Bojack And His Wife

by ClarissaStories

Within the bright chaos known as Los Angeles, there are two that are destined to be together, knowing it in some lives within the layers where they're lucky enough to share with one another, and not in others. The most disorienting part: all of the complex experiences of that kind of transcending love all within one mind and body as it spills across the lives they share.

4. Chapter 4

"Hey."

He blinked as he got the blot out of his eyes, glaring as he turned his head back over to the men.

"I'm serious."

"So are we."

The men chuckled as they turned their eyes to one another, shouldering against each other's elbows as they gave low, gruff laughter under the umbrella of their amusement.

"After everything your wife and you did last night, it seemed like you were practically asking for it."

"Not-asking. It was an idea."

He winced as his hand grazed across the door, his eyes turned pathetic and desperate as he looked across the men, vague panicked breath coming out of his lips to give away both hs tender essence and the execution of his fear behind the jaded defense. His eyes were wide wih fear as the emotion dressed across his face, his pupils flicked around him as he dilated his expression around the area in fear.

"What kind of rumors are going around? What are people saying?"

"Just that your wife and yourself are a pair." The men were occupied by the bloated entertainment that was taking their eyes as their expression gloated over the phone, turning to one another in their minute amusement as they shouldered one another in their satisfaction. Bojack eased his hand on the handle as he thought about the temptation of getting his way out and putting his physical insistence onto the men, but he felt himself sitting back onto his chair seat as he realized he felt more fear and cowardliness than he did resistance.

His ears flicked back as his fingertips tapped across the wheel as his eyes turned down into a wince of a flair as he darted his expression downward, the muscles on his face cramping along with his nervous disgust.

"Hey, don't worry about it too much, big guy. You two made your point. Your mark." The men turned their eyes up as they gave an increased cracked chuckle. "That's what it's all about, anyway. You go around too much worrying about the depth you're not made for or what other parts of existence is made up with and you'll go insane thinking about what you've missed out on."

He flashed his phone screen in front of Bojack, and as Bojack offered him the sickly amusement the man was clearly trying to gardner from him by flashing the phone up and finding himself drawn to the attention of the flash of the screen, he caught sight of a blurry snapshot of a photograph that suggested the caught image of Bojack and his naked body wrapped around your own. The lights and the dim illuminated light of the neon space of the living room spaced out with the bodies; beside it and in the corners of the raised arms and cups and superficial snapping out into the screams and the rude superficial cut throat of the atmosphere that sent boht an annoyance and an abrasive reminder of cold shock through Bojack as he took it in was there several glow of the foggy demanding light of the same fog that had been reminscent of the woman. Bojack's pupils dialted as his eyes widened and his eyes flicked back down again, tension of treamors easing across his feautres as he squeezed his palm across the wheel and darted his eyes down.

"Enjoy the money. I'm sure you'll need it with the way you carry yourselves around this city. Miracle that you managed to even land here to begin with."

The men's eyes turned up to Bojack in that druken, detached and muggy emotion as they turned their eyes up to Bojack, and there was a slight chuckle shared between them as they turned their eyes to one another and gave each other a nudge of their shoulders and a low laugh.

"Is that all you got?" One raised his phone towards Bojack, hands placed around it with an increased mocking amusement. Bojack pressed his foot on the gas petal as he turned it to the bright yellow marketplace, annoyed eyes flashed over to the men as his teeth poked while his hands gripped across the wheel. The men chuckled as their foggy, muddled intentions and naturally triggered maliciousness as they flashed their phones in front of them.

Bojack's hand gripped further on the wheel as his eyes hardened, though this time he felt more determination than he did anger, and that black, forceful worry behind his every intention as he slammed his foot on the wheel and made his way to the half empty parking lot.

"You know what they say about life going around, Bojack! Everyone has to make an entire era of black mistakes to become fully fledged in life and become fully rounded. I think you may have expanded that idea too far!"

The men's voices called out as their voices trailed though the air in their own high pitched zest, still at the age where they had enough spite and lack of clarity of wisdom of the expanse of existence to still get their mockinng, worthless cutting joy out of it. Bojack's fingertips kept on the wheel as he felt the grasp of his hand ease further on the wheel as the muscles on his face became further and heavier with his attempt at control of the black annoyance, and he reminded himself in the back of the chaos of his mind that this was only the tip of what he had signed up for, and that even his best effort, considering the sickness of the situation and his own small individuality, that the best effort would be finite; but, as it was, he would put it in anyway, and the fire and the desire to do that was more supported now that he had the significant intention presence of your energy behind it. And although Bojack gripped his stout fingers further on the wheel and focused as much as he was able on the rumble of the engine and the vague roar of it behind his focus, he still hard the loud cackles of the superficial men as they turned their heads back in their own minute mockery at their phones and the immense satisfaction they got out of it that could only be possible from people who had the same depth as their amusement.

"Wisdom and the proper execution of it is the rarest thing to find in someone. You told me that." He muttered the thought under his breath as he turned his head over to the phone that he had latched onto the speaker, his eyes turning to where he had your number placed under the contacts. His eyes lowered as he took a breath and rolled the cramps out of his shoulder as much as he was able as he drove the car into the nearest empty space of the parking lot, the speed of the car turning back as he gave a gruff rumble, his eyes turning to the test of the chaos of the turning and speeding traffic of the cars as he pasued with his ears flicked back as he looked at the indifferent chaos of the world passing beside his wincing eyes; indifferent to him as much as he felt the knowledge of how much he was full of the hatred of the passing and constant indifferent flaws of the world as much as he knew he needed it regardless. His hungover and deeply embedded wrinkle of his eyes turned to where the men were still talking to one another in their quick amused mocking as they turned their expression to one another with their mouths twisted into that scowled and superficial youth, a nature that was the loudest force of the social tide, and one that became increasingly more detrimental for Bojack to have to precieve the more jaded, experienced, and knowledgae he became, both for himself and for everything around him.

He turned his car sharply into the park space, then lowered his ears as he felt the light in his eyes ease into a somber defeat as he leaned his body back on the car seat, other hand reaching to the door as he pressed his hand on the door, opening it up and inch as he began to shove his way out. He grunted as he pushed his hand against it, leaning forward as he pressed his hand on his cell phone and quickly typed out a message to you as he stumbled out of the car.

At the marketplace. Should just be a minute. Don't worry or overthink or any symptoms of those things. Be home soon.

He paused as his eyes flicked in though, then rolled his shoulders as he turned his ucerinity, the only real genuine human vulnerability he was still willing to give patience and to execute, as he tapped another message, mane becoming splayed out no matter how many times he brushed it that morning. He slammed the door behind him as he tapped another message.

A lot of asssholes out this moirning. Annoying as always. Can't wait to get the side effects of this over with so neither of us have to death with them. Big surprise.

He paused as his thumb hovered over the send button, ears flicked back further as his teeth poked. He paused as he took a breath, closed his eyes as he placed his palms across his snout, and then turned back to the phone as he erased the message, and then typed again.

You showed me the difference between a person who lives and feels for something real and how much simpler life becomes when you do that, and to separate myself from the junk of the countless people that don't. Thank you. I love you. and I'll be home soon.

He paused as he read over the message, and then tapped his fingertip on the send button. His eyes, naturally worn and wretched within their emotion turned up to the neon market place, and with a breath deeplly took and another intake of a restart did he turn his eyes up to the building.

"This will all fade into the nothing noisy backdrop at the end of the day. None of it needs to matter. It dosen't, even. It shouldn't."

He paused as his tired eyes turned back down to his phone, turning it back into his gray pocket. He looked around the various groups of parties and of crowds walking their way over to the front entrance as much as his patience allowed him to, but he kept his focus to himself as his ears flicked down while he made his way to the front door, as unimpressed with the same air and pattern that made up the majorty of anyone's phsyological state that he had been unimpressed by for the majorty of the years of his life, the prespective of seeing people that way increasing as he had gotten older. As he walked his way inward to the sliding grey doors it occured to him that he had felt that way the more his life had gone on; as if to enjoy life and the average person and their small, minute mundane distractions and to find joy in it would have compensatted for the grief that was starting to mold him and stagante as he got older; the idea that even the slightest bond with others or play or joy in it would be admitting that the abscence of you in his life, one of which was gradually starting to become more of a presence than an absence, was starting to fulfill where there had only been the impossible empty stangance of grief previously, though by his age, he still felt as if there was a lifetime of something that would never make its amends with how he had had to go the majority of his life greiving you.

"Hey." Bojack walked over to a fairly stout pelican, his pot belly sticking out under his red apron as he kept a sign placed in his palm. He was turning the sign in his hand, his eyes empty in the ways that counted to Bojack's eyes, his beak lifted up into a vauge and absent grin that came with the youth's content with the mundae. His eyes blinked as he turned over to Bojack, light shining into his eyes as his smile turned up into a grin across his beak, the vaccant feeling increasing in his eyes as he turned to Bojack and gave him a content gleam.

"Would you like to order a fried onion pickle? Twenty cents off, and usually they're about eighteen and only tweleve today, but they like to pretend that they're giving you a bad deal because for some reason they decided that people respond more to feeling like they're being played by companies who treat them like their life's money is only worth fifty cents less. Weirdest thing is that it works, too, must be people's low self-ess-"

"Yeah, I see the sign." Bojack waved at him dismissively as his eyes hardened across the hard look on his expression as he walked over to him with that wuick hard pace. "Is there any magaiznes around here, by any chance?"

The young pelican chuckled, the casual youth beaming further across his face along with the same content naviety that was going increasingly over Bojack's head as to how someone could be so ignorant as to what was going on in life and the constant stretching challenegs of it.

"The magaziens?" His vaccnt, gleaming eyes turned over Bojack. "What, you going through a slow morining. You don't seem like the kind, I mean, at your age, to be into gossip-"

"I am the gossip this morining, that's why." Bojack's voice was edged as he cut the man off with a pointed look to his eyes. The pelican turned his head back as Bojack gazed at him with his own jaded pointed look. "Can you please spare me an episode and tell me where to look at the magazines?"

The pelican paused, and as he looked over Bojack a second time, a vague wave of recognition seemed to sweep over his eyes, and in the context of what Bojack was afraid of for that morning, it made him feel an extensive drop of black worry.

He turned his head over his shoulder to the left side and down the aisle.

"Down the hallway, to the left and around the shelves with the rest of the quickly produced and cheap paper and magazines."

Bojack's lip rasied up into a vaugely content grin as it met into the cocky peptessistic teasing in his eyes. There was an agreement between them as the pelican's eyes rasied up to meet Boajck's, and a connection of the cycnical humor was shared between them for a quick moment.

"Thank you." He paused as he turned his eyes down to the sign. "Good luck, by the way. With the life thing."

The pelican gave a shy raise of a smile. "I heard about you and your wife."

Bojack's heart dropped, and he was sure that it showed in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Don't worry. I don't mean-like that." He cleared his throat as he readjusted his body and rolled his shoulders, straightening up a few inches. "Must be nice to have someone to actually come home to, huh?"

There was a tired, cautious and distant look against Bojack's eyes as his expression met the pelican's.

"Once you have something true to go home to, you'll see everyone and everything differently, trust me."

The pelican laughed, his eyes darting down in a fashion that was almost bashful as he shurgged his shoulders. "Doubt it."

"It takes a long time and a lot of mistakes to get to the point where you realize what it means to care about the things you should and for life to take its course. It took me to sixtey. Point is, try to let other things try to dicate you away from your truth as much as you can. It all comes from a bullshit bias of other flawed people, anyway."

The peilican chuckled, the simplicty of his youth fully showing through his ignorance and the simplicty of his spirit. "I'll try."

"Thanks for the direction." His eyes turned down to the basket that was in his hands that he had picked up casaully on his way inside; it was part to look the role that he was coming in for normal motives as anyone els,e and just as much for what he was trying to convince himself was what he hoped would be a normal morining, though already he could fell the subconscious ominous promise that told otherwise.

He walked his way through the surprisingly busy yellow tiled lanes of the white shelves and the customers in them; there was enough of a dense crowd and parties of families even more than usual that it caused Bojack to feel something akin to a suprised nervousness; though Los Angeles was always bustling with life, there was an extreme throng of people of the crowd that were passing through the shelves, and the energy of it was increasing with quick muttered gossip and excitemnt of conversation that surprassed quickly in genre from wholesome to quick and passing.

As he walked through the throng of people, only less than half the time bothering to snap a quick word of 'sorry' to excuse himself as he shouldered his way past the crowd, he felt his longing for the depth of what you had that was now more evident in its loss of other people's onvesaiton more than he ever had. The emptiness he had always felt with other people was rising to more clairty as time went on, as he felt more peace with you and increased depth of richness through your conversation and time with you in general. He couldn't tell if his was coming from a core lanaguge that only the two of you spoke that made him feel as if the contrasy between the genuine humanity of truth and the refreshment behind it was one of genuine contrast of the energy and the natural quality dynamic, impossibly rich carrying it had with it, or if it was a truth of the emptiness of other people.

Something told him, as he shouldered his way through the crowd with quick mumbled breaths of impateince, that it was something of both.

"Shit."

His eyes flashed across the loud, neon images in front of his eyes as he turned his sight over the thing he had been full of denial that it was the thing he would see; in large, demanding and flashy blocked yellow letters read the caption:

Freshly Newly Wedded Horsemans' known for throwing a party the size of the same trouble emitted out of it. Is Bojack causing more murders than he's even been suspected from in the past?

Bojack reached out a hand as he gripped it across the magazine, and he felt that black, abrasive dread come over him as his eyes widened and snapped across the magainze. He turned his eyes over to the blurriness of the rest of the magainzes as his eyes hollowed into a wide and exhusted fear while his eyes bulged. He snapped his hands out and gripped his palm across the rest of the magainzes as he gave a desperate breath while he turned his eyes over to several of the copies. The image was one that he felt detested just to look at; your eyes were one of a snapshot of when you had clearly been drunk out of comprehension, your eyes red, sicklly and wide and your makeup smeared across your face as your expression was snapped over by the neon lights that traced around your sikcly skin. Under the large caption were smaller words that followed, with the small words of a caption that read:

Is Horseman dragging his wife under? Is she a willing part of it? With the way things look, this couple is discontent enough to be willing to give us plenty of space to hold out and see!

Bojack gave a quick groan on natural response as he snaped his hand to the magazine, hands crumpling against it as the did the same for the rest that were on the aisle. There were people beside him, but not nearly enough for him to have more than a few quick glances in his direction, and some low muttered words to their loved ones as they linked arms and began to walk past his erratic discontent.

"Jesus Christ. What bullshit." His eyees flared up as the abrasive red heat reflected across his vision as the muscles on his face tensed while he tossed the magazines into his crate until he could feel the weight of the magazines lift under his arm. He gave a grunt of a breath as he placed the magainzes under his arm with another final palcement, then had his eyes widened as he felt the weight of them pull him down momentarily as he gave an abrupt swear of his hips.

"Such bullshit. How do they manage to make these goddamn things as annoying to carry and handle as much as the literal magazine is to look at in context?"

"Do you need help?"

Bojack felt that rush of annoyance flied through his body on instinct; he gave a abrupt breath and tried to readjust his hand on the handle. The voice was soft enough that it was abrelly coherent through the shameless noise that was surrounding him, and he turned his body to the direction of it without giving it too much thought, though he didn't give the direction of the voice the satfication of looking at the woman directly as he swung the crate upward and into his palms.

"No, I think it's very clear that I wasn't looking for any help. You'd think you could find your own way enough with the choas around here besides dragging a guy like me into it when I am very clearly caught up in doing my own thing."

"The best way to readjust your expectations and response to any given mindset, emotion, or situation is to remind yourself that your own decision of the consciousness you decide is what makes the scenario. It's always in your control, and once you realize that, yoou'll never be in a trully bad siuation again, knowing you always have the pwoer of your conciouness to dress up any truth you want."

As the voice spoke, a few feet away from where Bojack stood and in between several parties of couples and the parties of either loners or moms with their children did Bojack reconginze your voice, along with the soft sweetness of it and the flawed but gently laden execution of your wisedom. The heat in his eyes began to dim as he shouldered his way through the crowd, replaced by something that was exuected easily as bewilderment, and somehwre under that, worry that could have easily been felt as judgement,

"What are you doing here?" His voice cracked as he ducked under one particularly meaty elbow of a mole man, lazily and slowly reaching for a box of nails. His vulnerable eyes turned across your body as his teeth poked while his eyes searched yours. "I told you to stay home."

You gave a light shrug, your emotion unreadable, save for the wall of attempt of denial being read under your eyes. 'I cleaned everything up."

Bojack rasied a brow at you inquisitively, head titled in a way that spoke of an edge of a challenge to your eyes. "You cleaned everything up. Even the leftover ass plugs that were left under the sink by people who had no shame in sticking them into every hole?"

"Why are you here?"

"To pick up..things." He paused as his eyes winced while his expression turned over your body. "How did you know where to find me?"

"The same way any idiot romanitc lives or ever finds anything. I shoved out all the choas of the world and of other people and the minute static of things that didn't matter that would destroy me anyway and focused on what was menat for me, persoanlly, the things that werw quiet and nihce but would build and give me peace for my own existence, and in today in particualr it led me to trying to figure out where you would have gone."

Bojack closed his eyes as he gave a heavy breath, placing stout fingers across the tension of his snout. He pulled his hand away as his dry expression met back into your eyes.

"So I'm assuming this means that you looked at the news?"

"Is it obvious that that was how I knew where you would be after I heard everything?"

Bojack pasued as his pupils turned over your body; your hands were rested across your arms as you watched him with eyes that always seemed as if they carried some profound form of authentic human meaning and greif, and, ironically, seeing the refreshment of something so true was the only thing that felt good or made him feel even remotely clear headed that morining.

"What are they saying?"

"Any worse than this?" Your head turned over to the magainzes. Bojack instantly snapped his hands on the image of your face as he stepped back, raising up his other hand to pause you as you stepped forward. Your eyes turned up as you met the caution of his face as his teeth poked while he stepped back a few paces.

"You don't need to read that."

"You came all the way over here to make sure I wouldn't?"

"More than that. I was hoping you would never be able to know I came here to begin with." His eyes dimmed as one hand was placed on his hip, matching his air with that stout, bumbly and plump feautres of his body as his eyes turned over as he looked over the delicaly of your body and the fraility of it. "I want you to go home."

You paused, and your eyes turned down, as if in thought, but your eyes turned up and you gave him a slight defiant look of your expressiom. "I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to. I want to help you, Bojack, just like I always want to." There was a firm conviction inside yor voice; one that spoke that you often knew his intentions better than he did, though whether or not it was for either of your favors, Bojack still felt as if he was discovering every day.

His eyes winced painfully and his voice cracked. "Why?"

"Because spending every day being in trouble with you, greving you, and even being in the most abrasive black emptinsss of judgeemnt feels better than the complete superficial meaninglessneess of living without you. I would rather suffer over you or with you every day and have that profound meaning that knowing you specifically gives me than to than to live a comfortable life wihtout you, knowing that I never even came close to piercing the depth of my existence, which I never could have done on my own."

Bojack's eyes darted in thought as he picked apart what you were truly saying under your words, though those naturally graceful, emotionally intelligent eyes met into yours again, voice somber with that natural grace as he spoke;

"Is that what you're so worried about? That this will lead to divorce?"

"If there's so much conflict to the point where it harms or destroys you in any significant way. That's what I'm worried about."

Bojack closed his eyes as he took in a quick breath. His eyes turned back down to the magazines.

"It's just a phase, honey." He raised his hand in front of him in indication of tyring to meet you with where you were at in your worry. "A big, loud and obnoxious one, I know. But what's made from the general public that isn't?"

He tried to keep his voice light as the teasing met into the wince of his eyes. The tenderness and the pathetic fragility of how you were turning into yourself, the indenial sense of humanity you carried with you and how vulnerable and authentic it was cause him to feel that protection and indelible love to you further, and his eyes lowered as he gave a breath of a reset while he readjusted his hand on the handle.

"Well, you're here now. Do you want me to drive you home now, or do you want to go home in your car while I track you with my map to make sure you get home safe while I deal with this mess? I'll do either, but I'd rather have myself drive you home to make ot easier because we all know how annoying and unreliable technology is."

You didn't answer for a moment, and Bojack took the time to kneel himself down on the floor and to place the cart down with himself, grunting as he began to place the magainzes into a more orgainzed stack.

"If you won't answer I'll just take you home, honey. I know this sounds as ridiculous and as stupid as it is, but I need to buy several hundred worth of impulsively made magazines and burn they as fast as they were produced. Classic twnety four hour Hollywood. You blink, you lose."

"Bojack, no."

"Bojack, no?" He turned his eyees to meet yours as he gazed between you in question. "That's a funny way of saying 'Bojack, yes,', which if you knew what is good for you you woould have answered with just the right sounding way."

"I want to help you. us-our future."

"God." It came out as more of a heavy sigh as he rasied himself up and brought the neatly stacked cage of magainzes up with him.

"You mentioned children. Of wanting them. How are we supposed to be able to do that as a team if we can't do this?"

Bojack felt an aburpt jolt through his air at the mention of what he had spoken; he already had forgotten it in the blur that had been the majority of the panicked morining.

"You're not holding into that, are you? And why would that have to do with doing this in a way that dosen't drive both of us crazy?"

"I know you meant it." You stepped forward, and Bojack's eyes lowered down as he gave a roll of his shoulders and a breath. "We can start here. This is our life, and I know what I was saying when I promised I could do this."

"Were you?"

"Yes. The idea of it, anyway. I know living it is different, but I want to adjust to that, too, with every experience while I adjust to what I know I was meant to be born into to have meaning."

Bojack paused as he shrugged his shoulders against the carrier. You stepped forward further, your eyes darting down from where he held the carrier and the , onces of which were clearly more difficult for him to carry than he let on.

But as your hands reached out to at least take off of a few inches of the weight of the magainzes off of the stack of the magainzes, Bojack stepped back, raising up his hand to pretend you from contiuning, ears lowered.

"Honey, I get what you're trying to do, and I wish I had the peace of mind and trust in myself to give it to you. But I need to do this on my own."

"I know what we want." You spoke it with a certain demand, gentle and emotionallly edged with the depth of your wisedom as it reached the desperation in your eyes. "And taking small steps to allow ourselves to both believe that we deserve it, that we can have it-solving problems together is the first step."

You heard a light hissing leave Bojack's lips as he looked over his shoulder for half a second, raising up one eyebrow as he darted his eyes over the crowd of some of the people behind that had clearly stopped in the middle of the asile to murmer between one another as they stood by the shelves; Bojack's eyes winced into something that could have been constructed as agressive as his eyes turned over them with a glare. They didn't move in their clear unashamed gossip, but the did step back, keeping their heads turned down as they redirected their energy to other small mundane comforts for the sake of keeping their diginity from their shameless entertainment from observing the two of you.

"Of course you know what you want. You're one of those people."

"One of those what?"

Bojack's eyes winced up further, and though all the conflict and the emotion on his face was dedicated to the context between the two of you, he didn't turn the flare of his focus away from the people.

"One of those people that just lives. Dosen't let anything get between them. No overthinking about why they're here, if for anything, no hevaienss or self blame-"

"And you are, too."

"-Or thinking that they were predestined to be here for no reason other than to be another abyss of nothing for cheap entertainment for passnagerbyers to suffer." His voice raised up a bit, not enough to turn you away from stepping towards him, but enough to make his point as his eyes dimmed and met across the edge of your eyes that had entire stories of questions behind them. He pointed at you, ears flicked down. "That's what I mean. You got caught up in someone who dosen't have that kind of headspace, who dosen't know how to have that kind of headspace, and you think because you focused on me that it made me that kind of person, too. But I'm telling you I'm not-and I'm sorry I can't be."

"You're missing the idea of what I mean. Narratives don't matter. We can still find a way to find a rhythm that what you clearly want. What you've already admitted you want."

"Oh, really? What gave you the idea that was a possibility?" He adjusted the magainzes that were increasing in their weight, and he stepped forward as he began to walk past you despite the clear desperate emotion in your eyes, and his inetiable want in kind to follow it. "I've spent my entire life accepting the idea that some people, for whatever reason, aren't meant for real or good or quality. I wasn't made for having a real life. I never have been. And the more you come around and try to convince me that I am the more you're pulling us both down thr rathole of doubtful meaninglessness and thinking there's a different way things should be, when in reality we both know that I've already adapted to the idea that there isn't." He turned over his shoulder as he gave you a look that was more full of a lifetime of overthinking and complicated loathing for what was around him and a lifetime of having to accept and come to terms with it, and he knew, both for relief and repulsion, that you saw that ethernal torment in his eyes. "Maybe when it comes to behind married to me, the idea is that you have to accept the beuaty of pain or some other sentiment of bullshit to that. Because I know there's nothing else more significant."

You stepped forward as you followed him through the aisle, the red of your desperate eyes meeting onto his and the compact of your emotion suggesting that you weren't really there. "And-"

"-And I'm glad you founding meaning in that. And I can't believe you wanted to marry me, despite so clearly seeing all that."

"At least let me carry some of them."

"No." There was a pointed, jaded edge to his response as his words hit across yourself following him. "At the very least you need to let me have a sense of control over what I contioulsy keep failing to do over and over agin."

"I'm your wife."

Bojack paused as he stopped outside the asile, turning as he looked over you in question with an eyebrow quirked.

"What?"

"I'm your wife. I'm not a girlfriend, or a phase, or anything remotely similar to whatever you may have experienced in the past. I'm your wife. I don't know if you've fully accepted and realized what that means."

His shoulders lowered as his empty eyes looked over you. There was some somber grace of a conflicted essence in there of someone who was capable of recongzining the choas of where his thoughts and emptiness orginated, a grace rare for someone as choatic as he was, while at the same time an inability to keep himself fully emboddied into any genuine exeuction of what it meant in a comprehsive manner; espiclally now, at the mention of children.

"I have. Or-I'm trying to. And this, you accepting that I don't want you to get too involved inthe business of the noise and judegement and the natural terrible things that people do and are just because I made a bad call a couple of nights ago, is part of your job of being apart of this marriage as much as I am. I know it's choas." He rasied a hand as you opened your mouth to response, and Bojack's ears lowered further as his eyes opened into an empty emotional receprtication of meeting you with where your insistence was. "Please. Maybe another time, with something else. But not with something that has to do with the choas of other people and their business and noise and opinions."

"Why?"

"Why?" Bojack's eyes lowered down as his ears flicked back, and the muscles on his face trembled as he placed a hand on his snout in thought, swaying slightly in his own uncertain fashion of his body rocking in that tender and natural adorable fashion he carried. "Honey, other people are complete chaos. Even though it might seem interesting at first, all you're doing is destroying yourself with people who will never know you anyway. Trying to pollute your brain with their prespective and thoughts and their god knows what terrible things they say and came up with. And the entire time, you're not even learning anything or becoming anything any better or even more informed or interesting-you're just losing yourself. I can't see you gradually be destroyed over a period of time." He paused as his eyes lowered down, and he gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders as his eyes lowered down. "Especially not as my wife. And I'm still trying to learn what that means, like you said." He hoisted the casket further against his body. "And that's reality. I want you to go back home, try to ground yourself, recenter your body and your mind. Clear your head. Don't let the chaos get to you. That's the one thing I won't be able to stand, above anything else."

"I know. But I'm an adult, too, honey-and the only worth I feel I can bring to this situation, the only truth, is to help you. I can't sit by and watch life pass by in chaos and just be a passenger- when it comes to helping you."

"You really want to help me?" Bojack gave a slight squint and a fire in his eyes, almond and fired with a vuage insult. "Then go home." He grumbled as he turned his head down to his pockets, turning up the keys into his fingertips as he began to led them to you. You stepped back, muscles on your face easing with your own resistance of insult. "We can trade cars if you want. What I want is for you to find that clarity and grounding that I spent mmy entire life trying to find. It was the core of everything I did or felt. Success or not. Prove to me that I can do the same thing instead of dragging you further into my choas that wasn't even what I wanted. The same way I end up getting wrecked around and taking you with me. Because what else would happen?"

"I don't want your keys."

"Good thing I'm not offering you keys, then. I"m offering you a safe ride home."

Your hands pressed across the keys he dangeled to you, and his eyes lowered as he gave a breath and turned the keys back into his pocket.

"You remember the way it feels, when we forget about the world and the role that we've had in it, one of which is the total opposite of anything I could ever be proud of. The moments of sitting on the couch togehter, neon light pool, when I was still trying to accept this new feeling that I could allow myself to feel ok, to feel good about myself-to feel that strength of innocence again?"

His voice was somber and welcoming, his stout body walking through the asiles as he kept the basket by his shoulder. You followed, your hand reaching out to trace across his palm the moment he would have allowed it; for now, his fingers were tense agaisnt his palm, a sickliness to the way he carried himself through the asile; timid and uncertain, his eyes darting to every given party as the crowd and the dense natures of the parties increased, as well as their low mumbling and their eyes turning up to him as his ears splayed back.

"I feel the same clarity of mind thinking about it as much as you do mentioning it."

"It was those moments when I started to slowly realize that every sickly philosophy, every attempt that I had to be something or to be someone wasn't the answer anyway. I felt so empty and sick and compressed my entire life, and I could never figure out why. Those nights, the chaos, the doubt, the loathing, it all feel away into this clairty, and right at an age where I was starting to think I had spent a lifetime being unheatlthy to the point where I thought it would destroy me." His eyes turned to you, lowered and exhusted. "And it probablly would have been. Or-I would have preferred it to be, since all I was was just a product of a twisted currtoion tyring to getmy human needs fulfilled."

"Let me come with you just for the first step and we'll go from there. Come over with you and drive over to talk to the lemur about whatever he's saying about his wife. We're more likely to convince people to be on our side and to feel where we're coming from if its more than just one of us."

His head turned over his shoulder, his eyes still having that heavy glint of tormented guilt as his eyes turned over to you, eyes empty with the hevainess of emotional wisdom that only came from a lifetime of struggling through it.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, though? You are everything good and simple and natural that I didn't even know existed. I know it's too late for me. The majorty of my life is up."

"Don't say that. You're here for longer than anyone can guess. A young child is just as likely to die as you in this crazy world. No matter the age, it's everyone's job to cherish the moment." Your hands reached out as it pressed across the curve of his shoulder, and his head turned as he winced while his eyes met across yours with the soft agreement and genteness in his eyes devoid of the majoirty, chipping away at any sanity that either could have naviagted that day before with trying to churn through it on your own. Heads turned up and eyes gleamed and snapped and mouths rang, and for all clear fact that the people in the crowd were the nightmare made fuel to solidfy Bojack's choas into something of an infunctional degree, he remained untouched, a grounding and a promising clarity between the two of you that you offered him from the focus of the two of you of what your practice represented for one another; focus, truth, assurance.

"And this is exactly what I can't afford to lose. If I lose you to a goddamn cock induced moron party, there's nothing for me after that. I can't even process what it is now."

Your eyes turned down in thought as your hand kept grasped onto the curve of his shoulder.

"Hey. Yes, thank you. Sooner rather than later, preferably."

Bojack's voice was mature and somber as he placed the basket in front of the strip of the black belt, talking kindly to the cashier as the man behind it, plump and bumbled with a green apron tied across his chest, turned as he nodded to where Bojack placed the magaiznes down on the belt with a soft grunt.

"I wouldn't love as quality as I did if it wasn't for you." You indicated your head lightly over to the rest of the quick noise of the crowd and the fast paced demeanor of the people as they rushed their way through the bright colors of the products of food, all conversations raised into white noise.

Bojack's eyes, dry and distant for the sake of his protection followed where you indicated your head to the crowd.

"Everyone here is trying to built a life that will lead to nothing. We're all going to the same place. To stress yourself out living an entire life and to make it as compact and quality as possible, and for there to be an end to nonexistence anyway."

"Well." Bojack's focus turned back to the belt as his eyes lowered down while he threaded his hands across the money, giving a soft and low mumbled thanks to the cashier as he handed him the stack of money. "I cerintly know someone who already spen t his entire life making that mistake."

"I'm not worried about that, and anything I do dosen't have this rushed, force feeling to it. Once I began to accept myself and my life for what it was, for how small and forgettable I was to anything other than my direct concern, that was when truth came to me. When clairty and acceptence rather than fear. Once I stopped listening to the world. which is just other flawed, biased and confused people always making mistakes. It made me lose my humanity."

"Yeah. Sounds familiar. But noiticning the pattern dosen't change the way things actually are verses the way they should be. There's too many needs and too many stories in this world that are never going to be told or even listened to, for better or worse, and same with whatever beleif or philsophy you carry around. Best thing you can do is adjust to the curroption and be apart of it to lessn your own pain. Can't be bothered to worry about anyone else."

Bojack turned his head up to the cashier as he offered him a polite raise of his lip and a wave. He leaned forward as he gave a rasie of the bag across his grasp as he hosited it from the belt. He nodded politey to the cashier as he muttered a far less edged and emotional; "Thank you."

"Can I come?" You began to follow Bojack as he placed the casket around his shoulder again, and that flair of the anger in his eyes and the glint of impateince icnreased as the muscles of his snout clenched.

