stairwell, Fox stopped in front of him, forcing him to take a stutter step to keep his balance.
He was in a long, wide hall, similar to the ones in the rooming floors. The lights here were dimmer, and there were only three doors: one at each end of the hall, and the one they had just entered by, in the center of it.
Fox had turned around and was facing him. "It's that way." He pointed to Wolf's left. "Just go in there and they'll tell you what to do."
"Alright." He started off toward the end of the hall, but stopped after a few steps, turning around. Fox had touched him on the shoulder.
"Good luck. I'll be watching."
Wolf stood there, unable to move for a few seconds. He could feel himself trembling. "Thanks," he said. "I'll be sure to win."
Swallowing, he set off down the hall at a pace a bit brisker than was necessary, feeling eyes on his back.
Wolf could already tell that it was much different viewing a match from the combatant's perspective. As soon as he had entered the room, an attendant had walked up to him and led him in the center of a circular, dome-like machine, which hummed to life as he entered. There was a small screen directly in front of him, and on it, a countdown timer appeared, measuring ten seconds, unmoving.
He swallowed. He had never considered the number "10" to be as nerve-wracking as it was now.
("I'll be sure to win.")
The timer jumped down to "9," causing Wolf to start. The machine's hum crescendoed until it blocked out everything else.
6... 5... 4...
And it was gone. He was standing on a platform, a few meters across from his opponent, who he assumed was Snake.
A loud voice boomed, "Begin!" Snake pulled out a spherical device, making a deft movement with it before throwing it at Wolf.
Recognizing the thing as an old-fashioned explosive, Wolf reached to his hip, his fingers brushing the activation button of his reflector. He waited for the explosive to get into range before jamming the button.
A red wave of energy radiated out from him, colliding with the explosive and sending it flying back. It exploded in a shower of flames and shrapnel, the smoke obscuring Wolf's vision.
He pulled out his blaster and aimed it into the smoke. When it cleared—
Snake was gone. Wolf panicked, spinning around, looking for the man.
He was gone.
Wolf relaxed the grip on his blaster, clipping it back in its place. Had he won? No, that couldn't be it. The match was still going on. He'd seen how the others ended and this didn't look anything like it.
Footsteps.
At first, he'd thought that his ears were fooling him. He stood deathly still, straining his ears for any hints of noise.
Yes, those were footsteps. They were behind him... a couple of feet, he guessed. Snake had gone invisible somehow, and he was doing his best to sneak up on Wolf.
The lupine continued to stand there, trying not to give himself away. He calculated the distance between Snake and himself, making measurements inside his head. Just a few more seconds, and...
Wolf tore the blaster out, whirled around, and stabbed in Snake's direction. The blade met something. He grinned.
A man-shaped blob appeared in front of him, staggering backwards, resembling Snake more and more with each passing second.
Wolf squeezed the trigger, and the blaster released a burst of energy, colliding with Snake, knocking him back. Snake recovered by shifting into a backwards acrobatic flip and kneeling, as if he was waiting for something.
Sheathing the blaster, Wolf darted forward, snarling, extending his claws. He brought up an arm, and—
There was an explosion in front of him, sending him flying backwards. He landed on his back, and was in the process of getting up when he noticed:
Snake was standing at his full height now, a small mechanical device held in his hand. There was what looked to be a single button on it.
Wolf scrambled, his claws scraping against the platform.
An explosion erupted underneath him, launching him into the air. He flew for a few seconds, unable to control himself, then looked down in time to see another one of the explosives flying towards him. He barely had enough time to reach down and press the button for his reflector. But as soon as the red waved touched the thing, it exploded.
It knocked Wolf down and backwards, and his impact with the platform hurt even through the arena's technology. He was only about a foot or so from the edge, and... and there was a missile heading straight for him.
He got up and ran to the right, cursing when it swerved to follow him. He pulled out his blaster and fired at it. It took him three shots to explode it, and the force of the explosion still reached him, causing him to stumble. When he recovered, his head darted around the arena.
Snake was gone again.
Wolf growled, his heart beating at a hundred eighty beats a minute. How was this even fair?
Taking in a deep breath, he looked down at his communicator. He'd used up most of the blaster and reflector's energy, and it would take them a minute or two to recharge. He could probably squeeze one last discharge from the reflector.
