Leslie is beginning to get concerned. His team captain's behavior had been erratic all year but ever since he had been released from the hospital, Desmond's mood is at all-time low.

For starters, the Jacob sheep only goes to ram-fighting related meetups. While he is by no means a social butterfly, in the past he would usually attend get-togethers and hang out at someone's house to watch movies and mess around. But now, he only seems interested in seeing the others when singlets and horns are involved.

When they do meet up at the urial's house (he's had his own training room ever since he was 5), one would think he had just attended a funeral. Or rather, had gotten into a fist-fight at a funeral. Gone were the days when he would at least banter around with the boys before getting down to business. He shows up with his uniform on, spits out a monosyllabic greeting, sets down his things, and immediately begin pummeling the head butting bag until the others were ready to fight.

Not that any of the other rams want to fight him. With his newfound animosity, his brutality during matches borders on demonic. While Leslie can't help but feel a certain pride at his captain's skills (even managing to topple over Elmer in record-breaking time), this can only be interpreted as a red flag, even for a jock.

So, Leslie decides to do something he's never done before. Interfere. The setup is innocuous enough: a text to the group chat inviting the rams for yet another training session at his house. All of them agree, including Desmond. All according to plan. The day of the meetup arrives. As soon as Leslie hears the doorbell, he knows it could only be Desmond.

"Hey, Four-Horns." The urial greets, opening the door wide to usher him inside.

"Hey." Desmond grunts. Without waiting for his host, he makes his way down the basement stairs and into the training room, plopping his bag down on the floor and yanking off his street clothes, revealing his olive-green singlet.

Leslie descends soon after and observes the smaller ram already beginning to put on his horn guards. "Hey, you don't need to put those on now."

"Huh?" Desmond gives him a cold side-eye. "Do you want me to wait for the others or something?"

The urial sits on a bench next to the staircase, making sure to leave enough space for one more. "No need. The others aren't coming."

This is genius of his plan. After sending the text to the group chat, Leslie had also sent individual messages to all the members of the ram fighting club (except Desmond) asking them to not actually show up. That way, he and Desmond have enough privacy to talk about whatever might be bothering him. It might be a very simple plan by objective standards, but Leslie is proud of it nonetheless. He does not get many chances to be conniving, so this rare instance is thrilling for him.

Desmond however, is not having this. "What?"

"I actually wanted to just hang out and talk to you for a bit. Then we can maybe fight later." He pats the empty space next to him.

A gesture that is completely ignored by Desmond. "What the fuck is this? Did you guys set me up?"

"It's nothing that malicious, cap. We talk all the time, don't we? Don't get so nervous."

Desmond huffs and resumes applying horn gel seemingly out of stubbornness. "I ain't fucking nervous."

"So," Leslie starts, tugging at his beard. "I just wanted to ask how you've been doing. Since you left the hospital, I mean."

"That was weeks ago," Desmond grumbles. "I've already told you I'm fine."

"I meant more, like, emotionally."

"Good grief..." The younger ram growls, suddenly snapping his head towards his upperclassman. "You know what I like about you, Les? You never ask me shit. You know how to mind your own business. I don't know why you decided to act like my fucking therapist today, but knock it off."

"Hm." Leslie's expression darkens. "Guess what?"

In a swift movement, he tackles the unsuspecting sheep hard, pressing his forearm to his throat so that his head doesn't bounce from impact.

"I feel like talking today."

"You—" Desmond wheezes through gritted teeth. With his left hand, he grabs the one of the urial's large curled horns and flings him off of him. Wasting no time, he snaps back to his feet and collides with him once more, now the one on top.

"I figured things would end up like this," Leslie smirks. "You only ever listen with your horns, not your ears."

"Who says I'm listening?" Desmond pins his arms to his side, but a swift knee to his stomach knocks the air from his lungs, giving Leslie the moment to break free from his grasp.

He backs up, now some feet away from the ram. "You've been acting weird, Desmond. Weirder than you usually are. And I like to think we're friends who can talk about things other than ram fighting."

"Like I told you, that's none of your business!" Desmond barks, charging at Leslie. However, he dodges at the last minute, and the sheep crashes into the brick wall.

