Rocky's pov

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" Skye said as Rocky hung his head, avoiding her gaze when he could. They had retreated to their room as Rocky became less and less social and began to become more and more worried and tense. The thoughts were back, louder than the party was, and Skye was noticing.

"I just can't, ok? I'm trying to protect you." How could he tell her what was going on if he wasn't even certain about the meaning behind his thoughts and urges? If he couldn't understand it, how would she?

"From what, Rocky? What could you possibly tell me that would hurt me?"

Rocky picked at the fur on his arm, and tried to formulate any response but nothing materialized, and he let his mouth open and close as Skye waited, exasperated.

She narrowed her eyes. "You're unbelievable right now, you know that? We haven't been on the same page in weeks because you won't tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm scared, ok?" Rocky tried to breathe deeply, letting the air pass through his lips as he tried to remain in the present, but his thoughts were a constant flow of noise, and uncertainty. And in the middle of it, in the eye of the storm, was Skye, crying herself to sleep, yelling at him with tears in her shimmering eyes. Asking him why he hadn't been sure from the start. Calling him immoral for dating her when he wasn't sure about his sexuality. Breaking up with him and or doing something drastic when he had no choice but to break up with her.

Real Skye's chest rose and fell, and moisture built up in her eyes. Her magenta eyes sparkling. "You promised." She took a step closer. "Whatever is bothering you, please tell me."

Rocky's head pounded and seemed to heat up, and instead of trying to answer her question, he was stuck. Stuck thinking about Chase as the Sheperd flooded his mind, his presence was not only unwelcome, but completely inappropriate. Why was he thinking of him anyways, especially now? Now that Skye is asking him more and more about his thought life. Why would she be so worried if there wasn't a problem?

Rocky blinked and looked helplessly at Skye.

Letting out a sigh, Skye moved passed him and had a paw out of there room when she looked over her shoulder. "Maybe you should sleep in your pup house tonight. " she sighed, frustrated, and walked out disappearing down the hallway and into the crowd.

Unable to speak, Rocky stood helplessly, panicking, when an idea hit him. An urge to do something about his uncertainty. He just needed proof, just a test to be certain, then he could be with Skye, and the thoughts would finally stop. Standing up, he walked out of his room, shutting the door behind him.

The party attendants were loud and rambunctious, perhaps taking the word celebrating to a level Rocky never thought attainable. They were like animals, yipping and howling, letting their primitive instincts come out. lower inhibition tended to do that to people. Rocky wondered if some of the attendants had come more for the free food and drinks, and less to support Marshall at all.

But there was a lot he wondered about. Honestly, he didn't know what he was even doing out of his room, what he was hoping for. That he could somehow ask one of his friends if they thought he was really gay or not?

Wouldn't that just confirm his growing doubts if he had to ask in the first place? And he couldn't just go up to any gay dog and feed him the same question. He didn't even know any gay dogs for that matter. He just needed more time, more space from his thoughts, more time to figure himself out.

Maybe a couple drinks would help.

After he grabbed a drink off of the self-serving bar counter, he turned and took in the party and saw something that made him do a double take.

Cody, sitting in the kitchen, with a red solo cup in front of him that he didn't look remotely interested in drinking it. His muzzle dripping wet.

Rocky tried to turn away, but a nagging voice told him it would be wrong to leave him hurting alone, not when he had saved Rocky's voice and possibly his life. He owed him more than he could ever repay. Taking in a deep breath, he approached the despondent dog.

"Hey, I thought you would be with Marshall," Rocky said, placing his cup in front of him.

"I thought you'd be with Skye," he said without looking up from the ground.

Rocky looked over his shoulder, "We kind of got into a fight." Cody kept silent, lost in his drink, as if searching for answers at the bottom of his cup.

Finally, he sighed, "I just . . . needed some space."

"It's like you read my mind," Rocky smiled. "Space from what?"

"From Marshall. I thought we wanted the same thing, from how he acted the other day, I was almost certain. But everything changed tonight. And I probably just ruined everything between us."

"Why do you think that?"

Cody brought a shaky cup up to his lips and drank before he answered, "I'm afraid I can't be what he wants me to be. I'm afraid that I want more than he does. There was a time where I thought we both wanted the same thing, but now I'm just so uncertain." He let out a shaky breath. "I should have just left things alone. He doesn't need the extra drama, he has enough on his plate to worry about."

"So, you guys are having difficulties communicating?"

"You could say that."

Rocky grimaced and tried not to think about his fight with Skye or the cause of it. "I know how hard that can be." He looked around when inspiration struck him, "But maybe we could help each other, practice? Make it a game even."

"You don't want to play with me. I'm not going to be much fun to be around."

Rocky smiled, "Coincidently, this game can help us have fun and talk about our problems simultaneously."

"How?"

Rocky patted him on the back. "Hold that thought."

He reentered the crowd and walked up to the self-serving bar, and found what he was looking for, a small clear bottle with a lion on it. Making sure that no one was looking, he snatched the bottle in his mouth, and walked quickly back to the Cattle dog, who gave him a curious look, tilting his head to the side.

