Chet "the Chilla" Chilla was a gray-furred chinchilla who always exuded an aura of utter coolness. He talked in a strange, dated style, and his airy, flippant voice made his listeners think nothing got to him and that he was totally "chilla" about everything. College was going to be an easy fit for him. Or so he thought, anyway.
It turned out that the facade of being a "frat-boy" type didn't actually mesh up well against the real deals. Zootopia University was a bit of a party school, and while Chet did like parties, he preferred smaller events with close friends to giant fur-to-fur parties with impossibly loud music. He surfed the party scene, trying to find a group of mammals he fit in with. It also didn't help that he actually wanted to do well in college to expedite his dream of becoming a teacher, a mammalian language arts teacher, if possible.
Unfortunately for Chet, it was just a different atmosphere, and he didn't hold as much social strength as he did in his lesser schooling. No one really paid much attention to his tricks, which he busted out on occasion to try to break the ice. It was pretty challenging to break dance as a chinchilla; maybe they just rolled their eyes at his efforts because they knew they couldn't contribute? Also, there was always a lot of alcohol at the parties. Chet couldn't stand alcohol. The smell, the taste, and especially how it made people act.
Chet acquired some acquaintances in college, but no one he'd considered a close friend. He was about to give up on the party scene altogether when he saw one chinchilla that changed his mind. Well, to be more precise, he heard her first. It was a karaoke night at the party and a really energetic and shockingly gorgeous voice drew Chet over to the area to watch and listen to her. He was surprised to see that she was a chinchilla with bright, light-blue eyes. He decided to continue to attend this group's round of parties.
It became extremely obvious to his acquaintances before long that Chet was crushing pretty hard on the chinchilla, who was named Celeste Puftuft. Chet made every excuse to see her, hear her sing, and even talked to her a few times. Celeste's non-singing voice was quite pleasant too, and she seemed like a fun, easy-going girl.
"Dude, ask her out!" His fellows would say playfully, shoving him.
But he couldn't bring himself to. There was one big problem, to him, about Celeste. She had white fur. Now, Chet never mentioned to his acquaintances why this was actually a problem for him, but he did, under duress, once tell one of his "friends" that her having white fur was off-putting to him. Chet began to feel anxious about it; he knew that Celeste likely had the eye of every chinchilla at Zootopia University, and probably several other rodents, or even mustelids or slightly larger animals. He thought she was that attractive. One evening, the heady atmosphere of the party was getting to him. He didn't like how some wild parties made him feel like he was part of a liquid, waving furry machine. It made him a little sick to his stomach, actually.
He exited the recreational center out the back, where the pool was, trying to catch his thoughts.
Okay Chilla, he thought to himself. She's great. This is your problem. Just ask her out, there's no problem with her, just-
Chet's thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of being shoved, and the chilly splash of suddenly being submerged in the pool. He got out of the water, gasping for air. When he turned, he saw Celeste standing at the edge of the pool with her hands on her hips.
"So that's it, huh?" Celeste said, her whiskers twitching in irritation. "That's why you haven't asked me out!? Because I have white fur?"
"Ah, fluff..." Chet groaned, trying to get himself out of the water. He felt like he weighed twice as much while he was sopping wet. He got out of the pool and confronted her, his fists balled, shivering a little. Chinchillas did not look flattering when they were wet.
"I knew there was something off about you," Celeste narrowed her eyes. "You act like you're cool, but there was always something a bit weird about you. You don't drink, you back out of parties when they get too loud, and it turns out you're just a big idiot who can't date anyone who doesn't share his fur color."
"Y-you're right, Celeste, I'm an idiot," Chet nodded, shivering. Celeste was taken aback; the way he said it gave her pause. She got him a towel and threw it at him. Chet wrapped himself in it.
"Here, so you don't look so pathetic," Celeste folded her arms. "Tell me why, though. What reason could you have for being this way?"
"I'm not going to tell you why," Chet said in a rather heavy voice. "I barely know you."
"Yeah, and you aren't gonna get to know me if you keep acting like this!" Celeste challenged. "I wanna know what makes you tick. You're... interesting. Different."
"You remind me of my mom," Chet said vaguely.
"Oh wow, is that the type of competition I'm dealing with?" Celeste rolled her eyes.
"My mom 'won' me from the custody battle following my parents divorce, like I was some kind of prize," Chet said, his voice completely devoid of its normal flavor. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop himself from talking. Celeste's eyes widened. "I did most of the chores, she never much felt like doing anything if she had a child to delegate everything to. Her job stressed her out, and she'd calm her nerves with alcohol, a lot of it. She wasn't a kind drunk, either. She'd take books, my books, and beat me with them." Chet felt so hollow at the end of this admission. He wanted to feel relief, maybe even hurt Celeste a bit with his words. But he just felt empty, and Celeste looked like she didn't want to say anything.
"Oh, uh..." Celeste fumbled. Chet tried to dry himself off a bit more.
"Just your average damaged chinchilla," Chet said. "No big. Just have to fight not to be anything like her. That's all. That's why I won't touch the bottle. And that's why white-furred chinchillas... heh. I know it doesn't make any sense. And I don't really want any pity, either. So I dunno why I even said anything."
