It's like the liberation of France. It's like the end of world hunger. It's like the birth of a messiah. If they were allowed to, they would throw a parade.

That is how the student's of Noah's Arc received the news of Solomon and Hafsa's new relationship. It might as well have been a royal wedding.

Those who had conspired for ages around the whiskered duo's potential union wept with vindication. Finally, after all this time, the two felines of the student council are together at last! No matter where in campus they were, there would always be a grinning animal jogging up to congratulate them. Whether they were together or apart, the amount of tittering and knowing glances followed them around like personal guardian angels. Annoying guardian angels.

As much as Hafsa wanted to tell those nosy pests to get out of their faces before her claws came out, she knew this is really the ideal outcome. She and Solomon are untouchable now. Solid teflon; too beautiful together to be perturbed. She might finally get that statue now.

And of course, the relationship is great. Solomon is, in a word, perfect. Courteous, intelligent, fine as all hell, and just the right amount of affectionate. And an utter pro. In reality, very little has changed about their relationship, at least publicly. PDA is terribly gauche, so the pair avoids it at all cost. The only thing that truly changed is the little things.

Desmond looks up from his paperwork. He sneaks a glance at Hafsa's desk, where she and the secretary review the final documents to close out the prom bureaucracy. Their words are those of any coworkers; mumbled monosyllabic questions and comments, both eyes transfixed on the small script on the papers in front of them. The male leans a hip against the wooden desk, one hand pointing to underlined numbers and the other gripping at the president's headrest. The female, similarly immersed, rests an elbow on the desk's surface that props her head upright while the other arm dutifully jots down the final touches on their report.

Nothing about this scene betrays any sort of intimacy. Not unless you look at the little things, a skill Desmond has become excruciatingly good at in the mere five days of the secretary and president becoming a couple.

There. Right there. His hand grazed hers for a split second. It was purposeful, it had to be. Ah, and see there! She glanced up at him with a look in her eyes. Yes, a look, a glimmer, even. Completely unnecessary for the activity at hand.

The ram catches these little things at least a dozen times when those two are together. Not that he's been watching. Actually, he's great.

Sure, he's a little stiffer nowadays, especially around them, but he's still kicking. Hasn't shed a single tear, even after Hafsa left to find the caracal at prom. In fact, he's perfectly content with forgetting that night ever happened. He's a mature animal, and certainly not one to cry over something as insignificant as a broken heart.

So what if it feels like life is on autopilot? So what if he feels like his body and mind is encased in glue? He's great.

The distant school bell echoes throughout the misty afternoon air. Hafsa's ears swerve to catch the sound, and with a smile, puts her pen down.

"I think that'll do for today."

Solomon stands up straight, finally releasing his grip from the headrest. "Well done, everyone. We'll be finished with all this meddlesome red tape by next meeting."

"God, is my wrist killing me." Brian shakes his hands, causing his joints to audibly crack. "If I need to fill out one more spreadsheet, I swear…"

The caracal laughs. "After this, things will calm down for a bit until the summer rush."

Brian closes his eyes wistfully. "Hmm, summer sounds good right about now…"

"It's not even spring yet!" Hafsa counters.

"Ah, it's always spring for young lovers!" The bird coos. The other student members roll their eyes. Brian is perhaps the biggest and most local 'shipper' of the feline pair. "What are you two still doing here? Go out and enjoy the wonders of love, you crazy kids you!"

"You'd think he's Cupid himself…" Hafsa says in a voice desperately trying to not be sarcastic.

"He has a point, though. Would you like have a little rendezvous?" Solomon asks with an earnest expression.

The serval bristles with bashfulness. "Ah, of course!"

With a content smile, he gives her a peck on the cheek. Desmond is forced to lower his gaze.

"Let's be off, then. Goodbye, Brian, Desmond." With a nod, he heads for the exit, Hafsa following close behind. She gives a final wave before disappearing through the door with her boyfriend.

"Ah, shucks. This is our life now." Brian sighs, feigning sorrow. "Well, we third and four wheels can have fun too. You wanna grab a bite together?"

"No, sorry." Desmond says, already heaving his backpack on his shoulders. "I gotta do something."

"Oh, okay." The bird looks a little disappointed. "See you around, then."

"Yeah, see you."

The sheep's Adam's apple bobs rigidly as he forces down an impossibly dry gulp. The trudge back to his favorite courtyard is at once tediously long and over before he realizes it. It seems his feet just carry him anywhere without his knowledge nowadays. Thankfully, the courtyard is as empty as always. He plops himself down on his usual bench and digs around his backpack until he finds what he's looking for: a plastic-wrapped snack cake. It's not much of a birthday cake, but it will have to do.

Desmond never really liked the idea of birthdays. Celebrating the day you were born is stuff for children and egomaniacs. But he always liked the cake part. He tears off the plastic wrapper and after mentally reciting the happy birthday song, bites into the hardened, artificially colored icing.

The dessert is tooth-rottingly sweet, just the way he likes it, but for some reason, he just can't work up the appetite to enjoy it. The cake only serves to nauseate him. He gives up finishing it halfway through, and tosses it next to him in defeat.