"You're not the only one who struggles with communicating," Rocky said with a solemn smile. "This will help with that."

Placing the bottle in front of him, he waited as Cody looked down to his own drink again, a small smile forming on his muzzle. "What um, game did you have in mind?"

Rocky gave him a grin, finally happy to have someone around who didn't mind letting loose. And he immediately thought of a game they could play.

"Well, we could play a drinking game called guilty conscience."

"How does it work?" Cody tilted his head.

"We take turns asking each other questions, if you're too afraid or otherwise refuse to answer, you take a drink."

Cody seemed to ponder his offer, looking into his glass. He met Rocky's stare, only looking over his shoulder once, as if searching for someone else.

"Sure, beats wallowing in self-pity," he laughed awkwardly.

Rocky smiled and filled both of their cups with clear liquid.

"I know Marshall has mental disorders. Do you have any?" Rocky blinked several times as Cody's drink went down in a flash.

While most of the guests seemed to begin to file out of the glowing tower or find cozy spots to curl up in to sleep off the hangover that was coming, marking the end of their night, Rocky and Cody were in the glorious, hazy middle of theirs. Far past the point of using inside voices, they practically yelled their questions at each other between all of the laughter, and it was a wonder how the guests managed to stay asleep with them and the music that bounced off the walls.

Cody was leaning on Rocky with his head on his shoulder, holding his sides as he laughed himself to tears.

"And that, that was the last time I ever gave Mayor Goodway's . . . Chicken, a checkup."

Rocky was lost in the infectious laughter as well. "I don't blame you; those kinds of stains don't come out easily."

"Ok, ok, " Rocky started, trying to hold back his laughter and compose himself. "It's time for the tough questions."

Cody gasped. "What do you call the last four then? Easy?" he giggled.

Rocky couldn't help but think that Cody was good company to be around, certainly fun enough to drink with.

He is such a cute boy.

Rocky pushed the thought down with another shot, hoping to drown it in the alcohol. He wiped his muzzle and asked his next, harder, question.

"What makes . . . makes you like Marshall soo much?"

Cody's smile faltered and he grew stiffer. His once wagging tail slowing from full to half speed.

"He is my only real friend out here. Moving to a new place can make it hard to meet new people. It's always been easy with Marshall, he makes me feel comfortable, even when we first met. And cute." Cody paused before trying to correct himself. "For a guy."

Rocky went wide eyed and pressed further. "Cute? Do you like him?"

Cody's ears wilted and he fidgeted with his paws. "What? Like him? I'm not even. . ." His voice fell short as Rocky's gaze intensified.

"I don't know. I guess I don't like anyone." Cody finished quickly, crossing his paws infront of him.

"Any guy?" Rocky said.

Cody fell silent and he squeezed his eyes shut as the pain he had been running from seemed to surface. He looked pleadingly at Rocky.

"You can't tell anyone, please," Cody said, his voice falling and caught in his throat, cracking under the pressure.

And suddenly, in that moment, Rocky knew what he had to do.

"Kiss me," Rocky said, inching closer and put a paw up to his cheek.

"What?" Cody stuttered. He tried to back away but Rocky followed him with each backward step he took.

"Cody, I need this. More than you know. I have to know," he said, his own voice crumbling into dust.

Cody hesitated, faltered in his steps for a second too long, opening his mouth to speak. Rocky seized the opportunity, shutting his eyes, took a breath and shoved his lips onto Cody's and latched his arms around his back. Cody resisted but he held him there.

A flash disturbed the inky black but Rocky barely noticed. Too busy scanning every inch of himself, scrutinizing every sensation, scared out of his mind.

Cody finally broke free and shoved Rocky onto his back, staring down at him, wiping his muzzle.

"Stay away from me," he growled, narrowing his eyes. It was the first time he had seen the Cattle dog be anything other than kind and loving. A darker side of himself was exposed.

But it was over. And the anxiety and questions were nowhere in sight. Nowhere to be felt or heard. Not a trace.

So caught up in the moment he almost missed the tingling between his legs, the increase in his heart rate, and the newfound confusion that swallowed him.

Nothing changed. Nothing was different. If anything, he doubted himself more now. His body shook as he collapsed in on himself clutching his tummy and curling up into the ball on the floor.

No! No! No! He growled, clawing at his arms, leaving small cuts in his skin as he grabbed at the fur on his arm. Why didn't it work? Why?

His tears came fast and heavy. Without ceasing. And he stayed like that until the music stopped and the room grew sleepy. The lights turned off, and back on again as paw steps came upon him and murmuring met his ears.

"Rocky?"

He recognized the voice and pleaded to the ceiling that he could disappear. But he remained, as did Everest.

"Leave me alone," he said, peaking his eyes open.

"Rocky, what happened?" Everest said, an edge to her voice that told him she wasn't leaving without an answer.

"I'm sorry, ok?" he blurted out. "Please. I just wanted to be certain. I wanted me and Skye to be ok."

"What does that mean?"

"Everest?" came another voice that froze the mix in place.

Rocky looked up to Chase remorsefully and then to Everest, dreading to speak another sentence as they shared a confused look.