He stood still and closed his eyes, listening. He could count on Snake being more difficult to detect this time.
*snick*
It was faint, and Wolf tried to give no indication that he'd heard it. He could pinpoint its location, and he tucked the knowledge away for future reference.
He had an idea.
Wolf could hear the footsteps again. They were slow and quiet, but definitely there. He gauged the distance, resisting the urge to grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain deathly still.
When he was sure Snake was in range, he slammed his finger on the switch for his reflector. Its remaining energy radiated out in a single red pulse, colliding with Snake and phasing out his camouflage, tracing him with beams of bright red.
Wolf grappled with Snake, tearing through pieces of the suit with his claws. Wolf was aware that as soon as the man recovered from the reflector's shock, he would be much more than the lupine could deal with. He groped for a few more seconds before snatching away the object of his pursuit.
Wolf wrapped his arms around Snake and threw him, and, before the man had a chance to recover, rammed into him, sending him sprawling backwards.
Perfect.
Grinning, Wolf pulled it out. It was the same detonator Snake had used on him.
Wolf pressed the button. Snake seemed to explode. The man went flying backwards, over the edge of the stage.
Wolf drew in a deep breath, then let it come rushing out in a sigh.
Wait, what was that? That whirring noise...
Snake appeared, still offstage, holding on to a disk of some sort. Whatever it was, it was making him fly upwards, and he was headed back towards the stage.
Wolf took out his blaster and shot at the disk, missing as Snake swerved to the right. Gritting his teeth, Wolf shot again, missing again.
Glancing down at his communicator, he saw that he had one shot left. On the bright side, Snake's dodging had kept him from getting back on the stage, but Wolf only had one shot. And if he missed, he lost.
Wolf took aim, going out a little to the right to compensate in case the man tried to dodge again. He squeezed the trigger and held his breath.
The laser collided with the disk, causing it to freeze. Snake let go, leaning toward the stage.
He was going to make it.
Wolf cursed himself. Trembling, he began unscrewing the bayonet from his blaster. A few good turns on the nut and it came off. He didn't have time to aim—he just threw it and prayed that it hit.
The world appeared to be moving in slow motion. The blade gleamed as it spun through the air, spiraling towards Snake.
It was a perfect hit. The bayonet slammed into Snake's chest and ricocheted back off, landing on the platform with a sharp clang.
Snake began falling. He thrust his arm out to clutch at the edge, but he was too far away.
Wolf walked to the edge, staring. There were no platforms below this, nothing to break Snake's fall—just a black void, an abyss that seemed to swallow him. The man looked so pathetic, so hopeless, so scared.
Wolf shuddered, his heart pounding at one hundred eighty beats per minute.
That could have been him. It could have been Fox. Could have been anyone. All it would take is a slip-up, or a lucky shot by a guy like him, and they'd be gone forever.
Moments later, Wolf was inside the teleportation machine again, the attendant rushing up to meet him. The guy was jabbering about something, but Wolf wasn't listening. He had brought a hand up and was running it through his head fur, his mind elsewhere.
When Wolf exited the contestant's hall, he recognized the adjoining room as the main chamber, where the front door of the mansion was. Looking around, he could see that either Snake had beaten him out, or he was still cooped up in the other room. After a few minutes, people began trickling in. Wolf caught snippets of their conversation, ranging from disbelief to outrage to contentment over the results of the match.
There he was—Fox had just entered, and was strolling up to Wolf.
"Hey, congrats. That was a really good fight."
"Thanks." He looked down at his feet, shuffling them back and forth. "I haven't seen stuff that old in so long that I didn't know what to do at first..."
"He was good, though. And I've never seen a camouflage suit like that before."
"He was alright," Wolf said, even though he knew Snake was a much better fighter than he was.
There was a brief silence. "Well," Fox said, "we have about twenty minutes before Falco's match starts. You wanna go ahead and head up there?"
"I guess."
"Come on, let's take the stairs."
Wolf did as Fox bade, this time running up to walk beside the vulpine. "Who's Falco fighting?"
"Ice Climbers. It shouldn't be a really difficult match."
Wolf nodded as if he knew who the Ice Climbers were. "So I guess we've been getting pretty lucky so far."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, we haven't fought anybody really difficult yet. All it'll take is one match to get knocked out..."
"Don't worry about it." They had entered the stairwell now. "It'll just make things worse. Snake was good, though. No offense, but I think you won that one by luck."