Seventeen years old. This is not how he imagined he'd be spending his birthday. Granted, he never expected a grand party, but… alone on a bench, sickened by food and people? How far he'd fallen. He had been fantasizing about this day just last week, hoping to spend it with her if all went well. Which…

Well, serves him right. He never told anyone when his birthday is, not even his ram fighting crew. If he really wanted to, he could just text them or Brian and they'd come running. But the idea of having to talk to friends repulses him even more. He just doesn't have it in him. He feels his body and spirit slowly atrophying, duller and weaker, only wanting to be left alone until they finally stop moving forever.

As if on cue, his cellphone begins to vibrate. Someone's calling him. The sheep almost doesn't have the will to check who it is, but he begrudgingly slips it out of his pants pocket and scans the screen. It's Enan. No doubt calling to wish him a happy birthday. If only Desmond could have hidden his birth date from his brothers. Ignoring the call is no good. His older brother would assume something is wrong, which it isn't, and get riled up. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Desmond picks up.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to the birthday boy!" The voice on the receiver is comically high-pitched and nasally. Good grief.

"You just missed him." The younger ram deadpans.

"Aw, nuts! Well, if you see him, can you give him this message?" Enan takes a deep breath, and Desmond sees where this is going.

"Enan, don't—"

"Ooooooh, happy happy birthday, you precious little lamb! One more year and soon you'll be a strong and surly ram! Haaaaaapppyyyy birthday, Dezzykins! I misssss you!"

The eldest sheep waits for his brother's signature snarky comeback, but to his surprise, the other line stays quiet for a bit too long.

"Enan," When he does speak, his voice is strangely small. "Can I come visit?"

"H-huh? Visit? Now?"

"Is it a bad time?"

"N-no, of course not, it's just… are you okay?"

"I'll be right over."

The dial tone rings in Enan's ear.

The ram looks around his empty deli. He's just about done closing for the day. Sounds like he better hurry home.

His wife Lydia is waiting for him in the living room, admiring their baby wriggling around on a play mat. After a greeting kiss, he lets her know of the visitor that will be arriving. The female doesn't seem entirely sure of what's going on, but agrees to stay in the room with the baby until things get sorted. Now all that's left to do is wait.

Enan is not a patient sheep; very few are. For his brother to impose a visit all of a sudden… something must be wrong. He paces around the minuscule flat: first from the entrance, then to the kitchen, then to the living room, then back to the entrance on an endless loop for what seems like an eternity until the harsh trill of the buzzer shocks him out of his cycle.

He rushes to the intercom and presses the speaker button.

"Dezzy?"

"Yeah, it's me. Let me up."

Enan unlocks the entrance with the press of a button, opens his own front door and waits once more until his baby brother's horns poke out of the elevator.

The smaller ram flashes his hand in a weak imitation of a wave and approaches his brother.

Enan snaps himself into a casual and teasing tone he's used to. "Well, well, I knew you'd come crawling back. Let me guess, you were just dying to return to the good ol' days of being my personal mai—"

The ram never finishes his sentence, because his younger brother throws himself into his arms before he can.

"E-E-Enan…" Desmond sobs, burying his face into Enan's chest and consequently jabbing the poor ram's torso with his lower horns. "E-E-Enan…"

Sheep can die of shock. Enan doesn't know how he didn't drop stone cold dead right then and there, because this is something he never, not even in a million billion years, would have expected from Desmond. Not even the pain of Desmond's horns prodding him could shake him out of his catatonic state. All he can do is hug his brother back until both of them calm down a little.

"Dezzy…?" Enan asks over his brother's weeping. "What's wrong?"

"E-Everything."

Big brother mode activated.

The bearded sheep guides Desmond inside his apartment and gently sits him down on the couch before whipping up a hot cocoa at lightning speed, complete with little bite-sized marshmallows he knows Desmond loves. He offers the steaming mug to his hiccuping brother and watches as the latter shakily gulps it down without taking a breath. He finally pulls away, lips stained brown with chocolate, and sinks deeper into the couch.

Enan scooches next to him until their horns clack against each other. "Dezzy… What happened?"

"It's… so stupid… I'm such a mess…"

His brother's expression darkens. "Was it another 'Ms. Lily' situation? Who tried it, huh? I'll fucking kill them myself this time."

"No, no, no…" Desmond interjects. "I-It's not like that."

"Well, what is it then?"

"I…" He downs the remaining chocolatey residue stuck in the bottom of the mug for strength. "I got turned down. B-by a female."

Enan stares down at him in disbelief. He snorts. Then he coughs. Then he puffs. And finally he lets out a side-splitting cackle.

His kid brother flares up, humiliated. With gritted teeth and burning cheeks, he stomps down hard on Enan's foot, replacing his hollers of hilarity with pain.

"Asshole!" He bleats.

"S-s-sorry, sorry, sorry!" Enan wheezes. "It's just… I thought it was something serious!"

"This is serious to me, damn it!"

A voice shyly rings from the hall. "Everything okay? I heard laughing."

"Honey, come here!" Enan calls out. "Bring Clary too!"