"Come one, honey. I already told you."

"And I already told you. I'd like to think that we can come to an agreement. That we're good enough for that."

He paused as he turned to face you, the puffy insult and wear on his face meeting yours with a glint, hand placed and curled on his hip.

"What are we doing?"

"Are we good enough for that?"

He pasued, and though doubt that came from his confliction eased in his eyes, he gave a light breath. "Of course we are."

Your eyes looked over Bojack's shoulder; there were several crowds of colorful animals and a throng of people that were stood behind him cameras and phones and the generla muttering of the soulless indifference to the crowd, the reminder of how nothing negative or psotitive in life was realllly true, that life just was as it was, was impossible to discern as to whether or not it was triggered at either of you or not. Your hands placed on Bojack's elbow as you pulled him a few inches away from the mainstream crows going in and out from the sliding doors while the chaos exited and entered.

"Either way, it's time to go back to the car."

"Great." He gave you a flash of his smile as it met into his jaded eyes. "I've been waiting for that since I came in here."

"They're trying to get something out of you." Your hand pressed across his arm as you ducked your head under, keeping your fingers gripped across Bojack's arm as you began to lead him out to the door. Several heads turned, much to your dismay.

"Yeah. It's pretty obvious. it's going to be the event of the entire goddamn week. As if it really matters that much to them if I'm losing my shit or not."

"Let's get back to the car. See what we can figure out from there."

"Yeah. I hear figuring things out in the middle of chaos is a great way to clear your head. Must be why everyone always tries to figure out where they want to go while sitting in the middle of the pouring rain."

"They can't take anything from us if we decide that whatever it is that we do or don't have won't be used against us." Your hand squeezed on Bojack's as you heard him give a cynical, vaguely dismissive breath as he tripped over his feet to follow you rushing out to the door. "We have that choice. We are who we are."

"Maybe that's part of how we got in this problem. Just because we decided to take the melancholic deep way of approaching our life dosen't mean that it's not still going to have things chipping away from us until there's nothing left like every soulless chud in this place who allowed the idea that they needed to be a product of consumption to even feel human, which is the ironic opposite of being human. I want to feel better than them, but I don't think either of us proved than we're on any of a different path from last night."

Your continued to rush your way to the sliding doors, breath coming out frantic as you kept your hand focused on leading Bojack out. You were hyper aware of the severla high pitched whisperes of the crowds as they turned their attention to the two of you as Bojack tripped over his feet and followed you out.

"Hey, honey, easy. I know this is a lot but easy."

"They've seen enough. And all for something that wasn't your fault just because things didn't turn out the exact way you planned."

"Welome to the city. Is this the worst reaction you think thye'll have? Because this isn't even the prologue."

You walked across the street and over to where Bojack's red topless car was parked among the rest, Bojack following through the demand of your wrist as he tripped over his feet and let out his small grunts and breaths, and you heard my swear as the casket pressed by his hip as he tried to balance the weight.

"I know you love me, honey, but you're not going to want to deal with the way that you think you can. I wish I could tell you that was a possibility. Believe me, I wish I could give you all the good news about how easy it could be."

"With the lemur and the gossip? Or the children?"

"Both." You felt him pause in his tripping to follow you as he made your way to the topless car. You paused as you pressed your lips together, firmly, and your hands squeezed across his wrist before you allowed your hand to fall down, pressing against the metal as your body swayed.

"I didn't even want to think of it that way. The second one, I mean. The one that matters. But I know you're always thinking it and it's always behind the context of everything we talk about." His fingers placed on his wrist as you eased your hand across the metal red of the car, body swayed forward in thought. He pasued as his eyes turned down, ears flicked back and concern flashed across the minute consideration of his feautres.

"Honey, my entire life I was a certain kind of person, and I was so set and so..grossly content with who that was that I was convinced that was the only way to be and that was all I was. I almost enjoyed how cheap everthing felt. For the first time, things feel richer with you, rather than cheaper, and that terrifies me. Even more than these rumors and the way this all blew up-though if you want to bring a child into this, this is the inevtiable mess you are getting."

His words were rythmicallly and gently, somberly spoken the way he could whenever he was talking about something of genuine matter and humanity. The words practically breathed out of his mouth as he spoke, as if humanity and relfection had been stroking into his depth just from speaking and the depth of reflection he had on his negative outlook on the world and of other people that, as painful as the reflections had been, led him to a depth of the way he was acknowledging the terrfying edge of the contrast that could come from the other end of that. He let out a deep breath as he turned way back over towards the magainzes as he pressed his fingertips on it, looking down at the front as the flipped through the cheap pages.

"A lot of my life has been detesting other people and it has been a long, miserable one. And part of the decisions I make, even the ones that seem like they were out of some need for the bullshit idea of fleeting fun or of any other cheap distraction from the real issues, is going to affect anyone that we bring into this. Is that the kind of future you want to look at? The emptiness, the cycnism, the bloation of the stuoid decisions I'm going to make outside of that?"

His hand was waving the magazine, colors and the format as superficial and as onxioxu and draining in its classic rytham of a bloated and saturated culture that took away whatever human peace could have been found for the day.

"I know that look." He pointed his finger at you, and his eyes dimmed and ears lowered. "And this classic, decade long flawed culture we're looking at is what we're bringing a kid into. And I'm a magentic to it. I want to think that things would be slow, easy, aritsic-but this is drug induced place, and I don't just mean phsyically."

"You're absued." Your hand came to grip on the magainze, and Bojack chuckled, passive and mocking as he watched your hand place on the magainze while you tossed it into the leather seats.

"No matter what I am, it's going to go over to our children. Or even just the idea of it. Best thing we could hope for it a temporary adoption and to see where that goes, and if it dosen't, full return."

"Let me have these." You turned over to the stacks of maaginzes as you gripped your hands on the plastic. Bojack stepped back as he watched your hands place on the severla magainzes while you lifted them up and put them into the back along with the weight. Bojack didn't stop you this time, his eyes hard but prespective and accepting as he watched you take the weights of the magainzes and place them onto the leather seats. His hand kept pressed on his hip as he followed your acton. Around the parking lot, the crowds of people were still large and dispersed along the street.

"Busier than ever." He breathed the words under his lip with a soft ironic relfection, watching as you placed the last of the magainzes onto the back chair. "Figures."

You stood rigid as you heard his low observation in the rasp of his naturlaly intelligent voice. You gently pressed your fingers up against his hand that was rested with a curl across his hip as he eased your slender fingertips across his palm-something that he normally would have done with his own hands when he felt he was ready for there to be an air bubble between what was an otherwise tense conflict-Bojack could have a surprising anount of tender romantic insistence when it came to it, and hand holding you tenderly with full intention to his chest was his way of showing the minute cut through that he had to reach that exeueciton and that inside face that would have been looked over otherwise.

But for the time being you only had your own deisre to pull him out of his need to turn in on himself and your desire to let him have someone to lean on when he was ready to come back from that wall. Randy's bomb had exploded, and there was no way of touching him without getting hurt.

"No." You stated after a moment of thought, voice gentle but firm. Bojack turned his eyes, ones of whcih had been occupied by the various crowds and the talk of the people and their chaotic muttering through the street, turn as the heavy lidded exhution of his and the compleity of the day ahead made it clear with the wear it took on him. "Not at all. You're not even the cause or the mess of this-not last night, not today with how people are reacting, and any hope for us to have a familly or a daughter-"

"-I'm sorry, daughter?"

"Anyone. Anything. It's not you. It's just a choatuc world that brings anyone down with it. And you have the kind of tender and enuring heart that the world had chipped away by from the start-and if that's not a comsestic sign of purity that I've noticed throughout the theme of my life, I don't know what is."

"I know you feel that way." His fingertip, after a moment of hesitance, caressed across your wrist, a wordless accompaniment to the way his eyes turned against your in desperate vulernability and communcation, if only to escape whatever lack of releief he felt otherwise. "But is it posisble that there's a form of bias that comes from thinking I'm worth marrying? Jesus, begging for it, even?"

Your eyes turned to where his fingers were gently agreeing with the intimacy of yours, though the tension and the emotional wreackage of your face didn't leave you, just as Bojack's panic behind the calm of focus having your connection gave you in an existence that was toxic and meaningless at best otherwise.

"I always found it ironic when it comes to human nature that they run away from what is the most true to our experiences; which is almost always pain. You need love the most right now, Bojack, not less-and having a family, believeing that you deserve one and that we can do it together, is the only way you'll be able to match what the suffering of your existence has gone through at least somewhat. You can keep destroying yourself the way every person or scenario has-or you can try to give yourself the opposite for once. The only way to fight the constant abyss that is abuse from the world is to give yourself the opposite."

"Yeah?" This time, Bojack almost snapped back at you without a moment's hesitation. "Whatever, ok? This whole day is demeaning as much as it is, the same way it ever has been before. I need to focus on what I can do." He pointed down with an edge to the gesture, hands released from yours, his air stout and demanding in his jadedness. "That includes dumb, petty shit from just as equallly petty small people because that is what I am."

He waved his hand beside you, placing his hand on your arms as he pushed you back. He let out his own soft breaths and mumble words as he fumbled with the keys and the metal of it as it pressed and jjumbled through his hand. Your head turned as you watched him with focused, stoitc and greieving eyes, complete opposite to Bojack's own impatient and frantic array of movements.

"I love you, sweetheart." Your fingertips traced delicaltey across your arm as you watched him mess with the keys. "I am sorry."

He took a sigh, and the regret in it was authentic, exhusted. "I know." He turned his head up as his eeys lowered as he rasied his hand in front of him in a sacrastic gesture. "Why don't you go upstairs and just wait for me to join back at home instead of trying to make a delcarion where there's already plentlly of white noise from lost idiots enough as it is so I can really hear you when we get home?"

"The deepest pain and fear in life, if you embrace it, cam set you free. I know it sounds unnecessary and scary, but through that you come to know the strnegth of yourself. Who you reallly are. One of the reasons why people struggle so much is because they don't expand themsleevs into that challengee, and there's no greater weakness in this world than of someone who dosen't challenege themselves to know who they are in a world that will have no trouble telling you who that is."

Bojack gave a bitter, rasped breath as his hands fumbled into the car locket, and with a click did it come open as he gave the closest thing to a playful satification as it began to open.

"Ah! There we go."

Bojack sighed as he rolled his shoulders, eyes closed as the uncertainty showed off the true wear and trouble of his features. The dead, flaccid look in his eye turned back to you as he grazed his hand on the metal door.

"Things work out and turn out the way they are for a reason, honey. It's all some routine of a circle that most people turn into over and over again to satisfy and amuse their confusing, forgettable life and think they know the answer to anything or why things are the way they are when they're not even looking in the right direction the entire time. That's why hardly anything new happens or why nothing new changes."

"You think I'm like that?"

"Not at all." He turned to you as he kept his arm leaned on the front of his open cracked red door, turning to you with a dead complacent in his eyes that came along with someone who was wise enough to accept things as they were. "I think you're someone who, for once, is refreshingly on the right track, and you won't allow yourself to have the clear headspace to go be that person instead of sitting around on your hands and spending your time throwing it down a black hole."

"Being starting a family with you?"

Bojack rolled up his eyes as he scratched the side of his neck, eyes hollowed as he turned his eyes up to the sky that was polluted with the majority of the sky's day of the gray, the previous golden hue and the reflection of the red now entirely replaced by something as unremakrable and the mindless cattiness of people around you.

"Look, I need to go. I have to get the thing with the lemur sorted out before it gets out of hand. Which it already has."

He grumbled as he doubled his body into the seats, opening up the car door clumisly as he kept it open with his hand while stumbling inside of the car. He inched his way across the seats and over to the driver's seat as he placed one hand on the wheel, the other to the key as he started it up in ignition.

"You know I always used to see people as what they wanted to be and what they presented themsleves as in comfortable siautions."

You stepped forward and further to the door, Bojack's teeth poked out as he gave his frantic occasional breaths while trying to start up the car.

"Oh, yeah? And what?" His voice was cycnical, but there was a softness to it, the same way there always was in his tone, whether he meant for it too or not. "I've had my share of trying to involve myself in fake scenarios and sweat induced suffocating parities with a tight tuxedo around my neck to not pretend I wasn't too good for that one."

"I started seeing people as they were if they were in some detrimental, hard hitting truthful situations of who they were in life and would act if their humanity was tested or stripped away to challenege the core truth of who they were. Even in my mind, just based off of how they acted, most didn't pass."

"Really. Quite an imagination you have there. All that, just from imagining it. Very impressive."

"People reveal themselves just from how they carry themselves. They don't mean to, and if people knew the kind of person they were revealing I know they wouldn't want to. But when I imagine you, when I stretch out your character and try to imagine what you would do or be or act in a certain siuation, not only is the person you are someone more pure and smarter and witty and authentic at your core, but you're also everything I've ever wanted to love. Just as you are, and there's a remarkability in you, emotional endurance and tenderness, that's not only remarkable to me because of the way you are that feels perfectly made for me, but is remarkable because it's just that; rare, notable, and impossible to come by."

"Remarkable." He turned to you now as he leaned on the back of his leather white chair, placing an elbow against the back as he rasied a brow while his chubby arm leaned on the back of the chair. His expresion was stoitc and challening, but dry with a mature reflective acceptance of how things were and how he was trying to cheapen himself enough to be able to respond to it. "That's a lot of vocabulary we're pulling out at the wrong time for thinking."

"You don't need to entirely believe it, or feel it or accept it. But I'd like to be able to tell you."

"I'm not doing anything similair to that right now, hoeny." His voice falltered as he leaned his plush body forward to his compartment, openeing it as several different crumpled, quickly and casaully thrown papers were cramped into it. A used cocaine bag with a sickly looking monkey face spilled out of it, various small left over bits of powder turning from the bag, and Bojack's face tensed further a he contuinted to franctially scatter his hands across the crumpled papers, plush stomtach turning into his lap. He waved his hand dismissevely, though not with intention but rather genuine annoynce for his buildt frustartion. "I know that all these people are who they are and honestly, more than likley they'll be those people forever. I've never seen anyone siginfigently change. People are who they are, believe me. They're stuck. The same way I am. Best case they'll go over a few inches to the left or right but anyone who's had the misfourtane of knowing them will still see them for their..mold that they were born with, and most aren't given much to be anything outside of that." He swore as he leaned his body further through the crumpled paper, teeth poking out in his increased annoyance as he ripped his hands across the paper and threw it beside him. "Same way that I'll be if I don't' naviagte this probelm right."

His eyes quickly flew back to the paper that was up in front of his hands while his hard eyes turned over it-a irrelevant piece of crumpled paper as his eyes turned over it, and annoyance and tension flashed across his eyes as he threw it back to the crumpled papers that were beside his chair. He continued to throw what was left of it behind his shoulder, the rest of the crumpled paper turning back into the white of the backseats. Your hands kept on your arms as you watched him, face pouted with emotion and expression apologetic.

"Goddammit, where is it?"

His words were mumbled under his breath and accompied his increased annoyed air. She could tell he was attempting to be tender, despite the storms that were slamming into both of you that day. You certainly knew how big of a feat that was, espcially for him, though your want to be able to protect and to somehow be a wall of change and protection for him only increased because of his malfucntions and the suffocating flaws and narratives he crammed himself into.

"Can I help you?" Bojack paused in his erratic slamming across the papers, and although there had been a certain deteremined unapologetic foucs to the way his hands flied across the junk of information and the sheets, you saw him pause at the question entirely. He paused as the wear of his eyes closed as he turned his head down, pressing his palm across his worn features. For the first time since the two of you had been able to break through the walls of resistence that came from wanting to know and to be with someone fully and with sattification did you feel a vayge apology following the words that had so clearly been established as unwanted, and you almost felt nervous as you spoke the question, as if you were crossing a boundary this time. There were hardly any boundaries between the two of you; there was an understanding that the both of you were better off for the fact that here was such a gradual form of trust between one another to the point where it was almost perferable to have that build of energy to the point where you both felt more energy and humanity from trust rather than isolation. But the last time you spoke the request did it feel as if a particular wall had been built up between his own demeanor and yours with the last attempt that you had to speak the question.

His hand was kept on the wear of his faxe with his ears lowered; with the stout plmp of his body and of the build of his dispotion and the heavy wear on his feautres did his face lower into something that was truly human and pathetic; and, for whatever reason that didn't need understanding, only expereince, did that inspire you further.

"Honey, I don't-"

"This is a part of marraige. Of growing from that stagance that you claim that most people never grow out from. I know you feel like you're stuck, and I'm sure there's plently of people out there that would agree and would want to make you think that."

"Glad there's at least clarity of understanding, then." His dry and exapserted eyes poked through the stout of his fingertips as he looked up at you with a vauge puffy flair. "Do you want to help that badly?"

A slight curve of your lip, a raise of your emotion that was a bit more wavered and not entirely convincing as much as you would have liked, but Bojack's hands feel down from his face entirely as he gave you a slight encourgament from the exhustion of his eyes that spoke of a lifetime of weariness; and such as it was, that inspsired you along with everything else about him, and for you, your existence as a whole.

"I wouldn't see any other way of going about being married unless I tried."

Bojack turned his chubby arm onto the back of the chair as his distant eyes turned over to the crowd passing by on the street. His eyes were distant and sickly, and there was cerintly well enough of a fight inside him for what he had to anticpiate next. The natural admiration you had for his emotional intelligence and that odd form of grace despite his clumsiness was fully resond across his feautres as it was reflected by the watery light from the sky.

But be breathed in, his body readjusted as he straightened his body up, and he turned his eyes back to you as he leaned forward and grunted, pressing his hand on the wheel as the door opened. You stepped back a few paces.

"Alright. Get in."

Your eyes gleamed up as he turned his body back against the door. You stepped your way forward as you began to sit down.

"You're sure?"

His eyes were heavily lidded and his pupils darted in distance, but he shrugged as he indicated casually with his hand to you.

"You're the one I knew that would be better at trying to figure out marriage." He turned to the wheel as he turned the key on the engine as an entire new fire started up within it, his eyes turning to you with a tired lifetime of a specfifc busy mehcolhic of an eventful life that only meant something that could be read in the way it needed to be between the two of you. His eyes turned as his expression guided acorss you. "This is that moment where that is happening."

Your eyes softened, and you reached out your palm to place on his cheek, threading your fingertips by his skin. The distant look on his face and the unconventional wear of age and the dry narrative of exhust on his face that could only be read by those who wwalked it and saw the natural dreads and apathy of existence would have had a certain plethroa of depth and meaning to it; as it was for you, it felt like your first and life time you would ever be touched before you reached the extent of your own weariness if it was lost.

"'Thank you. And I mean it."

Bojack chuckled as he reached out a hand and pressed it on yours as he detached the touch of your hand from his cheek; the dance of his finngertips eased into the spaces of yours as your hands were brought to rest on his thigh.

"You're welcome, honey. I just need to focus on getting to the right station."

"Sure." Your hand caressed by the brawny plump of his palm, and your head turbed down as you kissed the time of his hand. The day started to reintroduce itself as you felt the sharp of the fresh warm breeze of the day pass by you as the car drove forward and through the dense crowd.

Bojack's expression was twisted into a timid wince, one of both frustartion and overthinking and somewhere, that tender bewildered romantic, his head turned back, trouble in his eyes and mane whipped through the breeze as he drove the car to the intersection, snappeed his hand on the light, and waiting with his fingertips gently tapping on the wheel.

"Bad enough to have to show up and dump these magainzes out and also to not be the one to show up with the damn body to give al alibui of our own to begin with." His eyes lowered in emotional exapseration-not attrative, but cerinitly him, as he pointed a fingertip to the sky. "Number one idea about convincing people of anything-make sure you're the one who tells the story first, becuase whether it's true or not, that's the one they'll believe." He pointed his finger at you with his eyes lowered, voice dramatic and with a pointed drama in his eyes. "Never forget that if you're going to be married to a guy who does business right after a party that involoves possible prision if not done correctly."

"We don't be jailed." Your hand squeezed across his palm. He turned as he gave you a slight look of surprise, which then doused itself into a pour of his usual jaded detachment.

"What makes you think we won't be?"

"We didn't do it." You turned your head as you looked over to where he turned his eyes down, guilt eased across his feautres that wore his emotion on his expression as he tapped and caressed his fingeers across the wheel. "It's pretty straightforward in that sense."

"No-we didn't. That one is obvious." Both of your bodies rocked forward as Bojack put his foot on the medal, turning the car into the intersection as he kept the worried worn of his eyes through the general traffic. "But I've been around and less than half the time actuallly 'doing' anything is hardly part of the point as to why anyone does anything or why people have certan..things happen. Unless it's something related to their career, usually it's about bad things."

Your eyes turned to where Bojack, in the middle of his absent minded choas, had kept the compartment open, several bits of crumpled paper falling out of it as it feed its choas onto the ground.

"What were you looking for a minute ago?"

"Oh." His eyes darted to where the paper was falling out. You took to leaning forward as you pressed your hands against the ones that were falling out halfway. placing them beside the discarded random nothings that sat on the chair. A timind shrug. "Just the paper that proves proof of our marriage, is all."

You laughed, turning your eyes to his uncertain and puffy worn feautres. "Why that now?"

"Why now?" His teeth poked as eyes winced, and he took his hand from the wheel as he took one to frantically scratch the side of his neck. "Lonliest thing about being an artist is that your work is snapped into a time freeze where strangers feel like they know you forever because of one thing you did years ago. Lonely for them for connection to that one snapshot and thinking its more than that, lonley for me for having people think they want to know me from that snapshot." His eyes lowered as he turned his attention to where you pulled out the marriage cerficate. "That certificate is the only human or worthwhile thing that isn't lonely that's come out of everything I've ever done-and cocidentally, it also happens to be what I'll use to prove that we are a legallly married couple who was allowed the preivelege because we have no histroy of-direct murder. Direct, anyway."

He sunk in his chair slightly, his hands tapping on the wheel as he eased his body down into a timid uncertain fashion. Your eyes kept on his and his insecure carriage of how he spoke about himself. Your eyes turned across the crumpled paper that had both of your signatures, and a signfigent amount of information about the marriage between the two of you; with some of the charges Bojack had in the past, there had been a few extra guidlenes about what would occur if you ended up calling for abuse or Bojack's addiction, and the likiliness for them to proceed forward from your preception of things starting there.

"I figuered the…crimes and things would at least be a point of comparison to show that they've all been drug induced or accidents." Bojack winced as his eyes turned over the paper. Your head turned up as you met his as insecure eyes laid themself over the page. "Cleanest get away when a scenario seems to have already made up it's mind, right?"

"It hasn't made up it's mind. For as long as either of us are willing to be flexible with our prespective, that's what matters."

"Sure." Bojack straightned his body back on the chair again, hands adusting as he squeezed the wheel, and the uncertain flair of relfecton across his feautres. "Prespective. Because that's what duties like this are known for."

"We don't know until we've tried, sweetheart." Your red edge of your eyes full of more of the inevtable exhsution from your eyes that was compact with emotion turned to him; Bojack's face tensed in emotion as he only turned his eyes down in advoided closure as the red sports care continued to zip through the road. You were currently driving across a part of the road that cut itself into a large form of a yawning open arch of a street that was akin to a bridge; the expanded buildings that were underneath it that stretched out into an expanse of clutteredb buisness and that tall, initimdating and forced structure increased across its foggy expanse of the increasing unremarkable day.

"At least the helicopters finally stopped." Bojack winced as he turned his ducked his head over to get a scope of the sky. "If you're going to argue with controlling losers who only care for their next big story for bored people you may as well have a little bit of piece and quiet instead of the mundanity of the same ususal white nosie as always that I've been seeing every day in some way or another for the past twnety years of living here." His hodded eyes turne dto you with his eyebrows rasied in his naturally savvy way. "Things really don't change, do they?"

"Look, honey, I do know that the more we do what feels good and focus on what's true asindivuals,no matter how scary or hard that might be, is what matters. Everything else just feels like shit, so let's not go towards those things."

"I'm not intetionally trying to go towards anything." He raised his hands in front of him with a wave. "I just know what needs to be done to keep us moving forward. Even if it dosen't or feels as if it shouldn't matter. If I'm not making the right choices, then that's something we worry about after we make an attempt to do the right thing."

He was breathing heavily from the moment as he spoke, though his emotions were pointed and controlled enough that it almost could have been passed for unotable; as clumsy as a man he could be and though his body type spoke of someone who was stout and unconvetional and easy to pass over by his age, there was no denying the natural handsome beauty of his fac,e or the incredibly soft human nd humble humanity of warmth his body inspsired out of you.

"Alright." You turned your body back against the chair. Bojack's eyes turned back to you instantly as his ears lowered while he became aware of your tension. "You're right."

He paused as his shyness kept him from mentioning anything beyond that for a moment; but as the red car sped from over the hill and well into the more straight and less height of a hill and began to pass by the passing tall buildings made from more smog and work than anything human made inside he asked a tender;

"Are you ok?"

"I want for the both of us to have a belief that we have, and are, somehting good." Your body melted down on the chair as you slipped your body against it as eased your body down beside it, expresssion stoned into a consideration of your own relfective but wounded heavy rytham that he had always been attracted to. The soft and vulnerable pout of his expression turned to you no and then with wince of his usual apology that followed him everywhere. "I want us to feel like we can have something good, to be above people that I see all day long who are these self loathing, hating spiral of unimpressiveness in every day. Because they chose to be, mostly, becuase of how they carry their life-and bleessing in and of itself."

"I know, honey." His wet, white eyes didn't leave from yours as he kept his apologetic eyes across your body as it slunk on the leather chair in that relaxation of consideration. "I think we can be. I didn't mean anything by what I said if it meant making you feel about about wanting to be here."

"Well." Your arms readjusted across your chest, and you eased your pale legs across the comparment department, your head turned back on the leather chair as you have a small rasie of your lip in a vaugely bitter reflection. "Like anything anyone is given in life, it can turn sour if you tell yourself enough times it is. If life and love and acities and beleifs are all so tempaory, then I guess we may fall into the shittness of marriage and life eventually like everyone else, and we'll fall into the meainglessness of impsuilve empty aimlessness and drugs like everyone. Maybe that's all life is and any denial of that is just kididng us. If you ever feel bored by trying to believe in something and be disicplined, don't worry about it, because it won't last for too long."

"Honey, that is the last thing I want. That wasn't why I gave you a hard time being a part of this." There was an edge to his voice, but it was only from being fueled by his desperation of his motive to love you. "I promise that no matter what I do or say or how it comes across, it's always the motive of me at least trying to do what I think marriage is. Which I am almost alays going to get wrong." He paused as he kept his conflicted eyes turned to you now and then, turning his attention to the empty vaccent road only when he had to. "I want you to know that."

Your shoulders rolled as you leaned back against the chair, clear trouble and emotion conflicting easing into the compact emotion of your eyes. Bojack's eyes lowered as the life dimmed from them for a moment as he took in the complication of your headspace.

"Everything and the way everyone is wired is for a reason.:

"Yeah." His eyes lowered as he turned his head to the buildings that were now looming on both sides of the car as he continued to compel it forward, fingertips still gripping across the wheel in his sickliness and anxiety and the black erratic fear that was battling through his headspace. After a moment of thought, it came out into the distant and compelled akcnolwegemnt; "Maybe that's the reason why this is happening the way it is. So you don't keep shoving all this truth and beauty into a place where it dosen't belong."

Your head turned over to him, eyes fluttering in question as a compact concern fluttered into your eyes while easing on his own in something that almost could have been interpreted as anger. "What?"

"I'm just-saying." He shrugged his shoulders with insecurity as he turned his eyes down. "I know that depression and bad thoughts and feelings comes from feeling like you're not reaching your purpose right. The last thing I would want is for you willingly and knowing that that's the case of what's bringing you down and seeing that happen and knowing that actively-"

"Please don't." Your eyes closed as the muscles on your face tensed, your elbow leaning on the side of the car.

"-Then maybe there's a chance that you can try to stop that and make a difference before it ends up getting out of hand." His eyes turned to you as he gave you a dry squint of his eyes, but there was a genuine sense of maturity there in his attempt at his point. Your fingertips rubbed across your eyes as your hands eased across your expression, and there was a genuine exhaustion there as your palms rubbed across your face. His eyes lowered as his expression turned down by the wheel and he allowed himself a breath of a reset as he turned his eyes back up to where there were taking up the majority of both sides of the road. He kept the car swerving calmly through the the several turns and roads that met up by the direction of the car until he turned the car to the front of the station. He turned as he swayed his hands on the wheel and turned the car into the nearest parking space, giving a soft breath as he did so, murmuring words under his lips for the sake of trying to calm his own unceirinity as he felt the car ease with a soft ease into it into the parking space. He caressed his fingertips across the wheel as he turned to look at you, ears lowered as he opened up his mouth to offer you any word.

"I'm just trying to make sure you see things how I do, too. I know that there's a chance that we can build on something, that it could be rich if we both focus on it. I get that. I can feel the focus of it sometimes, and it feels incredible. And, anyway, all I want to do is to try and love you through it anyway, because for whatever reason that I don't think is even my business for me to know directly, it's the only thing that makes sense or feels good."

Your head turned to the station, and your palm had settled for resting under your chin as your arm kept pressed on the side of the door. He winced as he watched you, turning his eyes back to the wheel as the hood of his eyelids lowered while he eased his hand onto the gears and turned off the rumble of the car. He gave a soft chuckled rasp, genuine self aware and soft amusement in it as he caressed his hand on the wheel while he tried to find some grounding inside of the otherwise rushing feeling of his uncertainty as to what result would lead where.

"I wouldn't be able to push you away or actively change anything about the way things are for us even if i tried. I'm too much of a coward for that." He turned his head upward as his lips pouted into unceirnity as his eyes turned across where you were keeping your arm on the door. Your rubbed your face as you caressed your hand onto your skin, jutted your teeth out in thought, and turned your head down as you began to unbuckle the seat safety, turning it over your shoulder with a click.

"Where is this, then?"

"This place? It's where the guy is."

"The place where we're supposed to go and meet the lemur man?"

"That's right." Bojack's voice was vaguely encouraging as his eyes turned into an attempt of enlightenment as he turned his body over to the crumpled sheets beside him of the several sheets of information, a clumsy attempt at trying to lighten the mood of the possibility that otherwise he knew was terrifying to him. His eyes lowered a she turned his worn sight, still blurred and unheahlty from the overnight drinks over the information as he kept his hands gripped against the blurienss of the words; several documents that consistent of some of the snapshot photos that had just been taken from the team from the inside of Bojack's house.

"These aren't especially anything." He waved th crumpled paper in front of you as his eyes lowered and dimmed while he tossed it beside you. He squinted as he turned his head back to the other paper. "These, however, make everything worth it. If nothing else. It proves that we weren't the only ones doing questionable drug chasing or similar based activities tonight, before, or any other night." His eyes quirked up into a savvy pointed expression as he turned the sheets over to you. "This shows that they're just as crazy as much as we are. That should at least be a decent way to balance everything out with whatever other narrative they come up with."

'I don' think he's tyring to come up with anything." You turned your head down as you wiped your hand across your thighs, then turned as you kept your hand on the handle and with a push began to walk your way out.

"Well, maybe. But he took that body for a reason." His eyes followed your movement as you walked your way outward, and his eyes lowered and he gave a breath, rolling his shoulders as he turned his head to the door and eased his hand on the door, grunting as he made his way outward with the sheets in his palm. He turned as he looked over the grey stairs, ears flicked back as his eyes turned up to the front entrance of the building. You were already at the bottom of the grey steps, arms crossed against your chest as you turned and looked over at him, face worn and turning over to the height and exhaustion of your eyes; but there was a fight and a want of truth there, even now.

Bojack allowed himself a sigh for a reset as he turned his eyes down to the sheets, then folded them against his palm as he pressed it further to his chest and under his grey coat. His vulnerable, far less than grounded eyes than he would have liked that were anticipating trouble turned up to the the front entreance of the stairs, white large columns greeting the both of you, He reached out a hand as he pressed it behind the middle of your back by instinct, though they only ghosted behind your body as he felt a tension of his own hsitanecy there, and his fingertips cramped against his palm as he waisted for your permission.

"We don't have to fight any of this, you know." Your eyes fluttered as you turned to look at him; Bojack's eyes turned down as he allowed them to be hooded dryily as a defense, though there was more of a rejection of uncertainty in his eyes as he eased his fingertips across his wrist. "We can go home, let people babble their mouths for a little while, stay at home until it passes over like the way of things are if we want."

"Is that what you want?" His eyebrows turned into a furrow as he looked at you with genuine question; your eyes turned away and you gave a sigh of a shaky breath as you turned your eyes up to the front entrance.

"It feels like this the fight for some control that we don't have that we never have or ever will have. And I know what people are like and I know what kind of griphold they tend to have on certain things once they decide how to view something." Your indicated your head over to the sports car. "Those photographs that we have in there-is it even enough to be even close to something we can use to try and defeat those narratives of thinking we did this in purpose.