Snorting, Wolf said, "No luck involved. He wasn't expecting to have to fight someone like me."
Fox laughed. "Yeah, right."
"It's true. Most people wouldn't have been able to hear him while he was sneaking around like that."
"I suppose... still," Fox said, pausing to open the door that led out of the stairwell, "you're right. It's only a matter of time until one of us fights someone like Marth."
Wolf emerged into the hall, now knowing where he was going. "Is he really that good?"
"He's pretty amazing. Won the tournament last year, actually. I fought against him for the championship, and I could barely touch him."
"Well... you suck." They had entered the lounge now, which was empty except for a handful of people.
"We'll see who really sucks in the end." Fox's head darted from side to side before he pointed to the right, in one of the middle rows of chairs. "Let's go over there."
Wolf nodded, staying close behind Fox. He sat down beside the vulpine, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.
After a few minutes of staring at the same empty patch of white and deciding that there was nothing particularly interesting about it, he turned to see what Fox was doing. The vulpine was leaning over, staring into his communicator, pressing buttons. Maybe he was playing a game of some sorts? Wolf couldn't tell. He brought up his arm and eyed his communicator.
That gave him an idea.
"So," he said, pronouncing every syllable to himself before he said it in, "what happens when someone gets eliminated?"
There was a pause before Fox looked up, returning the hand with the communicator strapped to it to the armrest. "They get shipped back."
"As in, back to where they came?"
"Yeah. I dunno why. I always thought it was kind of silly to be sent away before you knew the results of the thing, you know?"
"Yeah... so, uhh...." Wolf hesitated, staring down at his feet. "If one of us loses, what happens?"
Wolf could feel Fox's eyes on him.
"I don't know. That's...." There was the sound of shifting movement. "That's a good question. I hadn't thought of that."
Silence.
Wolf looked up, almost making eye contact with Fox, hoping that this wouldn't sound as stupid as it did when he imagined himself saying it. "Why don't you give me your number?"
Fox twitched, then corrected himself so he looked like he had done it on purpose.
"I mean—so that we don't lose touch if one of us fights Marth or something."
Fox looked down at his communicator. "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty good idea."
"Alright. My number's 4–294–967–296."
There was the beeping noise as Fox navigated with the touch screen, the snapping of keys as he entered in the information. "Whoa there, slow down. Say it again?"
"4–294–967–296." He pronounced each number separately.
"Alright. Mine's... gimme a minute." He fiddled with the touch screen for a little while.
Wolf chuckled. "Don't even know your own number?"
Fox gave him a half-lidded stare before returning to the screen. "Shut it." A few seconds of beeping ensued before Fox said, "It's 2–147–483–648."
Wolf entered the numbers as Fox called them out, hitting the confirmation button on his touch screen with a bit of satisfaction. That had been a lot less painful than he'd thought it would be.
Fox let out a bark of laughter. "Heh..."
Wolf looked over at Fox, who had a bemused grin on his muzzle.
"You know, it's kind of funny."
"Why's that?"
"A couple of years ago we were trying to kill each other every chance we got. Now, we're exchanging phone numbers."
Wolf felt a flush creeping up, and he did his best to fight it.
The room was a bit louder now. Several people had entered the room. That self-absorbed, holier-than-thou woman—Wolf thought her name started with a "Z" or something—had sat in front of him. The green man was beside her.
"It should start soon," Fox said. "Just a couple minutes."
Wolf reclined in his seat again, sweeping his eye across the room . He was surprised at how many of the Brawlers actually went to these matches. He figured that some of the smarter ones would take advantage of this time to go train...
The room had gone quiet. Looking at the screen, Wolf could see that Tabuu had appeared. After a couple of minutes of listening to the man chatter on about some pointless crap that nobody cared about, the timer appeared. When the combatants appeared, Falco appeared on one end of the platform, and two children in fur coats on the other.
Wolf tapped Fox on the shoulder. "Isn't that unfair?"
"Eh?" The vulpine's head darted over to Wolf and tilted to the side until it was almost diagonal, which Wolf found funny.
"There's two of them..."
Fox shook his head. "They always enter as one contestant. If you put them alone, it wouldn't be fair to them."
"Why's that?"
"They're just... it's kind of like they're two parts of the same person. It's hard to explain."
