Love is in the air once more. Not even the insidious tension of intertrophic civil war can stop the freight train of romantic vibes that is Lupercalia season from running over every student of Noah's Arc Academy. Thanks to the student council's tireless work preparing for the holiday, the campus receives a fresh coat of the iconic Lupercalia lovey-dovey hues, pinkening the hallways, dorms, classrooms, and everywhere else where paper hearts can be glued to.
When the decorations made their debut, most students welcomed the festive aesthetics (save for Molly and the other goths). Hafsa strutted down the hall with pride as her satellite ears picked up all the praise that escaped the other animals lips, even if it was simply an ironic appreciation of tackiness. But the most flattering admiration comes from her walking buddy Toma. With each corner turned, his pupils grow wider and wider until almost all of his yellow irises are engulfed by the black holes. Mouth dumbly agape, he furiously whips his head in every physically possible angle to take in every detail of his new surroundings; cute in theory but he also looks like the victim of some demonic possession.
"Do you… like the Lupercalia decorations?" Hafsa asks him tentatively.
"Yeah." He mutters, still entranced. "So colorful… You do this every year?"
"Yep. Not too shabby, right?"
Toma's tail, which swishes wildly from side to side, appears to agree with her. "It's awesome. My old school never decorated like this."
The female feline tilts her head to meet his gaze. "Glad you like it! Will you be watching the Lupercalia performance on Sunday?"
"I… uh… I'd like to, but…" Toma timidly tugs at the nylon collar on his thick neck. "I think I'd make the others uncomfortable… I don't wanna ruin the mood."
Hafsa's face flares up in indignation. "Nonsense! You're a student just like everyone else! Of course you should come see the play. I heard the drama club is going all out!"
"I dunno…"
"What if we go together?" Hausa suggests with a smile.
The dark feline frowns. "I'm sure you'd wanna spend Lupercalia with a date instead of me."
"I'm in the student council, I don't have time for silly dates! I'll be there monitoring the play on business."
"Then… if you really don't mind…"
"So it's settled!" With a triumphant clap, Hafsa resolves the matter.
However, the matter was only resolved in a superficial sense. While she successfully managed to quell Toma's doubts about chaperoning him —after all, she does need to make sure the play goes smoothly regardless— it is also true that Hafsa, for the first time in her life, desperately wants to spend Lupercalia with a date.
The gurgling desire surprised even her as soon as she noticed the festering pit of jealousy weighing down her stomach when watching happy couples croon to each other in the academy halls. Although the many, many, many candy grams, love notes, and confessions she received from her usual horde of suitors helped quell the romance-thirsty beast within, she couldn't help but want… more. It's something she never thought to want before.
Love… romance… those words had only ever been simply that: words. Some abstract concept she knew existed, that she would one day grasp, or at least pretend to for the sake of living a normal life. It was never something she necessarily looked forward to, much like how one doesn't necessarily look forward to one day paying a mortgage. But alas, it's something people do. And if Hafsa wanted to become the ideal specimen of a carnivore, which she did, she'd have to fall in love flawlessly.
A male serval, or at least some other feline, tall, handsome, ambitious with prospects of wealth, educated, well mannered, charismatic, connected. Someone of Hafsa's caliber could easily land such a male. In fact, perhaps she already has. It's never the female's job to initiate such things (that kind of behavior is too aggressive and unladylike) but if Solomon were to ask her out for Lupercalia… well, that would be something. He's demonstrated he has no intention of giving up on her despite her previous rejection of him, and maybe… now is the time.
Why else is her heart so tumultuous?
"How are things in Noah's Arc?" Leslie's voice reverberates with a tinny, echoey note from Desmond's laptop.
"I mean, you know how last year ended. Things haven't gotten much better." Desmond sighs, absentmindedly gripping his lower horns like handles.
"Must be tough for the student council."
"We'll deal somehow. More importantly, how's uni life treating you?" The Jacob sheep asks.