"Ok. First of all-not us. Me." He pointed both fingers in front of him to the sky as he gave you a pointed look while he kept the crumpled phots of the lemur man from the outside of the house, the grey fog of the black and white photo that suggested his wife being raised into the air and the hint of the silhouette of her as she had been thrown and twisted across the grey mass. "Me. This is about me. If they're tyring to pin this on anyone or make it a story they think they can get something out of, the entire focus is on me." His shoulders lowered as he saw the slight consideration in your eyes. "I promise."

"I married you." You placed one hand onto the strnad of your hair as you turned your eyes to the steps, turning your way to the grey of them as you began to walk forward to the grand entrance of the grey open doors that greeted you. "Maybe you don't realize how much of an agreement that means I have towards anything that could ever happen to you."

His eys lowered as he followed your way up the steps. He paused as he allowed you a little distance as you walked your way up to the open grey grandiose doors, keeping your hand turned down in thought as your hands caressed across your arms. His eyes conflicted down in thought as he looked over the photos that he had of the blurry silhouette of the lemur and the smear that he had across the front of his house; was it not for the fact that he knew the mundane shape of the front recontagles of his house, he knew he wouldn't have been able to make anything out of it. In his mind, that was his logic of all the more reason why it was so important for him to describe it. He turned his eyes up into his bewildered defense as he rasied his hand upward, calling up as he began to clumsy rush his way up the stairs as he called out to you while he made his way to the top;

"And maybe you don't realize how much you can reverse that! I wouldn't have committed if there wasn't the reverse idea. You got to think about the reason why I feel like I would be capable to begin with."

He found himself quickly out of breath as he rushed his way to the top while keeping his hands gripped onto the crumpled sheets of the little proof that he ahd, outside of whatever random and lucky photos he would come across, as he rushed his way up the stairs, clumsy breathing heavy as he rushed his way to where you stood in front of the entrance. He winced as he placed both hand on his knees while he tried to catch his breath from the quick spurt he had rushed himself into as he leane dhis body forward, breathing heavily as he turned his eyes and looked a you pointedly while he raised his hand in front of him to you with a heavy breath, waving the sheet in front of you.

"Got to start somewhere." He paused as he took a hitch of his breath, wincing as hs body was kept forward as his eyes winced in the way he had so easily been caught up with his physical complaceny. He straightened his body upward as he pushed his hand onto his back and gave a stretch while his face cramped as he turned his head upward, cracking the slight aches in his back.

"Need to work on that in case these guys end up making have to do more than just rushing around for one afternoon instead trying to make sure they don't get the wrong idea to everyone else. And believe me-those cattle, they will."

Though he tried to keep himself upright, he felt his out of shape form catching up to him; his eyes winced as he body doubled forward again as he leaned his hands on his legs, breathing heavy and ears lowered. There was a soft and minute comfort coming from your end of things that broke up through the fog of his body and how unhealthy he knew he was; the fog of his mind met with a similar fashion.

His hand waved in front of where he could feel you leaning down to join him; his hand wave din a circle a she tried to catch the burning blame of his lungs as his body was turned forward.

"Don't. I'm-fine. Just need a minute. Emotional preparation and physical is one that takes a lot of getting used to in one singular day."

His eyes turned up to you as he felt you ease your body down beside him, arms wrapping against the plush of the curve of the soft protrude of his stomach as he breathed heavily, eyes turning up to you as he gave you a squint of an ease of his eyes, detached and glazed with exhaustion more than he wanted to let on, though he worse a certain heart on his sleeve mentality on him whether he meant to or not.

"Stop." A violent hitch of his breath as he eyes widend while he gave another large breath of to take in breath. "They did not put up a sign that made sure there was a warning about what you were signing up for to get here."

There was a quick soft sound of a soft comfort came from your senses as your face eased against the curve eof his cheek. He turned his head up as he felt the way his body began to double down onto the ground as his knees met it from the feeling of being held by you. The heavy breathing that came from the panting of his body was only increasing as he felt himself pulled in by you; but the awkward, melodramatic, and many would have labeled conventionally unpleasant sounds of his quick uneven breath was becoming more grounded as he turned his ees up to you while he felt him pulled in by your embrace. With teeth poked he turned his head up and met against the feeling of the curves of you face across his cheek as he felt the way you were giving your soft content quiet akcnowlegemnts of soft comforts across his skin.

"What is it?"

"I can feel how much healthier I am with loving with. Clearer, less afraid, more focused. Loving you and having the grounding of a sense of human connection the one I have with you is like nothing else. It's all I need. And the feeling of your body on my; I've never been more attracted to anyone, never felt anything more allured to what I want, and the way you are, specifically-the attraction and love I have for you is like nothing else, beyond the combination of a person I could ever imagine myself. You were too perfect of a miracl;e for me to ever be able to come up with on my own." Your eyes softened as your fingertips came to thread across the back of his mane, your eyes turned across his features as his eyes squinted while his expression turned and looked up at you, breath heavy and hitched. "No time to explain, really. It's just that you're the most attractive and worthwhile, intelligent and dynamic person I ever could have imagined-and more loveable than I could ever have guessed. I can't believe hoe rewarding it it hold you like this-I forget, until the noise of everything else falls away and I focus on what loving you is, and it begins to all make sense-or at leat gives it a clarity."

There was a hitch of Bojack's breath as he turned his eyes downward, eyes winced as he gave a slight hitch, and subsciously did he leaned the back of his neck across your hand. There was a desperation in the way he breathed heavily; his lungs were bursting, bulging, and red, and not just from the weed he had just smoked, given away mostly from the slight slick of sweat that came from both physical labor and the emotional strain of his strees.

"I'm sorry if I'm stressing you out." Your continued to thread your hair through the black of his mane, your eyes searching his as his cramped expression began to sooth, eyes turned down as he contuined to breath with still a slight heaviness. "Or making you feel like this isn't the right thing."

His expression turned away as his eyes lowered. "It's not your fault."

"I know you feel like you're the one that's affected by this in terms of being the one who could make the wrong decisions, but there's me, too. And I don't to every be something that's ever making your life, or the pattens of the way you think, to be any worse than it is."

"You could never do that." His eyes turned up earnestly, his eyes turning into yours in a genuine look of an incredibly genuine emotion in his eyes as his expression against yours; the softness in his eyes met into yours well with the wya he was feeling the genuine permission he had to be able to look into your eyes and the inviantion for him to feel something that was genuine richness and authentic comfort; strong enough that not even the cynical nature of his mind could ignore it. He turned his head over to where he wased back as he gave a slight hitch of his breath as wo especially dignified people walked up the stairs; both wearing black tuxedos, one woman a tall pigeon as her eyes turned down and challenge and looked across the both of you for a moment with an expression that seemed far from friendly, especially tall and sporting the sound of her black heels going up the stairs, and her body staying beside the another especially large and built grye pigeon as he helped her up the stairs, both of them walking speedily.

Though it was unofficial whether or not either of them had anything to do with your case, Bojack turned his eyes down to where he had placed the papers, patting his hands on it as his eyes turned down, eyes turned down in a hooded concern. Though there was the need to keep clung onto one another and to experience that soft effort of feeling of trying with each other and the constant exploration that came with knowing one another, something that never had a genuine conclusion but was always turning and trying into something new o adapt to, and that was part of the reason why it was what the both of you kept chasing and knowing it was as complex as the rest of your lifetimes, there was an abrasive and abrupt force back to reality and the hardness of the situation.

"Well, as the way it is anyway, there's no time to worry about this too much. Too much time trying to overanalyze why things are the way they are dosen't change anything; and we have a job to do." His aged eyes were turned down, vaguely cross eyes as the heavy lower of his features turned down with the heaviness of his worn and bloated cheeks and wrinkles under his eyes, complimenting to the term of his helpless and your endearment as you nodded and kept your fingertips caressing the plush of his love handles.

"Everything will just blow up, otherwise. If it hasn't already."

He took a deep breath, and your arms began to separate away from his body as your eyes searched across his. He continued to press his hands frantically the bulk of the photos he had crammed into his pocket, then gave a breath as he rolled his shoulders and began to hoist his body upward, your eyes turning up as you followed his. His facial expression had more clarity now as he turned to you, and with a smile far more pure at it's core than you had ever seen from anyone did he reach out his hand; with a heavy breath did he erase your body up, gripping his hand son yours as he gently cracked and hitched his breath while he helped you stand up, stout fingertips rested on your hips, still breathing heavily as he did so, his teeth poked; tender, fragile and adorable.

He was frantic; unkempt and a mesh of unstoppable black hair splayed as it stuck out from his head, and the gentleness of his expression met across his uncertainty as he separated his body from where he had allowed himself to be embraced by your arms.

"I don't want you to snap with some narrative that you create in your head, is all, sweetheart." You spoke it tentatively as your hands caressed against his mane. He laughed, detached and dismissive as he leaned his body forward, the sound clearly mean to ease off the weight of your concern. "Life is just life at the end of the day, after all. It's not horrible or amazing; it just is. I don't want all this to be the one thing that pushes you over the edge when it's just another problem in the road." Your hand placed on the curve of his plush stomach as your other hand rested on his shoulder, himself still panting as he pulled himself together and allowed himself to gradually raise upward with a grunt. "That's all. Start to spiral and you'll never come down to be with me again, and I want better for you than that." You leaned forward as you kissed his shoulder, and Bojack chuckled again, sound clear and authentic and deeply human as he turned his head forward with ears lowered. "Especially for the time that I'm blessed to be your wife."

"Right." His voice was somber, readjusted as he turned his tired eyes over to where he kept the papers. There was a somber acceptance in his voice currently as he pressed his hands on the paper where he had put it in his pocket, turning his eyes up to you with a squint as he thumbed his fingers across the papers. His head titled forward as he gave one last breath that signified that he was pulling himself together, at least vaguely, and the out of breath quality made him seem especially somber and tender as he turned the pages to you. "When we get inside, I want us to be sure that we keep the focus on the information that we give them. These photos are out lifeline right now to making sure we can get some actual clarity of our own side of what actually happened, in contrast to whatever that lemur is dreaming up. Sound good?"

Your eyes flicked down, and it was clear from the distant uncertainty in your eyes that you couldn't quite tell how to respond to his physical episodes, or the fact that this was stressing him out and straining his mind and body more than he would have wanted to let on.

"Hey." Bojack reached out a hand as his chubby palm pressed on your shoulder; in a small way that gave Bojack strength himself in a surprising response to his touch did your eyes turn up to his, a warmth and a slight light entering your eyes as you met his. "I know this seems complicated and, maybe, in some ways vaguely impossible. I know." He crumpled the papers beside himself as he gave them a wave. "But it's like you said and what you keep reminding me, right? It's only as complicated as much as we believe it us. I can't stand the thought of people going around and creating rumors of you-of..me. Not even as a newly married couple, but-" He paused as his eyes widened, and his pupils flicked downward as his expression lowered. His hand took to rubbing the other side of his arm in his own uncerinity as his expression flicked down. "-What you were mentioning earlier, obviously. That too."

"The baby?" Your voice raised into a slightly lighter tone than he had heard all that morning; Bojack's eyes turned up as his teeth poked for a brief moment, clearly taken aback by his own insuation being picked up on, but after a clearing of his throat and a softness of his expression did he somberly reply;

"Yes. The baby. The one you mentioned over and over and I keep cramming these negative narratives into my head that aren't even really-" He paused as he turned his eyes down, expression lowering. His eyes turned as he looked back at you with that complicated purity. "But yes. I'd like to think that's where this is all leading, if there's any chance it can."

His low, human and clarity of an authentic voice where there was so much genuine good behind it so rare in the people you found, and it being unintentional even more impressive, was reaching new soft nuances now; certain tones you had never heard from him before that a reached a new sense of vulnerability. He knew he was breaking, and you sensed it the same. Whatever protective and complicated protection he had built for himself was complicated in more ways than one.

You placed both of your hands against the front of your chest as your hands twisted, and the bottom of your lip was pressed on as it reached into the disbelief that was in the softness of your eyes as he saw that particular disbelieving tremor come over your face. He was trying to keep his panic from affecting your own mood; one of them had to stay calm, especially in the scenario of mentioning something that would be guaranteed that change both of your lives beyond comparison. His mood often affected yours- something you clearly had to fight now as best as you were able, despite being so clearly affected even by the mention of it.

"Ok." His voice was warm, inviting as he walked forward and placed his hand on your back as he saw the emotion take over your voice; the pinnacle of his own virtue came to the forefront as he placed his hands on your back as his eyelids lowered into that soft affection that passed across his face, the warmth of his voice entering the forefront."But the entire reason why I mention it is for us to go ahead and to try to solve all this noise first, ok? We can't do one thing without the other. I can't even imagine brining something into this, and if I know you, I know you don't either. We have to take each other with where we're at, not where we think we are."

His voice was low and considerate in a certain kind of purity of his authentic intention that only he could manage to execute. You turned your head down as you your expression barely managed to suppress the emotion coming over you; it was such a confident, pure emotion that took over your face that it made something that had already been purein Bojack feel as if it was coming to the forefront; his eyelids lowered in that soft appreciation coming from yours, and as he felt the genuine love, and more rare, likability he felt from taking in the purity and the simplicity of your humanity-the way that things ever should have been for himself or for any other lost or complicated person in the world that was full of constant noise and loud opinions and arguments but very rarely, if ever, had any humanity, did he feel a strike of what genuine peace and good and harmony with himself in contrast to the constant noise and the unnatural nature of everything that was ever less than good that he had allowed to define him over time.

"You mean it, though?" Your eyes turened up as it flicked across his in question, eyes red with the emotion that was more real than anything he had ever been able to conjure or imagine.

"As much as I can mean it. Which I don't know how far that goes or what it means, but-I am saying it. And that's a step forward, isn't it?"

His eyes lowered as his expression crossed over your expression, and there was something about the love and simpy humanity in your eyes that could have killed him far more than another day full of even the most abrasive petty arguments and judgements thrown at empty people; that he was used to. That he expected; much like his mother or any other relationship, he had come to accept the idea that there was nothing but cheap and quick emotion and jokes at the expense of any genuine likability or humanity, or of anythat that was needed.

It was the love and the hope n your eyes, the genuine sentiment that you expressed, of even the sentiment that you thought he was worth it, that caused him to feel something stop entirely inside him instead of the spiteful and just as easily grueling energy he would have allowed to control him before.

"I hope so." The almost childlike femininity of purity on your expression was enough to make Bojack's eyes brighten further as he met yours, and though it seemed like it would take a lifetime of learning, for a fleeting moment did he see the core of the point of the best existence he could have ever head; and the only thing worth paying attention to, everything else fleeting garabge noise at best from people who only knew how to desotry themselves and little else.

"I hope so, too."

His voice was becoming increasingly more somber and lower; and there was a pure clairty between the two of you for a moment, away from the distracted cutter of things that didn't matter; the erratic movements and dirty distractions that people cramped themselves into for the sake of denying their own humanity; Bojack having been one of them, even on this morning, with the grim of the hunt down and the exxentric and boyish desperation that he had to get the magazines and make a mission of it.

But he cleared his throat, and for a moment was be brought to clarity and light that came the same way he had felt the brief moments of a clarity of something always robebd but necessarily when he had felt the brief fleeting moments of family; fleeting that it was as if it had never occurred, but the impact of something real had left such an impact that he ws left with the dvesating truth of the aftermath of the impact it made on his headspace of how necessary it was to be alive; the only thing at the end of it all.

"We should focus on cleaning this up, though." His voice was less confident and panicked now; in the conversation that you had, in the incessant genteless of its humanity, even among the black high heels and the click of the busy grim of the people as they made their way up the stairs and talked to one another with the dirty and quick cheap superficial attitude that Bojack had taken to acquiring so much to the point that he had taken himself as one of them; cheap, quick, superficial and forgettable, even to themselves, and asking for exactly the misery they deserved.

"You're not one of them, Bojack. You're not the lemur who may be trying to use us as a scam; you're not the woman who married him that's been driven to madness; whether real or as some sick prank, it dosen't matter. You don't have to go in there and make all this noise. Go to court, worry about any of this." Your hands reached out as your palms caressed across his stomach, and the warth and want in your eyes as you stepped to him with that genuine truth; of pain and despair and detachment and something human and real that he had robbed himself from his entire life for all of his idea that he wasn't worth of it, and how it hurt to look into the human truth in your eyes that he had cheated from himself so long ago. "You're pure, and true, artistic, and good. You don't have to feel it or even say t; you say it with everything you do. And I know you want this life, each other, as much as I do. I know you feel it behind everything you do to distract yourself from the core truth of everything, the same way everyone else does. I don't want you to do that anymore. I love you too much, too impossibly deeply, to not love you as precious as you are before life takes you from me even more than the obnoxious noise of it already has."

"What do you want me to do?" His voice was somber and met with the quiet timeless feeling of the curated dressing up of reality only the two of you inspired out of one another; the complexity of the maddening world and of the constant possibilities of human nature to push either of you on the brink was falling into it's rightful irrelevance, and replacing to him a meaning for every hour that almost made it feel, for the first time in his life, that time counted.

"Go home and make love to me. Tonight."

"What? But the baby." He stepped back as his hand reached to your wrist as he stepped back, ears lowered as eyes turned across yours, voice hitched and uncertain.

"I know. The baby."

"We can't bring anyone into this." His voice was pure, uneven, insecure. "Into these rumors, this life. I can't protect anyone that we bring into this life, honey. I can't give them health or protection or clarity of mind."

"We'll protect them. Even if they eventually feel and see the entire expanse of the world and how terrible it is, the way everyone does eventually; we'll figure it out. We'll love them through the scars and the world, and we'll carry them in our life together, the same way I carried you in our soft, humble way away from the rest of the world, and we can do that with our children."

Bojack's eyes widened, and soft flick of both cynicism and surprise turning across his eyes as he met yours.

"Children?"

You turned your head over your shoulder as you saw the noise of other tall, quick people in suits pass by the two of you. There was a certain wounded protection across your expression, but you turned your eyes back up to Bojack again as you walked towards him.

"There's so much pain in you. So much that you can't even function-not in the way that you should be able to."

His eyebrows lowered as his face hardened. "And what makes you think taking children into that is going to make that any better?"

"Becuase the answer is always forgiveness; patience, love, protection. And starting a family with you-being your wife-" You empahzied the word with the slight breath of insistence and although Bojack turned his head away and gave a soft swear of his breath, there was a soft mode of uncertain clarity in his eyes at what you were empahizing, and it was everything ever would he had ever carried had ever wanted, and only the one thing he had never known existed. His teeth poked and his pupils turned in front of him in a distance of uncerinity. "I want to give you that; it's my rescue to give you that. Your life has been so complicated, so terrible, being told and feeling that there was nothing and no other way to be other than the constant idea that there was no answer, that you weren't enough, that nothing ever would be."

You turned your eyes down as you turned your hand across Bojack's palm; he gave a soft, uncertain breath as his eyes turned to you while ears lowered as he felt the press of your intimacy on his hand, that soft, genuine authentic passage between the two of you of that rich and complex therapy that passed by the two of you only in moments where there was given the empty space to hear one another;s truth where there was only quick passing distractions and noises bent on destroying each other outside of that.

"Let me give you simplicity. Let me treasure you and treat you as prciously as you deserve; to forget the rot of everyone else. It has nothing to do with us either way, and it never should have. Much less to make you feel you were anything apart of it; and you never should have ever had to feel that way, baby. You were always far above it, you were always just too tender and easily influenced to ever allow yourself to follow the part of you that showed itself time and time again regardless of how true that really was."

Bojack's eyes turned down, and one hand patted up against his chest. The sadness on his features was the exact eradicate cut through of the impossible hope someone his age who had been alive on the earth as it was to ever have hope, or to feel tenderness of gentleness of anything true.

"I accepted death a long time ago." His eyes turned down as ears lowered. "Thought it was the only thing there was for me, or ever could be."

You ketp silent as he spoke the words that had an impossible amount of passage of invitation behind it of an entire story; but he cleared his throat as he turned his eyes up to you, ears lowered and the odd shame on his face still fully present as he cleared his throat and indicated his eyes to the front of the building.

"Let's clear this since we're here, ok?" He began to walk past you, though the gentleness of his voice spoke of all either of you needed to know about what had been opened; and, as it ws for the two of you, there ws a strength far beyond any sin or abrasive invalfaiton waiting on the other side.

"Ok." You spoke it gently, with a certain tone of confidence more present under your tone as you turned your eyes down, soft smile of a curve of something that almost could have resembled peace on your face as you followed him to the large gray doors. The mood and the intention had changed, and although there was still the same action following through with what Bojack wanted to follow for the time being, there was a light of something far more enduring than anything that could occur upfront; the same hope that Bojack was still accepting could be such apart of reality.

"Gentlemen." Bojack cleared his throat as his eyes winced in that passive helpless way as he walked his way to where two stout, plump fish men, heads turned firmly up into something that suggested they were standing in front of the large grey gandiose doors for the majority of the day, turned their heads as they craned them over to Bojack. He gave a quick raise of a smile as it et into his eyes as he flashed his features to them. "My wife and I are here on account of a man who was at a party we threw last night. His…wife, if you could all their relationship that, was there with some other people that ended up showing the same display of a weird maddening..dieease, I guess, that is possible that he might be trying to frame my wife and I for the deaths that happened last night."

Your body swayed beside Bojack as you felt your fear and exhaustion of uncertainty pass through you; you turned your face across the back of his shoulder as you gave him a kiss, feeling the same warmth and the hope for a future momentarily through that interaction. The stout fish men head turned as they looked to one another with wide, blearly eyes for a moment, offered one another a curt nod, and one of the stepped forward as he offered a meaty, fleshy green hand to the papers.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." Bojack's voice was uncertain as he passed the paper over to the fishman; he craned his neck, clearly stiff from his job so much to the point that Bojack straightned as his ears flicked up, eyes winced as he jumped forward from his disposition suddenly straighenting up into your arms.

The fishman turned his eyes up to Bojack, then over to you, heavy, lidded and sickly as he turned his inspection onto the pages again.

"This is all temporary. Promise." Bojack's eyebrows furrowed into concern as his fingertips played while he stepped back into your arms, pupils easing over the fishman's eyes.

"People don't suffer because of things being temporary, Bojack. Or get punished because they think something ir permanent.t They suffer because of their own lack of belief for things to last forever. Everything is possible, any dressing up of reality, whether good or bad. Most just chose the bad, and for your own clarity of mind you should realize there's no truth in it, just what people believe." He breathed in heavily, the sound almost coing across as a pout, meeting on the fat of his eater green lips as his heavy eyes turned between you both while he striaghtned up. "These are the photos from this morning?"

"The police took them." The fishman handed Bojack the papers, and his eyes lightened into a vague relief as his lips raised up while he pressed the paper back into his fingertips and pressed it back to his chest. "Can we go in?"

The fishman's heavily lidded eyes turned between the two of you. "You are the Horseman's?"

"Yes." Your hand caressed across Bojack's arm; his eyes lightened as he turned to you while you stepped forward and squeezed your arm across his. "We were just married recently."

The fishman's eyes lowered, darkening into a glint that caused the dryness in Bojack's eyes to met his again.

"Great way to be able to start the ordeal."

"Yeah. We didn't ask, thank you." Bojack waved his hand in that dismissive fashion, and the fishman's eyes turned between the two of you. "Can we go in, please?"

'I think you'll find things aren't the way they should be in there. Not just for anything you could want. For everything as a whole, generally."

"Yeah, man, most things aren't. Most things are terrible and not how they should be."

"Well, you can't fix it. So why go in and fight it? You'll just destroy yourselves, maybe. Go home and do something that your wife plaything hasn't taught you yet."

Bojack's eyes flared up, pout increasing as a fleeting exhaust turned across his eyes. "Just because you admit that it's pointless to fight things the way they are dosen't mean you shouldn't not accept it! That's just being a different part of the game, even if you do win. My wife and I would rather drown than let this guy spew out his sick narrative with his prankster wife."

Your hand squeezed Bojack's arm; he was breathing heavily, but his eyes turned as he snapped his natural glare over to where you tried to keep your reassurance against him as much as you were able.

"What do you think is wrong the lemur mand and his wife? Of what happened last night, in general?"

"What do I think?"

The fishman let out a chuckle, empty and low throated as he turned his head down, deep and cynical enough that Bojack's eyes turned to yours as he gave you a wince.

"I think people are so empty, both in compassion, love, depth, attempt, or even effort of anything at all when it comes to the human spirit that it would take next to nothing for anyone to surpass them. Times have changed; things are getting so polluted now these days, and that includes the quality of human beings, or rather lack of, for it not to be very hard for anyone to surpass anyone in anything. What did you two do last night in front of these people that lost their minds so openly?"

"What did we..do?" Bojack's eyebrows furrowed as his expression lowered. He turned his eyes to you, only briefly, and when the fishman looked at him with a curt nod, Bojack breathed in as his eyes turned up in thought. Bojack's eyes hardened as he looked to the fishman.

"You're not trying to pin this on my wife and I, are you?"

The fishman blinked as his head nodded curtly between the both of you, eyes hardened, eyes glinted into a reflection of something calculated as he turned his grey eyes downward to his grye hands and gave a pop of his lip in thought. Bojack's eyes widend as he stepped back abruptly, eyes snapped over to you as he tried to readjust his surprise and stepped beside you, his hand, treamoring on nervousness, reaching out to graze across yours.

"Not blame." The fishman readjusted as he turned his head over to his partner, who blundered his way over to his side as his pointed and fogged over eyes looked over between the two of you. "There's been patterns and themes lately that are going on around the world that have something to do with people becoming maddened because of feeling and seeing certain richness of humanity. Driving them all a little mad, on edge-driving them to episodes, some suicides."

"It's part of our job to ask people to discern if this might be one of those cases." The low, pointed low sound of his partner besdie him interjected; Bojack's eyes turned up as he met the man's eyes, hardened and on edge. "We know it sounds ridiculous-obviously whatever this lemur man and his wife got into, it's something either of a drug addicted nature, or it's some prnak or desperate need to be fulfilled or to have someone paying attention to them. Whatever his motive, we're asking for him to show off his wife and to have her show up, but-the man is ambivalent that she's gone and he's devastated over the matter. We don't know how long he'll go on and follow along with the narrative, but-we all end up in the same road and response of the emptiness of existence at the end of it all no matter what we promise or what we deny ourselves. He'll crack eventually."

"Richness?" Bojack's voice pipped up as there was a hitch of his breath, tenderness of both worry and curisotry. Your hand reached to caress along his palm silently, and his eyes flicked over to you only for a moment for reassurance.

"Bunch of nonsense. Legitimate nonsense. Something that would come out of a child's take, or something even lesser."

"Drug addled nonsense. Or someone who's gone so mad of whatever lack of love that they have in their life that they've convinced themselves with some ridiculous narrative that they have some loss of some richer life they should have had." The boulder and larger fishman shouldered beside his partner, who gave a slight gruff of a chuckle in response. Bojack's eyebrows furrowed as his face hardened while the emotion on his face settled into a vague disgust.

"I know you're stype, Bojack."

"No, you really don't." A defense came in Bojack's eyes as he stepped forward. "We need to get in and get this over with so that I can go home to my wife-which is all either of us ever wanted."

The fishman stepped forward in front of Bojack, hands crossed in front of his torso in a challenge defense. Bojack gave a vauge chuckle of his disbelief as his eyes turned over to the two of them.

"You want to go home, let loss, snort cocaine and have fun with your wife. Forget and let it loose for the night, the obligations, disappointments, the loneliness, doubt, fear, uncerinity, the figthing with yourself and the loathing."

"Whoa." Bojack waved up his hands as a defense came over his eyes. He pointed his fingers up in a point of gesture. "No, man. One of those two things for now." He turned his eyes up as he gave a shrug. "If one of those things falls apart, maybe the next one."

"When the two of you go in, I want to make sure that the both of you clear up exactly what you saw. If you could account what you did in front of them, if you could make it clear whatever you teased in front of their empty and bewildered, pathetic lost rings of life that makes up their demeanor that caused them to be on the brink of this, that will help us and everyone invested in the case vastly."

Bojack paused, and the energy on his face lowered as he gave a release of an exhausted breath, eyes lifeless and ears lowered.

"We had sex. My wife and I were incredibly intimate in front of them. Everyone was. It was part of the entire deal of the party." His eyes turned over to you for permission to continue going; you gave him a nos as your fingertips eased across his palm.

The fishman turned his heavy, baggy eyes down as his expression turned to the floor, He turned his head up, looked between the two of you, and reached out a gray and meaty arm to the opening of the rest of the office space within.

"I thought so." He let out a grunt and bluff of a breath as he turned his body to the entrance, jingling keys inbetween his fingertips as he leaned forward and eased it inot the key of the open grey wall. With a graon and a crack did it gradually begin to open into the open space of the court case room that was currently being used as something that seemed to harbor the stagnant energy of something that was more of an inner neasuam area with the sounds of raised voices hollowing and trailing through the dusty space inside. The fishman turned back as he looked between the two of you. "Say whatever feels true to you. Just try to make it clear. With the way things turned out, whether my team likes it or not, there's going to be entire months of trying to do research on whatever it was that drove either of them to madness. Or what they used, what drug or chemical, to put on a show like that. The thing about putting off pursuing anything that matters; the emptiness of the fact will catch up with you eventually."

"Uh-ok. Thank you." Bojack's eyes were amused but uncertain as he walked his way to the fishman. His large boulder body stepped back as he turned his head downward.

"Must be very lonely, having something of such quality in such a loq quality world." The fishman's voice was gruff but earnest, heavy and bloated eyes turning between the two of you with a raise of his plump grey lips. Your head turned to the man as you gave him a quick nod and a vague laugh, though it was more of an afterthought and after clear nerves; Bojack's eyes turned to you both in curiosity and warning as he allowed his fingertips to wrap inside of the spaces of yours as he walked into the dusty space of the inside of the courtroo.

"We did everything right. We calculated what we would need to get a window so I could find her again. The man and his wife, the other two before us, they must have cracked and changed things. The pain that came over me, seeing Bojack and his wife-you have to believe me when I say that no amount of preparation for anything we both felt and were affected by could have changed what it did to us. We tried to accept the pain, at first. I took her to the back and pulled her behind and away from the rest of the chaos and tried to talk reason into her in anyway I could. We never could have guessed the amount of despair and loss we would have felt from the rhythm of Bojack and his little discovery. But my wife couldn't fight the madness. The comparison. It should be their time, too; it has to be!"

The lemur's voice was distinvie as much as it was companding in his madness; more tinged with that anger as he continued to press his hands up against the front of the the small wooden pedestal that it sounded he was leaning his palms, on, gripping and then contracting again, and his voice reflecting across teh stagnant air of the empty space of the indifferent paste white walls and their build.

"Alright." Bojack paused as his fingertips pressed on his skin as he stopped in front of the open space that greeted itself between the two of you; you stepped behind him as you allowed your fingertips to trail across the spaces of his hands as you felt him pause. 'It sounds like there's no too much of a crowd here tonight. That's good." He turned his head over his shoulder to you, the concern on his face handsome and uncertain as he met across your own concerned eyes. "That means that all we have to do is go up, show them the photos, try to bring this entire thing to clarity like the fish guy himself said, and get the hell out of here." He snapped his hand over his shoulder and to the open doors, and though there was the look of determination on his eyes, there was just as much that gentle uncerinity in his expression as his expression pouted while he turned across the uncertainty of your pained eyes. "I know what that guy said was a lot, it all is, but it's all just noise and bullshit. Anything anyone says about this whole 'scooping out to the overview of what's actually going on and seeing how small we actually are and how it would destroy us and how it desotrys other people' bullshit-" He waved his hands in front of him mockingly as his tired and edged wrinkled eyes winced as he waved his hands beside him, and you turned your head down as you gave a nod as you met his expression of his frustrated expression. -"I wound't worry about that."

"And what if it feels like he's right?" Your eyes met onto Bojack's, dry and desperate, and Bojack breathed in as he turned his eyes down, heavy as the emotion of uncerinity eased across his features. He gave a light shrug, though the heaviness on his expression gave away far more complex heaviness of doubt.

"Honey, I've been alive for a long time and I've heard a lot of negative narratives from a lot of people. I don't know at the end of the day where the negative narrative and it's truth exists and where it's just people trying to put pollution of a bad narrative or belief into someone's headspace where there's endless possibility and there dosen't need to be negative, but-I do know that we don't have to listen to him. I'm begging the both of us not to. We just need to focus on what we think is true, keep our clairty, take those magazines out, try out best to reset and focus on the fact that we have something that feels good-" He empahizes the word as he titled his head down to meet your eyes and your expression lowered as your eyes turned down while his hands squeezed on your palms. "-And try to let the rest of this chaos sort itself out for itself." He getsured up his hand into gesture of his own defeat as your eyes turned up and met his. "I know it's hard to carry ourselves with no other backu or support other than ourselves, believe me I do, and I know there's no guarantee or reward for it-" His eyes rolled up as he gave a light breath. "As a matter of fact it's probably more than likely either indifference or punishment. But we can figure it out, and do it, on our own." His fingers squeezed across your wrists, a soft vulnerability for you to meet his eyes. "Ok?"

Your eyes and your general air didn't give away anything that was a direct answer; instead did your eyes frantically turn down to where Bojack had last put the papers inside of his pocket.