"Whatever." Wolf looked back to the screen. He found his eyes tracing Falco's movements, not because he was interested in the bird, but because Falco fought like Fox, and it was entertaining to point out the differences.
He wasn't sure how long the fight lasted, though he could be sure that it was much longer than any other fight he'd seen. It was obvious that Falco was going to win after the first ten minutes or so, but the Ice Climbers wouldn't give him a chance. They had amazing defense and recovery, but horrible offense. It became nothing but a stalling game, the Climbers delaying their defeat as much as possible, perhaps hoping that Falco would give up.
Wolf leaned back in his seat, and, before long, his eyes had closed. He hadn't realized how tired he'd been—the match must've taken a lot out of him. More than he'd thought.
The sounds of the combatants died down until they were just a faint whisper in the background. The world became dim and distorted, and foggy images appeared in his mind's eye. He wasn't sure if he ever fell asleep or if he was just suspended in a state of half-sleep.
"Wolf." Someone touched his shoulder.
He jumped, grunting, reaching up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Wha..."
"You fall asleep?"
Wolf looked over in the direction of the voice, and, seeing Fox, he shrugged. "Is it over yet?"
"Yeah." It was then that Wolf noticed the escalating noise as people got up and made their way out. "Falco won."
"No surprise." Wolf stood up, squinting. The lights were hurting his eyes, even though they weren't that bright.
"I'm gonna go meet Falco downstairs. You coming?"
Wolf winced. "I don't think so."
Fox frowned, shaking his head. "Are you scared of him or something?"
Wolf growled in mock anger. "Me? Scared of him? That's absurd." He crossed his arms. "I just wanna get to lunch."
"I was just asking, there's no reason to get touchy."
"Touchy..." He hrmphed and stared at Fox, unblinking. Fox returned the stare, and kept it up for a few seconds before looking away, blinking.
"I win," Wolf said, feeling the corners of his mouth lift up a bit.
"Okay, fine, have it your way." He sounded as is he was trying to conceal amusement. "I'm leaving. Later."
Wolf brought up his arm and looked at the communicator, checking to make sure that he'd saved the number. When he put it down, his eyes trailed the vulpine as he joined the crowd that was filing out of the lounge.
Wolf sat alone at the table. He wasn't sure what the stuff on his plate was, but it was good nonetheless. Either that or he was too distracted to notice how bad it was.
He couldn't figure out why he still felt so empty. He'd gotten Fox's number, so what was the issue?
People were steadily piling into the cafeteria now, and the noise was getting on his nerves. Figures, he thought, since the match ended about thirty minutes before the cafeteria closed. There was the dull clack of a tray in front of him, and he looked up to see Marth, his cape swirling as he sat down.
"Congratulations on winning. That was a good fight."
"Hm?" It took the words a while to register. "Oh yeah... thanks, I guess."
"Don't be so pessimistic. You know, several people have already been shipped back."
"I know." Wolf started to say something else, but decided against it, turning back on his tray. A few seconds later, there was the clatter of trays again. Fox had sat down beside Wolf, and Falco beside Marth.
"If I have another fight like that," Falco was saying, "I'm just gonna give up."
"It wasn't that bad," Marth said.
Falco snorted. "Ha, says you."
"They should have some kind of time limit," Fox said. "You made poor Wolf fall asleep." He pointed a finger in the lupine's direction.
"Oh, ha ha, very funny." Falco glared at Wolf.
"What? I can't help it that you suck." Wolf picked up his spork and took another stab at the entrée. He held the sporked entrée up and pointed it towards Falco, making motions with it as he spoke. "Takes you an hour to beat a bunch of little kids." He popped it into his mouth and began chewing with a little more force than was necessary, enjoying the growing look of frustration on the bird's face. "Kinda sad."
"Guys, let's save the fighting for the arena, okay?" That was Marth, glaring at Wolf, then turning to glare at the bird. There was an eerie silence, in which Wolf picked at the entrée with his spork again, moving it around the little compartment it sat in.
Fox broke the silence, saying, "Why don't we go train again tonight?"
"I'm up for it," Marth said, bringing up a napkin to dab at his mouth. "I think last night worked out pretty well."
Falco sighed. "Fox is gonna drag me into it no matter what I say, so I might as well go ahead and say yes."
Wolf continued to stare down at his plate. "I think I'm gonna sit this one out."