"I um..." Celeste stammered. "Listen, Chet. I'm not so good with words. I have no clue what to say." She managed a tiny smile. "I do know how I can make it up to you, though."
"Go on a date with me?" Chet tilted his head, managing a bare smirk as well.
"Well sure, but I meant right now," Celeste grinned wider. Chet felt a shot of panic through his nerves, but Celeste just closed her eyes and unceremoniously hopped in the water herself. Chet gave a small gasp, and Celeste laughed, getting out of the water. "J-jeez! That's cold... I'm shaking like a l-leaf!" Chet handed her a towel, and both wrapped up, they sat on the side of a long pool chair and just talked with each other. That went on for over an hour.
Their first date was to be held at one of the beaches of Sahara Square. Chet was sure to pack his sunglasses, because his eyes usually said a lot about what he was thinking, and he knew they'd probably be darting to Celeste quite a lot. But sunglasses couldn't hide his jaw dropping as soon as he saw Celeste. Not because she was in a swimsuit, though that was nice too, but because her fur had been dyed a light pink.
"How do I look?" Celeste asked lightly, giving a twirl. Chet was speechless, but he did start to sob a little. "O-oh." Celeste gave a guilty smile, trying to think of something to change his mood. "Am I so hot you're moved to tears?"
"W-why'd you do it...?" Chet managed to get out.
"Always wanted to try it," Celeste laughed. "So it's not for you, it's for me, okay?"
"Sure..." Chet gave a wobbly giggle. He didn't quite believe her.
It was perhaps the hardest thing he had to drill into his head through his whole college experience. The dye was temporary, but once it was gone, Celeste was still the same chinchilla. She was a chinchilla he was really starting to fall for, and he told her so.
They were married soon after both of them finished college. Larry Wilde-Hopps, Chet's best friend, was there, of course. Chet wanted him to be his best mammal, which he accepted, though Chet called him "best brody". Celeste had also convinced Chet to hire a guard for the wedding, in case his mother tried to crash it. She did, but thankfully the two were unaware of that. Rinn Chilla may have been enraged, but that wasn't going to get her past a hippo.
"Dude, brody, it's been too long!" Chet said, giving Larry a small hug. "Tell me what's going on with yourself!"
"C'mon, 'the Chilla'," Larry rolled his eyes. "Don't spare me a thought on your big day."
"That's not fair, dude," Chet laughed. "I wanna know!"
"Gimme another year or so," Larry gave a soft chuckle. "And I'll probably talk your ear off."
"Aright bro, I'm holding you to that!" Chet gave him a serious face and pointed at him.
Chet rather easily secured a job teaching middle school Language Arts, as Zootopia was pretty hard up for teachers at that time. The faculty, especially the "old guard", was rather contemptuous of Chet's easy-going nature and eccentric teaching style, but the children loved him. Chet brought an energetic, passionate approach to his classroom, as he was genuinely interested in words, their functions, meanings, how you could "mutate" them, and while his methods baffled some kits, others were enthralled. More than a few mammal-on-mammal collisions occurred just outside his classroom from rodents and mustelids rushing to get inside.
It must have been some sort of curse someone had placed on him at some point, Chet mused.
He and Celeste lived in a "cozy" apartment at Pangolin Arms. Chet would often come home to her lovely singing voice, as she was practicing to try to break into the music scene, herself. The walls in Pangolin Arms were paper thin, but no one ever seemed to complain when Celeste just randomly belted out into song. She did, of course, keep it to daylight hours.
She was also a rather silly and carefree chinchilla, and pulled several pranks on Chet. One of her most infamous was drawing a black mustache on him with fur dye when he failed to wake up on time. Chet chuckled when he saw what his wife had done to him, and so did his students once he got to class. Thus encouraged, Celeste loved interacting with him like this, sometimes giving him silly hats to try to get away with at school.
"It's honestly like he's still a student!" One older female chinchilla snapped in irritation to a male weasel teacher when they saw him walking down the hallway in a comically large sombrero.
"Maybe that's why the kits like him?" The weasel replied.
And they did like him, both his unpredictable nature, and his passion for teaching the subject he loved.
"So that's all I'm up to," Chet admitted to Larry. The two had met at a coffee shop. Both drank decaffeinated coffee, of course, as it was often dangerous, in a non-medical way, to caffeinate a rodent. "What about you?"
"So you never watch any of my races?" Larry gave a small smirk, sipping his coffee.
"I try, Lares, really I do!" Chet groaned. "My eyes glaze over when I try to pay attention to all those cars moving on those winding tracks..."
"So what color is Celeste now?" Larry deflected Chet's intended topic.
"Eh, just some random aqua markings," Chet shrugged. "I think she still likes being pink best- hey! C'mon Larry, gimme the goods!"
"Maybe I'll just wait to write a book," Larry chuckled, "I know how much you like books."
"Oh come on!" Chet threw his hands in the air. "At least give me a summary!"
"If you insist," Larry laughed, relenting.