"Do you have the photos?"

Bojack's eyes fluttered in doubt at the lack of your direct answer, but there was an acceptance across his eyes as he turned his head down and turned the pages out of his pocket.

"Of course I do." His eyes, handsome and carved with delicate concern eased across your eyes. "Are you..comfortable with where this is all going?"

Your eyes turned to clarity as you saw the photos. The concern in your expression temporarily turned into something lighter as you pressed your hand over the slightly more dignified and sharper than usual dressing of Bojack's tuxedo that he had clad across his body as you turned your head over to where the lemur's voice ws still coming out and trailing into his wavering desperation through the emptiness of the stagnant air. Bojack's teeth poked as he gave a breath and get a tender, uncertain single spoken word in agreement as he placed the paper across your hand, which you crinkled into your palm as you turned your head over to the open court room; only about a few white columns away, a polluted and almost arguably heavenly in a foggy and faded fashion as the clouds of the atmosphere pressed over through the columns and was tinted with the bight and watered sunlight that was peeking in through the windows that were built around the courtroom, from the walls to where the two of you were walking forward into the off white tiles of the articutecure. It had a polluted, foggy, only half alive and sleepy sunlight feel to it.

Your hand squeezed against Bojack's as an act of reassurance, and you walked forward as you heard the lemur's voice snap and wobble into the air as he continued his allbui. Bojack followed, tripping over his feet as he followed you over to the open columns. The courtroom began to reveal itself through the detached heavy fog as you and Bojack walked over through the space, Bojack letting out his troubled gruff breaths as he followed.

"Are you sure we need to be this close? If they see us, who knows what they'll do." Bojack's voice was rushed and urgent as he tripped over his feet and stepped beside the curves of your body, hand placed onto your hips as his snout leaned agaisnt the curve of your shoulder.

"How else would we show them our proof or side of things?"

"I don't know. Drop them off, leave a dense note?"

"We'll make it as brief as we can." Your hand squeezed against Bojack's as an attempt of reassurance, and you heard him give a rasped, broken breath as his snout turned to your shoulder. "I don't want to be expending time or energy towards dealing with this anymore than you do."

"That's ok." His voice was vaguely calmer as his snout rested on your shoulder. "If I'm used to anything, it's nonsense and chaos from people I never wanted anything to do with."

In front of the two of you, there were only several people that were sitting in the court seats; their backs and their bodies, heavily clad in their clothes and their tight suits and their sharp preceptive, or rather fogged over glaze that came along with being professional, were focused on the lemur that stood upright on the pedestal as his voice wavered into an uneven tremor while his words continued to be the only thing offering any genuine life to the dead air. The ground was completely surrounded in the littering of the paper that surrounded the floor, which seemed to be suggested to be coming from the lemur's erratic movements as he contuiend to flash the photos of the evidence the police must have gathered after taking it from the living room-it was all being carelessly thrown to the floor as the crumped paper cramped and flew itself onto the ground, and the sveeral suffocatedly dressed courtmen seeing indifferent to the chaos, almost as if it was a betrayal of the clear attempt of a message that the lemur was trying to execute that was coming out from the heave of his uneven chest and the whimper uneven breath of his way he spoke between words; his words were gasped and strangled, the desperate he had inside his chest and his body suffocating around his from as he continued to frantically press his hands on every bit of surface he could reach in the attempt of his messages.

"We prepared for everything. We would have done anything to protect each other; we knew we were playing the game of going after something true and human and I felt the life and difference with that for the first time; I had never been good enough to carve out my own quality meaning as I was, but when my wife came, it all became so different-so much clearer, and everything began to fall into place. Our minds, even spiritually, are like mathematical math games even when it comes to things like love and art; and I found mine. I never would have touched her or put her at risk. I never would have played with something known as the fragility of a human's sanity now that I know how terrifying it is."

One of the courtmen readjusted in his chair; his eyes blinked slowly as he turned his expression over to his partner, a heavyset cat right next to an equally bloated red goldish that seemed as if he suffered through the same lifestyles of heaviness. He turned his heavyset face back to the pedestal.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask them." The lemur man jutted his lip out, and for a moment did he gave a vague maturity in his eys that came from a somber reflexive loss. Bojack swore under his lips; your head turned to his slightly as your hands squeezed across his wrist.

"No! Why would he care about putting this on us when he can make his own goddamn narrative of whatever he wants?"

There was a certain determination in the lemur man's voice now; not necessarily anger; it was never the kind of emotion that he would have used to respond to anything, if there was anything from how his wife and himself had carried themselves with dignity last night, up until trouble had come more than either of them had, evidently, been more than either of them could have taken; but now, rather, was it a deep sense of desperation for himself to be let inside of with the conviction of anyone who would listen with whatever was going on inside of the damage of his mind; it was pathetically desperate, deranged, humbly human.

"I don't think he has any ulterior motive." Your voice was reflective, with a feeling of a distant emotion of something to the statement that would have spoken something more ominous than anything that would have been as straightforward as something as easily definable as much as a man that only wanted his quick credit for muddled reasons.

"No? You could have fooled me."

It was rare when Bojack didn't talk to you directly these days; especially when it came to the things that he felt trouebled about. There had been a babbling manchild of rushed emotion and unheard narratives that he had rushed to be able to tell in whatever way he saw the opportunity to be able to do so. There was a hushed disgust in his voice now; one that seemed rushed and disturbed, and desperate to be able to leave; he felt the knowing of the all in front of the two of you of something being revealed that neither of you wanted to be introduced to; almost a game of the teasing of the nothing the two of you were, or could be, on the other side of what had been the only genuine human or pure thing either of you had ever experienced, and the complication of corruption that had already robbed the majority of Bojack's sanity and, in your own way, yours in kind throughout a world that had used him as product, rather than direct person.

One of the heavyset court people readjusted as their eyes flashed up to the lemur.

"What would be your preferred method of how we deal with the crime of your wife' death and passage-"

"She's not dead! She's never been here. It's something far worse that happened to her- the nonexisetence. I can feel her slipping through my memory and when she's gone, the warmth and the identity and the grounding she gave me by loving her-I won't be here anymore, the way I am. The way I have been. I can feel the madness of being pushed to the brink slipping around me like anything and there won't be any punchline or any relief or reward; I'll go mad, and I'll be gone entirely."

"-Or the definition of her being missing, if that's something that's of more comfort to you. What do you have to say about the idea of the deaths at the party, as to the suspects that we have of Bojack and his wife-a man known for being someone in situations where death is an acceptable solution to his uncomfortability? We cannot, by any fortunate means, go forward with what you've given us, as it's just small fleeting emotional state of something as constant changing and as indefinable as the human state. What would you rather have us do, as someone define as the victim, in this case?"

"No. Please." Bojack's hands tensed across your wrist, and your head turned as you gave him a quick look of what wa meant to be a sense of reassurance.

"It was just a suggestion. A possibility. That's all."

"They start going down the road of blaming the two of us and we will never get to anywhere with relief from here. Our marriage will be over before it even started. Is that not clear?"

"Very. But we have to leave room for our own voice and for hope-"

"I want that, too. I know. But it dosen't happen just because we want it to-the same way that it takes a lot more than just couple of sessions of overthinking and of going through the same negative headspaces of stagance before you start to feel familiar enough that it feels like relief. I fele like I'm learning some things about inner healing, the same way I'm learning right now that we absolutely cannot expect this to play out the way it does and expect that small little bundle of a concept that you mentioned earlier to just be placed in our arms unless we at least have the remakrbaility of endurance of some decent character to achieve that-something I've never displayed in full, by the way."

"My files!" The lemur slammed his hands onto the court table again, enough that it caused some of the paritcpants in the seats to redjsut as they leaned their bodies back agaisnt the seats, turning to one another as they muttered low. "The files of where I took my wife from where she came from, to over here, where she couldn't be and didn't want to be, necessarily, in the sense that we knew this wasn't natural for one another, for us to break and to bend everything as it was to get where we wanted to be with each other. But we had no other way, you have to understand. We needed to eb able to experience one another in these pathetic, desperate versions of our lives where we never find each other at all; it could all be so simple, we tell each other, as I pulled her from that place of faith of something as carefree as a child while she stepped away from her life where she knew me just enough to crave after me, and I her; we bent the rules to find her. You can find the diagrams of how we did it; I left it back at my house as proof in case it got to the point where I couldn't find her, where she left me; you can check all you want, and I know that Bojack type has it for himself, too; one of the most miserable and enduring and, evidently, worthwhile men that the universe has ever interacted with."

"You kept it on file ?"

One of the scourtmenspoke up, voice devoid of any judgment, but at the same time genuine surprise lacing the voice. "It's clear that you're desperate to prove yourself,at least to some extent. Of how determined you are to be a larger part of your wife and the family bond you could have had-"

"-We did have it. We still do. I'm still with herl or she's with me. The warmth of her presence. She'll be gone soon, beyond recall."

"I understand you feel that way. You don't seem especially worried about the guilt of whether or not you'll be cosndiered guilty. Or, if your wife is still alive-"

"-I can promise you she isn't. She dressed up her own reality, what a woman, and I will be joining her soon."

"And would she agree that it was as much of a need as much as you are acting right now?"

"Ok, ok. Hey, everyone! Bojack and his wife here, ready to add some clarity into the mix before this gets anymore unnecessarily drawn out."

Bojack had slung his body away from yours, and before you can come to even process Bojakc was clapping his hands together in that pointed fashion as he stepped his way through the fogginess of the column. Your eyes dimmed as you watched him make his way over to the courtseats, his air giving away someone who ws confident well enough, albeit a bit awkward and clumsy, as he walked his way over to the court chairs. He waved his ahnd in front of him as he chcukeld nervously, turning his body around as the question in his eyes asked for you to follow; you nodded as you lifted your body up from where you had been observing and kneeling onto the ground as you walked through the column and over to where Bojack had the paper crumpled in his hand.

"Sorry. My wife and I were passing through as a side effect of the fact that we were trying to make peace with some-things and chaos going on outside on days like this after last night. We got the proof of everything that happened, right here, made by your time in and of itself. Right, team?" The savvyiness of his attempt at cutting up the tension, even with how hesitant he was at doing the fact of the tension of the courtroom and of the stout look fo the court cases as they turned their eyes over to him sharply as Bojack gave them a flash of his own uncertain and nervous grin. "Is the team here?"

"The police team have nothing of importance to do on this particular day." The courtmen turned their attention to the two of you; the lemur's expression gave away nothing of surprise, his body only turning back as he looked between the two of you with a shadow of emotion across his face. One of the men nodded as the flair of his eyes turned to where you stepped your way forward to join Bojack, his vaguely fearful in his confusion and his face giving away that timid uncertain humanity. "It's nice to see the two of you."

Bojack cleared his throat, wincing as his ears lowered. "Because I have everything that anyone needs, right here." He turned his uncertain eyes, made gentle by his unknowing over to the lemur; his eyes were neither angry nor reciprocated, only with a flat look of acceptance and a lack of surprise across his eyes.

"We can just show them what happened this morning, whatever nonsense it was, and everyone here can go back to their lives and do whatever they want once we've all come to a factual agreement, rather than this bullshit back and forth of playing guessing games of the 'emotional questions' you mentioned."

Bojack's eyebrows raised up as his eyes darted to the courtman in the chair who had mentioned it.

"That sounds like something a lot better to me than to continue this."

The courtmen turned in their chairs as they readjusted, the heavyset of their bodies turning to where the inquiry of their eyes pierced through the fogginess of the settle sunlight and the fog. Bojack's eyes dilated into a emotional frenzy with a few betrayal of his pupils until he turned his hand down from where he offered it to the air, turning it beside himself as he did so.

The lemur chuckled, bittersweet as he turned his head over his shoulder and gripped his hand on the front of the counter. The tremor on Bojack's face tensed as he turned over to him and looked over at the lemur in a tenson of concern.

"These two had a fire. They tried to contain it-I felt it even when you were just another repetitive, lost moron like I was, Bojack, right when I was with you and we were both the same level of sick, homeless drunks." He wiped the front of his mouth as his body kept cramped forward, leaning his wrist across hs mouth as he shouldered his way down through the muffle of his laughter. Bojack's eyes dilated into conflict as his eyes turned down in front of him, detached, and then turned his head over his shoulder, the distance of his laughter raising into the fogginess of the air.

"I was to be one of those idiots, people who gripped onto the timeline of fate and emotional justice and, with bathed and desperate dry breath when one superficial nothing fell apart, desperately waited and gripped onto the hope of the next thing to come with some overall expanse of fate and of guidance to the next emotional connection and relationship that led to the next fate. This belief that the world would offer me justice if I were to stay alive for it, a cosmetic justice from one component to the next." His fingertips scratched across the front of the wooden pedestal as he kept his eyes turned down onto it. "I've never been so disgusted by my superficial complacency in my life; by the world, and humanity as it is, and as I as, and as I am now, probably, more than likely, even now as I realize it with the promise that I'll never be one of those idiotic, lost and aimless tripping fools again. Once you feel the truth of what a quality life is, of being alive, of genuine authentic true warmth and humanity of being with someone that is at the core of every cheap and mundane pathetic distraction-"

The lemur's eyes kept down as he kept his hand caressed onto the top of the edge of the pedestal. He swallowed, the sound unnatural and unkempt itn its thickened action. Bojack's eyes turned to you, stepping back as he reached out his hands and pressed it on your waist as he guided you over to one of the front chairs.

"Come on." His voice was guinding, soft in his lending as he kept his hands on your hips and guided you down onto the chair.

"What about the papers?" Your feet tripped over yourself as you were compelling forward with his hands on your back.

"When this guy is done, I'll show it to them. The only thing easier and more common than being able to be disgusted by the average nonconsensual existence of some muddled, sat idiot is to try and interject when he's in the middle of his revelation."

With your hands, trembling slightly in the grip of your hand onto his wrist, were you leveled downward as he grunted, resting you onto the wooden curve of the chair. He eased himself down beside you, eyebrows lowering down into a furrow of concentration as he eased his body onto the chair, one side of his leg turning on his thigh as he leaned his body back and rested his arm across the chair, the creak meeting under his weight. Your insecure eyes turned over to him as your hands played with your fingertips, turning your fingers into the space of yours in a nervous and aimless distraction. The notice in Bojack's eyes flared as he noticed the aimless distraction of your hand, and his hand reached out to graze onto yours as he turned it to his lap and squeezed your palm, expression rendered as unimpressed and defenseless and pathetic as teeth poked.

"If you want to be finished with the rest of your side of your telling, we can move onto something more productive to move the admission forward."

One of the heavyset catman straighted his body upward as he readjusted across the chair. The lemur abruptly shook his head as his laughter turned to sickly coughs, suffocated by the dust of the edge of his asmuement as he turned his head back to the court. "We will be moving forward with the rest of the process. The sooner we come to a clairty and a movement, the sooner you will be able to either mourn or find your wife, and we can all go home."

"There's nothing to go home to." The lemur chuckled as he waved his hands, suffocated and choked in the edge of his amusement as he turned his head back to the front of the pedestal. His large, luminous yellow eyes turned back down to the front of the pedestal of the wood as he pressed his hands against it, as if to reground himself back to the center of his reality. He cleared his throat, eyes turned down as he temporary came back to his emotional readjustment of the timeline that made up of the bleak timeline of who made him who he currently was in the half admirable, half detestable narrative of his depth as he turned his detached eyes back down to the wooden pedestal.

"It's gone. Our try and our attempt came and went, as it was. Life is inherently empty, you know. No matter how hard you work, there's always that truth at the end of anything you are or do. You either accept it and became apart of the chaos, or you let you, yourself, become complacent in it and burdened by the distraction. My wife, the love and the life I had with her, every moment a worthwhile form of richness, presence and clarity, the way things should be-what these two people have that bumbled in and ruined it whether they meant to or not-"

His voice hitched up as his intention treamored into something more intense, enough that Bojack leaned back as a offense blew across his expression, ears turned back. "-It's a richness that refuses to let me return to the cheapness. It's impossible to feel the truth and to not go mad. I want to return to the black or to the place where I can't process this daily weight without my life; the humanity we gave one another. I have to."

The courtmen turned to one another with eyes narrowed and curved shoulders turned to the side as they murmured to one another, the slick sound of their concern meeting and interwoven into the fog of the white air.

"We really just need to show the evidence and leave." Bojack's expression was furrowed into a frown as he turned the paper downward beside him, the paper crinkling in his waved a hand casually towards the direction of the courtroom where the several islands of the party were sitting in their chairs as he leaned his torso over the chair to look at them; all of then heavyset, suffocated in their suits through the pact of their build. "What they suggested about getting this to the clearest conclusion we can find and all going home-that's more of my wife and I's speed." His eyes lowered into that detached, vaguely dismissive and unimpressed fashion as he readjusted his expression back to the lemur. "I think that's something that we can give all parities here, if not the idea that we can't agree on who should be blamed here."

"This isn't about blame. You misunderstand me more than I thought, Bojack."

"Well, I'm sorry." He turned his eyes down to the photos and leaned his attention back to the court behind him. "But I know my wife is tired from the night before, and I was hoping that today wouldn't be the drag out of the same pathetic patterns of bored people digging themselves into business that dosen't matter and things that dosen't concern them to get through another day of their life."

"It will come on you." Bojack's hardened eyes turned as he turned his attention back to the lemur; the muscles on his face tensed as his eyes flicked across the lemur while he looked over at him in question. The lemur's face was treamored as it seemed he was barely keeping himself together from the emotion passed across his features. "It starts as the realization that you'll never have the love of your life; or, even, just the person gifted to you with their flaws and shortcomings other find so unremarkable that everything you needed-once you accept that emptiness, it starts to roll into toher things; the emptiness of everything people say and do, occupy themselves with, how people are born as a direct result of the lifestyle and relationships they need in order to thrive and are just rolling of a constant negative sickness in insolvable soultions and repeated coping mechanism until they die. The disgust is a taste that's bad enough, the boredom is terrible and makes your bones ache in its connection to its disgust in an odd way; but even beyond that, there's something even worse known as the insanity that begins to come over you. You can't overcome the sickness of being alive, and it had nothing very much to do with anything; no matter who you are or what you do, you will end up in the same cage eventually; but maybe not you, especially, Bojack." His large eyes turned to you, and you felt yourself leaning harder against your chair in the wake of your self consciousness and vague disgust that overcame you as the lemur's suroisngly clear eyes turned over and looked into you; there was an impossible richness of depth and true in his eyes that made you unable to tell if your disgust came from being pinned by the lemur, or if it came from an internal swapping over to you. Neither were comforting.

"You have your wife. That is, you have here for now. The humanity you have is so rare than even millionaires and geniuses cheapen it from their lack of obtaining of it."

"Yeah, ok. Great talk. You can talk about it to your prankster wife, or your next celebrity talk about with a sit down with the next connection you make, because I'm done listening to this." He turned fully over in his chair as his expression hardened while he turned to look over to where the courtmen were sat, temporarily rendered silent as their eyes turned to meet Bojack as he turned over his chair, arm rested on the back as he looked between them with heated insistence. "Is there anyone in the court who wants to look through these so I can take my wife home? Please."

"You two can play. Your story isn't yet known, as most stories aren't by most; it's been in secret intertangled narratives inside the two of you that would touch some if it were fully rendered into every emotional component; but the entirely of humanity is made up of the tragedy of untold stories-just as my wife and I will be. Just as the two of you are and will be." He turned his head up as he indicated towards the cluster of courtmen; they adjusted in their chairs, vaguely uncomfortable towards the man's jabbing as he flashed his hed up. "And all of you and more so untold that I can't even come to think of it. You can't escape reality once you've come to see it; it's behind everything. The clarity of that of which you see is life, and it's both freeing to get yourself away from the grittiness of the majority and their cluttered patheticness, while also knowing that you're the same pawn."

"I'm serious." Bojack's other hand, the one that wasn't hesitantly caressed across your palm, began to release from yours with a last minute caress of his stout fingers as he began to raise himself up, and a tint of a genuine desperate hint gleamed in his eyes as he waved his paper in front of him. "I came to see a professional to get my wife and I cleared."

"I can take you." One of the more heavyset cats, his suite firmly gripped and tightened across the blunder of his large body took to raising himself up, as the wide insight of the insistence of his eyes turned between the two of you. "I'll take either of you into the back to talk about this, if you'd like. I'd like to be able to go home and forget the majority of this myself but the time we go home into our rested comforts and try to grudge this off."

"Exactly. Thank you." Gratitude eased across Bojack's features as his smile curved up, meeting into the lightened of his eyes; he turned his eyes down as he reached out a hand for you to place yours into and your eyes turned up, lip curved as Bojack pressed his hand on yours and caressed both onto yours as you eased yourself up, weak, but welcomed into Bojack's want of being able to catch you as he pressed his hand onto the curve of your back.

"That's what I mean. All of you are proving and showing my point-these cheap distractions that you and your wife will go home to at the end of the night, of every day, even with it being in the back of your subconscious; and you'll know it, with everything you are and do-the loss of it all. No one will follow either of your paths once you're lost from one another; the two of you. You'll be gone and lost inside yourself, desperate and pathetic like the rest of them, Bojack, just like the sad drunk you were before."

Bojack winced, and it was clear from the insult of the flair of his eeys that the words, even as slewed and as misfournate from their origin and as clearly unhinged as they were, caused him to turn, specific molded humble body type of his plush stomach sticking out and the unaaractive way his back stuck out from the rest of the mold of his body; ironically, it was the unattractiveness of what made Bojack who he was and the focus of the bumbley unconventional mold of his body as his hips craned forward that caused you to feel your form of protection; your desire of it, too, leading to your own sanity that you had briefly seen the possibility of reflected in the lemur's eyes.

"Why are you bringing up that shit? Because you're mad your own wife decided she'd rather pop into some weird drug addict desperation than to stay with you? How is that my fault?"

The lemur's eyes flashed into a maddening heat as his eyes turned back to you, flashing with a red heat; this time enough that you stepped back as your hands gripped across Bojack's, and his eyes turned from defneisve to that soft concern as his eyes snapped over to where you stepped back.

"You'll never be able to understand just how lost and pathetic, how small you both are; stay focused on the perspecuve of your world you've made with one another for as long as you can. Two inches of one side to the other or left or right and I promise you you'll feel the spell break of a what was otherwise the only balance you ever would have had."

"Ok. Officer..whatever, are we doing this?" Bojack turned his attention over to where the heavyset catman was settling for raising himself up, his body movements slow from the stagance of his life a she bludnered his body forward and offered Bojack a nod. Bojack's ears flicked up as his eyes lightened softly, and his fingertips readjusted across your palms as you squeezed the pathetic sweat of your palm."Great. Let's stop wasting our time, then."

"Your time is up! The two of you-you have you comfort now. Take in that richness; existence was only made to destroy us and to let us raise above the rest only for a sickly time; the two of you are running out, and you both know it! The same way as everyone else! Everyone goes-you stupid lost hunk of empty. Just like me, just like all of us!"

His voice was ripped into some that was deranged in it's uneven hitch of the raise of the crack of his voice. Several of the courtmen took to raising themselves up from their chair as they pulled their receiver from where it sat as a black box across their clothes; as Bojack's teeth poked and gave away his own mortal fear while also offering a vague look of an emotional regoruping across the tenderness of his humanity that washed across his expression as he met yours.

"Hey, watch it." Bojack turned his head to the man, and there was a pointed edge to his voice as he turned and met his former neighbor with defiance. Your hand pressed across his arm, stepping your body beside him as your head lowered against his shoulder.

"Samantha! Horseman-"

Bojack's eys widend at the sudden cut through of the name, though the surprise turned to insult as he came grounded back to reality.

"That is her name!" The lemur's hand snatched out, trembling. If it wasn't an intnese enough sight just for what it was in and of itself, you felt your own heated discomfort at the sudden name that seemed to rip in front of your expression as a heat slashed across your body through what was the muddiness of your denial that you hadn't fully felt cutting through you and the rest of your day before. Your knees buckled, quickly under the weight of the sudden piercing of the man as your eyes snapped down while your legs trembled. Bojack let out his own cut of a surprise breath as he turned and pressed his hand by your shoulder, your body trembling under the weight of your form. Though Bojack gave an uncertain tender breath that suggested lack of control, his eyes glared as he turned his expression back over to the lemur, puffed and aggravated.

"She came to me, her name, just now as I'm looking into those almond desperate eyes of yours and your wife's-pathetic and tender little thing she is, You'll find her, if you're lucky, and you'll know here and you'll come into her and her essence of how she's behind everything you've ever been, that access to that deep, profound rich life-

"We'll ask you to sit down, now." One of the policeman raised their voice up, and the lemur chuckled as several security guards, some of them far different in build from the heavyset men in the chairs; slender woman with buckled black clothes and more helpless men made a point to clamoring up to the stage. Some pulled on the lemur's arm as they gripped across him with insistence; the lemur tried to snap his arm away from them, but his head turned down, a cackle laugh leaving his lip as he turned his head down, a limp complacency falling across his titled head as he was pressed back by the physicality of several people that stepped behind him as they led him to the wall.

"Why don't you rest, ok, buddy? We'll talk about it the next time you feel a little more put together. Or something." Bojack's eyes flicked across your expression as he met yours. The lemur's disposition was one of full exhaust now as his bodies' went cam to rest of the hands of the two black suited people beside him.

"Of course." His voice was bubbled up, raised into a madness that had now exhausted and fed into itself. "No amount of insight is anything; just another's fools response to the emptiness. We're all fools in the wake of existence and it's emptiness. We always have been. Everyone is, and that's far more terrifying than thinking anyone in this species is someone inferior." He waved his gray hand, lazily and into a feature that spoke of an attempt of an approval as his body turned back onto the force of the guards that attempted to pull him back. "That's how it's always been. I've talked to you, and you to me, in the circles that make up human psychology that met and intersect time and time again, whether intended or not. I'll see you again, or you'll meet me in someone else, though neither of us will want to."

"Thank you for taking us."

Bojack's voice was grateful and pointed as he turned his expression over to where the heavyset cat shoulders his way through the seats that looked cramped and forced into a well wrought church sight as his widest hips successfully wavered their way out. The lemur man's voice was beginning to raise into a distant warble of someone who had exhausted themselves to their detriment. The catman's wide face settled for a nod as his eyes met Bojack's, looking between the two of you in an inquisitive question as his eyes turned between the two of you.

"You told us of some photos of what happened here earlier?"

"They're right here." Bojack turned the paper to the catman; his eyes turned down as he looked over the crumpled paper while the narrow of his eyes turned over it. His eyes turned over the photos as he lifted a meaty fingertip; Bojack picked up on his question quickly, stepping back as the man gripped his hand onto the paper, eyes turning over it as he began to thread his fingertips through the pages.

"Are you ok?" Bojack took the few moments of empty space to turn his eyes to you as your expression kept down; your hand only squeezed across his arm as you shook your head lightly, leaning your cheek across his shoulder in that almost childlike way that you used to carry yourself. Bojack closed his eyes as he allowed his hand to meet onto your hand, cheek pressed across the two of your head in that melancholic and focused warm feeling where for the moment it was occurring, all needs were meet as they aligned for a moment.

"We'll be home soon." His hand squeezed on your palm as ears lowered. "I'm sorry that this happened the way it did."

Your knees were still buckling, and Bojack turned as his eyes inquired across where you were struggling to keep your balance.

"I might need to sit down."

"Oh. Uhm-" His hands flashed across the middle part of your back as his other hand came and squeezed across your wrist. Your body trembled under his touch, and Bojakc kept the tender control over your body through his uncertainty as much as he was able while he kept you balanced across his own flawed embrace. "You can sit this one out if you need to. I'll go in the back while you collect yourself."

You shook your head, the distraction of your expression and the emotion coming over it hardly doing anything to deter from the way your body was buckling under your emotion.

"Honey, I get that you feel like you need to follow me, but you don't. You don't have to follow any truth other than what's going on." Bojack's disposition was somber, focused, as his troubled eyes guided you over to the chair. You tripped over your feet as you allowed yourself to be introduced over to the chair as you stepped over your feet.

The catman chuckled a she finished threading his fat fingertips through the paper. Bojack's eyes turned up as he helped guide you into the chair as he turned his eyes up to the man's face and the vague gloat of his amusement.

"What is it?" Bojack's expression flared down as he watched the man in inquiry, his hands as quickly guidning you as much as he would have been able to allow himself to believe he could give you.

"Funny how both God and art is both incomprehensible, isn't it? The art, the soul, the meaning; all hidden from us."

"Uh-yeah. Sure." His dsmisisve attention brought on more quality concern as he turned his attention back to where you were gradually being raised onto the chair. "Settle in, sweetheart. If this goes easy enough maybe we can even cut out the rest of the few month's bullshit of patterns similair to this into zero bullshit by the end of the day."

You laughed, though it was one of dismissive and foggy sickliness more than of anything to do with agreement as your slender hand began to ease out of Bojack's attempt at resting you into the chair.

"Only mention it to prove just how wastes of time and loonies like that come around. You know what he said to me?"

Bojack raised up a hand as he the muscles on his face treamored, eyes closing as his ears flicked back.

"I really don't especially care right now." His eyes opened into insistence as he eased his hands in front of him in a gesture. "Can we please look this over and get my wife and I's name cleared and then head home?"

"He said I'm going nowhere." The catman laughed as his chuckle met Bojack's expression, who's eyes flared up into a vague annoyance at the man's casual avoidance of Bojack's denial of the man's small talk. "What does he mean by that, nowhere? We're both alive in this same existence no matter what we do or how we do it. Anyone who thinks there's somewhere 'to go' other than where we're all going is the real clown."

"Speaking of clown, can we please talk through these?" Bojack's eyes turned to you to recheck that you were comfortable enough from where he had left you; your body had a certain romantic exhaustion of deep and detached humanity to it, a beauty and purity in your expression as your arm leaned behind the chair and looked up to Bojack in your own red edged exhaustion as your lips were halfway opened; as much as you had a fragility to you that most would have stamped as pathetic and with someone easily trampled by the world, there was a way you carried yourself that caused Bojack to step beside you again, even taking to kneeling done beside you as the concern was present in his eyes while he reached out his stocky arm and pressed it around your shoulders while the delicacy of your body turned into his embrace, his own fingertips rested on your wrist. He pointed over to the pages that the man was now threading between his fingertips as he looked them over a second time. "These pieces of paper are something the policeman shot through awhile go sometime this early morning. The same place where my wife and I had to go and endure seeing it. It's all the proof we have of what went on this morning, how it happened, what it looked like-all things considered, the bottom line is presented to all of you and your team so you don't have to waste time questioning people as to what did happen."

"These look legitimatie enough."

The impossible minute tenderness and concern of Bojack's small caressed across the upper part of your back and the caressed against your wrist seemed unmatchable to the dry response Bojack gave of; "No kidding."

"With that being said, with technology these days, we really never know what means what, or how it was made." The catman turned his heavyset eyes over to the two of you as he settled the paper and folded it in his hands. "I'm happy the two of you have found your rhythm and introduction and life together to cary one another through this constant test called existence and life, I am. But the two of you will still be under a strain of our case until we can prove that tehse were taken with the events recorded today and not photoshopped, or some other manipulation otherwise."

Bojack's hands paused from where they were caressing your skin. Your head titled up as you looked at the flair of concern that occupied his snout now; a grace and depth of intelligence only he carried.

"You're kidding."

"Afriad not."

"And how long will that extremely unnecessary long process take?"

"How long? It all depends."

"On what-how long it takes you to pull your heads out of your ass to realize how stupid that is? You do realize my wife and I wouldn't have had time to make fake photos that would have gone along so easily with the events of this morning, right?"

" I would say about a week or two. Maybe even only a few days; until then, we'd like to keep you both in accordance with each other under the general rules that we'd like the two of you to stay together so that if you do need to talk to either of you, it will be quick and easily cleared with whatever problem we face; and along with that, I'd like the best of you to stay within the perimeters of your house and the hill of where you reside, the road that leads to your basic needs, and nothing beyond that. We need to be able to keep track of any suspects, and can't have them traveling or going around too much without first making sure we have our own clarity from our own end of things."

Bojack raised a brow a he turned his expression to the policeman; your head turned down as you gave a breath of a swear as your eyes fluttered down when you saw the look of insult flash across his eyes.

"You're serious?"

The cat man nodded. "We'll take these back to the security place downtown at the office, do it as quick as we can to make sure the photos don't have ink or print on them that would suggested something coming from a force that was forged."

Bojack's eyes flicked to yours, but you kept your head down, a smile raised only from a bittersweetness currently raising up from your face at the wall of thick frustration that was welling in Bojack.

"And you do realize that's not going to guarantee much of anything, right? We could have made it up anyway."

"We do the best we can." The cat nodded as he gave a blunt breath of his senses while looking between the two of you, his shoulders heaved down as his eyes flicked between the thickened wall of uncerinity between the both of you. "We do apologize for any inconvenience. We do the best we can."

"Do you? I would think that would involve something that would be of convenience, not something that would drag out a scenario that no one wanted to be apart of to begin with."