Falco laughed. "What's the matter, scared of—"
"Shut it, birdie. I'm just too tired." Picking up his tray, he got to his feet. "I'm gonna go back to the room and get some shut-eye." He had only taken a few steps before Fox popped up beside him.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure you don't want to go with us?"
Wolf looked back at the vulpine, frowning. No matter how he looked at it, it would be a colossal waste of time and energy. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Okay." He paused, looking indecisive. "Listen, if there's ever anything bugging you, you can always talk to me."
"I'm fine," Wolf said. Feeling a little bad about how that sounded, he added, "I just need some rest, okay?"
"Alright." Fox hesitated. "'Night. Hope you feel better." He placed a hand on Wolf's shoulder.
Wolf's fur stiffened at the contact, and he looked away, biting his lip. "Yeah..." Fox's hand was gone a second later, much sooner than Wolf would've hoped for.
His eyes followed the vulpine until he sat back down at the table. Wolf slowly made his way over to the trash can, letting the remnants of his meal slide off into it.
Wolf was splayed out on his bed, his eyes shut. Marth had stuck his nose in the book again and hadn't said a word—probably wouldn't even notice if the mansion exploded and shot him twenty feet in the air. Wolf was aware that he had been laying there for at least an hour, and he was becoming a bit frustrated with his inability to fall asleep.
His mind just wouldn't shut up. Every time he'd think he was about to drift off, the golden silhouette of Fox would appear and jolt him back to reality, and that would set off another chain of thoughts.
Convinced that he was unable to force himself to fall asleep, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Gods, but he was tired. Not like he could do anything about it in his current state, though.
He dangled his feet off the side of the bed and stretched, his shoulders giving a few pops. Getting up, he sent a glance over in Marth's direction.
"I'm goin out for a walk."
Marth didn't make any acknowledgement, just kept staring at the book—he always looked so damn enthralled when he was reading. Getting through to him was like trying to punch through an iron wall. Wolf shrugged, starting towards the door.
He had his hand on the door handle when Marth called. "Wolf."
Turning around, he loosened his grip. "What?"
The prince closed the book, marking his place with a finger. "Is there something bothering you?"
"Why do you care?" He had let go of the door handle, and was leaning against it, his weight on one leg.
"You're my roommate. What bothers you is going to eventually get at me, too... and... I can't stand to see someone suffering if there's something I can do to help. So tell me—what's wrong?"
Part of Wolf knew that he would feel better if he let it all out, that telling Marth would be just as informative to him as it would be to the prince.
Yes, that was it. He had to tell someone. But, no, he couldn't tell Marth. He didn't know enough about the way Marth's culture was, and being stuck in a room with a man who wanted to kill him wasn't all that appealing.
Who, then? Fox?
He blinked, feeling stupid for even thinking that. There was nobody he could tell—not safely, at least. He needed some time to clear his head.
"I'm going for a walk," he said again, trying to sound final.
He grasped the handle and opened the door, stepping into the dim hall. He wasn't even sure where he was going: it was like his legs had minds of their own.
He was in a tough situation, faced with a much harder dilemma than he'd ever had to face on the battlefield.
He had to know. He was tired of the what-ifs, tired of the hoping, tired of being afraid.
But Fox was the only one who could help him right now, in the financial sense at least. If he screwed up with the vulpine and didn't win the tournament, then it was back to his old life. Back to the hellhole they called the Lylat System. Even if he did do it, though, wouldn't it be strange? With another guy?
He wasn't even sure what "it" was—he'd never dated anybody before... what did people do? Talk small talk and pretend that it's all not a game to make it less awkward when they end up in bed together?
Whoa, slow down. He didn't even know where that came from . He certainly wouldn't think about anything like that with Fox. Or would he? Did he?
He shook his head. He was just confusing and
(exciting)
grossing himself out more and more.
It hit him at that moment how desperately he needed to talk to somebody. Somebody with experience, somebody who wouldn't hate him, somebody who'd keep his mouth shut. He needed to know whether it was worth the risk or not, and, if it was, what he should do. He knew that if he wasn't so desperate, he'd be hating himself for even considering talking to somebody else about something that private.
But who? He only knew three people in the entire mansion, and could only really talk with two of them: Fox and Marth. They'd both offered to help, but... he couldn't talk to Fox about Fox. That would defeat the purpose.