"It is my business. If nothing else, because you're freaking all the other rams out. They don't want to tussle with you anymore because you're acting like such a psycho. But more importantly, because I wanna help you."

Desmond stalks up to the other ram, both of them walking wary circles around each other. "I don't need any help."

"Is it your mother?" Leslie asks, triggering an ear twitch from his opponent. "Is she giving you a hard time because of the drowning thing? Is it the student council?" He voice drops to a conspiratorial tone. "Is it a female?"

"Shut it!" Desmond once again lunges at Leslie, but actually manages to make contact this time. Leslie braces for it, grabbing his shoulders and interlocking his twisted horn with Desmond's lower ones, thus rendering them unable to flip each other over.

"You're easy to read, cap." Leslie chuckles darkly. "Looks like I was right on all three counts. You've got a lot to tell me. Let's start… with the student council."

Suddenly, he skillfully retracts his head, breaking the lock, and ducks down to grasp his opponent's legs. With a forceful push, he trips the ram, who folds on top of him. A quick maneuvering of the legs and Leslie now has the sheep pinned in a clover lock position. "So, start talking. Did you get in a fight with one of the members?"

"Your fucking horns cut me!" Desmond snarls.

Leslie's grip on Desmond's leg tightens, causing the latter to wince in pain. "Start. Talking."

"It wasn't a fight!" The sheep bleats. "At least I don't think it counts as a fight!" Desmond suddenly takes hold of the urial's ankle and yanks it forward, causing him to topple rump-first onto the sheep's back and only further immobilize him.

"Why not?" Leslie asks.

"W-we weren't mad at each other. I think. But…"

"But what?"

Desmond jerks his neck back. His upper horns jab his opponent's backside, causing him to jump up in surprise. One second is enough for Demond to throw him off of him and retreat to the other side of the room to catch his breath.

"I've told you enough!" He pants.

"Hardly. I've got all day, Four Horns. You're coming clean even if it kills you."

"Listen, I got a lot of stuff going on right now. I don't wanna talk about it!"

Leslie sighs. "You may not want to, but you have to. All summer long you've been moping around and being even more of an asshole than you usually are. Hell, you've been acting weird all year. If you just get it off your chest, you'll feel a lot better."

"I-I can't!" The piebald ram snaps, closing in on Leslie with a headbutt. The latter meets it head on, the two slamming their foreheads together with a resounding thud.

"Why not?" Leslie grunts.

"Because it's weird as hell!" Desmond roars. "I'm weird as hell! Everything's fucked up, and it's all my fault, and I don't wanna talk about it!"

"If you fucked things up, we can help you fix it!" The urial exerts more pressure to force the sheep to back up. "The other rams are a bunch of meatheads, but we all care! We won't think any less of you!"

Desmond falters. "Ghk—" He goes down with a final shove from Leslie who follows him down to the mat and hooks his elbow around the ram's neck in a sleeper hold.

"Now, when I let go… You're gonna calm the fuck down and tell me what's wrong. Okay?"

Desmond glares at the urial from the corner of his eye, but manages a strained nod. Leslie loosens his grip and lets go of his friend, who keels over on the mat desperate for air.

"Bastard…" He coughs.

"Always and forever." Leslie offers a hand. Desmond stares at it. Eventually a tired chuckle escapes his lips, and grabs the hand with his own. The urial lifts him up to his feet, and the two collapse together on the bench.

"So…" Leslie pants, reaching for his water bottle. "What's been going on?"

"I— I don't even know where to start."

"From the beginning, naturally."

Desmond shoves him, though given his exhaustion, it was more like a light nudge. "If we really wanna go back to where all of this started, it was actually in the beginning of the school year. Way back in the first student council meeting…"

Leslie strokes his beard, stunned. "I had no idea the president was that kind of person. She really had you pinned up like that?"

Desmond gives him an irritated look."Did you… not hear the part about us becoming really good friends?"

"No, I did… but wow. She just always seemed like the perfect carnivore. I frankly never even considered her as one."

"Yeah well. She's a brat. But I… I honestly really liked what we had. It felt nice to know a carnie like that, with no pretense."