"We appreciate the effort." Your voice pipped up through Bojack's jaded canopy of words that cut through his last act of defying the situation; Bojack's eyes flared as he winced and turned his head over to you with his ears lowered as you heard a vague swear out of his lip. Your lip raised up as you nodded at the catman. "Thank you. We'll do the best we can."

"Are we?" Bojack raised a brow as he turned his eyes over you. "I don't know if I feel especially excited about the idea of trying to sit with our hands suffocated under ourselves for however long it takes for this to come to clairty." His eyes turned definitely over to the catman.

"We have a lot we need to think about, anyway." Your words were pointed enough that it caused the frustrated frie in Bojck to dim as he turned his eyes to you, energy lowered in his expression as he turned to you while he searched your intention. The foggy confusion turned to understanding as he went over in his mind what you meant; and there was something akin to that somber consideration and fear at once as his eyes flicked down while he took a breath.

"I don't know if discussion is the word I would use.' Bojack's eyes were distant, voice dry, though there was a delicacy behind it as his eyes were full of a vague thought that passed through his eyes. "I would say that if we could both agree on the kind of future we both knew we were signing up for, then things would be brought to clarity pretty quickly."

"Things we need to process and clear our heads over." Your head turned to the catman, his expression stoic and patient as he looked between the two of you. "Do you still need us to go in the back to discuss or talk over anything?"

The catman turned his head down to the paper, and after a moment a flicker of hesitancy in his eye while he kept himself stoic and indifferent.

"Would either of you like me to do anything to make this afternoon easier? We could go in the back, you can tell me your side of things. I could drive either of you home."

"We're actually pretty good on the driving thing. I mean, not my wife. She dosen't drive. But-me." Bojack tripped over his words in his attempt of conviction, his eyes flickering to you as a pinpoint as to whether or not he went too far nerves took the majority of his words, even now.

"We're ready to leave, if there's nothing else that we can do here."

"Yes. Please. Thank God." Bojack breathed the words more than spoke them as his eyes turned up while the annoyance flicked across his expression. He breathed in as he looked over to the catman, indicating his hand to him as the stoic and hevayset man turned his attention to Bojack. "Thank you, for, um-listneing to us, anyway. We'll take anything we can to try and make the mess from last night as least of a beast as much as possible." His eyebrows turned up into question as his eyes turned to yours as a mode of meeting with where you were at to see if it was time; your hands squeezed across his arm as you turned your eyes back to the man.

"Be in touch, please." Your hand squeezed across Bojack's arm as he began to follow as you turned back over to small hallway between the chairs and the stage. The lemur, as it was the entire tiem throughout the foggy laid conversation, and settled with his body turned back and onto the security guards who had taken to keeping themselves by him; his babbling and tormented musing has settled into a dust of mumbled nothings that rested in the air as his body was leaned back between the guards standing beside him.

"We-I actually would prefer if there was a chance that I could talk to the both of you. In the back; just to give an update on how these things are, how they pan out, what's been going on lately."

Bojack closed his eyes as he gave a heavy breath and the light in his eyes dimmed as he turned his eyes to you, though the muscles and tension on his face gave away a lack of patience.

"We'd really rather not." Bojack waved his hand behind him as he heard the gruff moment of itnerupption from the man.

"I think the both of you would benefit." The sound of his boot scrapped on the floor, enough that you feet following him almost stopped in their rhythm of walking away; but Bojack gave a rasp breath of a pointed need as he indicated his head over to the aisle. "As a matter of fact, I would go so far to say that the both of you need to hear this. As a requirement."

"Please don't do this." Bojack's hand pressed onto the middle part of your back, and you tripped a syou begant o follow. "Come on, honey." His voice was low and hushed, and tinted with that special kind of charm Bojack was capable of, when he wanted to be. "One of the reasons why most people consume the shit actors star in is because there's a production of life and energy that they're either not inspired to make or are unable to make inside themselves; same with clinging onto their jobs."

"You think you're smart and wise. The smartest and wisest thing anyone could ever come up with would be the idea that with every changing times, there's always the need to be open to new information."

Bojack's eyes winced as he kept his hand on yours while trying to guide the both of you forward. "No, I would say that everyone has pretty much been the same idiot throughout the generations. The older you get and the more information you take in, the more you realize that even the smart people in the past were usually just insecure idiots." He pointed a finger up in front of him as he raised a brow and looked over at the man as he raised a brow over at him pointfly. "Don't be one of those other cliche stereotypes that tries to make fun of people who recognize that by mocking them for feeling detached or isolated from everyone else. Those people are apart of the reason why those detached and cold people exist."

"I'm not trying to convince or to take you and your wife into any conviction, Bojack."

"Good. Then don't. The production of the theater of whatever the hell weight that lemur is carrying around is already bad enough as it was."

"This is a factual way of going about with the way things are. If you say no to this, trying to navigate the future going forward is only going to get worse."

You paused in your step as Bojack contuiend to guide you through the hallway, and the insult and frustration in his eyes was only increasing in the separation of his tried boyish annoyance. Your eyes snapped up tp him as you reached out a hand; the small, minute tenderness that was on Bojack's expression even in the heat of his insult turned as he looked over at you in question, and it fell away into that concerned softness he only felt for you as he turned to gaze at you, hand coming to rest and squeeze across your palm.

"What?"

"We should stay. Why rush home?"

"So I can try to take care of you. So I can try to know what that even means, if there even is anything possible about that. We can cleanse off and bathe and try to reconnect and forget all of this bad shit and how any of it even happened." His eyes lowered into a quality concern of his uncerinity as he winced and gave breath. "I know it's not that easy, but-we have to. That's apart of marriage and trying, right?"

"How can we do that unless we try to prepare for whatever could come next?"

"Prepare for what? It's over."

"Are the two of you planning on children?"

The catman's voice was commanding in question as his voice raised into the air in a genuine question of professionalism; Bojack's eyes widened, and he winced as a worn and tender look of question turned over to where the man stood stout in his resolve. Bojack's chubby hand kept squeezed against yours as his eyes winced and turned over to the man.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Bojack." Your voice was trembling now into your own agreement, and the feminine, almost pathetic guide of your begging turned Bojack over to look back at you, and the defiance faded from his eyes as he closed them, squeezing his stout fingers across your hand as he flicked his fingertips across your palm as an attempt of reassurance for the both of you. "The lemur mentioned a name."

Bojack raised a brow inquisitive. "The lemur is a guy who also thought it was a good idea to put his cleary deranged and unhealthy wife through some weird theatrical red hell, spent the majority of the night before spewing at me some crack induced nonsense, and also thought it would be a good idea to try and take a dead body over here to use as a prop for a reason why he feels like he can't be here anymore. I wouldn't exactly give him a lot in regards to creditability."

"Please." Your voice, and the begging of the energy behind it, was enough to abruptly stop Bojack even as he stepped forward again in his resolve; he paused as another rasped breath left his lip as he closed his worn eyes, turned the exhaustion of them back to you, gave you a squeeze of his hand witha small raise of a smile, and then turned back to the catman.

"You wanted to take us to the back and talk to us?"

"It should only be a half hour or so. More than anything else, I want to see one less disaster being apart of the madness I've sene flying around as of late. I'd like to think the two of you would be willing to set your expectations and information straight to have one less thing for either of you to have troubling either of you."

Bojack paused as his eyes turned to you, though despite all the fight he had in him before, there was a new look go his vulnerable humanity that was revealed only through the tenderness that you managed to bring out of him. His eyes lowered as he turned back to the man.

'Ok." He raised a hand in front of him pointedly. "But only for as long as you need either of us. Please."

The catman's lips raised as he watched the way Bojack's insecure eyes turned to you as his expression was full of that emotions concern only for you. "I've never seen you be so concerned about your decisions. That's a good thing to share; for the both of you."

The muscles on Bojack's face lowered. "Sorry, have you been keeping up with my love life through creepy magazines and the like?"

"Just making a comment. I would be able to tell the virtue of what the both of you have even if it wasn't for knowing you."

Bojack's eys flicked down in thought, and your hand caressed across his arm in that resurgence of energy that the both of you shared as he leaned his body beside you. The catman snapped his pen onto the paper as he straighntned himself up further, then indicated his hefty head over his shoulder as he indicated his direction to where there were several grey doors that led into a smaller area.

"Very quick. The two of you can go home and do whatever you'd like. I promise that this is a teamwork towards hope that the both of us can do-for all of us.'

"Sure." Bojack's expression seemed worn, taken from energy and impossibly tired as he began to follow the catman over to one of the doors that sat on the side of the colum that served as a decoration through the decor of the chairs. Several of the courtmen were starting to mutter to one another into a low agreement as they began to raise themselves up from their chairs, creaking through the wood as they started to hoist their bodies from from them as their conversation passed between them while they settled their papers.

"They're not going to spend more hours listening to this crackhead babble on about his beliefs?" Bojack turned a he watched the catman jut his arm onto the door as he began to shoulder his way inside. The man laughed over his shoulder as he stepped his way inward to what made up a fairly dark and inner dim room, nothing but a dusted couch on one end of things, and another with a simple wooden chair beside it, no windows or any of the damp or watery sunlight pouring into the dim agreement of the dim of the room.

"We got what we wanted out of him. We're going with the case of his wife having a spell of something that led to death in some day; we can't speak in terms of the theater of it at all, but we understand the general translation of two people who took more drugs and stimulants than their bodies could be bothered to take." He walked his way inside as he gave a breath and slapped the items in front of him onto the wooden chair, and his hefy hands played with his suit as he rolled his shoulders. He turned his head down to the chair as he began to make his way over to it, placing his hand sonto the back of the antique wooden chair. Bojack's ears flicked up as he watched him, and his hands kept placed around yours as he walked forward, yourself following intimately behind.

The catman indicated his head to the couch. "I'll try to make this quick."

'You don't want to question us at all?" The muscles on Bojack's face treamored as he made his way to the couch; he sat down as his plush stotach spilled into his thighs, and he reached his hands out for you to place your palms in; you kneeled yourself down to him as he kept his hands by your palms as he guided you with tendernes into his embrace as you sat down beside him, partly within his lap, partly leaning beside his arm as your cheek rested beside his body.

"We've done enough of that. And at the end of it, frankly, everything that we've come here to question about has all mostly been for things we aren't bothered to know about at all, anyway." He began to make his way over to the chair as he blundered over to it, eased himself down, and placed both hands on the paper with a grip on them as he stacked them on his thighs and looked between the two of you. "The only thing our job concerns is trying to be able to understand where the deaths came from to see if there's any reason for lawsuit, danger, or murder, which, as we've come to mostly come to clarity with today, there is none."

"So-why do you need us here, then?" Bojakc tone was still a little challenged and edged as he kept his palms caressed on your arms while he pulled you in in that subconscious fashion of keeping your body beside him in comfort while the conversation took the forefront of his attention.

"I wanted to talk to the two of you about your marriage; where we feel like it's going in this world with where it's rapidly leading."

Bojack's expression became pointed, jaded as his eyes winced and a hard flair came across his eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

The catman turned down to the pages, opened his mouth, closed it, then readjusted as he rolled his shoulders and looked between the two of you, restarting his energy.

"There's been an influx, or maybe the proper term that either of you would like to use is 'trend', where people's sanity and their ability to be able to be..content, with their lot in life is beginning to decrease. Not unlike what the both of you witnessed last night at your party."

Bojack gave a small groan as he rolld his eyes. Your expression, delicate and thoughtful as always, turned up as you met the hard look in his eyes.

"Well, people tripping over themselves with the want of money or to be better in some way is a tale as old as time. That's no surprise."

"It actually has nothing to do with status, or admirability, ro even anything to do with being approved or wanted by their peers and the world."

"No?" Bojack's eyes turned to the man as his expression gazed across at him with an inquiry. Your head turned as your fingertips caressed across his hand to keep him grounded beside you. "So it's something to do with some inner trait of not wanting to just settle for what they have, then."

"Keep yourself modest, Bojack. I know that you've had your share of going down the same road of doubt and harm that you put yourself through before. It's not easy for anyone."

"Ok. I get that. So what you're saying is that these people aren't acting right-so what?" His teeth poked as the officer offered him a glint of a challenge of his eyes. "What does that have to do with my wife and I and whatever we decide to do?"

"I don't have to tell or to warn either of you, really."

"Well, we weren't exactly excited about his transaction, either. Not sure how we both ended up here."

"Please keep going." Your voice was soft, encouraging and well intended enough that it caused Bojack to pause as he turned to you, face lowered and eyes dim, the same way that your extra mode of patience that you gave others was almost always something that caused him to pause for moment as to what spiritual chipping and detriment actually meant.

"I imagine that, like most, at some point in your life you've realized just how truly small you are; nonexistent to the point of incomprehsnion, as most, though it serves as painful for you as an individual because you are something to yourself, so the definition of being nothing is a painful bewilderment. What people are feeling seems to be something related to the soul; something where they can feel something so absent that should be there to the point of where they're acting and saying crazy things, and many are lead to the point of death. Sabotage. Or they become so estranged with their inhumanity that they end up either losing all functionality, or they end up killing themselves. Either way."

Bojack's eyes flicked in thought, and the concern on his unconventional aged features took over his face as his eyes turned up to the man, expression washed in concern. Your body pressed further onto him, your cheek resting on the plush of his humble form, and his arm wrapped across your shoulders as his hand rested on your arm.

'So-suiicide, then." Bojack's eyes flicked in his barely protected concern as his eyes flicked in front of him in his uncertainty; it wasn't said as something disrespectful this time, bur rather as a carefully executed mode of concern.

The catman placed the pages in front of him and onto the floor, then rested his large arms across his legs as he looked between the both of you, stout fingertips pressing between the spaces of his hands that executed complicated thought. "The two of you seem to be especially clear headed and healthy, though this sickness of a disease that comes on people that any given moment at any time. I wanted to pass on the advice, to the both of you, to go forward and home and to think about this rare…health, the contrast of what you both carried coming into here and the clear sickness of the defeat that possesses the lemur man that's outside."

There was silence between you and Bojakc for a moment; his jaded wit was silenced the more that the love you carried inspired something out of it that was more than just patience, and a admirable softness come out from the bond of the concern of you two of you. Bojack's eyes turned down as his expression met onto yours; and your head turned up as you gave him a vague shaken raise of your lip.

"So. What you're saying is, what? That we should enjoy being married and being together before it gets worse? Because my wife and I could have put that together enough as it was."

The catman leaned back, chair creaking under his weight as he pressed his arms in front of his chest.

"This brings me back to the topic I mentioned earlier." He cleared his throat, and Bojack's eyes lowered in question as he watch the conflicted emotion turn on the cat's face. "Have either of you wanted children?"

"We did talk about it a few times." You answered before Bojack could come up with an answer in his conflicted, easily uncertain mind. His eyes turned down to you in his uncertainty as his expression met onto your body that curled around him further. Your head turned from where it was rested across Bojack's chest as your eyes met his. "I don't think we've came to a clear agreement yet."

Bojack's eyes flicked, and he managed a shrug.

"Well, I didn't think it would be a good idea, and if there's a chance that I screw up so bad to the point where they're not known in this world-I can't think of anything worse."

"It dosen't matter." The catman chook his head as he leaned further back, a dismissive disapproval across his body as he leaned back further, thick thighs spilling in front of what seemed like an odd exhaustion that he had at delivering the message. "What I do what is just to let the both of you know that it's becoming rarer and rarer to have humanity, love, want between yourselves and other people; the clarity of how much you love one another and the rhythm of it is impossible to come by, and I know. I work and see and meet a lot of people daily." He turned his eyes between the both of you as he gave you both a caution of a glint. "I know it's none of my business, by that lemur kept calling out a name of a full grown woman, or someone who has the potential of it, by the name of Samantha."

"Yes. We heard him." Bojack's voice was hard, but tentative, as his spoke with a vague hard caution. "He was very clear and ambivalent about us hearing that he thought it would mean something to us, that name."

"And does it?"

"Uh-" Bojack paused as his hesitancy froze in his response; his eyes turned to you in his uncertainty as his eyes met yours for any grounding to his answer. You said nothing, only gave him a vague look of clarity that you were on the same page as he was in terms of the muddling of the question."I mean, no." His eyes turned vaguely lifeless as he turned his eyes to the catman. "It's means nothing to either of us."

The catman turned his eyes down, and then gave a huff of a breath of a detached amusement as he turned his eyes down. A soft humor came over his features, and with a readjustment of his body did he begin to raise himself up.

"Is that it? To ask us if we wanted children?" Bojack's voice was vaguely edged as his eyes turned up to the catman as he turned to the papers, turning his hands onto it as he readjusted his posture and made his way to the half closed door. "Was that necessary?"

"It's sweet." You added it with a vague nod as you body began to untangle from Bojack's body, who's eyes darted to you with concern as he raisd himself up from the couch, hands still entnagled against yours as he got himself up with a soft sound of a breath.

"I know it's not my concern. But I see these couple, people in general, really come through this area all the time with this light and clairty, and it's clear that they think they'll have it forever. "

"Do some of them?" Bojack's hand kept on yours as another came to rest on top while he guided you over to the door. "I know it's probably realistic to see things as going well, but-there can be moments, right?"

His voice was tentative as he asked, his eyes winced in his timid question while he guided you over to the door.

"It gives them hope for a little while, clearly. All art or anything to do with the soul or whatever they may be missing of genuine truth and humanity-which is most. But I've seen far too many lose the rhythm, or fall and los that hope entirely. What the both of you have; it's a certain extreme sweetness that I almost forgot existed. Maybe it's a little bit for my own sense of mind and desire for healing to see it endure, to believe that it can." He hefy arm turned onto the door as he placed his hand onto the knob, turning as he opened the door to the foggy enlightenment of the sunlight while he stepped back. "Sorry for any wasted time. I thought-"

"No. You're fine. Thanks. Really. All things considered, with the way shit is going to go the next few months, this is the best thing either of us could hope for in terms of having outside cnorugament from not just trying to balance it between us."

Th stoic maturity of Bojack led you to follow him as his troubled eyes turned to you as a checkpoint of reassurance; you nodded, softly, as Bojack reached out his hand for you to take. The both of you followed the catman out of the door, bold body blunder over through the aisle as he walked his way past the benches.

"He's gone?" Bojack's ears perked up as he looked over to the pedestal where the lemur man had half stood, half leaned across the pedestal while he swayed on it, hands gripped onto the wood with that gripping desperation his hands had placed on it a moment before.

"They decided they would take him down, finish the talking they did with him, see what they could get out of him with the questions and whatnot." The man waved a meaty hand behind him as he blundered his way to the front of the front of the pedestal. Bojack turned as he reached out his hand for you to place on his; you reached your hand forward as your hand squeezed his. "With the way his mind seems to have deteriorated entirely, I don't think we're going to get too much out of it. But at least we'll be able to come out of this with a clear and conscious mind that we did what we could."

"Oh. Yeah." Bojack's eyes turned down, and his hands squeezed across yours for relief. Your palm reciprocated as your hands caressed across his while the both of you walked over the aisle, Bojack's ears turned back as he followed the heavyset man over to where the exit turned over the other side of the entrence that led to where you and Bojack had entered. "Sure."

Bojack's voice was stoic, uncertain, hesitant in the way someone could be when someone was trying to find any amount of clarity in the complication of an unhealthy mind with too much to process. You tried to speak a word to keep him regrounded, but as you followed the large man back out to the security guards and the rest of the crowd of the various spotted people who had recently entered, scattered across the front entrance, and several security guards of the same sentiment that had been in the crowd listening to the lemur man earlier were stood across the front of the enterenace, and the air was enough to keep any word you could have spoken the Bojack hesitant and rested on your lip.

"Well, good luck with that guy." Bojack's voice was still vaguely wobbled as he turned to the catman, who stopped at the frot of the large expanse of the doors. He gave a curt nod from the heavyset of his head as he turned and met Bojack's eyes. "I know no one came to that nice thing called clarity today, but at least we all managed to orgainze all the nonsense as much as we were able to, right?"

"I'm sure once he accepts things as they are, and tries to come to terms with the way things are for him and was for his wife, whether what happened was an elaborate prank or not, that he'll be willing to stop with the narratives and stories he's pulling out of himself for the sake of tyring to admit as to whether or not he's trying to deny himself the grie fof his wife, or perhaps the idea that he's trying to create complicated narratives to try and keep himself from accepting that he's past his prime, and his life has long settled into what it is, and it's best for him to accept that."

The catman turned his head over to where the security guards were standing by the pedestal where they allowed people in and out; he waved a heafy hand over to them as he indicated his head to the door. One of the guards nodded as they raised their hand up to the men and indicated his hand to the door as his palm landed on a button, and with a groan did the doors begin to open. He stepped out and into the vague chill of that the Los Angeles afternoon was settling into, turning as he looked between the both of you while you and Bojack walked out.

"I do want to formally apologize for my advice earlier."

"Don't worry about it. Please." Bojack turned his hand down to his pocket as he eased his fingertip across a cigarette that he pulled out of his pocket. Your hand came to curl around Bojack's arm to fulfill that wordless sentiment between the two of you of comfort as your body rested across his. "Mentioning it will make it more weird."

"It's just-I don't want to see the both of you as a couple-the two of you have so much potential, after all-and I don't want to see something like the two of you become like the countless people people in Hollywood try to ignore for the sake of not having to suffer with the way reality actually is, and the way people actually are. Even now, you, Bojack, have a lot of potential to still keep that shiny beacon of the Los Anegeles dream and of finding a wife, having decent success, the house, happiness, balance. People like you are the stories people like to hear. We like to tell the stories of people of the way things want to be."

He laughed, softly under his breath, as his fingertips came to swap against the keys of his palm as he turned it to the car, pressing his fingertip across the key as the car beeped in front of him by the street. "Who wants to see or hear from people that's selling the idea of stagnce, devastation, loneliness, being poor? We need people like you to keep us upfront in that idea that gives us hope. Even the stories of the unseen people that we desperately try to look over."

Bojack raised up a brow, and there was a sentiment of a guard in his eyes of a vague bewilderment, and something further inside of his eyes that spoke of a self aware knowledge of the man's intentions, as well as the majority of anything he was ever told; but he gave a nod as his stout fingertips twirled the stick in his hand.

"Right." He nodded, turning his head to the man as he curtly nodded. "I get it."

'Let's go home." Your hands squeezed across his shoulder. Bojack's vulnerable, uncertain eyes turned to you as his eyes met yours. He gave a vague nod, though a vague hard sarcasm as he flicked his expression back to the catman.

"Because that's the only place that we'll be able to be for the next for weeks, right?"

"We'll make sure that we keep it to only a week." The catman folded the photos, placing it into his pockets as he looked between the both of you. "I know it's hard out there. But a Hollywood party where a few people that were already losing their personal definition of humanity isn't too much of a surprise, is it? At least you're telling a story with influential power, money." He stepped back onto the stairs, turning his eyes between the both of you as he wave a hefy hand while he made his way back to the car. Bojack mumbled a response under his lip, though one that he barely bothered being coherent.

"Most people aren't so shy about showing whatever interpretation of life they want these days and making it everyone elses' problem, are they?" His eyes were more low energy and jaded than he had let on as he turned his eyes to met yours.

"We need to clear out heads." Your voice was soft as you turned your head down and began to walked down the steps, gudining your hand across Bojack's arm as you guided him down the steps to follow you. You heard him giving a rasp breath of exhaustion, but he followed as he allowed his hand to be your guidance as you walked him down the stairs and over to where the topless red chair was waiting on the side of the sidewalk. You made your way over to it as you took your hand out of Bojack's and placed it on the handle of the door. Your head turned a syou met Bojack's eyes, and he breathed a sigh as he gave a nod and began to search for his keys in the same pocket he had taken the cigarette out of, He threaded it between his hands as he pressed his fingertip onto the first, car beeping. He walked over to you as your head turned over your shoulder while he stood in front of you, hand on his hip as he curtly nodded to the door.

"The sooner we drive home, the sooner we can forget this whole mess." He shrugged, dryness in his eyes as he turned them down. "Assuming that we can ignore that we can only go in certain directions for the next however long these guys decide we can."

"They'll process it quickly." Your voice was reassuring, or at least the attempt of it, as you turned your hand on the door handle and began to open it. Bojack's eyes turned away from yours as he kept a hand on his hip, eyes distant as he squinted over to the road.

"Did you hear those people at the entrance?" His eyes turned to you with a wince as his expression glazed over yours. "Who let them in? It seemed like they were looking at us. Like they were trying to figure out the grim of their curiosity by digging into us and why we were there and whatever it is they heard from whatever source."

"Do you want to throw the magazines away now?" You abruptly opened the door as you began to ease yourself onto the white chair, shouldering yourself into it as you closed the door. When Bojack's eyes kept distant and unresponsive, turning without looking directly into your eyes, your arm leaned on the door as your expression searched his. He cracked as his eyes winced while he turned his eyes back to your hand where you kept it out to reach out to his own. He gave a rasped sigh, walking his way forward as he reached out a hand and caressed it across your palm, eyes lowered down and distant.

"Of course they're talking about it, honey." Your fingertips caressed across the the top of his hand, and the empty dry exhution met onto your palm as your chin rested onto your arm while you met his. "You know what people are like more than anyone else."

His eyes winced as he met yours. "Yeah, but I didn't think that it would be like this. Being forced to stay home, having a lawsuit following us for something that we didn't even do. How is this not going to snowball into something that's not going to spiral out of control later if we stay in this confined bullshit?"

"They know what they're doing. It's only going to be for a couple of days." Your eyes indicated towards the seats. "You don't have to do or be anything right now. What we need right now is to focus on taking care of each other. The one thing that consistently makes sense, no matter what kind of sickness or other people might follow us."

"And what if they don't let up? If they use shit from the past and just keep building? How am I supposed to deal with this is this keeps getting worse, and on top of marriage? I couldn't even get myself wrapped around that."

His voice was strained, and his eyes insecure in his tender and insecure chaos that was your specific form of following your thread of grounding-and the uncertain chaos in his expression only caused you to squeeze his palm further to reground him from where his eyes were turning to the left and right in his uncertainty.

"They're professional."

"Ok. Because a term like that has a lot of weight around here."

"We have to focus on what we can do right now." Your lips opened to speak another point, but you instead settled for the wordless weight on his expression, even as the tenderness of his chaotic uncerinity seemed to give you an odd strength because of how much you loved him for his flaws. "What we should do is just be glad that we don't have to worry about anything too much and just go home."

"These people don't like me, honey. They never will. This will build, And now that they have the dirt on me that I know is going to lead to other issues eventually-" He gave an awkward whimper, clumsy and lovable as his eyes turned down, ears flicked backward. "I don't know if I can process all that and this on top of what I already felt like I couldn't handle. I don't know if I can do that. It was already too much enough as it was- "

"Sweetheart." Your other hand came and squeezed across his palm. His eyes were turned up, empty and dilated as he took a sharp hitch of a breath, and his eyes flicked down back to where both of your hands were squeezed across his palm. "I know that someone's character can only be measured by how far the circumstances they're in, and can't really see themselves or others clearly until they reached the full pinnacle of where they're forced to face and be stretched though the extent of their full circumstances in the world and life; that's where you learn with full clarity who others are and who you are. This isn't the full extent of where we are of where we will be; we still have a long way to go, but this is one of those components where we can do the best we can do move forward, to rest our endurance and to make sure we cna go against whatever other people show us."

"Yeah-but what if it dosen't work? I don't know if I can measure up or take it."

"People are like flowing, impatient phases, and they worship whatever they put their energy or time into or whatever they put their focus in, and hate or are deatched and detestable to whatever they don't. They'll follow the flow of the crowd and then forget about it the more other people do-it's the way people are, and it's botha freedom and something overwhelming to process at the same time."

His eyes lowered down to you, wet and desperate as his teeth poked. Behind the grey stairs, the door opened, and several woman and men began to walked their way out; they weren't dressed in any particular way, only in their regular clothes as they walked their way out through the open doors. Bojack stepped back as he gave a slight breath of panic as his ears lowered back, watching with a hard caution where the crowd of the rest of some of the sprinkle of the crowd came out of the door and walked their way down the steps. Several of them paused in their talk to one another as their heads turned over their shoulder to Bojack, and their energy changed briefly as their words lowered further into their quick mumuered talk as they made their way over to the street and into their cars. Quick emotion fluttered across Bojack's eyes as he watched, and then, with a vague swear under his breath he turned his head to the box of the magazines, lifting his hands under them as he lifted them up with a grunt, tripping back over his feet. You sat up straight as you watched Bojack stumbled over his feet.

"Do you want me to help?" Your hand pressed on the door, but Bojack only shook his head, muscles on his face tremoring intoa tense jaded exhaust as he shook his head.

"No. No-it's fine." He grunted as his palm turned away from the box while he tripped over his feet. "It's like that dumb catman said just now. I'm sure he only gathered his wisdom from less wise people like everyone else-same way that people make these dumb ficiton stories from people who don't know anything about actual reality and people and then wonder why fiction stories are so flat compared to the people you meet in real life and why they still don't understand anything." His eyes lowered as he looked to you, eyes hooded as he readjusted his arm on the box, and, with another significant grunt, lifted it up more comfortability into his arms. "I'll toss this out and then we can head home." His eyes lowered down as he struggled to keep the weight balance, but with another awkward step back of his stocky leg did he manage it. "It'll be one minute. Do you think you could stay out here and be ok for a minute?"

"Just fine." Your chin rested on your arm as the softness of your eyes met his. "We'll be fine, sweetheart. We just need some time to process and clear our heads, is all. This is just a block in the road."

"Let's hope so."

Bojack was still less than his usual quick grace, but he turned as he began to walk his way up to the grey steps, letting out his own vague whispered breaths as he walked over to the stairs. Your smile, tired as it was and Bojack being able to read the true emotional sentiment behind his words whether he meant to or not, and in this case both for the better or the worse between the both of you, began to fall as you heard his vague short tempered breaths as he walked his way up the stairs. As you watched him now, unremarkable and suffocated by his circumstances, stout and short tempered while he made his way up the steps, you could still see the white washed image that came over your eyes of what you would do for the both of one another when you got home; the lovable and humble stoic plump build of his body while you helped take off the aggravation of his clothes and the busyiness of the day associated with it, your hands revealing the intimate branwy surface of his skin as you took his clothes off and turned the melancholy of the long and tried day that had no problem churning him into a jaded inhumanity would be turned into the impossible giving humanity of your balance and skin against each other in your intimacy as you would take him to bed, bodies wrapped agaisnt one another through the grey sheets while you took the bloated age of his cheeks whale the rontimcish of his eys met yours, and with the next day would you press the white softness of his robe around the plush his round and humble body that was the embodinemnt of the warm and lovable life he had been made to live, and with a soft intention made by wordless action would you mold the literal life of himself into what he had always been meant to be and to come into.

You turned your head away from where you had been focused on the focus of his body as he had stepped over to the entrance, and your chin rested in your palm as you turned your head away and gave a reflective laugh, the way you always did when you thought about making love to him, and the feelings of both grounding and promise it always gave you. The both of you had suffered through the idea of the constant wrestling that had tormented the both of you that neither of you would ever be able to overcome the desire to be loved and important to the majority, knowing that the impossibility of that was always something that weighed over the both of you; and there was a temporary forgiving bittersweetness of relief between the two of you that would be shared for a time when you were intimate that would allow the both of you to feel, even for a little while, the relief of being full loved, seen, and accepted by the other, and with full admiration in kind with one another, insignificant to an incomprehensible degree and passing even as you lived and begged and felt and failed, and the minute small relief you gave of how you loved one another deeply felt and shared in those moments together enough that you could find another bit of energy, despite whatever wear would come from the majority the next day, to find enough to function without falling into the full despair of black as minute by minute or challenges of living within humanity passed.

You turned your head down as your fingers began to clasp across the front of your coat, your hands trembling against yourself as your palms caressed across the front of your body. Your lip raised as you began to press your hands onto your coat, shrugging yourself out of the warm and thick material as it began to fall from your shoulders. Your shrugged it off as you took it off of your body, turning your hand onto the shrug as you turned it into the backseat. You turned your head up to the sky as you closed your eyes and felt the fresh breeze caressing through your body, turning your head back as you felt it ease across your skin; it seemed like a welcome of feeling vaguely more refreshed compared to the warmth of th sweat and intimacy that was waiting that came from the full warmth of inaimcty that you were waiting to share with Bojack; with him, every time, did it feel like a reintroduction to affection, hitting differently every time and hitting into a new way of coming to you with every passing new way you touched and interacted with one another daily. Your shoulders rolled as you felt the breeze pick up for a moment as it guided across your skin, and, with the thought of the intimacy coming that the both of you had agreed to in that natural energy of following one another through one step to the other of your introduction to each new way it came to one another did you begin to feel a vague sense of full clarity within where you belonged and of the rhythm with it; the core behind every action and intention.

Your eyes only fluttered open from the heated anticipation revealing itself in soft muggy ways of pursuit of how you wanted it as your lips opened and closed in your vague thought and pursuit of the anticipation of it; until you heard the vague sounds of the woman as their words were now loud enough that the sound of their high talk and chatter talked pointly into what was the otherwise still air, only interrupted by the occasional sound of the cars and the mechanical screeches that made up the city. Your head turned as you looked over to where you saw the woman; their eyes were looking to you, sharp nd conventional, and the fire of their spite only made further from the mocking across their expression as their mouths were raised into a smile that was hardly hidden as her lis stretched across both of their features while they pinned you down without shame from their sickly amusement across their expressions.