Marth was his only option, then. Still, he couldn't help being a little afraid of how the prince might react. It wasn't as if Wolf had any other option, though. Marth was his only choice, and if the prince murdered him on charges of homosexuality, then at least he wouldn't have to worry about this mess anymore.
He would do it then. He would
(come out)
confess to Marth. But he was too tired to do it now. It would have to wait until later.
The moment he made that resolution, he felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He realized that he should be getting back to his room, that Marth was probably looking for him if he hadn't already left.
Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was at. All around him was darkness, save straight behind him, were a dim shaft of light shone through the open doorway to... wherever he had just came from.
A chill passed through him, creeping through his spine, numbing his body, causing him to hug his arms together.
Wherever he was, he didn't like it. He had this eerie feeling that he was being watched. He knew he should go back, but something kept him rooted to the ground, staring into the darkness.
A pair of ominous, blood-red eyes stared back at him.
He jumped. They'd appeared out of nowhere. He searched around them, trying to find out who it was they belonged to. At first, he thought it might be Snake, but, the more his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the surer he was that it wasn't a smasher.
Wolf's fur bristled.
The figure was blacker than the darkness, looming only a few feet away, and—and it was getting closer.
Wolf ran. He ran straight through the doorway and kept going until he had passed several rooms, but the feeling of being watched persisted. He risked turning around to look, half expecting to see a phantom reaching for his throat.
Nothing.
He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then realized that he knew where he was at:
The cafeteria.
He blinked. He must have been hallucinating. He was too tired, and the fatigue had made his mind go crazy. Maybe he'd fallen asleep while standing up and had a nightmare or something. What could he be afraid of in the real world, anyway? Nothing real could make him react like that.
He needed rest. He would go back to the room and sleep, setting an alarm for 11:00. That way, when Marth got back from the training session, he would be waiting.
The time for action was drawing near.
The alarm buzzed to life beside Wolf. He reached a hand out and slammed the snooze button, laying there for a moments before dragging himself up. He stretched, yawned, then went into the bathroom to take a leak.
He took more time than was necessary in the bathroom, pausing to stare at himself at the mirror, which was something that he hadn't done since he'd got here, and that he hardly ever did back at home. He knew the Wolf staring back at him... or he'd thought he did. Now, though, it was apparent that he knew nothing about the guy.
He walked back into the room and sat on the bed, his legs dangling off the side. He brought his communicator up to eye level, staring at the time display.
11:12...
Marth should be back any minute. Wolf stared at the door for a while before returning to his communicator, digging through the short list of numbers, pausing once he reached Fox's. He let the cursor hover over it for a while before lying back on the bed, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling.
Wolf wasn't sure how long he lay there. The sound of the door flying open made him spring up to an upright position.
Marth had just entered, and was easing the door shut when Wolf forced himself to speak before he could think better of it. "Marth, I need to talk to you."
The prince faced Wolf, leaning back on the door. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was. But I woke up, I was gonna..." Wolf trailed off, recognizing his own attempt at stalling. "Look, man, we need to talk."
"What's been bothering you?"
"I—" Wolf grimaced. "That's what this is about!"
"I know," Marth said, his tone so calm it was infuriating. "That's why I asked. You don't have to get upset, just tell me."
"Okay." Wolf gritted his teeth. "First, you have to promise me something."
"I'm listening."
"One: don't think any different about me because of what I'm about to say. That means, no turning against me, no wanting to kill me, none of that crap, okay?"
A few seconds passed before Marth bobbed his head. "Alright."
"And second: don't you ever tell anybody anything I say." Wolf pronounced each syllable like it was a dagger that he was trying to shove through a three–inch thick sheet of metal. "I don't care if it's your best friend, don't tell anybody, okay?"
"Okay. I can respect your privacy."
"No, swear it."
Marth looked a little surprised by that. "I swear. I won't discuss this conversation with anyone."
"Good, then." He took a deep breath, letting it all out in a wheeze. Now that he'd gotten this far, he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.
(Hi, Marth, I'm gay for Fox, should I steal his money or his virginity?)
He decided to start with something simple. "Well, you know Fox, right?"
"Mmhm."
"Well, uhh..." Wolf's claws had worked their way out and he found himself twiddling them back and forth. "I have a problem with him."