Leslie smiles. "You sound like Peter."

The Jacob sheep sighs. "She's got a nasty sense of humor, and she's really selfish and judgmental. But she's also smart, and ambitious, and always does her best, and she has a great smile… but I fucked it up."

"How?" The older ram's voice is soft.

"I… Even though she saved me… even though she visited me… I'm still such a coward. I'm still too scared."

"You're not a coward for having reservations about carnies. It's natural. You said yourself that she attacked you in the past." Leslie consoles.

"But I— it's not the same… Well, not like it matters now. She wants nothing to do with me."

"What, why?"

Desmond slumps over. "My mom found out about her. That's enough to ruin everything. Well, not like I did anything about it."

Hearing about his mother, Leslie tilts his head. "I don't know much about your mother, but she sounds like the overprotective type."

"Yeah, try paranoid. But she has good reason to. I caused her a lot of strife in the past. That's why I couldn't speak up for Hafsa."

"So, Hafsa's mad at you for not defending her?"

"She didn't even sound mad. I think I just made her feel bad about herself. Over something she can't even control…" Desmond murmurs.

The older ram studies his face intently. "Desmond… correct me if I'm wrong… but it sounds like you care for her an awful lot. Like. A lot a lot."

Desmond's expression turns turbulent. But then, his eyes widen and his expression turns clear, almost amused.

"I think I'm in love with her."

...

…Oh.

Leslie's jaw slackens.

So does Desmond's.

That's the first time he's ever said it out loud. Hell, that's the first time he's ever acknowledged it. Hell, that's the first time he's even realized it. Why did his stupid brain think of that stupid sentence and make his stupid mouth say that?

But it's the truth. It's been the truth for a long time, gnawing at his stomach, scratching the back of his head, clutching his heart. It's been true when he checked out those books from the library, when he held her hand, when he saw her smile in the elevator, and every moment in between. It was a truth he carried with him even when he didn't know it was there. A sheep who fell in love with a serval. This was his truth.

"Wow." The urial speaks up after an eternity of silence. "I guess that explains why you've been acting off all year."

"I uh. I. Uh." Desmond fumbles for words that will never come. Eventually, he gives up altogether and looks helplessly at his upperclassman.

Leslie enters big brother mode. He places a hand on the sheep's shoulder and offers a reassuring smile (ignoring the massive panic in his gut). "Cap… If that's what going on, then you go for it. I'll admit I don't know much about… intertrophic relationships. But we don't live in the stone ages anymore. Love who you love, bro."

Desmond buries his head in his hands. "Dear god…"

"Hey now, ch-champ…" Leslie wraps an arm around his shoulder with a tight squeeze. "So your girl is mad at you. That's nothing. You have three years to fix that! Females are surprisingly simple, once you get down to it."

This does nothing to uplift the sheep, in fact, he only seems to fall further into his despair. "I may not even be in Noah's Arc next year."

Leslie lets go of him. "What?"

"My mom is dead set on me leaving to go to a segregated public school closer to home. Away from carnies." He mutters.

"Are… are you going through with it?"

"I hope not."

"It'll all work out, cap. Your mom has held out for this long, she'll come around. And as for the president… well, me and the boys will help you out. I'm kind of an ace wingman." Leslie winks and playfully jiggles his water bottle. "So there's no need to be such a grump."

"Listen, you can NOT tell anyone about what I said. EVER. I only told you because you beat the shit out of me." He points to the red trickle going down on his leg, evidence of the damage made by Leslie's unguarded horns.

"I wonder…" Leslie hums. "If you really wanted to win, you would've. You've done it before. I think you wanted to vent."

"Shut up."

"So, you're into tall girls, huh?"

"Shut up!"

AN: Thanks for reading! Desmond is a bit of a grouch when he's stressed. His only outlet is DESTRUCTION. To that extent, Leslie knows him pretty well, because the only way to get him to behave is to beat the hell out of him.

Anyways, revelations! Bout time that dense king took a hint. But really, his troubles are only beginning. Luckily, Leslie is a wholesome and supportive jock, so at least he won't be all alone. But I think this will be the last time he sticks his nose into other people's business.

Take it easy and stay safe.