"Well as you can see by my fabulously decorated dorm," Leslie maneuvers his camera to show an extremely depressing room behind him, comprised of nothing more than an air mattress, a backpack tossed on the ground, and a mountain of textbooks atop a six pack of beer. "It's simply thrilling. The bright side is I don't need to wake up at seven every morning."
"Now that's something to look forward to." The younger ram chuckles sardonically. "You must have females lining up."
"Not to toot my own horn, but I do have some plans for Lupercalia."
Desmond raises his brows. "No shit."
"Yes shit. Females in university are much more interesting to talk to. And to look at. I make friends fast."
"Well, tell me how that goes, then. Unlike with Marcel, I actually expect you to show the girl a nice time."
"I'll certainly try." The urial approaches the camera with a conspiratorial look. "And where do you stand in regards to a certain whiskered female?"
"Things are…" Words falter. "I don't even know. Not bad, at least. I think."
" Your confidence is staggering."
"I just… don't really know where we stand."
"I have a bold proposition, Four Horns…" Leslie laces his fingers under his chin. "Have you considered perhaps… asking the female you like out on a date?"
"It's not that simple, smartass." Desmond glares at his screen.
"It never is, dumbass. You want to know where you stand with her? Ask her out. You'll find out very quickly."
As frustrating as Leslie's words are, Desmond lacks any real arguments against them despite his own personal reticence. Could he be somehow overthinking his relationship with Hafsa? Is it really as simple as taking her on a date? Hafsa thrills him. Hafsa terrifies him. Hafsa inspires him. Hafsa infuriates, worries, challenges, soothes, unnerves, amuses, confuses, flusters, delights him. How is it possible to feel so much over one person? Every interaction with her is completely new territory to him. Just when he thinks he has her figured out, she does something that topples his entire perception of her like dominoes. If he wants a future with her… it will be one he can never predict.
Why then does he not feel the least bit discouraged at the thought?
Above all else, he wants her. No matter the cost, no matter the consequences. It's time for him to stop avoiding reality, to stop waiting for things to make sense.
He is in love with Hafsa. So, he needs to do something about it.
Hafsa has a weird feeling about all this.
As she steps off the bus and gives a final wave to the driver, she can't help but find her reason for being in the city strange.
She doesn't mind, of course. She's used to going out on a Saturday with friends. Luckily, this year's Lupercalia is mostly in the hands of the drama club, meaning she has a rare free day before tomorrow's celebrations. Originally, she had planned to take today off to relax after a busy week of managing the holiday season. She never imagined Desmond of all people would ask her to have lunch with him outside of the academy.
After a quick walk, she arrives at open iron gateway. "Botanical Garden" is spelled out, poised as an elegant arch over the entrance, hinting at the green scenery that awaits inside. Leaning against the brick pillar adjacent to the gates is Desmond, who nervously scrolls on his phone.
"Des!" Hafsa calls out with a wave. Her cry snaps the ram's head up from his screen and his widened eyes meet hers. He shoves his phone into his jacket pocket and stands at attention as the serval trots up to him.
"Hey." He greets, fidgeting.
"I really can't believe you." She lifts a sarcastic brow. "We were supposed to meet up at noon and its eleven forty. How long have you been waiting?"
"Unimportant."
He has been waiting since eleven.
"What's the point of setting a time if you just show up three hours early?" Hafsa chides him. "You know Brian's gonna be late anyway."
Desmond, already sweating, tilts his head. "Brian? What about Brian?"
The serval returns his confused expression. "Isn't the rest of the student council coming?"
"Wha…? N-no. I only invited you."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry, maybe I didn't explain myself well—"
"No, no, it's my fault. I don't know why I would assume that, I just thought—"
"Do you… want me to call them now?"
"No! I mean, no. I'm fine with it being just us two. Sorry."
"No, I'm sorry."
"…"
"…"
"… Should we get going?"
"Oh, yeah."
Rough start.