"Is the murder going to get worse? Must be nice to hit with a drug addict who you're paying every cent to be with."

"For a city that's meant to be full of stories, none worthwhile are being told. Just a bunch of distractions that no one wants to face, right? But the two of you-you made sure of that!"

One of the two woman placed a fingertip on her lip, raising up her eyebrows as she gave a mocking 'fun' expression while her mocking sharpness teased across yours. The other woman laughed as her body curled over to her and raised a hand on her sharp shoulder, laughing as she bent forward and squeezed her companion's arm.

Your head turned as you looked over at them sharply, and the clear mocking of their satisfied expressions turned away as they turned themselves back to their own topless car. Your eyes turned down as your expression dimmed while they clamored their way inside, their laughter giving away to something pointed towards the idea that they had clearly pointed their mockery towards the two of you. There was a vague bleak neon blotted bleu in their eyes; and you felt your own vague abrasive upright shock go through you as your eyes winced while you watched them ease their way inside the car seats. They didn't turn back to you, but their sharp features, bleached hair and wight forms turned to one another as they heads snapped over to the other; their laughter raised up fully into the air as their heads turned back, and with a start of their car did they start up the engine and begin to drive out of your sight.

"Introduced to the trouble?"

You jumped as your head jumped back over to where you heard Bojack's inquiry. You breathed as you gave a raise of your lip as you reached out your hand to greet him back him. Bojack was wincing as his hand was rubbing behind the curve of his back, expression treamored as he looked into the car.

"I tried to stay back before they left. They had the kind of air and disposition about them that only young, stupid and wannabe cool Bojack would have touched. I bet you they don't even know what they're amusing themselves over. Just doing it for the sake of being apart of something. You ever notice that anything anyone ever does is just to connect or to get another's approval? Almost like my entire life once I realized there was no other options."

Your hand continued to caress across his palm; his eyes turned and looked over at you with question.

"Did you take your coat off?"

Your head titled as you turned your expression over and met the question of Bojack's eyes. Your eyes turned as your fingertips met on his palm.

"We're confined, anyway. I think we should use this time to do the thing that we've both come to know feels best and what has nothing to do with the perceptions of other people, even if it feels like it on the surface, and that's regorudning ourselves with one another."

Emotion of thought cut across Bojack's eyes. There was a reintroduction of intimacy as he kneeled himself down in front of you as the understanding met across his expression, something softer and more human as he reached out one hand to press on your palm; after a moment, your hand reached to grasp on his.

"A little while ago you told me that all suffering, no matter the loss of circumstances, came from the lack of allowance of peace with the self, or the interpretation of how you should feel or allowed yourself to feel. That other things that happened, whether good or bad, was just the influence of it, but how we controlled or decided to responded to it was what defined our suffering. That that was how people who seemed they should have be happy weren't, and people that should have been miserable weren't." His eyes turned across your body, hands caressing and gripping across your palms in thought. "Do you remember that?"

"Do I remember saying that? In little bits, yes."

Your lip turned up as you spoke the sentiment of what you had both agreed to how your daughter would talk, when Bojack has been rendered drunken and helpless under the sheets after he had had enough that his defenses and the walls of the punishments he felt he had deserved to suffocate him had fallen away from the warm release of the fire of alcohol and it's sweet permission to fall into genuine truth that he kept hidden under the stagnant and exhausted narratives that he used to cage himself. In the middle of the night, his body would release, his eyes tired and wonky as he would roll the plush of his body through the large mattress that had been occupied by sweating and curved gasping woman that spent their way in the emptiness of the sheets for a little while, now overtaken by the irreparable focus of one another that came with the rarity of human connection.

His voice would become raspy and drunken, his eyes detached and unfocused and unconditional in the wear of his age as the drunken soppiness of his eyes met up into yours, his voice soppy and chuckled as his expression was wonky and lowered with his drunken lids. The cracks of the profound ability that he possessed to be able to have that profound capacity to love and to be loved as a father when the complications of flawed inner illness fell away and was instead replaced by the clarity of the way he was and how he was, and the best part of the pathway of the way he could be. With those words that were cracked with the potential of what he was capable of and showed off the profound amount of depth and soppiness of the richness of what was possible would he curl his palm across his sheet while your arms would wrap around its home around the plush of his hips, pulling yourself inward as the curve of his stomtac would rest against yours while he became the definition of someone who was a humble and durken tender humanity, quiet in its energy but always enduring through the fleeting superficial phases of life. His worn eyes would turn up, puffed and black from his decisions as he eased his snout across your lips and told you the two names of what he would call his daughters. You would mumble, soft and guidning as your hand would caress down the plush of his brawny hips while you allied your affection to reveal and enjoy the unfathomable softness that would come out of him for the time the suffocating narratives fell away for the time that he spoke every rasped soppy word of his daughters and what he would call his children, voice tasting every name and glided into the sweet tasting of allowing himself, in those soft and warm profound human moments to fully bond into the man he was when all punishments throttled onto himself and others fell away, his body turning as it twisted against your hand as he continued to mumble the drunken reflection of his words.

"In little bits" had been one of the phrases you and Bojack and amusingly and quietly agreed on as he had been in this soppy and open state while you discussed how your daughter would talk, where his walls fell down and laid down and care for the purity it was, though there was something off about how he connected to even that flawed but possible heaven; it had never been seen nor recognized by anyone other than his own self, and as a result was entangled and corrupted into his mind that was full of his own doubtful and reflective flaws that made it impossible to think as clearly as much as the superficial way he carried himself and his font not as nearly as simple as much as art Hollywood rested on or himself would like to think.

Speaking it now caused a change and a softness to enter in Bojack's eyes as he eased his body further down in front of the door, eyes glinting in his question as his expression across your eyes, and as he processed, a change came over him.

"I know how hard it is to take away the foggy and cemented narratives that you're worthless and that everything you do is an extension of that, for everything everything has ever said to you to not cement you into a paralyzed loathing and to hide yourself from anything good. I know it should be the easiest thing in the world to crack yourself out of the negativity and to feel good about yourself, but I would give anything to help to take you away from the cracks of that and to focus on you and your presence in this world, rather than to continue taking in the business of the chaos of the world while your concern for yourself is lowered further, digging yourself into the chaos of other people and their noise further until you can no longer hear yourself or even know you exist. And God knows that no one will do it but you; not matter how much the isolation destroys you or how hard it is. You have to fight for the appreciation of yourself. You're all there is."

Bojack's wrinkled eyes lowered down to your hand, and his fingertips caressed across the top of your palm, his ears flicked down in thought.

"I spent my entire life having the virtue of not having to worry about the heaviness that comes along with genuinely loving someone. A lot of people might think that's a loss, or something that shouldn't be celebrated, bu I always thought it was a freedom that a lot of other people wished they had. To not have to be weighed down by truly loving someone, the loss of it when something inevitably happens. I think that was what carried me through the emptiness of my relationships, the way it was never going anywhere. Like It was a permission to be free from grief." His eyes lowered as he gave a vague shrug of his shoulders. "It never saved me, ulaitmely, from feeling the overall weight of life that seems to be inherently tragic. Lonely-terrifying, temporary, moving too fast no matter how hard you work or what you do. Existence is just a race against everything. But-it felt lie as much spiritual freedom as much as I could have hoped to get. You take what you can get in this world of constant suffering where most people are born into shitty siuations depving them of their emotional needs and then die. The more I drowned myself from others, the less I had to see that."

"Bojack." Your hand squeezed across his palm; after a moment did his eyes turn up as he met your eyes, and your lips rasied further a sit met into your expression. "Don't deter from the question that we're both asking right now."

"I"m not deterrying." His voice was egged, his ears flicked up, and there was a gneuine authentic point of desperation in his voice as he spoke next with all his authenticity in the world; "I'm telling you the truth of how it is for me."

"Why don't we see it like this." You turned your head down as you pressed your lips on his skin, pressing the intimayc of your lip across the chubby plush of his palm. Your voice was guidning, gentle, compelling furward in as much speed as much as you can manage. "Everything we do in life is just something we do to put meaning into out sanity, to pass our lives as time goes on. It dosen't matter what it is or how it's dressed up, no matter what anyone says; it's the same at it's core. No matter what task."

'Yeah?" His eyes turned up as the muscles on his face treamored, but there was a hint of an invitation in his eyes as the emotion turned away from the detachment of his irony as he turned and met your eyes. "What does that look like?"

Your hand caressed across his palm, and his teeth poked as his eyes turned down in questioned lostness. By the door where Bojack had just let shortly after the other woman was there still more people in their tall black suits opening up the door as he they began to shoulders their way through the open glass doors. The noise was beginning to fade away now from the mumbled white distraction of what it had been previously, turning away into a distance of nothing but mumbled catter of people with pletnly of superficial inteprations of who was what and of what lifestyle meant and felt like what for whoever bore it in the attempt of pinpointing the impossoibility that came along with the attempt of knowing the minute detail fo every other person's experience and the truth of any given expereince in any scenario, an impossible thing that every person attempted to try despite the improbable nature of it ever being achieved, as it was with all things in humanity.

"You tell me. You've already been telling yourself the majority of your life."

"I don't want that narrative." He shook his head as there was a wash of emotion across his eyes with a sudden tender black panic that eased across his expression, the emotion of his genuine dread washing over him. Your eyes turned across his as your hand squeezed across his skin as your eyes turned across into the pain of his eyes, the timid poke of his teeth that gave away his tender uncerinity and the core of his tried and tender heart that was lost into an entire company of people who had less the half of concern he ever did.

"Then let's try making another one. Can we try to do that?" You began to lean yourself out of the chair, your arms coming across his arms as your palms caressed against the heat of the mold of his skin. He turned back as his ears lowered back, the pain in his eyes striking as he leaned himself away with hesitancy.

"It dosen't feel like it even matters enough to try to work on. I'm not sure I ever did. Maybe that was the reason why I never bothered trying to change or make it any different."

Your hands caressed further across his skin, the light in your eyes enlightening as you leaned your body further to him. His eyes dimmed as his ears flicked back, and this time there was a jolt to your intimacy and to the invitation to it, his eyes jolted as his expression glided across yours while his eyes dimmed.

"Honey, no." He raised up a hand as his eyes turned back down to yours. He took a breath as his ears flicked down, and with another minute sound of his breath did he reset, getting himself back up again as his hand slid out of your palm. Your eyes turned up as you followed where he stood himself up, ears flicked back as his hands played across his palm as he turned his eyes down. There was a change across his disposition as he gave a breath, restarting within whatever small minute end of tranformable hope he ahd fallen into a moment before.

"I'll take you home. We'll clean up and restart out headspaces, like we agreed." There was a desfeaed sound to his voice, but with that crack that came along with genuine human authenticity as he gave you a content look of accpeteance across his eyes. His fingertips kept by his wrist as he began to play with his palms while he walked around the car, making his way back to the door as he raised his hand onto the handle and opened it. There was silence for a moment as your body went limp for a moment, and Bojack gave neither himself nor you the luxury of looking at you as he starte dup the car, digging the keys into the hole as he started it while the engine began to roam. He turned the key as he leaned his body back onto the chair, ears flicked back as he turned the worry uncerinirty over to the street as he glided the car into the street. You paused as you leaned your body across the leather chair, giving a minute breath as you readjusted your body and turned your back across the chair somberly. The chaos that made up even less than one percent of every complexity of the day of life and of the constant changing of life and existence was turning into indifference that came along with the curse and luxury of both turning into your own words as the conversation fell silent while the rest iof the business of downtown Los Angeles began sweep away between the both of you as the car drove through the increasingly quiet street.

Bojack cleared his throat as he rolled his shoulders back. You turned from where your hand was pressed against the side of the car as you turned and looked over at him in detached thought and question.

"We're all made to be small anyway, right? More small than we could ever imagine outside of our own minds." he winced as his ears lowered back, and though he was saying one simple thing, it was clear that another consideration was merging from his thought. "It's funny how people don't matter in the overall expense of things, but people just inevitably find their purpose anyway, in a sense. No matter how little anyone belongs anywhere or how little they have going for them-they still end up having somewhere where they keep themselves busy, occupied, where they find something to do or experience life the same way they do anyway regardless-" Bojack's teeth poked as his voice abruptly cut himself off, thought flickered across his eyes as his expression dimmed downward. His fingertips were adjusting across the wheel, and your eyes turned down as you watched his conflicted thought while his palms caressed and guided across the wheel in his clear aggravation. "I don't know if it's human nature of just finding whatever dumb shit to do, or if it's not anything greater than it's just that we're wired to find something eventually, or if it's not anything more than just figuring things out of if it's more-but I have always noticed it."

There was no answer from you directly. Bojack's eyes turned as he watched you in question; your head turned to the side as your eyes turned across the speed of the car while the buildings passed by. Bojack's eyes, insecure and pathetic in their previous content complacy turned to you as he tried his best to keep his eyes on the empty road, aand his hands increased in their gripping across the wheel as his palms turned on it as he turned his eyes forward to the continued passing buildings that were now starting to expand up and into the slightly more notable emptiness of the crowded hill that was coming up ahead that made up the various mansions that would lead to the isolation of his own home. He both felt a sickening dread and a desire to be back to the isolation of his own home, to feel the indifferent quiet sweep around him if there was any chance that he ahd turned your motivation to turn him away from it for a little depleted, which was transferred to the worried grip of his fingers across the wheel,his humanity fully seen by himself; but it had never been enough, except for small minute endurances.

"He said her name."

Bojack's mane was flying back as the car began to turn up the hill, turning his sickly uncertain puffed eyes over to you as his eyes turned across yours in question. "What?"

"Samantha." Your arm was rested on the front of the door, and Bojack's eyes were even more worried and exhausted while they turned to gaze at you with a squint of his question. You turned your head away from where you were watching the buildings go by, as quick passing and as indifferent as much as life and time itself to whatever minute wants made up the human state. Your face turned over to Bojack as your eyes gleamed and looked across his, and if there had ever been some reflected profound wisdom behind your eyes and everything you did before that was going to some detached mystery beyond what Bojack could comprehend, as well as yourself, but you both craved it, then it was cerinintiy in your eyes for that moment as you turned and looked to Bojack, your eyes cut through with the vague secret that had something so deep, so sought after and profound about the way you looked that Bojack knew even as he took it in that he would spent the majority of his life after this moment thinking back on what it meant after what it suggested that was behind the core of everything that ever exited or ever would; every human art and action something that was a response to the terrifying indifferent emptiness that was life, and in your eyes was both the fear and the temporary answer, at least for the two of you; at least for the moment.

"What?" Bojack paused as he abruptly pressed his foot on the gas pedal; his hand turned as it rested on the back of his chair as he looked at you witha flair of a question. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"He said a name that we talk about in bed. About one of our daughters-one of them that we've discussed and wished were true. One that we wish we could go to."

"Ok." Bojack's eyes turned up as his teeth poked, trouble and uncertainty crossing against his face as his eyes snapped upward to the sky for a moment. It didn't take long for him to snap his eyes back down to you; partly for his desire to feel the healthy nature of how things should be that he felt only with his connection to you. "Yes, that is true. But the guy isn't healthy in the head, honey, and I wouldn't say that he's what I would call someone who is the kind of person who is capable of having a good life at this point. And Samantha isn't exactly what I would call a rare name. Cerinitly not rare enough that it would keep blown crackheads who have totally fried their brains away from coming up with weird garbage like that." He pointed at you with a gesture of hisfinger with his eyebrows raised. "I am telling you that people like that don't make it. Not if they cross the line known as sane and healthy that keeps them fucntioning."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is-" His breath hitched as hid body rolled back. "Come one. Everyone knows that anyone who has gone off the deep end isn't going to have a good life. People don't relate to them, and we all know people already don't care about people enough as it is even when they cane relate. People who have started suffering and going off like that? They're hopeless. They're never going to get the help or the clairtiy they need. It's like a goddamn hill that takes you down and along with it, and being pulled into the cracks of the human experience in all of its grittiness and complexity is something only serious actors do around here for a couple of bucks, if even that. Anyone who thinks being eccentirclaly wired or losing your mind is something to be proud of dosen't know what the hell they're signing up for."

Bojack paused, and a tende guilt crossed against his across as he took a breath from his rant, and his body lowered downward as he allowed his body to sink further into the chair. The silence from your end of things spoke everything he needed to know about your thought about what he spoke, and with a breath did he roll his shoulders as he began to drive the car up and over to the hill again.

"You know I"ve spent the majorty of my life not being able to relate to people. Of not being able to connect.

"Honey, I obviously didn't mean you. If it's not obvious, then I'm trying to make ti obvious now."

He turned his head over to you as he kept an eyebrow raised to see if you were following with his attempt at tenderness, even in his stumbling failure, to keep you with him.

"It took me a long time to get where I am to find you. To be who I am-to be able to believe that I could be the woman I am that you see and love you."

"Yes." Bojack winced as he stopped the car, taking his foot off of the pedal as he turned to you with his eyes winced and teeth poked as his expression turned over to you. Your eyes closed as your hand was pressed on your mouth; with a soft readjusting did you turn your head to Bojack, your eyes glidning over to him as you watched him with the question across your eyes that wa srelfected and made further from the emotion of the depth of your expression. "I know that. I didn't think that any path that anyone ever took would be lead to me. I didn't think it was posisble. That it was something that should happen. I thought I was just put here to be some lost moronic idiot just processing being alive while I tried to pretend I was more than that, like so many people." He paused as his fingertips cramped across his hand as he looked at you, teeth poked as his expression winced as he gave a breath of unceirnirt while is hand cramped in his unknowing as he showed signs of wanting to reach out to you. He reached out a hand, but his palm fell back as he saw you turn to look at him fully, the question of detachment in your eyes as your expression threaded across his as you looked at him in question with something that had a vague resistance eof challenge present within it.

"So what, then?" Your eyes turned as you looked at him, your head titled, that purity in your expression just as pure as much as it had ever been in a way Bojack couldn't even quite wrap his head around, but there was an edge this time, one he had both been wanting and antipatiing coming all at once. "Is that just thoughts that you're just churning over in your mind while you think it over until what dosen't matter comes and passes?"

"What? No. It's just-" He paused as his fingertips cramped across his palm from where emptiness wanted to be able to cradle you, but there wa sa sense of fight and lack of jutiifciation to it now as his wincing of his puffy eyes met yours. "We don't have to put kids into the this garbgae of a world just to appease ourselves. We're too old. I'm sorry, I'm too old. And you don't need to try and appease anything of what you think might be in me. I'm-" Hepasued as his eys flicked in thought, and his eyes turned down, and he felt his palm graze against his wrists as he took a breath and caressed his fingertips on his skin. "There's only so much time left in life, and I didn't qute plan out using it a way that's quality enough to be worth worrying about at this point. You need to know that. And if that bothers you-then maybe we were both right from the start. Maybe any hope that we thought or wante to have was just distant parasicual influences that has nothing to do with hw hopeless things are."

"I only get it from you." Your lips pressed agains tone another, and Bojack's eyes flicked down as his ears lowered back while his hands played. Though all the powerful affection and influence came from him at the core of everything you said and did, with how feeble and incapable Bojack was of accepting it currently, it seemed unfathomable that he was at the center core of it."

"I know, honey."

His eyes lowered as he gave a breath, giving a vague shrug of his shoulders as he turned his eyes down. "The hope, I mean. The inspiration to have something more." His eyes turned up as he met his insecurity into your eyes that had both a detached exhaustion in them, right along with a black fear that was triggered inside of him at the way he felt looking into your eyes knowing, at least to some extent as much as he could understand, that he was gradually letting the comfortable cage of fear be chipped away from where he had comfortability laid it around himself, and instead was replaced with the terrifying possibility of want that was in front of him that he had already spent the majority of his life convincing himself he couldn't achieve. His teeth winced as he gave a whimper and asked. "Does that come from me?"

"Of course it did." There was almost a laughter to the tint of your breath, and the emotion in your eyes reached further as they fell into a melancholic ease of asking in your eyes. Your body was leaning further over to Bojack, and his hands found their place resting against his palm as he felt his fingertips pressing against one another in their uncertain thread and caress against one another as the pain of his eyes turned down to your body that was leaning froward in your want. The breeze picked up, and as his eyes turned, subconsciously and without even meaning to, up over to the sky in front of him as he watched the distant dim blue ease across the spilled over sky, usually polluted beyond recall from the lights, there was one small notable white light in the sky; whether it was an air plane that he ascribed for desperate need for wonder to take him away from the weight of reality of needing to rely on his own energy to go forward, or whether it was a star, either way it caused a nervous laughter to break out of his lips, his tender uncertainty turning back to your eyes while you kept half leaned forward in your want to him, and the begging across your eyes, thought there was a layer of hesitance to your expression.

"Weird that that guy just spewed out the name though, right?" He chuckled as his eyes turned across yours, ears flicked back as his shoulders were still turned in on himself while his palms kept on his hands, ears flown back.

"Honey." Your eyes turned down, your lips pressed together; the crickets that could be heard in the silence that came from the luxury of the buildings surrounding the two of you and the nightitme sounds that were embedded into the air accompinyed the emptiness of his uncertain mehcolony as his delicate worried eyes followed the heaviness of your expression as you turned your head downward.

"I'm sory-"

"We're here, together, and we can spend the rest of our life going through the inevitable mundanity of the day-and with the way I love you and how much I love you, I wouldn't mind doing that for the rest of my life; it would be more than enough. Even on the days when we had to fight for it a little harder." Your head tiled to the side as your eyes turned across Bojack's expression, and the addiction that he felt to seeing that meaning and grounding in his eyes was almost more than he could take as his eyes winced and he turned his head away, ears lowered back further in his timid uncerinity.

"Or we can try to do what we can to bring even more life into what we have. We can be scared, pathetic, miserable and paralyzed creatures. And God knows how hard it is to be happy, or try to be happy, especially after a certan point in your life. Trusting yourself fully within your own company and believing that you have the right and the confidence to be happy is the hardest thing in the world, especially at our age." He heard the click of your hand on the belt as the zip whispered along your torso, and Bojack's eyes winced further as he turned his head to the side with the tension of the narratives of the very same component of the heavy weight he had carried that was the very one you were describing. His hand came from where they were rested across his palms as he sunk further into the seat. "We have so much time."

'Do we?" His snapped his eyes, wet and delicate in their wise but uncertain stanzas that came from his eyes that looked especially illuminated and astounding under the reflection of the light of the currently silent mansions. He winced as his eyes turned up across your body, which dared to be just confident enough to pull forward to him a little more with the invitation of your arms and the want of your eyes.

"Even if we didn't, and we can't know any of that; the wisest person is someone who accepts their lack of control and their unknowing-but even if we didn't, would you want to turn the way you love me into something extended, tangible, powerful enough that it's greater than anything other than our finite ways we try to carry ourselves?"

"I think-" His eyes lowered in exhaustion, and he breathed in deep as he rolled his shoulders and took his palm and settled it on the wheel as he started it up, resetting as he raised his body upward. "We should go home and get some sleep." He waved his hand in your direction nonchalantly, dismissing you as he started up the car again. "All this stress and attention and staying up too late has gotten the both of us-" He looked at you pointedly,not necessarily for the sake of wanting to jab as an attack, but currently with his want to make a point- "-Into thinking of goals that we don't need to do."

The conversation paused as it was replaced by the rumble of the car as it began to drive forward up the street, and Bojack was aware of the way you watched him with this delicate and insightful eyes, and he was grateful that the tender uncerintity on his expression was hidden by the dark, and towards the direction of the street as he looked forward.

"We just-have to do things the way that makes sense to us, honey." He paused as his eyes darted downward, the shame in them present as his ears kept halfway down. "I know it's hard not to compare to what others say should be happiness, but the only way we can keep this rytyham that we have-to stay sane, is by focusing on what makes sense and works for us." He dared to turn his heavily hooded eyes over to you; your hand was rested on the pale of your cheek as your arm rested on the door. "Can we agree on that?"

"I don't think there's any rhythm." You didn't sound edged, impatient, or even tired; there was just a reflection in your voice of something that spoke of a genuine weariness of meaning well. Bojack closed his eyes as he managed a sigh while his shoulders rolled down again, already becoming aware of the extra weight in his mind that was black and heavy as the narrative inside his mind changed to something heavy, self blaming and sickly. The intimacy of your attention had been the clearer answer far more than anything of a superficial pleasure he had done for strangers had ever been; but there was still an agreement of a thread of something feeling chipped and strained between you, though even that had a certain core of worth of promise to it.

"I'm just tired, sweetheart." His words fell into the air as the car continued to drive up the street, his hands gripping on the wheel as the houses fell away behind the two of you. "That's all. I've already spent so much of my life trying to go over in my head what made me worth something, to make me feel good, and what didn't." he winced as a tension of anger overcame his features as he placed his fingertips on his snout while he shook his head in a vague aggravation. "I'm just sick of being controlled by this narrative of what makes someone worth something and what isn't."

"I would say that it's the idea that thinking the amount of time you have left is just as much defining how you feel about the overall execution of your worth as much as daring to believe you can have it."

"No! Why?" His voice was edged in defiance as he turned and looked at you witha flair in his eyes, genuine emotional depseration in his tone. "What I want is to enjoy being married to you. To not worry about doing the next goddamn big thing just to prove that I'm someone who's 'imressive' or 'working hard' or 'worthy of their next big break'." His eyes rolled up as his hands slapped onto the wheel. "I've spent my entire life allowing other people's flaws and definitions of how I should be controlling my life. I don't want to do that anymore. It's all just a big game; other people's insults, what they say about you, what they think, and this entire time I've been taking it too seriously, and part of the reason why I was doing that was because I couldn't allow myself to believe that there was anything that felt good enough that it made it feel like I could just exist because I'm here, in this city, nd as Bojack. And you're what came along and make it something great. You." He pointed at you, eyes emotional and apologetic, but deremitned and edged as he pointed his finger in your direction. You were facing forward, and still rested on your cheek, and your eyes hidden from his attempt at conviction. "You did that. And I want the both of us to enjoy that. Not stress over what could be better." He winced in a conflicted emotion as he squeezed his hand on the wheel as he continued to turn the car up the road, the rest of the buildings starting to fall away as they were replaced by the gradual empty space that made up Bojack's house that sat on it's own above the hill that was now coming into vision, the lights still dim as they peaked out the large modern windows that led to the mansion in its sleepy complacent. "And I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear-"

"Bojack, it's alright."

Bojacl's eyes widened as he turned his eyes over to you, and his hands gripped across the wheel as he felt them protrude for a moment from the wrinkled wear of his aged features that spoke of a trying life. He winced as he turned his eyes down and tapped his hands on the wheel.

The guilt from his end eased into silence, and the car continued to rumble through the street until Bojack stopped in front of the large golden gate, the initials of the cheap imitation of gold complimented by his initials, traced and protruded further from the reflection of the moon in the sky. He stopped the car as he gave a slight rasped grumble and turned his eyes to the controls in front of his car, tapping his hands on the control that opened up the entrance to the gate. With a groan did the gate gradually begin to open, only with a slight creak from its functionality compared to the years that it had been used. Bojack turned his eyes over to you again, but you kept your cheek rested by your hand, your expression not necessarily one of disappointment, but one of detached acceptance.

He breathed as he took in a quick breath of a sigh, turned his vulnerable eyes up to the mansion as he drove it forward to the sleepiness of the dim lights he had kept on for the sake of making sure no one thought anyone home so no one broke in; an act of practice of consideration for his existence he had never bothered with before in his life, but had started to feel the want of caution towards it when he had started to gather the idea that you and the signs of your belongings and of your existence was something he wanted to protect. He gave another rasped breath as he dug his hand on the key and turned it as the car rumble off, leaving you both with nothing but the silence of the current dead conversation and the crickets that filled up the empty space between the two of you. His ears lowered as he sunk down on his chair, his eyes winced as he turned his expression to you now and then as you saw your eyes fogged in thought.

"You want to go inside, get undressed, maybe make a warm drink and take a shower, try to get ourselves off of the grim of the day and try to get to bed?" He kept his tone light, almost boyish in his enocurgament, his lip raised up and his eys enllightneing in enocuragment as his ears flicked upward, giving enegry to the fogged over conversation as much as he was able.

You turned your head from where it was rested on your palm, and there was a softness of forgiveness to your expression as you turned your head to the side to meet Bojack's attempt at adding a soft forgiveness to the situation as your expression turned to meet his. Your eyes raised up as it met the raise of his small smile, and you gave a nod as your hand grazed on the door and began to ease yourself outward.

"Deal." You shut the car door with a slam, and Bojack's softness of his attempt at ease for the both of you gradually lowered into it's true form of exhaust, and, somewhere with it, a sense of grief as he gave a heavy breathed and eased his hand on the handle of the car door, opening it up with a grunt as he stumbled himself out and into the empty space of the open space of his driveway.

His ears lowered as he saw you walk around the car and walk over to him; his expression was switched between something hopeful and apologetic as his expression gazed into yours in a hope of an agreement of peace between the two of you as your hands reached up and eased across his wrists. You leaned forward, and the softness of Bojack's boyish tiredness fell into an emotional intimacy agaisnt your lips as he gave a rasped low breath while his lips pressed on yours, closing his eyes as his lips pressed across your own as you felt the rasp of his lip press onto yours. Your hand caressed across his cheek as your lips separated from his as you heard the rasp mumble of his contentment across your mouth. Your palm settled across his cheek as your eyes settled into a warm but settled exhaustion while it searched across his own.

"I am sorry about..my answer, I guess." His voice cut off as his teeth poked out in that charming uncertain shyness, wit following for as long as it was recepriotcared. Your eyes fluttered down as you gave a watered raise of your lip, and caressed your hand across his skin as you turned up and gave him a nod.

"Thank you for having it with me. There's no one else I'd rather have this kind of conflict with, even if the end result isn't something either of us can agree on."

Bojack chuckled, his eyes wincing as he tried to find agreement with your words. Your head turned down, and your fingertip caressed across his cheek. His eyes dimmed as he felt you separate yourself while your hadn separated from his, and you stepped back, the flowing of your dress complimenting your body as you began to walk your way to the entrance of the gray of Bojack's door.

"I'll see you inside, baby."

You were soft and inviting, the same way Bojack was a particularly tender person at his core; slow, open gentle and timid, and at the essence of who he was, had he allowed himself to believe and be that person up until now, one of the more slower and tender people that had ever come into existence, especially when it came to the maddening nature of the town.

His eyes lowered as he gave a breath of a reset, then turned his eyes up as he began to follow you inside. If he could get over the guilt of doing what was easy, of what delt immediately good, he knew he could allow himself to get pleasure out of that of which he spend so much time beating himself over the temptation of following. Your hands were dangling across the set of keys Bojack had given you awhile ago to be able to access the house; the metal dangled as the shine of the metal complinted the wedding ring that sat on your fingertip. As the golden of your hair swept down from your shoulders, the sweeping of the delicacy of your dress sweeping behind you as you swept your feet across the front of the grey entrance to the door, Bojack felt the slight tug of a curve raise on his lip as he walked to you while your hand pressed on the wide grey bland doors. With a click as you pressed the pale of your fingertips into the door's key entrance did you walk your way inside, sweeping your hand on your dress as you walked your way inward.

Bojack's eyes turned down as a downcast overcame his features again, and he began to step his wya forward as he already began to shrug off the grey of his tuxedo that he used to give himself the luxury of hiding as he felt the material begin to fall down his shoulders. He hard the way the nature delicacy of your femininity began to take up the majority of what would have been the emptiness of his living room otherwise; the feeling of your hands of your coat as it fell down to the floor, your head turned up as you began to allow your body and your air to be the meaning and the grounding want of what he was gradually starting to accept as his own. His ears flciekd back as he gave a vague clumsy mumbled of his breath as he walked his way forward and to the open door that you had left wide open; there was a certain freedom in those four walls now where there had used to have been only alcoholism, cheap distractions, sickliness, and complacency. It would always be there, no doubt, but there was a certain beauty to it now, and one he wanted to keep knowing and coming into as it unravel and introduced himself, both as bad and as good, withe every different day, and through you was he starting to realize what it meant to be someone who was allowed to be alive just for the sake of it in whatever way that it came to him without the subincious torment of worthlessness, and what it meant to truly live without that baggage.

His eyes widned as his ears flicked up as a shoke went through him at the sudden sound of a ripping behind him; it was only a vague sound, a wretch of a sound that seemed like a whisper of a grasp that gripped itself through something that seemed something far from something tangible behind him. He snapped his body around as he turned his head over to where he had heard the general core of the call of it; his head snapped up as he turned himself forward and up to the bleak of the pollutered sky in front of him, hands cramped in front of his chest as a knot came in his stomach as he snapped his head upward. The cut of the sky, a sentiment of what he had heard as a zipping of a demanding groan under its own weight a monet before, snapped his eyes over to the sound as he turned his winced expression upward to the sky.