"What's the issue? I thought you and he were friends."
Wolf remained silent, already too embarrassed to go on.
"Well? You two have been together a lot recently..." He paused, then made a quick motion with his head as if he'd thought of something clever. "Was there a fight over something?"
"No," Wolf said, unable to look at the prince, "it's kinda the opposite."
From the corner of his eye, Wolf could see Marth staring at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well..." Wolf felt so dumb. "I guess I kinda like him." Feeling that his words weren't enough, he added in, "A lot."
There. He'd said it. He looked up at Marth to see that the prince was still looking at him with that same expression.
"So... when you say like, do you mean..."
"Goddammit, Marth, do I have to spell it out for you?" Wolf gave the prince his best this-is-already-embarrassing-enough-without-you-forcing-me-to-admit-my-faggotry look.
Marth brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, his eyebrows rising. "Sorry, this isn't really what I was expecting... especially not from you, of all people."
"Do you think I expected it?"
The prince frowned. "Wolf, I don't know anything about you or your culture. Back where I'm from, this kind of stuff... it just doesn't happen."
Wolf's fur bristled. "Hey, don't start getting—"
"I'm not." He paused, sitting up on the edge of his bed. "Look, I can see that that is a pretty big deal to you, and I want to help. But you haven't even told me what the problem is, or how I can help with it. Can you explain it to me?"
"Do I have to?"
"It's up to you. I'll hold my word, though."
Wolf rested his chin in his hand. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice—he'd dragged himself in this far, and it wouldn't do him any good to pull away now He took a few seconds to consider the breadth of what he would have to tell Marth, and how pathetic he was for doing all this, before saying, "Okay."
And so Wolf told him. He started from the beginning, recounting his rivalry with Fox; how he had ended up on the losing side of the Lylat Wars, and got a bounty placed on his head because of it; how he had lost his temper with her and royally screwed up his life in the aftermath; and of his meeting with Fox at the tournament and all his subsequent experiences with the vulpine.
Marth had been quiet for some time, sitting there with that same thoughtful look on his face. "This is quite a lot to take in."
"I'm still trying to understand it myself."
"From what you're telling me... you know, you said Fox had always been your rival, and even enemy at one point. Maybe this is just a different approach?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, maybe this is all just a game to him. Trying to get you to make an even bigger fool of yourself. Think about it: first, he tried to kill you; then he was involved with that girl, which caused you to lose your temper with your teammates; now, he's doing this."
Wolf shook his head. "No, that's not Fox. He'd never do that."
"How can you be sure? You've hardly even talked to him."
Wolf growled. "I know what he's like, okay? He just wouldn't do something like that. I'm sure."
The prince looked like he was about to make another comment, but he sighed and looked away. "Wolf, tell me: what do you want?"
"Uh... well..." That was a complicated question to answer.
"Come on. No matter what you say, I won't hold it against you. You don't have to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid."
"Tell me, then."
Wolf took in a deep breath, letting it out as slowly as possible to bide himself time. "I want..." He grunted. "I just want all this mess to be over with!"
Marth glared at him. "Wolf..."
"Okay, okay..." He stared at the ground, already hating himself for what he was about to say. "I want this off my chest. I want Fox to know."
Marth continued to sit there, unmoving, as if he expected more.
Wolf continued. "I want Fox to know. And..." He was playing with his claws again. "I guess it'd be kinda cool if he, y'know, returned the feelings."
"I don't see what the problem is, then," Marth said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Tell him."
"Hell, no—are you nuts?"
"What are you worried about?"
"That he'll freak out and never speak to me again. And that when I lose here I'll just be send back."
"Everything has a cost," Marth said. "You're going to have to give up one thing or the other. You might as well go for the one you want the most."
"I said I wanted it, not needed it," Wolf said, still unsure of what it was. "It's too risky, and there's no benefits."
"Are you saying that happiness isn't a benefit?"
That stunned Wolf. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times, trying to think of a sensible reply.
Marth continued. "Where I'm from, nobody really has that much of a choice over who they marry, especially wealthy people. They marry in such a way that the union will benefit their family or country. Many people end up marrying people they hate, and are forced to have children with them, and they can't like anybody else, because that would be polygamous."
Marth paused, fixating his gaze on Wolf. "Yet here, you have all the freedom in the world, freedom even to love another man. And you aren't willing to exercise it."