Desmond considers feigning a sudden stomach bug and fleeing, but he steels himself. He needs to start making proper advances, no matter how awkward things may get. Today, his main mission is to scout out Hafsa's feelings towards him. Though he never strictly established their visit to the botanical garden as a proper date, it's certainly a date-like activity. In fact, it's his perfect idea of a date. It will definitely instigate a certain kind of atmosphere, one he hopes will smoke out the president's true affections, if they indeed exist.
He grabs the handles of the plastic bag that had been resting on the floor and guides his pseudo-date into the mouth of the garden. After paying for their tickets (despite his insistence on paying for hers, Hafsa could not be swayed), the pair begin their journey on the mossy brick road. The path winded around lawns, inside small patches of trees, shrubbery and bamboo, around plots of medicinal herbs, and atop hills where budding flowers rest. Despite the chilly February weather, the garden seems to have many perennial plants that prosper in all seasons, demonstrating a unique beauty against the otherwise barren scenery.
During their exploration of the orchards, Hafsa pokes Desmond's right arm, which carries the hefty-looking plastic sack. "I've been meaning to ask, what's in the bag?"
"This? Our lunch."
"Oooh! Don't tell me you cooked it just for me!" She teases, successfully flustering the sheep.
"No way! I don't want to give you food poisoning. This is all store-bought."
His companion pouts. "Boo. You can't be that bad at cooking."
"I can assure you I am. I burn water."
Hafsa laughs. "Sounds like someone needs to give you some lessons! You know, I have an A+ in Home Ec."
"Why does that not surprise me." Desmond rolls his eyes. "You have an A+ in everything."
"So do you!"
"Not in Home Ec."
"I'm guessing the water burned."
"Something like that." The sheep smirks. "I did somehow managed to make my chocolate cake salty."
Hafsa explodes into hysterics. "H-How is that even possible?! You just need to follow the recipe! It's literally written down for you!"
"It's not my fault sugar and salt look so similar."
A new fit of laughter. Desmond can't tell if the reddening of his face is due to his embarrassment or Hafsa's bewitching smile. If telling silly stories about himself makes her this happy, he'd gladly be her jester.
The couple continues their march along the garden grounds. Eventually, they reach the depths of the area, where the greenhouses are. They take their time entering each one and pointing out the oddest plants that grow within (Hafsa taking a particular interest in the carnivorous specimens, although she doesn't appreciate Desmond's comparing her and the Venus flytrap). Adjacent to the greenhouses is the botanical garden's greatest claim to fame: the impressive Japanese-style garden, complete with a crystal clear stream with small cascading waterfalls and arched zen bridge.
Thanks to the ram's previous calculations, he correctly predicts that at around this time, there are very few other animals around, meaning it is safe for them to sit on the bridge's wooden planked deck and hang their legs over the edge, looking down to admire the vibrant babbling brook beneath. Although the railing separates the carnivore and herbivore, they can still peek over to see each other. Desmond unpacks their plastic-wrapped lunches: a cucumber sandwich for himself, a hearty egg salad sandwich for the lady and two bottles of water. He even hands her a small packet of grilled crickets, to which she blanches in horror.
"You bought sectpro?!" She squeals. "Do you know how tasteless that is, offering a carnie sectpro?! How did you even get that?!"
He flinches, nearly toppling backwards. "S-sorry! I got it from a panda classmate, he's always giving them out to the other carnies! I just heard… that sectpro helps with withdrawal recovery. I'm sure you're fine by now, but I just—"
He's interrupted by a snort. Hafsa chortles into her sandwich, unable keep a straight face. "Okay, okay. You win, dork. Thanks."
She reaches her palm out, motioning towards the small packet of crickets. The ram timidly drops it in her hand and she places in on her lap for later.
For a while, both of them just sit in silence, lazily chewing their sandwiches, admiring their surroundings and the distant rustling of leaves. Protected from gusts of wind by their fur and winter clothing, it's hard to get cozier than this.
"I gotta say," Hafsa starts, voice muffled by egg salad. "This place is amazing. I can only imagine what it looks like in the summertime."
"It's pretty fantastic any season. I personally think it looks its best in the fall."
"I can't believe I've never been here before. How many times have you gone here?"