The emotional wisedom and peace that he felt going to you, a clarity of a balance of knowing himself that you gave him just from virtue of being yourself was swpt awya into something Bojakc was far more familiar with; the hollowing overexpaons eof the chaos of unknowing, and of having no specific direction as he felt his sudden fear of the tide of the complexity of existence coming over him, His head snapped over his shoulder as he turned his head up as his eyes winced as a he gave an awkward and clumsy breath while he stepped back and turned over to where he had heard the sound of something both ripping and groaning through the sky.

If there was a physical cpaturement in the sky of something that represented Bojack's bewilderment with how he felt about people; whether it was justified or whether it was a reflection of his own cynicism, it would have been in the sudden bittersweet cut through of the sky that now presented itself into the cut over of the ripping of the sky in front of his fearful eyes that were now made even more human and humble through his genuine fear as he snapped his head upward. There was a cut of what seemed like a neon light of demand of blue that was crossing over where there had only been the endless mundanity of the indifferent watery sky a moment before; cut through with the expense of the watercolor polluted black of the sky that failed to make up even its own mind of itself in the detachment of the fogginess of something like human nature and the city. Bojack's teeth poked as he looked over to the neon color that looked as if it had been physically cut through the sky. His hands cramped as he stepped back, and for a moment was his eyes taken up by the neon rip of the lighter blue of the sky.

"Honey?" His voice wobbled, stretched into an uneven break in his breath as his rasp hitched, the emotion on his face stretched into a broken desperation as he tore his eyes away from the fear he saw in front of him; he snapped his head over to the door that was still open in its invitation. The hitch in his breath increased as his body turned as he tripped over himself and rushed his way to the door, hand reaching out as he kept his other hand gripped onto the grey of his coat as he caught it in his palm, expression desperate and folded in itself as he rushed his way forward to the door.

A sudden intense rumble cracked across the sky and caused Bojack to let out an abrupt and sudden jolt of his caught off guard as he tripped over his feet and stepped backward in his sudden onslaught of the fear that came over him. His eyes winced as it showed off both his helplnessness and his age as his expression snapped up and over to the neon rip of the sky again; this time, there was a white and a red fog, not entirely unlike the woman that had wrapped around the lemur's wife as ti fogged forward in its sudden sweep through from the cracks as it began to travel itself from the cracks of the sky.

His delicate eyes turned up as a full weariness came across his already wretched air, stepping backward clumsily, arms splayed outward for balance as he did so while he stepped over his feet and to the door.

The neon light that cut through the front of the sky increased as the strike of it blared across the muddiness of the black light otherwise, and his hands cramped on his chest as his teeth poked while eyes widened in the delicate wincing of his desperation. The wind picked up, and Bojack gave another hitch of a breath as a strike of something being pulled out of him; it was a physical feeling, the inspiration, just as much as the complacency had been a foggy, black devastated feeling, even as he had become aware of a fire that came solely from existing as a person that he had been forced to become aware of through his previous years of isolation. His head turned up as his puffed and apologetic eyes kept focused on the cut through of the sky in front of the wear of his puffed eyes as his teeth poked, tripping over behind his fet as he felt an energy come to him from the cut of the neon light.

Bojack's eyes winded as he tripped over his feet while arms flew back as he tripped over himself while slamming his body back and up to the steps. Itwas something that was both an abrasive warning and a flash of the torment that he had seen flash and cut through his eyes so many times before previously; the look of the heated and maddening twist that had made up the wife's eyes of the lemur as her head had snapped and cut through the red, the feeling of temptation of sin that had so inevitably and so clearly been present within the entirely of the party the same heavy complicated way it had introduced itself to Bojack since his young age and the sear of promise it had left on his long term life and the narrative of the impossibility of escape; the maddening scowl of the woman as her head had abruptly twisted and spasmed into the extent of the front of the fog as her body has twisted and spat through the sky while her husband had fallen onto the floor on his knees as he had watched the way her body had twisted through the cut of the red fog. The dread of the underbelly that had occurred when the women had snapped and spasmed her neck and of the lemur that mirrored the couple the night before; a recognition that had a promise of something horrible and connected message and underbelly of what it would suggest if there had been that connection.

The warning was in the feeling, intense and black and almost a physical sensation, just as painful as much of the context of the thoughts it contained as it seemed to sweep through where his wretched and wander listed and wretched eyes snapped over to it, the feeling robbing away everything of any coherent good or peaceful or upright with the wya that things should be that was the opposite of the way everything was, such as the presence that he experienced with you and your presence had given him. Bojack winced while keeping one palm pressed on his snout as his eyes winced while he turned to the sky as his eyes continued to turn up as his eyes bulged while he stepped back, his full stumbling clumsy unimpressiveness, made prey to the rest of the judgemental world that passed by him with their busy full lives he never had the hope of catching or to give out a wave of a light to at least reach the concern of others, and only made with that savior of the fodder of his bearability and even astounding genuine feeling of being precious only saved through your eyes as he continued to give out his shaken breaths, until he abruptly snapped his hand behind him and gripped onto the side of the door, his breath still coming out shakily.

The fog of the white was mixing in with the red that surrounded it, and somewhere within the mix of the color was there a surrounding mix of the colors that came along with the fog as the energy of it began to turn into the cut through of the clouds and up into the neon cut of the light. The feeling that came along from the other neon light and the contrast of it had a hollywood sucking demand to it; and as Bojack gripped his hand on the side of the door and snapped his wandering eyes up with a wince through the expaonse of the light where the colored fog and clouds was becoming to turn into, he felt a spiritual knowing coming over him as to what it was demanding of him; of the answer that would be the only one to carry him through the black dread that would come along not ating on it; the sickliness of the insanity of the spiderwoman as she had stood on the edge of the cliff with the forthcoming light surrounding her on the edge of the cliff, the look of the cut of the flaring red of the insanity of Boack's peer before he had flung his own body off the balcony; and though there was no direct answer or either agreement or statement directly made from the hue of the clouded lights as it began to raise and rest with its fog into the sky and wa ssucked inward to the light that seemed ominous,s hungry and demanding, not unlike an indifferent beast calling out into its grotesque demand of the fodder of the dispaiar that was taking in from the light, not a physical sign of anything true or soil that was alive but not like the cut through of the feeling of something surreal and ethernal in a naturally tragic way that he observed when his eyes turned to the hint of the orange light of the sky in the morning while on the balcony, the fire red something only from the most secret parts of dreams.

His panicked and buldged eyes matched the sudden clumsiness of his energy as his snapped his head over his shoulder and tripped over his feet as he rushed his way inside of the door, giving a hitch of uneven breath as he rushed his way inside, eyes hollowed and bulging and his teeth poking out from his lip as his eyes winced and breath hitched.

"Honey?" His rasped voice, profound in its deep humanity and trembling with something far more prone to helplessness swept out of his lips as the fear of his eyes widened further through the building of his worn cut eyes; his expression snapped further as he bulged his eyes through the living room; you had left one light on dimly in the bathroom, the stagance of the yellow light sweeping in through the bathroom as Bojack served his head over his shoulder while the fear of his expression snapped over to the bedroom. He was more aware of his impossibly small and pathetic flawed existence more than he had ever been, as if the fog of being able to truly see himself as he as within the world rather than having the layer of protection from seeing that person full and within true clarity was now coming to light and ripping away all comfort he could have had with himself that came along with the fogginess of detailed identity within the mind. His head snapped over as he gave a whimpered breath while he rushed his way through the house, his head snapped over to the bathroom as he gave another uncertain and tender trembling breath, as desperate and as pathetic as much as he had ever sounded in the middle of the richest of his raw humanity.

"Honey, please, I need to talk to you. I need to see you. It's important-" His breath hitched as his eyes winced further as he rushed his way over to the open door to the bedroom, his hand reaching out as he tripped over his feet and rushed his away into the bedroom. His head turned frantically as his eyes flew across the master bedroom; there was a feeling of the human survival instinct of being fully comfortable with the years of the full rhythm of falling into isolation and misery that had come along to a certain peaceful beauty once it was accepted that was found in those four gray walls, but that odd twisted feeling of the lack of rules that came with human peace and the desperation to make something out of the deepest blackest situation, even to turn peace to pain, had reached its full potential once you had entered.

"Sweetheart? I need to tell you something-do something with you. We need to figure out what this means. I think-I need to know where this is going-" He winced as he tripped over his feet and rushed his way over to where the bathroom door was cracked, his hand slamming against it while his body leaned forward in his back turning forward as he rushed his way forward and to the bathroom did he rushed it open. The gray door turned open, and Bojack's eyes widned as his expression snappeed across the bathroom and into the stagnant yellow light that surrounded it.

"Oh, thank god!" His voice hitched as a smile curved across his lip as he rushed his way over to where you were curled into the corner of the bathroom, your legs pulled up to your chest, your eyes distant and troubled to an untouchable degree for a moment as your eyes were distant and your skin paler and more helpless than the usual narratives of whatever churned in your mind to take your strength away. Bojack rushed over to you as he kneeled himself down in front of you, his worried eyes looking you over as he winced while his hands cramped across his palm as he watched over you in his own pained question that came with the water of his lucid eyes.

"Are you ok?" His voice trembled as the few words that could manage to come out of his breath that would be considered coherent through his lips breathed through his breathless words, his plump stomach spilling across his thighs as he watched you in desperation. Your eyes were turned down, your senses detached, your pale hands carssed around you equally pale thing legs, a certain strength that came along with present humanity and the energy of ti being devoid in your expression as the emptiness of your eyes turned forward, and somehow, Bojack knew that you had felt everything he had.

"Ok, I know." He recollected himself as much as he was able as he kneeled his body in front of yours, reaching his palms out as his stout fingers caressed across the spaces of your hands. You blinked, and the distance of your eyes, nothing less that something that could be considered a twisted gift in the sense that you looked as if something had been pulled out of your own will to live that had been so essential towards your will to be concerned with much of anything was taken from you, at least for the moment, and the weight of the ability to naturally care about anything in someone's nature seemed temporarily absent as your eyes blinked while your expression turned up to meet Bojack's raise of his lip as his breathless and both pained and excited gleam in his eyes.

"Honey, I'm terrified. It's bad enough, everything I've been exercising lately, daring to be able to believe I could be apart of something that would be quality and human. That in and of itself has been so mortfying for me to try to come to terms with. And I know it's been exhausting for the both of us. But especially you." His expression became more covnicning within his desperation more than it was one that was self fulfilling in his uncerinaty and his natural air of coming across as someone who was incapable of giving off the air of someone that could carry himself as he gave a slight sound of a whimper, ears lowered down as he reached out two palms and caressed it on both of your cheeks as he allowed himself to raise your face up to his grasp. "I want you to tell me exactly what thi feels like to you-to be honest." His thumb caressed under the bottom of your questioning eyes as the red of your expression eased across his, as if there were physical cracks through the mood that had swept over the two of you. "Is it more exhausting to try and to not be a mom for the next however long you're married to me, or is it better for us to get not listen to all the peptemessitc bullshit that I allow to control me every day of my life like a cage because somehow, ignoring it is more terrifying for me more than anything else? Which one would be harder for you to carry?"

Your eyes eased across Bojack as you heard the trembling of his question, the voice of someone who was realistic enough to know that truly good things were unlikely as well as connection, but naive just enough to give the small space of vulnerability the world had granted between the two of you. His thumbs continued to caress across your cheek as he looked at you with his desperate, wet eyes, almost as a form of apology, as his fingertips continued to eaee across the pale of your skin and the sickliness of your uncertain expression as the pale of your cheek eased across the contrast of his stout brawny thumb.

"What's gotten into you?" There was an edge of disbelief to your voice as your eyes snapped upward; Bojack's ears flew back as his head titled back.

"Oh. Nothing got into me. Other than-maybe, if you feel like you could, each other?"

He squinted in his playful fashion as he tried to break up the tension, but it barely hit against the mood of a caution of a warning that seemed to have taken up the majority of the energy of the space. Your eyes lowered down again, and Bojack's expression followed as the energy of his air depleted in the wake of your clear depth of scikliness.

"You're not going to be ok in this marriage if we don't at least try to make a baby, are you?"

There was a challenge to his voice; a weapon that would destroy both himself and you as he spoke it. Your eyes kept down, your cheeks rested across his palms, taking in both the natural way you had come to rely on him for strength in the complication that made up being alive and the clear consideration of the distance of the blak depression that had come over you; something Bojack was aaware of of something that became a comfort if only for the fact of how constant a companion it was, even if one meant to be desotrying.

"You don't want a baby. You just sat it."

"I had…a long day. That's what happened." His eyes turned down, heavy weighted with age, and yet there was a purity of grace to his snout that came along with that essence of something that was pure and human at his core, despite whatever way it may have been buried underneath the complication of his existence and the fog that had buried him under the narrative of keeping him from the clarity of who he could have been. "A long life. And I don't know if I'm capable of thinking clearly, or of even knowing what that means, or at this point in my life, after a lifetime of not doing that, I'm terrified of knowing what it would feel like to allow myself to believe there's still hope. That there could be. All the time it means I would have wasted if I allow myself to realize the amount of times I believed I couldn't-the amount of self hatred and the chaos that would come over me if I were to fully realize-"

"I wasn't here." Your hand reached up and pressed on the back of his hand, and Bojack's breath hitched as his eyes winced while his ears lowered downward. "I don't want to make it sound like I was the only way. I'm sure you could have given yourself pletnly and well enough if you had allowed yourself to, that you could have found someone that would have given you that, that would have mirrored anything I ever could have given you. But for some reason, the message came and fully set in when it happened with me."

"No." There was a soft punch to Bojack's voice; a pain that matched the attempt of his own fight for the way you spoke as your eyes turned up and met into his, your cheek now fully leaned into his hand as he watched you with a squint of his eyes. "I never would have even felt or discovered or even known less than half of what was possible without you, honey." He chuckled, bittersweetly, as his eyes fixed downward. "That's the terrifying thing about all of this-is that through allowing myself to love you and to be seen and to believe in what you tell me and how you make me feel, I've come to realize everything is possible. But only if I have that one specific person-and that cane be taken away for a lifetime if whatever it is that bore me to you is taken from me."

The muscles on your face tensed as you closed your eyes in exhaust, but it was clear, in a painful and chipping away kind of sanity for the both of you, that he was pulling away the fog he had thrusted onto you to make the subject of him taking you to bed one that the both of you could follow and believe in to begin with. His thumb caressed across your cheek again, the action dignified, clear, human and humble, a much more impossible thing to achieve with a lifetime of people being petty and terrible beyond comprehension that had destroyed him, and respectively, you, to the point where the both of you had been forced to curl into yourselves in the desperation for relief, and the answer that seemed to only be pain and to make a home of it.

You breathed and reset, deeply. You leaned your cheek across his hand to the point where he could feel the weight of your head fully. Your hand reached out as it squeezed across Bojack's wrists, your head turning as you pressed a kiss to his palm, considerate, layered, and exhausted, and your air, as you had always been, seeming far more on edge on the scope of the unknown than most people he had ever met; especially in the bittersweetness of the stagnant bathroom light and the neon light of the moon outside.

"You were right about not bringing a baby into this kind of world."

"No. Don't listen to me. Please." His eyes broke into a pathetic begging, but to you was it an incredibly long last scarring inhuman kind of beautiful as his eyes flashed across yours while the puffiness of his eyes winced. "I know your heart. I know-mine, as much as I'm able to. If yours is anything that could even halfway have to do with mine, then I know you have the kind of heart that won't be able to stand spending the rest of your life every day with my stupid, pathetic, wretched existence."

Your head snapped upward a bit, a defiance in your expression. "That's not the reason why-"

"No, I know." His eys closed, and the muscles on his face treamored, and with a breath did he take a breath in and restart. "Honey, you've shown me why things are the way they are. That people end up in certain situations of a similar kind to every other person that's even been in those scenarios because those are all the qualities they can give themselves, and most don't end up with a life where their essence or their character is at the center of their life, and they then have to put up with other people and their flaws and things devoid from their lack of truth every day until there's hardy any of them left." His hands gripped across your hand, and your expression turned up to Bojack's, his eyes stll vulnerable and insistent in that unforgettable human way as his hands gripped onto your palms. "I've spent my entire life already being one of those people and going into those impossibly predictable patterns enough as it is. I know what I am now-who I've been. And I'm terrified of being able to change that, or what that's going to look like."

Your eyes turned up and met his now with a new kind of clarity, though there was that edge of that fog and that distance within then as your eyes turned up and met onto Bojack's trembling insistence.

"I want to give this a real shot-if you'll let me. I know that you mentioned it earlier, but I never know how to respond to anything real, or true, or…happy. Maybe I never will." His hands that were cadeling your face, in that gentle and natural romantic that had always been present within him that had been hidden by terrible relationships and the incpaablity of being able to relate, much less love, another was becoming cracked out and open much like the way your eyes were becoming less fogged over as your expression met up to his in inquiry, silent and sickly, and full of that hope that contradicted against one another both at the same time in the ways the contradictions had carried you both through an inner unseen complex life, unbonded over and nonexiting into an impossible smallness up until now.

"One thing I am good at is throiwng my body into it. Seeing where it goes." His hands came to rest one your chest, and your body curled up at the feeling of Bojack's palms as they rested across your breasts, your body curling up as your body striaghed up at the feeling of his hands on your body, ears lowered eyes winced as he watched you. "Can we try give it a shot?"

Your body curled under his touch, and he was surprised at how little it seemed different from the strike of the neon light that had came over him a moment before as the memories of the past few days had struck in the back of his mind's eyes. His expression dimmed as he felt your body curve under his touch; in the middle of the quiet night and with the blue light illuminating from the outside of the light pollution and the cut neon light of the sky was there an increased sense of a rhythm of depth between both of your intimacy that seemed not unlike something that was agreeing with the tide of the rytham of the inner core of existence and of the curve of something as expaonse that could have been defined as the world that Bojack had been becoming more aware of as of late.

"Let's try to take this to bed. Try to find a little bit of clarity with it. I know it's a big step." He raised his hand in a gesture of acknowledgement as his eyes looked at yours with a hard gaze as you opened your lips to respond in that build of protest as you tried to respond, and he knew the look of defiance in your eyes that you relied on as a form of protection from opening up the gate of what the both of you wanted. "It's terrifying and we don't want to because it's all we want. That's the same place I've been. That's why I know that we both have to do what we have to do that I didn't want to meet at face value before."

Your eyebrow trembled slightly in your question at what he was meaning, and there was a soft questioning in your expression as you began to raise your body upward fro where you were leaning against the wall in the middle of the heaviness you had taken in the middle of Bojack's confliction. His teeth poked as his body leaned down to meet you with where you were at, though his hands were folded to you with further insistence, timid but inviting.

"And something happened recently that changed your mind that I couldn't do anything about?"

"It's not your fault. I promise." His ears lowered, and a vague tension cramped his feature as he turned his eyes down in thought, clearly trying to churn through the bewilderment of his mind. "The hardest thing I've ever had to try to figure out is emotional wisdom. It's something that no matter how hard I've tried to talk myself through it, I'm never able to figure out enough clarity of mind to actually find any peace with the way things are for me. Where to go. My entire life has felt like this foggy, jumbled, foggy brain headspace of conflict and bullshit that always provided all this paralyzing abuse that was just agreed by with other people surrounding me that more than anything else just wanted to see me crumble and fail, and the pain was all the time. I thought the only thing there was was just to accept it and to barely manage to function every day and to look forward to what was ahead, if anything-and most of the time that just felt like nothing. Most of the time, it just felt like death, which to me, with the emptiness I had, was all anything ever lead to."

Your eyes turned down, your expression heavy and exhausted as your hands eased across Bojack's palm that came to ret by your knee. The interruption of the serene look across your face was trembled and pinched with the muscles under your face that came along with concern of the want to believe him. Tenderly did your hand come to caress across his palm.

"I was always at the hand of other people's perspective, which was usually terrible, and superficial, an eveil. My entire life I've been surrounded by talntned artists that had either nothing to say or nothing but terrible things to believe. Letting curropted actors, singers, directors, strppers-even my agent tell me how I should think and be." His teeth poked as his palm caressed on your leg, and there was a heaviness to the intention now that was further than it had ever been, now more layered with intention. " I don't want to let that control me anymore. It's always just ben the same thng every day anyway."

Your hand was kept lightly on Bojack's palm as his hand began to caress up against the pale of your slender leg. His hand made its way all the way to your crotch, and your hand threaded agaisnt his until it paused by where the curve of your hips met your legs. Your eyes turned up as you met Bojack's own tentative and fragile insistence, his pupils turning as his eyes met on yours. The pale tender romanticism on your expression met across Bojack's eyes as he met yours with insistence that came along with a pathetic and uncertain wayward soul; but still as there something of an effort there.

"You were so certain a little while ago. Only a few hours ago."

"I know, But I've been spending my entire life thinking I'm certain, and I'm sick of it now. I don't want to let it control me forever. I already have, and I know I can't get that back-but maybe, for me, the entire point is that I have, and now we can at least try to make something good about that in our own specific way." He winced as his ears lowered while his eyes turned on yours. "I spent my entire life being who I was and believing what I did because I thought there was nothing but pain, and that love was this fleeting thing. I don't feel that way anymore, and for once, I want to fight for something consistent."

You sighed, and there was a multiple layer of intention behind the heaviness of it. Your eyes fluttered down to Bojack's hand, and the ominous fear, those days where not much had occurred, but the both of you were aware just through the virtue of loving one another, of just how fragile things were; both between you and the chaos of the world as a whole, and the constant fragile thread the two of you walked; strong as your bond was, there waa the understanding between the both of you that you were walking through the chaotic fire of everything that was bent against anything but something that could be consistent or good.

"You felt it now, didn't you? The change." Your eyes turned up as you meet Bojack's, your voice as somber and eternal and bewildering as much as it was soothing and an agreement to all of the subconscious questions Bojack asked with the way he spoke. His eyes dimmed as his expression turned over your eyes as his shoulders eased down while he raised his hand and squeezed it on your hands, and you allowed your body to raised forward with his hands as he allowed your body to ease up. The hollwoing empty feeling he had felt, the dread of black of a wave of a warning that had come over him when looking over the neon light had been both clairy and sobering with fear and enlightenment at the same time; a window into the inevitable humanity that was turning over him of his needs and of what he had to do to fulfill them, if he wanted to get there at all, and the caution of the emptiness on the other side; and somewhere beyond that, something he couldn't imagine that was further than the emptiness.

"What I felt was reality." His fingertips squeezed across your palms as you began to step your way upward. He grunted as he tried to find his footing while he stepped back and helped raise you up, your eyes following his guidance as he tried to keep that stoic focus that he was capable of on your hands as he lifted you upward. "I know that I might be stepping beyond what I'm capable of or might be looking a little too ahead-"

"You're not." Your voice was blunt this time, the soulful reassurance eased through your lips that gave a breathy end of grautituide as you fully stood yourself up from where you had passed out and rested against the wall. Your white robes that you spent the majority of the night lounging or sleeping in were giving you an especially ethernal look to your disposition as it met the pale of your face that matched your ethernal sweetness, at least as far as Bojack's language spoke. "This is what I wanted to heae this entire time. Not because I wanted anything out of you-but it feels like, if we cut away the noise of everyone else and how it's bent on jading us and destroying everything about us, if you allowed yourself to fous on the truth we have that brings us clarity when we are together. Nothing is guaranteed in life, nothing-and the fact that I found you, and this life I could have with you is a possibility-All I want is for the manipulation this world has put you through and has corrupted you into to be taken away so you can feel that confidence peace that I know you can have. If you just found the wisdom to follow it. All of our suffering originates from not truly knowing ourselves, and I know that I know you."

Bojack's ears flicked up as his eyes turned as caressed against your palm as the tender uncerinity eased across his snout as his eyes turned down to where his hand was grasped across yours, both of his enclasped against your hand as he pulled you fully into a standing position. His eyes lowered, distant and detached as his expression lowered down and caressed against your skin.

"I know it's not the best idea, and one of the reasons why I've been trying to take you from the idea of i-"

"Thank you." Your hands wrapped across his hip, and Bojack's eyes widened as his ears flicked up while he jolted across your palms. The delicate thread of the wraps of your dress pressed against the warmth of his body and the plush body that you had always described as "molded to be precious", your palms coming to ease across his love handles as he stepped back and felt your lips breath across his lip. His eyes closed; with a vague rasp of "ok, this will do it" did his rasped uncertain tender air began to pull you into the peace and clarity that was one another; always temporarily wrought, but enough to give you both poke holes of relief through one another. His hand came to rest on your hip, and he felt something release in himself as his ears turned back while he stepped back and into the soft reflected light of the blue light outside, the emptiness of the room for once giving away something that as inviting in the invention that it welcomed, and the clarity that would come along with it if the both of you were given the time to feel yourselves through it.

"Easy, sweetheart." His voice was guided and sweet in the way it carried him as his hands came to wrap around your hip, your feet stepping behind his gracefully as your lip guided and pressed across his while he continued to invite you over to the messiness of the crumped gray sheets.

He gave vague rasped chuckles of his amusement, though mostly they were ones of a welcoming invite of his own approval as he allowed himself to believe and fall into the soppiness of how you were dressing yourself around him as his chubby hands came to your hip. Your hands came to rest on his plush hip while you led him down and onto the edge of the bed, his snout turned up while it caught on your lip as Bojack continued to rasp and chuckle across your mouth while the heat of your breaths threaded through your senses. His plush stomach turned into his lap as he allowed himself to be unravel by you, both soppy and boyish and the leading point of confidence in his own manly raspiness as he allowed your hands to press on the side of his torso, hands caressing against the welcome warmth of the grounding of the plush side of his body as your hands caressed across his kind while you rumpled your hand across his lovehandles and turned it over to the side.

"Here we go." His tone was low and mature, leading and charamatsic as his drunken heavy and playful eyelids turned back up to your expression. Your hands crumpled across the fabric of his shirt as you tossed it over to the side and onto the floor.

"Being with you is everything." Your arms leaned on both sides of Bojack as he gave a mumbled as turned his head back while he felt the intimacy of your lip meet onto his mouth. You gave a quick sharp breath as your lips pressed away from his as the curves of your face leaned across his snout, eyes closing as you took in the humble adorability that made up his awkward posture of his arms pressing by his plush torso. "I feel like I either would have gone crazy or died if I hadn't found you, and I would have preferred either possibility, no matter how painful, other than finding you."

"That's not true. And even if it was, I'd say you would have been better off, even i whatever weird spell you put on yourself thinking that was the answer is right." Bojack's voice was lending and gentle as his voice eased across your features. You laughed as you turned your head down and pressed your forehead on his snout, his plush body both inviting and clumsy in its own lostness in terms of how time had molded it.

"I would have felt it every day. This weird knowing that something was missing, maddening that I would feel the full truth of if I allowed myself to if I was drunk or otherwise-but of course I never would allow myself to. The world already did that for me in its constant vague jabbings meant to make the more weak willed or weak minded go insane. And they always would succeed, at least for a little while. But I either had a decent head on my shoulders and knew myself, or, somehow, I knew that I had something more solid to worry about and that I would find you. Because no matter what I saw, or read, or was told, and on my worst days, thought-it was always my own thoughts that would lead me to the biggest black holes, that was when I could really dig into myself-there was this solid promise at the end of it that it didn't really matter. I think I knew i had a destination at the end of it all, even before I had your life, you, to find."

Your lips pressed against the side of his cheek as you inched him further across the mattress, and Bojack was letting out the rasp of his breath in both his invitation of want and his want, as well as the chaos that he was threading through and sped through his mind that came along with being human and the inevitability but painful effects that came along with tethering on the needs that came along with him knowing what he needed and knowing the punishment that would come out of it if he didn't follow it, and the pain of the risk of trying to go after and find it; the most painful and yet inevitable aspect of being human. His eyes were distant, faded and full of his empty thought, his snout pressed on top of your shoulder while he felt your body ease across the plush of his stomach, and he allowed himself to follow you in clarity as he eased under your touch.

"People have already made fun of me most of my life for not having that one thing called that dumb thing that people could always tell you didn't have."

"Really? You?" Your face guided across his cheek; neither of you were the type for teasing; there was too much of the softness and the relief that came from the comfort of ease you gave one another that came along with cradling and knowing him and carrying one another gently after a lifetime of empty and nonexistent connections.

"No matter how many noisy distractions or girlfriends I had, they could always tell. People use lack of love in someone's life and use it as a weapon to aggravate the same theme by making fun of them for not having it. I don't know if it was ever justified or not, but it seems typical."

His voice was vulnerable and somber, and you gave a breath of your understanding across his cheek as you felt the edge of the rasp of his weariness that came along with his exhaustion-and, although the both of you aware that it was only for a little while, the sense of clarity that came from the bond of one another of the way things should be.

"But this is nice. For now, at least." His head turned to the side as he felt you give your soft mumble across his cheek as his plush body began to turn back onto the mattress, and he gave a rasp of his lip as he turned his head to fully ease into your palm holding his cheek. "At least we can say that we tried, right? At the end of the day the only thing that really gives peace of mind is the idea that we tried and stayed true to what we wanted. Even if it's unlikely that it will have a happy ending-or any ending at all. We knew each other, and that's felt better to me than any other bullshit I did before."

Your lips gravitated away from his cheek as your eyes met across the vulnerability of his insistence in the emotion of his eyes as your expression paused to meet against his. Your thumb caressed across his cheek as your palms cradled the age of his skin across your hand as you looked at the rich story of his melancholy and pain; the rasp of his tired and worn voice and the clumsiness of his flaws as they guided him.

Your lip turned up into a bittersweet reflective acceptance as the perspective the both of you brought to one another began to transfer between the soft quiet of the emptiness the bedroom brought the two of you, the sweeping of all other perspectives, something that defined a life and the energy and belief and mood of it; something not real, but the most powerful tool a mind held to guide its way through life, and yours was being wretched away from any narrative or perspective you ever could have brought from youth or the times of your life as you aged as you settled onto the tenderness of the aged and worn timeless insistence of Bojack's eyes while he turned up and met on yours as he felt the same tide of change; this time, it felt like a reassurance rather than something to be dreaded, something that set out the focus of human wisdom that would set the both of you on your path to clarity, and the fire that came along with purpose that the both of you were lying out for one another simply by the mode of memorizing a specific way of life curated for the both of you.

"Lie down." Your words were breathed more than spoken, the same way Bojack had felt a chasm open in front of him when he had turned his eyes up to the neon cut of the sky; the way the light had spoken of something black and unknown and terrifying that was on the other side known as the mundanity of life; a hollowing godly threat that spoke sown from the ripped neon light in the black of the sky that had both given him clarity and a chaos of unknown understanding that he had to fulfill the human needs he was brought to, or go to the luminous distance that was more terrifying than his fear of what your palms told him as they traced across his hand, of what your legs told him of what was coming ahead of the amount of life you could bear to one another; the richest meaning he could have ever hoped for, and also the most terrifying, and the reason why he had settled for cheap and empty complacency-up until now. What was beyond was ominous, unknown, and terrifying, and above anyone or anything that could ever be known on the earth or could ever be avoided from it-both a release that he knew he would meet one day regardless, no matter what he did; and yet, something that was in the way you looked at him and touched him gave him just enough of a hold to stay.

"Ok." His voice was tender, and he allowed his hands and his body to inch up to the pillows that were behind him as he eased his body through the crumple of the grey sheets. You began to ease forward and followed him as his body curled into his plush lovability, his eyes gleaming while looking across yours in invitation as your body inched your way over to where he was leaning across the bed.

"Do you want me to lean on the pillow, or-" His eyes turned to you as his ears flicked back, his hand raised awkwardly in front of his chest as he watched you tentatively.

"Do whatever you want. That's how we got to this point of having one another, right?"

"I mean-yeah." He shouldered his back against the pillow as he raised his shoulders back, eyes lowered as his hands placed on the curve of the plush lovability of his stomach. "That is true." His eyes turned down in vague uncertain thought as he shouldered his way against the plumped up pillows that were caved in on the fluff of the pillow that was marked from the nights he had rested his head against it while he had tentevely placed his arms around your chest every night, your own head facing his on the pillow as the two of you had gradually felt the change of maturity as the both of you began to fell the way your energy and the states of your headspace were starting to both form and fall into a rhythm with one another that came along with slowing down into the mature truth that you found relief in with one another, finding a peaceful agreement as much was possible through the inevitable chipping away that came across a lifetime as existence opened itself to what it truly was.

"Oh-" His voice was soft and tentative as his eyes turned over to where you were starting to inch across the mattress to him, his eyes turned over your in question that gave plenty over empty space for you to allow yourself to be invited towards the ways you wanted to invent yourself to be apart of him. Your hand curled through the crumple of the sheets as you caressed your hands through the crumpled of the sheets while you swept your body through the mattress. Bojack's eyes turned down in front of you as his ears flicked back, his eyes wincing and puffed and his face tentative that you found the most lovable form of beautiful; to others, it would have seemed like a pathetic form of an uncertainty, but there was a full invitation of the specific plush, jaded way he was molded that invited you over as your hands eased across his shoulders and ghosted across his arms.