Enan's wife approaches them with their newborn cradled in her arms. "Hi, Desmond. It's good to see you. Clary was a little lonely without you in the house."

"Honey, you won't believe it! Dezzy struck out with a female!"

A wave of relief washes over the ewe's face. "Oh, is that it? I thought there was trouble with your mother again." Satisfied, she hands her baby to Desmond, who instinctually settles her on his lap despite his temper.

"Well I guess I'll just go fuck myself, then." The younger male pouts, craning his head downwards so Clary can better reach his horns. She babbles delightedly and wraps her tiny palms around the keratinous weapons and also every other place that could bother him; the inside of his mouth, his nostrils, his eyelids…

"Hey, mind your language." Enan scolds. "There's a kid."

"She can't even talk yet."

"Look, Dezzy, don't be mad, I didn't mean to make fun, honestly."

"Well, you did!" Desmond sticks his nose in the air, both in indignation and to avoid Clary sticking her fingers in it.

"You gotta admit it's not like you to get hung up over female troubles of all things."

"Yeah, well, you don't know the whole story…" Desmond mutters, blinking his stinging eyes to avoid another downpour of tears. "After all these years, I finally let my guard down and I tried, damn it, I really tried! I gave it my all… I gave her my all… but it still wasn't enough."

The older couple's gazes turn more sympathetic.

"First heartbreaks are never easy." Lydia offers, rubbing his shoulder.

"It must have been tough, especially for you." Her husband adds. "You've been through an awful lot, Dezzy. I know being vulnerable must have taken a lot of courage."

As ashamed as he is about the coddling, Desmond finds himself extremely grateful for their words. He kisses Clary's forehead, but the little one goes right back to groping his face, now fascinated by the shiny tears near his eyes.

"Yeah, but it's over now. She chose someone else." He sniffs. "And now I'm just… here. I don't know what to do anymore."

Enan tilts his head. "What to do? You mourn and you move on. Take your mind off of her. I mean, if she won't take you as you are, she's not worth remembering."

"It's not that easy…"

"Sure it is." His older brother grins. "Hardest part is letting go. You think I haven't been shot down by at least a dozen ewes before I met Lydia? It's all about getting up when you're knocked down. Go kick some ass at ram fighting, go ace your tests, go hang out with your bros. Hell, what you need is a rebound."

"Honey!" Lydia chides.

"What? I'm right. What you need is a pretty little thing that'll show you your past fling wasn't all that special. Females are wonderful things, Dezzy, and through the good lord's will, they make up half the population. I guarantee you didn't lose the only decent gal in the world."

"You're disgusting."

"Yeah, yeah…" Enan shrugs him off. "As your big bro, I'm taking over now. Here's what's gonna happen: you'll take tomorrow off, I'll make up some excuse as your guardian, and we'll all spend the day together. And the day after, you trot your beautiful little tushy back to Noah's Arc with the confidence of a child emperor, seduce every single ewe within a fifty kilometer radius, and have them carry you past whatever lady said no to this gorgeous sixty kilogram hunk of man meat."

"I think you're going to hell specifically because of that sentence."

"Language." The cooked-horned ram covers his infant's ears. "I'm going to heck."

"Despite my husband's horrible way of putting it, it's a good idea." Lydia chimes in. "What do you think, Desmond?"

The younger sheep looks down at his niece who in turn stares at him with large dark eyes and a toothless smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this but… sure. I'd like that."

"Then it's settled!' Enan hooks Desmond's neck with the crook of his elbow and drags him in for a hug. For the first time in his life, Desmond doesn't fight it.

"You're a great guy, Dezzy. You deserve a fresh start."

"Mm." Desmond hums into his brother's shoulder. "Thanks. Just promise not to tell the others."

"I already did."

Desmond shoves him away. "What?! How?!"

His brother flashes his smartphone. "Group chat."

"Mid-conversation?!"

"I'm a multi-tasker."

"I really hate you."

Hafsa's tail flicks in agitation as Desmond passes by to reach his seat. Against her better judgement, she stands from her desk to follow him. Class will start soon so she has to make this short.

"Morning, Desmond." She greets with her best attempt of peppiness. Being casual has never been this hard.

The ram doesn't seem fazed, however. He simply looks up with a courteous nod. "Oh, hey."

"I saw you were absent all day yesterday. I can pass you the assignments you missed."

"I'd appreciate it, thanks."

Hafsa looks to her left. Then her right. Then back down at the seated ram. "Is… everything okay? Were you not feeling well?"

"I was spending the day with my brothers. Family issue."

"Oh, okay. As long as everything is fine."

"Don't worry about it." He raises a brow. "Oh, there is one thing I should say."

The feline smiles. "What's that?"

"I'm quitting the student council."

AN: Thank you for reading. Told you Desmond's birthday is on March 20th, five days after prom. Yikes.

The biggest plot twist of the series is that Desmond secretly loves being pampered by his brothers. I try to avoid naming minor characters so as to not name-drop needlessly, but yes, Enan's wife is named Lydia and their daughter is named Clary.

This marks a big change in the stuco dynamics. What will happen next? Find out next time in the next episode of Dragon Ball Z! Take it easy and stay safe.