Wolf's ears went down. "Hey, nobody said anything above love."
"You're missing the point."
Wolf grunted, crossing his arms. "What would you do, then?"
"It's not about me. But if it was..." Marth paused. "I would tell Fox."
"Why? He's definitely not gay, he had Krystal. And I'm not either." The last sentence came out defensively, like an afterthought.
"You'll never know until you try, right? His relationship with Krystal obviously didn't work out well, so that's something to build on."
Wolf was quiet, his eyes returning to the floor. "Well... I dunno..."
"What do you want out of me?" Even though the words were quiet, the question seemed extremely loud, shattering the air.
Wolf had no idea how to respond to that, or how the question even made sense.
"Do you want me to yell at you for thinking these things about Fox?"
"Why would I—"
"At first, you acted like you were ashamed of yourself, looking down like you were expecting some sort of punishment. I tried to tell you not to get involved with him, but you argued against me without hardly giving any thought to it. It's been obvious from the start that, whether you knew it or not, you've wanted to tell him. And then you admitted it..."
Wolf found that his vocal chords couldn't function.
"I'm not going to yell at you. I can't sympathize with you, but I think that your happiness is more important than my discomfort. Can I get your permission to speak freely?"
The lupine swallowed, then nodded his head.
"From what you've told me, I can see that you are a pragmatist."
Wolf snorted. "Like I know that means."
"It means that you make decisions based on the practical value of their results. If you were offered a choice between eternal life or a single, peaceful lifetime, you would choose eternal life."
"What's your point? Living beats dying."
Marth shook his head. "Living well beats dying. A morbid life where you must witness every one of your friends and children die over and over again is far worse than death. Practicality, like wealth, does not bring happiness. From what you've said..." He made eye contact with Wolf. "You've been overlooking that your entire life, and look where it's gotten you."
It took a few seconds for the full effect of Marth's words to set in. Wolf hated everything about them, but the worst part was what they were so true. The implications of what Marth had said loomed overhead. He'd thought about similar things before, but now, it was time to get them out.
"So, you're suggesting that I... you know... with another guy? Isn't that against nature or something? I mean, should I really..."
Marth sighed, shaking his head. "You're dead-bent on losing this argument aren't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. Here—" Marth reached behind him, producing the book he had been reading earlier. "The Goddess gave us voices with which to communicate, and animals for company and food. This book breaks the laws of nature by allowing the author to tell me a story by never speaking, doing so using the skin of animals in a most unintended way."
"Uhh..." Wolf had never thought of it that way.
"The clothes you wear—" Marth pointed, looking as if he were explaining a concept learned in kindergarten. "They are not natural. You have fur for that purpose. We should all be running around nude if we were going to go with nature's wishes—but doing so is against our laws. The laws of society themselves are unnatural. People are quick to point out what is unnatural when it goes against them, but tolerate it when it is for them."
Wolf stuttered. "I guess..."
"By nature, we are unnatural beings. Therefore, anything that we could truly consider unnatural is not possible. If something can happen, it is a part of nature."
Wolf couldn't argue with that. "Okay, you got me. But, then, how would I tell him?"
"You just won't give up, will you?"
Wolf leaned back on the bed. "Will you answer my question?"
"Okay, fine. Telling him... you don't have to be obvious about it, and you don't have to do it right now. These things usually take time." Marth snapped his fingers. "Hey, I've got it—you should ask him out to dinner. ."
Wolf had to fight the urge to grin. He sat up, looking at Marth. "That's it?"
Marth chuckled. "I knew I'd get you eventually."
Wolf brought up a hand and began scratching at his ears. "Well, I..."
"Come on. It's safe, at least—you've done it before. If it works out well, maybe something will happen."
Wolf hesitated. It would be simple, and he already knew what to expect... maybe this time he could take a risk or two, or maybe just go with the flow of what Fox did if it turned out that the vulpine was in the same predicament he was. Marth had said that, back where he was from, things like this didn't happen. Maybe, then, if Wolf made a move on Fox—not a really big one—and the vulpine didn't respond, then he wasn't interested. But if Fox acknowledged it, or even returned it, then...
Yes, that was all it would take. Just one simple hint. There wasn't much risk involved, and, come to think of it, he never had that much to lose in the first place.
"Okay," Wolf said. "I'll do it. I'll take the risk."