Desmond looks down at the stream. "Can't say. Me, my dad and my brothers used to come here every weekend when I was really little. My brothers are idiots so they would just run around, getting all scuffed up. But I used to stay close to my dad and he would tell me all about the plants we passed by."
The serval smiles at the story. "That's so sweet."
"It was nice. We stopped coming here after that… incident with my teacher. My mother said it wasn't safe anymore."
"…At least you're here now."
"Yeah."
"I remember now… you told me before your ideal date was a trip to the botanical garden."
Desmond begins to sweat. "Uh… yup."
Hafsa leans forward, poking her head over the railing to meet his gaze.
"Your future girlfriend is a lucky gal!" She chirps with a radiant grin.
Ouch.
"Thanks…" Desmond says with a weak chuckle, internally trying to pry out the knife from his heart. "You never ended up telling me what your perfect date would be."
"I mean… I don't really have one."
"I thought females cared a lot about this kind of stuff."
"Maybe most do, but I've always been more concerned with other things. Getting good grades, becoming popular, improving my image… Dating never really fit in all that."
"I guess I can understand that. I was more or less the same."
This piques the feline's interest. "Was? What changed?"
"I dunno." Desmond shrugs. "My priorities changed."
"Hmm…" Hafsa seems to ponder this. "Aren't you… scared? Starting a relationship is a big commitment. What if you end up doing something you regret?"
"For a carnivore, you sure do worry a lot."
"For a carnivore?" She repeats, flattening her ears. "I have to worry. You have no idea what a carnivore's reputation is worth. One wrong move… and it's over for me. People always expect the worse from carnies. We're not the arrogant, thoughtless creatures you think we are."
The sheep jumps to correct himself. "S-sorry! I didn't think of it like that. It's just… herbies are always taught to be afraid. Of everything. It gets frustrating, always having to look over your shoulder like that. I always imagined it would be nice to not have to worry about that kind of stuff… But turns out carnies have it just as bad."
"Life sucks for everyone."
They chuckle together, resuming their meal. Eventually, both sandwiches cease to be, and after a quick dessert (crickets for Hafsa, pudding for Desmond), the odd pair get up, stretch their legs, and continue their stroll around the gardens.
The final stop on their tour is a long walkway lined with cherry trees. Though the trees are bare now, Desmond tells Hafsa that next month, the whole place will be dyed pink once the cherry blossoms emerge from their hibernation. But, as of right now, it is simply a plain, boring path. The straight road, however, gives the serval an idea.
"Wanna have a little competition?" She asks with a cheeky smirk. "Let's race to the end of the path. Loser buys winner a drink."
The sheep is not amused. "Feels like a pretty rigged race to me, Ms. Long Legs."
She stares down at him with annoyingly angelic eyes. "But I thought the ram fighting captain could do aaanything…"
"Fine, you're on."
Both racers line up next to each other, hunching over in a starting position.
"On your marks…" Hafsa announces. "Get set… GO!"
Just like that, they're off. As expected, Hafsa immediately takes the lead, thanks in no small part to her slender legs. Desmond gallops onward, determined to impress her by any means necessary. Short bursts of speed are far from his speciality, but to the serval's surprise, it's not long before he starts nipping at her heels.
"Wow, Des!" She pants, craning her head back to see him. "Not bad!"
"Buh… Guh…" Is all he manages to reply.
In less than a minute, the racers reach the end of the path, which conveniently returns them to the botanical garden's entrance. By only a couple of inches, Hafsa is still declared the victor, causing the ram to double over in exhaustion.
"Huh… Puh…" He wheezes. "You just… wanted a free drink…"
Hafsa gives an innocent wave of her hand. "Maaaaybe."
Desmond shoots her a look. "Brat..."
To the serval's delight, there just so happens to be a vending machine right outside the gates of the garden. Her grumbling friend reaches for his wallet and plonks a couple of coins into the machine's blinking slot. She presses the KoalaCola icon and gleefully watches the coil slowly spit out the red can of soda, dropping it on the dispenser floor with a clunk. After her greedy hands fish it out of the machine, she triumphantly waves the can in the ram's equally crimson face.
"To the victor go the spoils!" She declares. Even though the sheep watches her with a sour expression, she knows it will only make her reward all the sweeter. Not that she could taste said sweetness.
She hooks her finger around the tab, but the hiss is a lot more intense than she expected. Suddenly, a blast of sugary carbonated drink sprays her entire face. Desmond looks on with a stupefied expression as an entire can's worth of spot is spat on the serval, drenching her fur and clothes.
Neither of them move until the explosion fizzles to a stop, leaving brown drops of liquid dripping down from Hafsa's chin fur and whiskers onto her already soaked lap.
Hafsa's jaw shakily creaks open. "Oh… my… god?"
One look to the herbie in front of her shows that he doesn't share her mortification.
"BAHAHAHAHA!" Now doubled over for a different reason, Desmond cries tears of pure hysteria, cackling manically until he is completely out of breath once more.
"This isn't funny, asshole!" She whines, trying her best to sound imposing. She tosses the empty can at the howling sheep who doesn't even notice it.
"Y-yes it s-so fucking is!" He guffaws. "Oh my god, k-karma is so real!"
"Shut up!" She stares down at her browned outfit in mourning. "Ugh, this is my best dress, too…"
"I-It'll come off in the wash…" Desmond croaks, coming down from his laughter high. "C-come on, let's find a bathroom."
"Ughhh… I feel so sticky…" She reaches for a handkerchief inside her clutch. Thankfully, it's still clean. She starts wiping her face, but Desmond's dark-nailed hands gently stop hers and motions her to duck down.
"Let me." Without waiting for an answer, he plucks the handkerchief from her hand and begins to rub down her face, swirling her fur in delicate circular motions.
The serval is too stunned to say anything. She simply allows the still-giggling sheep to mop up the soda on her face. He moves the cloth from her cheeks, to her forehead, to down the arch of her nose, to her muzzle, even wiping each whisker. Though the handkerchief blocks his touch directly, Hafsa can still feel the tips of each finger caress her face. She soon forgets there is even soda on her face; now entirely focused on the ram's smile.
The last time she saw Desmond smile so sweetly was a year ago, right after the first pep rally of the year. So much has happened since then, it's hard to believe they've only known each other for one year. God, how they hated each other when they first met. Past Hafsa would never believe that in just over 365 days, the same sheep who she had nearly devoured would be standing across from her, wiping her face after spending the day with her.
She's very happy. Happy that out of every disastrous outcome that could have transpired between them and their crazy relationship, they are where they are now. She closes her eyes, at peace with his touch. All too soon, however, his hand retreats. She hesitantly opens her eyes again, only to find his smile gone, replaced by a confused expression.
"Hafsa…" He begins. "Are you… purring?"
This snaps her awake.
She finally notices the low rumbling noises her chest has been making for god knows how long, vibrating like the engine of a motorcycle. With a startled cough, she immediately suppresses the sound and jumps back up to her full height.
"N-no, I—" She stammers. "I j-just got distracted, but I'm— I'll go clean up in the bathroom now!"
Just as quickly as she ran during their race, a beet red Hafsa sprints back inside of the gardens to use the restroom, leaving an astonished ram in her dust.
Desmond mentally recites a paragraph from the textbook on feline behavior he had read long ago.
"Purring is an instinctual behavior most felines exhibit. While infants utilize the low vibratory sound to communicate to their parents that they are happy and healthy, the ability to purr remains throughout a cat's entire life. The function remains unchanged: purring is a sign that the feline is content, relaxed and pleased."
For what must be the hundredth time today, Desmond's face glows bright red.
His goal today was to assess Hafsa's feelings for him. That's a good start.
AN: Thanks for reading! Things have been too serious lately, time for some fluff.
Leslie is majoring in finance (poor guy).
Also, botanical gardens are really cool. If you have one in your town, it's always worth a visit.
Take it easy and stay safe.