"Let me-help you." There was a hitch of his breath between his words that were normally naturally graceful and confident in that way he carried with him so easily; there was a heavy black of heavy weariness between the both of you that had a certain kind of sweetness to it, if only because it was one of the only sensations that was true between the both of you where otherwise there was only a papered and watered complaceny of having to put up with the heaviness of the elements the both of you tolerated otherwise.

"Oh-" His fingertips snapped back to his palms as his ears flew back while his eyes tentatively turned down just as his hands were helping you to guide your hands onto his chest. His eyes winced as his expression turned up to you with an apology in his eyes as his expression turned back up to yours with a tentative question.

"All that experience with all those woman you've touched and made love to, and this is the one thing that pushes you off and over the edge?"

"Not like this." His head shook, the emotion fully drenched across his features as he gave you a shake of his head while his eyes seemed especially pure in their own vulnerability while his eyes guided across yours in question. He winced as he turned his eyes over your breasts, loathing and conflicted emotion thrashing in the almond reflection of his eyes as he turned his palms down and over to your arms. "You know that this isn't like any of those other times." He chuckled, the sound bitter and tentative in the film of his emotion that was reflected further from the light outside and into the bittersweetness of the emotion of his eyes as he winced and pressed his hands on your arm, his chubby palms easing down your arms in the same way he had used to to ground himself whenever he was uncertain around himself; the action seemed all the more depthful and worthwhile where he had once felt a nervousness and disconnection. "The simplest, most common and goddamn transaction in the world, and I couldn't even manage that."

Your hands eased across the stout feel of his stocky brown thighs, your palms easing up his thighs as the rest of the crumpled sheets began to fall away in their entanglement while you eased your hips forward. The two of you were something far from impressive, inward and out, full of flaws of characterization and the physicality of your bodies ones of someone who was a passing over unremarkable turn of how time and your lives were molding you; most especially Bojack, with his plush thighs easing under your hand as your hips began to press against the ball of fat from the poke of his plump stomtach that sat against his thighs as your face was only inches away from his as his eyes were boyish, helpless and wretched in lovability-even with all the different ways people would have dressed it up as something far more unforgiving.

"You are now."

"And even if it is-" His eyes turned down to your arms as his eyes flicked in thought, ears turned down as the muscles on his face cramped. "Even if it is 'the right thing', I don't know if it can stay a good thing." His eyes turned up as he met on your expression. "I don't think there's any way I can realsitcially be who I am, and have these flaws and all these things people dress up and call worthless, and there's got to be a reason for that, right? It's only a matter of time before you catch up on that reason and realize what that actually means, and when that happens-"

"Let me make love to you. Please." Your hands were resting in the middle plush of his thighs as your eye burned up into further intention; Bojack breathed deep as he closed his eyes while the wear of his face and the age of it cut into his expression as he turned his head a few inches away from your intimacy. "The amount of empty days and of disconnect I had before you. There's nothing that could ever make you dress you up differently that would ever make me feel any different. Even if you can't believe that. And I think you know that."

Your hands rested against the curve of his stomach as your fingers began to raise across the black coarse hair of his happy trail that led up the plush mold of his body. His eyes winced as he kept his head by the side while he felt your hands interact with his body as if he were being cradled, his eyes turning to the side as his age showed from the tentative wince of his hesitant expression.

His hand raised in front of him as his ears splayed down, though there was a new look of defiance in his eyes as he turned his expression back to you; he didn't detach his body from yours, but there was a wall of fight there as a pout eased across his expression.

"When that happens, I don't know if you know…what you think it means with the idea of bringing a daughter, or any child, into it. What you think you want-I don't know if you think what you think it means. I know it's easy to attribute the idea of something, but no matter what anyone might say or how they say things about me, especially girlfriends, there's a reason why I've said no to everything before. I have thought about it. And if there's any way of measuring the way things have happened in the past, I'd say there would be a lot to measure that would lead to common sense of how things are."

"I don't know how to explain it, either, but when I look at you; when I take you in. Your cynicism, your jadedness, your quick wit to dress things up as you see them. Your fears, the things that make you tick, the way you respond to reality and how you carry yourself-it's everything I want."

"No." His eyes turned up to yours as his expression crossed against your eyes, and though his palms were caressed against your hand while he kept his fingertips by your hand in an action that had the ant of allowing you to continue your intimacy, there was a sense of stopping it as he kept his fingertips cramped on your hand. "Why?"

"I feel it. Just by taking you in." Your eyes searched across his, almost as a form of wanting yourself to open yourself up to him in his walled and complicated defiance. Bojack's eyes eased down as a consideration of heaviness eased across his face while your hips turned forward and against his chest, unti, with his eyes closed as he turned his head up while his chin rested on your shoulder did you pull yourself into him, and his arms hardly hestaiated as the exhausted excess of what was surrounding him in his doubt began to fall away as he instead fell forward to the focused and cut through invianation that was his follow through of loving you. His eyes closed as the muscles on his face tensed while he turned his head forward and pressed onto your shoulder as the plush mold of his body turned against the curve of your chest, his embrace pulling you inward as your legs wrapped across his hips as his cheek rested across the side of your cheek, melchcony turned against his depression as he pulled you further into the lazy position against the pillows.

"I can't bring a child into this." His words were as concerned as heavy laden as much as the insistence of his eyes as his expression met into yours; though despite his fight, he allowed his body to be lead onto the mattress. Your fingertips eased across the back of his splayed mane as he gazed at you in earnest, and with the lovability of his plush body as his hips leaned back on the mattress, the curled gray sheets passed away against the edge of the mattress, you felt your self overcome with the perfect balance of warmth only inspired and brought on by what his air did to you; the perfect overwhelming balance of benign overcome by the amount of his bumbling humane lovability. The richness of your focus as your private began to enter his, his head turned up as his eyes closed while the muscles on his face treamored as his fingertips gripped on the grey sheet as he turned his head up and gave a quick wince of a rasped breath while he turned his head backward and gave a throaty swear; right along with the concern of anything that would have bothered either of you as you instead focused on that delicate balance of the richest and most human part of both of your existences; the full focus of one another, rather than the dead and annoyed stagance of other people and the disconnected selfish soullessness that had grated at the both of you a long time ago.

"And I can love you, as long as I feel like I can, which with you almost feels like something consistent enough that I almost feel like it could be forever." Your hands curled across his arms, the lovability of the way they filled against your palms as he treamored under your touch while the curve of your hips eased against the pant of his stomach. The sinking of the mattress lead the both of you into a welcoming new sought addiction of the only thing that felt good, or human; the feeling of the full focus of one another. It was the same reason the two of you had eever fully focused on disappear, or getting drunk, or death, terrfying as much as those things may have been at times; they all lead to a full feeling of being fully focused within the moment, rather than having the both of you pulled and stretched through watery little tolerances that made up the fake imitation of sanity. "But I also want to be stern in some areas. I want to give you things that you feel like you feel like you can never have."

"Yeah." Bojack breathed out the word, and the tension on his snout that could have been seen as annoyance was broken down into the full forced concentration of the intensity of you entering into him, his head turned back as the muscles on his face cramped into the conflict across his expression as he turned his head back across the pillow. "I gathered the idea of that."

"I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable." Your head turned to the side as your lips pressed across his cheek.

"Not uncomfortable. If I wanted doughy little hands and feet running around my house I could have just tolerated it with other woman that would have been less devastating because she wouldn't have been." His shoulders turned under you touch as you gave a small thrust. "Well."

"Your wife." Your hands curled across his cheek as your mouth curled across the side of his face, the pleasure of your hips adding an emotional narrative to the bond that was between the two of you and the small story that Bojack was becoming brave enough to admit was even a narrative through the small minute ways you were chipping away at one another at the core of what you were trying to push him to. "She wouldn't have been your wife."

Bojack breathed out with another quick rasp of his heavy breath, and het gave another vague whimper of a noise as he kept his head turned back across the pillow. The way he so easily brought you into a specific genre of a focus that seemed especially reassuring in a way he managed that was both comforting and familiar and alluring at once caused you to feel a little bolder; with his private fully raw and without protection did you pressed your thighs further against his groin until you felt the plush of the curve of his stomach easing and pressing against the front of your panting stomach.

"I would have chosen an independent woman. God knows I've dated plenty of them. There's a lot of those types around here. She would have been the type that would have taken an odd joy out of the fact that I would have inevitably shown myself as a worthless ass after a certain point and would have let it go, taken the kid and saved them from whatever would have gone on in these goddamn walls and would have made a point to make sure she would tell all of her peers about how terrible of an attempt at a family it was. It would have made her feel good about herself, and when the kid was old enough to understand later on in her life, when she was older and mature enough to tell the kid specifically about how she healed and the way she dealt with it, it would have at least made them both a little stronger long term. At least that would be one thing they would have gotten out of the attempt of trying to make something good or even decent come out of these walls. That would be the best memory I could hope to come out with."

Your hips were pressing with rhythm against the curve of his plush stomach as you continued to brush your body through his intimacy, himself breathing heavy as you felt his plump skin begin to respond to the feeling of your body curling across his form, the soft curve of the fat of his stomach beginning to pant further against the curve of your hip as you began to thrust against him faster, the gray sheets falling away from the two rhythms of your body.

"As I grew older I began to realize just how temporary everything was. Everything. The people I met, no matter how much they were convinced they were the one thing to go against time, the philosophies and beliefs I've heard, the mistakes I've made, the art I've seen and the celebrities and their art fall into forgotten stagnace. It's been both a freedom and something that has made me feel incredibly caged at the same time."

Your hands were curled against Bojack's palm, and your fingertips began to raise his hand against his head as your hand turned him from behind the top of his head, yoru hands curling against the softness of his palm as it rested into a tender lovability into the softness of the pillow as your fingertips kept squeezed against his palm, your fingertips rested against the softness of his palm as it rested behind the pillow, the reflection of the neon pool and the illuminated light of the city outside peeking in through the the large window with the pink plastic curtains dagling and snapping against one another. It rested a little bit above his head, and the lovable panting of his struggle as his head turned back and teeth poked while his eyes were winced into exhaustion at the extertaion of his body of how he was being stretched and challenged, both physically and mentally, through where he had previously found contenemtn in his own rotting complaceny; and the people around him where even further validation of that with the black agreement of what he was in what was deemed as worthless.

"Yeah? And then what happened? When you decided that I was the one temporary thing that would agree with you and this cage." His head turned up from the sheets, but only a few inches.

"I realized that I had found someone that, beyond explanation and beyond anything I understood or needed to, that I had found someone who was so perfectly embedded into what I wanted; flaws and everything you are that I love unconditionally beyond understanding. I look at you, and take everything in that you are, and I can't help but have the thought that the idea of you was everything I needed to carry me through every day before; and you're all I need to carry me through every day or headspace. It's just what you are; the thought of you brings me home, and I don't need to want to understand it. Falling into you is the only gratitude I need away from emptiness, from the ways I've been destroyed by myself and by this life." Your hips pressed further against the plush of his thighs, and Bojack cramped underneath you as his eyes widened as he turned his head back, and his eyes closed while the puffiness under his expression closed as he eased his head back against the pillow, his fingertips cramped against the gray sheet as he felt the refreshing humanity that came along with vulnerability. His eyes closed as his head turned back, your face leaning forward as your lips pressed against his cheek while your hands began to caress away from his shoulders and down the panting curve of his skin, your palms coming to rest on his hip as he breathed deep while feeling your body make love to him; there was a sense of an ethernal quiet that came from nothing of the fog that had taken the woman or the red that snapped around her body, or of the drunken cage the sick people had surrounded themselves with, but something incredible raw and human that only came from the rhythm of your skin against the mattress, of the full feeling of detaching and transcending away from whatevr muddled mundainites made up the life around the two of you as he turned his head across the pillow, turning it over to where he looked over against the expanse of the never sleeping busy city lights as they turned across the bitter winceof his eyes as the art and depth of life granted to any living being who achieved the amount of the profound depth between the both of you continued to sweep through the mood of the detached ethernal feeling between the both of you, the blue from the city that hd both molded and saved him falling away into the detached sounds of the white as it was instead replaced by the countless flaws of the bitter and superficial people that had cut nd turned Bojack a par tof them over a period of time; an inevibaility, and something that had destroyed him, the same way he felt he was being destroyed now by being met by the opposite of where he was being touched and made love to by your body in the opposite of everything he had ever missed through the emptiness of what he had pursued that had stolen him from the bond you were sharing in now that was almost too pure, too much for him to accept after a lifetime of coming to terms that he would never have it or even the tangiabiltiy of the idea of it except through cheap minute quick superficial mimics of the belief of it with other woman where he had been searching for the heavy bond that was profound in its spirituality, instead of making him the cheap mocking mimic of the man he had become because of the lack of anything remarkable on a human level he had ever achieved before.

"Maybe being along was the entire point. In everything. To finding you. To this. Whatever it is."

Your back was curled above him now as you continued to allow your body to make love to him, the chubbiness of his hands leaned against your back as your thrusts increased in their rhythm. "Just because life and existence was shown to you a certain way before doesn't mean that's the only way to be. You can dress up life any way you want to."

"Maybe." His eyes lowered as he felt the focus of the rhythm of your body against his; the way his cheek turned against yours. "In an odd way this, whatever this feeling is, feels like the most forgiving way of accepting old age and going to death that I ever could have imagined. Otherwise, it would just be me cradling my pathetic, tormented consciousness all day while falling deeper into that grief, insanity-into accepting nothing. And there wouldn't be any doubt in my mind that at this point, this was the way its meant to be. Or any idea that there was anything else I could have wanted."

You continued to brush your hips against the plush of the curve of his lovable curve of his stomach, your body curled in your lust as you continued to rythamcially press your intimacy against his in the loveability of what you both considered the natural call of every need the both of you fulfilled.

"Do you see her?"

His eyes kept on the bittersweetness of the city as he saw the light reflected across his eyes while he kept his hands cradled across your back, your hips turning into him in rhythm as he felt his strength and endurance at being able to accept the full of your life together churn both in and out of it's endurance and strength-specific in the way the both of you were both giving strength and failing at the same time between your bodies, but most importantly, the continued rhythm of what you gave one another that was oth enduring and beautiful and yet had long since turned into a permeant heavy misery between the both of you that could only be twisted through the belief he could feel radiate from you; enduring, promising, and the most notable; full of confidence. He cleared his throat as he felt you give a whimper in question. "Samantha. I wonder if there's any chance that I'll see that same look in her-that I'll assume she has this permanent innocence or kindness to her just because that's how she's been so far, and then be shocked when I see her be twisted into the same corrupted cold like everyone else. Seeing the transformation; it's almost unbelievable. It would be a lot more comforting to believe that assholes are just assholes and good people are good. I wish it could be that."

He felt your fingertips curl at the trail of his thought, the sleepiness of the natural way you were both fulfilled by falling into that unattractive but unconditional warmtht that came with the undiginfied but irrepabale form of loving someone deeply in all thir messy flaws; the only form of humanity in existence. He knew your silence was guidning him to contuine to talk about what he was too afraid of and where th ejoy that came with the height of risk was so deep that it met in the middle between the two of you of where the bond between the both of you met the richest form of the pinnacle of a hieght of anything either of you wanted of the full and best most fulfilled and human verison of Bojack meeting where the emptiness of a amily and daughter was, and where the full pinnacle of your bond would meet in the middle fully. He winced as his head turned as he stumbled over his words a bit in that messy array that made up the sudden emotion that he felt so esatrnged from and always had; the reason why he had put a halt on his emotions all those years; to survive, at least to some extent. He wanted to keep talking; he needed to, and you allowed him that as your hips rested agaisnt his stomatch.

"Because sometimes I feel like she's been here this entire time; that I could feel her, or the abscence of her through everything I did. I think I have; and I know I would have spent every day grevining her, and I think I've already done that, too. And as painful as it is, the pain of the abscence of you and the girls was the only thing that got me through every day; I thought it was just suffering. But I think it was the only way you were able to reach me for a long time; through the pain of your absence. I think the pain and the absence through it was the only thing that was real to me, and in an odd, terrible way, that was the only thing that did feel good to me. Because it was true."

But you won't allow yourself to have it. You'd rather sit on your hands while we only talk about Samantha." Your head turned to the side, and yur voice cracked that matched the heavy tide of the neon light as you spoke in that soft bedtime intimacy, "I love you. I knew it was possible to love someone and to feel the amount of richness, purpose, of kindess that we give one another so consistently; I just didn't think I'd find it. And I know our girls are waiting to come and to be the extension of what we were always meant to give one another; the way we would have died and suffered without, the way that you know I'll do anything so that we can come together after a lifetime of weariness and bring our family together, and to be the mother and father we're meant to be."

"She's already here." Bojack's lip turned up as his smile met into his eyes as the tenderness of his expression turned over to the city. A blue fog was raised against the buildings, and he found he didn't question it; the same way the chaos of his muddled mind and the warmth that surrounded your promise began to something that was so naturally felt and a part of him that hard narratives of defining it fell away into irrelevancy. Your lips continued to press across his cheek, guiding, focused, and forward. "Boring and complacent, right? While they grow up and believe and feel everything they're meant to feel while they're here."

"And it can be something good." Your lips pressed against his as the both of you fell into hat warmth of that agreement that was a fragility of heaven of uncondtional nature away from the abaraisve thoughts of others or one another; the full way you fit and fell against one another into that pull that was so warm and naturally embedded both of your purpose that anything otherwise felt like a compromise. Bojack have a messy grunt against your lip as his ears flicked back while he felt the wave of his grief of a wasted life and the black dispair of it pour through him, and then detach into a wave of the barely there but tangible relief you gave him as you continued to ease your hips across the plush of his stomach, the hips turned against his skin as you continued to press your lips across his mouth as bodies intertwined further; the dissociation of all the times he had made love to others with no emotion or love to it or ever understanding to was always there as a weight of memory that came along with the scars of an empty life, and the insanity he had fallen into now and then imagining it and gripping out to it, though if anything could have healed it as much as a lifetime of emty disscaotion could have, it would have been the wya he felt for you, the conclusion to an exhausted and meaningless life, even when in the moment it had felt rich and full of meaning.

"How many daughters do we have?" Your lips ghosted against Bojack's, and his ears flicked as he gave a soft rasp of consideration of thought that made him feel tender enough that your lips turned forward as you pressed a touch of your lip onto his snout.

"Uh-" A soft rasp of his graceful tone, his eyes closed as he felt your lips pressed against his diamond. He cleared his throat. "Two. We have two."

You nodded, and there seemed to be a content confidence in the way your face eased against his snout. There was a confidence there that spoke that you agreed and had expected the very concept he was presenting to you through the uncertain trembling of the purity of his voice that showed his true nature. Your hips turned across Bojack's stomach as your body continued to curl against him, and he felt a physical burning in between his legs at the pinnacle of emotion that was coming over him from the climax of your intimacy; and the burning from the way you were intertwining how precious you were making him feel from how you were touching him and speaking to him; a physical pinnacle of emotional belief of how it felt to be truly treasured, to genuinely believe it; it was more than a belief, or the fickle nature of a passing thought.

"Do you know what I'm talking about?"

He was breathing heavily, his voice cracked and rasped with emotion as he squinted while he turned his head up to you in question. Your face turned down as the curves of your expression eased across the front of his snout as his eyes turned up, precious and vulnerable in his eyes as his expression winced while his tender breath rasped across your face. It was a climax of a physical feeling that defied any doubt or any negative thought that could have passed by Bojack's headspace; it was something that was so tangible that it swept through every other belief of how he could have muddled it into something entangled; just as how every genuine focus on you had been, and continued to be. Genuine acceptance swept over him as his stout fingertips eased across your fingertips, and for a moment was the promise of the chaos of the upcoming unknown to everything he had ever craved; a slow and stopping rhythm halt of the focus of true humanity between the both of you, away from noise and curroption of what made a life worthwhile.

"I know exactly what you're talking about. I always did, even before I knew you." Your face turned to the side as your lips and your breathed contuiend to labor against his skin, and his eyes winced as ears lowered back as he contuiend to let out the raspiness of his tired cracked breath against yours. There was a physical burning of spiritual richness that he could feel in his chest that was spreading through the sensation of everything around him and of everything his mind could contrive of; it was a feeling both rich enough with a spiurutal menaing that wasn't necessarily happiness, but rather such a deep introduction of meaning and of it making sense and it brought itself into reality that it overcame all other white noise of other people and the world that had once felt like the essence of his entire existence, now turned down into something that was faded away into what the white noise was; irrelevant to the reason as to why he was alive in the wake of the meaning that was now starting to bloom and turn in front of him beyond what he ever could have believed or could have imagined; for others, as a watery observance. For himself, never. Having that turned away of a lifetime of disorienting black negativity was beyond what he could process; it was something he simply had to allow himself to be carried along with.

"Just let it happen, sweetheart." Bojack's labored breathing was giving away the tension in his body while your words of attempted comfort guided over him; he turned his head to the side as his teeth poked while his head rested against the pillow as his stomach curved and panted across your torso. "My sweet, precious baby"

Every action and word was becoming encumbered into the gradual act of the acceptance as Bojack's minute tender patning gave away the humanity in him impossible not to be molded by the specific way you had been broken to love him, and he felt the chasm inside of him open that came along with the memories that had lead to the now impossibility of how he had opened the door to loving you; the reward now was making itself fully clarified and clear, and beyond that, the understanding of why every foggy and minute misunderstanding and complication in his mind had led to where he was now; sense wasn't the word, but the fulfilment that came from the chaos was now lending to a full climax of understanding of the rich emotional story that made up a fully fulfilled life with that of which made it memorable outside of the emptiness of the struggle.

"If she did come into this house-" Bojack cleared his throat as he tried to focus on the feeling of your hips making love to him as you continued to labor him through the feeling of your body against his, and his breath rasped as he panted, though it was controlled now, focused, the same way his energy had been around you in contrast to when he had spent his life and his headspace being surrounded n the foggy disasscation of what he should pursue that made up a worthwhile life and where his pain orgianted from. "If we conceived of this daughter, and it didn't work out. If she ends up screaming too much; or if…I fall apart. How are we going to be able to face that? I can't lie to you and promise you that I'll be ok when that good heart that I know you have ends up snapping and you end up getting up and leaving-"

"I wouldn't do that."

"-When you end up getting up and leaving because you know its for the best, and if the way we would both love our daughter is anything to go by right now, I know that that's what we'll both chose."

Your face shook by the side of Bojack's cheek, your breath labored across his skin as the curves of your face guided across his skin, your hips still rolling with rhythm across his stomach, still panting in his humble overwhelming humanity as his stomach curved and panted across your body. "We don't know that."

"But to pur her through that. The possibility-" His words cut off with a low awkward clumsy mumble out of his lips as he turned his head over to you, eyes gleaming through the reflection of the light against his eyes as hi ears flicked down, humble and terrified and pathetic and adorable all at once, and causing the warmth of your eyes to meet his as your fingertips squeezed across the feeling of the slick feeling of sweat against his skin as his stout fingertips curled across your fingers. "If it feels anything like the way it feels now, I can't stand to put her through that. I wouldn't be someone who should be blessed to have her-I'm too trashy, too random; there's too much truth throughout my life of how inconsistent I've been and always will be. It's not rational, honey."

Your torso curved up, your head eased up to the ceiling as your stomach curved against his stomach. His hands caressed the middle part of your back as your chest curled down to him again as your lips separated from his cheek. You could hear the confliction of his emotion as his hands grappled across your skin as he panted across your skin and tried to pull you back in.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to try to talk you out of this. But if I haven't been able to convince myself it's something we should do this entire time, why should I now?"

Your face came to rest beside his cheek against as your breasts curled against his chest, your body curling against his chest as he pulled you back in tentatively.

"Here. I can-make this better. We can still make love. But let's do something in the morning to make sure that nothing else comes out of this, ok?"

"I know we could give each other everything."

"I want to give you everything. More than anything. Of course I do. But come on."

Your hips rythamically pressed against the plush of his hips for a few more waves, and Bojack, unable to ressitat that feeling that was above anything he could have contrived of or come up with, turned his head back against the pillow as his eyes closed; jadedness complimented well with the wear of his age, and his teeth poked out as a tension that suggested his intense emotional comfortabiltiy turned his head back up and against the pillow as his hands gripped across the sheets, both revealing in the sensation of the pleasure you were giving one another while at the same time showing clear signs of the pain it was putting him through as to where it was heading. The attraction you had to that charmatsic jaded wisdom that spoke of maturity and of seeing things as they were mixed with the bumbly and awkward clumsiness of his disposition was one that drove you to that amount of love and attraction that gave you the same sensation of the profound real feeling mixed in with the sense of the burning between your thighs.

"Just-forget it." He spoke through his pants as the wear of his eyes closed, his hands waved in front of him as he contuiend to let out his uneven pants. "Just keep going. I don't know where to go or what to do. I just know it can't be there. There's always been too many reasons not to allow that amount of happiness, and everyone who has ever known me or the idea of me agrees. I used to want to believe that one little accomplishment or one process or skill would somehow make me stand on top of the passing of time that makes evryne forget and makes everything stgagant. Until I realized that in this lifetime, there was no such thing. Or-there can't be. She would have been that." His eyes opened, and his head titled up as his eyes winced while he turned and looked at where your hand was gripping across his palm, himself still breathing heavily as his looked at you with the puffy wince of his conflciton and the tenderness of his air. "Our marriage can be that. Maybe."

Your hand came to ease across his fingertips, and he allowed his hand to be guided by your fingertips as they pressed into the spaces of his hand, your hand guidning him over to where your stomach, much slimmer than his and with ribs poking out, was also breathing heavily to accompany Bojack's panting as you reached his hand out to your breasts, his palm coming to ease across the breathing of your body as you took his hand entangled on yours and pressed it against your stomach. Your eyes were closed as his hand continued to be traced across your body as his palm rested across where the middle part of the panting of your body was; just enough for his hand to place on the same place where a baby would form.
Your eyes opened, and Bojack raised his shoulders up further at your expression, as if brought up by strings at the way your eyes opened. Your lip was opened a few inches, your eyes met into Bojack's eyes as he felt your torso ease across his hand.

'When I was sitting out on that street, I had accepted the blackness that comes along with realzoning that I had taken the road that a lot of people who are born into decency always think it's impossible for them to take; that I had become one of the nameless expectations to the people who were finding out what living in this species is truly like when you lose your place in this world. I thought I would become so nameless, so unknown to the rest of the world that I would forget even myself. And, by the time you came along, I was beginning to; and by the then I had already gone over in my mind and tormented myself so many times to the point where I had gone over every detail and reason why no one would make my detriment their business-not until I was dead and dirty in the side if the street, where the nothingness that comes along with despair became who I physically was, and until I was nothing but nameless rot and bone that people passed by until I was a weight that would be taken out of people's way; an object, even to myself, and nothing but people passing by as another story to tell whoever was still in their life, the way it is with any stranger that carries a story inside of them just as complex and just as human as much as the ones they cherish."

"I can't imagine that." Bojack's chubby round shoulders were raised up further as his worried eyes met against yours, his teeth poked. "I know what people in this city are like. They're stupid, superficial toxic people that chose to be that way; the woman especially are as replaceable as they come. And to think they would just shove you to the side until you were nothing-to think that if I had kept walking and didn't even care or think about it, and that that would have happened."

Your fingertips squeezed across Bojack's palm, and he gave another whimpered breath as he turned his worried eyes over to where your fingertips were pressing firmly across his hand. His eyes winced as he turnd his tender expression forward to where you had his palm rested across the heave of his hands on your stomach as his ears turned back and felt his palm caressed your body.

"Our daughter, or any child that we carry, that I'm lucky enough to have with you, will be the same thing. She's the same story that will never exist, that people will walk on by with-we'll be those people."

"That's not the same thing. She's not even here yet. That's-" Bojack gave another clumsy breath of doubt, his tender uncertainty pained across his features as he lowered his eyes back over to your hand, and the puffiness of his expression turned as he focused on his hand on your body. "We have a choice not to bring her into this world. You didn't. She could end up just as bad, or worse."

"We'll never know her remarkability until she's here."

Bojack raised a brow; the only usual sign of his cynicism that cut through the clumsy uncertainty on his face that came along with his lovable flawed humanity. "That remarkability that you're hanging onto to justify this-there's no promise that it exists. That she won't just take the worst aspects of everything about me and be forced to live with it."

"She'll come from me. And you." Your eyes turned as you met on Bojack's, and for a moment did the caution of his usual jaded cynicism and loathing present fully in his expression as his eyes turned up while he met yours while the muscles on his face tensed.

"Exactly. She'll come from me; and I know it's fun to think that there's some positive aspect or that we can do it differently. But that's not reality. And that's something people don't want to acknowledge; but we have to." His eyes turned down to your hand as he indicated his expression pointedly at your stomach; tender, uncertain, but still with his jaded point. "For her."

"You turned me into something. Not only something, but something good."

His eyes closed as he allowed a reset of an intake. "Honey, if we keep going in these circles where the already improbable state of our marriage is constantly taken into account, we'll just keep going in circles. Life already feels like it's just this rhythm and repeat of going around in the same limits and damages over and over." His eyes flicked up as he gazed at you with a vague defiance. "We have something good. We found that rarity. Don't let us both become something like so many other people and get so drowned and bad mistakes and negtaivtity that we become like every other ball of a miserable self loathing person who goes nowhere and gets destroyed by this world and themselves, who just becomes another victim of it. We don't need that. I've aleady had too much of that; and I know you have, too."

Your head snapped away from Bojack's as your attention landed on the feeling of his hand that rested on your stomach; your mouth opened for a lopsided of a moment, and Bojack's teeth poked as his eyes turned up to yours in a gentle guide of his insecurity.

Your hands entangled out of Bojack's, and instantly did he give an abrupt swear out of his lips as he saw you ease your body off of the edge of the body, turning your body down onto the clothes that lied on the ground as you entangled your hands against them.

"Honey, no. Please. You know what I mean."

"You changed everything for me in ways morons only write about to find hope when there's none in reality for most people. You showed me someone that I would have loved anyway even in the most pathetic, self assured and cocky and the most inhuman and loathing garbage version that I ever could have met." Your hand curled against the clothes as it gripped across your hands as you snapped your head up and began to make your way to the bathroom; your air was still light with forgiveness, but the black choas of Bojack's mind was already turning the majority of it into a wall of something unforgivable.

"I know. But you know where I'm coming from. We both do."

His voice cracked as he swung his legs off of the edge of the bed, the gray sheets entangled into further choas as he laned his plush hips across the edge of the bed as you gazed at you in desperation as he watched you cross your way over to the bathroom, your hand entangling against your hair as you began to walk your way inside of the stagnant light. Your hands wrapped against the clothes as you began to walk your way into the bathroom, and he saw a flash of the exhaustion of the light of your eyes reflected against the mirror as he winced while he met your eyes as he raised his body off of the edge of the bed.

"Baby, you know what I'm saying. If it were anyone else I would just say it."

"Say what?" Your hands were cramped across the sheets that were enfolded across your breasts with the crumpled of the sheets as they met across your skin. Bojack's eyes widend with the tentative emotion on his face, both pathetic and alluring at once as the wide side look his his eyes met your erratic enegry

"I mean-don't pretend like you don't know." His hand came to rub against his arm, and his physical disposition was one lovable enough that he could catch the way it made your own tension suddenly pause in the wake of the same air that had brought you everything; and even beyond the circumstances of knowing. Your expression dimmed as your eyes eased across Bojack's insistent eyes.

"I don't know enough to be feel like I can wake up every day and pretend like I'm doing the right thing to love you. I don't have the peace of mind for that. Not with the way things are-the way I love you." Your hand stopped in its distracted crumpling against the fabric as your fingertips eased against the folds of the fabric, and though there was the clear intention of covering your body, Bojack could see just how easily he was convincing you to do otherwise. He paused as his hands turned down in front of his chest as his shoulders lowered, timid light in his eyes.

"I need you to say what you're thinking, clearly, so that I can do."

"You can't have children with me. If you have children with me, you would be a bad mom." His voice was somber, the heavy weight of aged eyelids half lidded over lifeless eyes, and as slow and a well known the words sounded and how many times the words had come into his tone just from thinking them, no doubt, there was a surprise to just as quickly he responded, given the heavy context of them. "I know marriage with will feel like something that's mostly just pain, the same way life is; and maybe every day you'll have moments where things will be good or feel like us or peaceful enough for a little while that it feels like its dusting off or clearing or redeeming the bad for a little while, but sooner or later, the default is bad. And if you go into this knowing the kind of person I am, where it's going to lead to, and what that means-" His eyes were dim and exhausted with the light in them as dim and distant with that acceptance in his eyes as that somber look of reflected knowing flashed across his features, though for the time it seemed as if it had every intention of settling. "It's going to reflect right from the start what kind of mom you are." His finger pointed in your direction; not directly to you, cramped, as if there as a natural apology to it, but still did he raise it with his clumsy timid point. "And I think you know that, and what bothers me is that you won't admit it, which is weird, with me knowing the kind of woman you are." His eyes turned as he eased his expression against your body, and his eyes lowered while his hand continued to caress across his arm. "That's the main aspect of it."

"Honey-"

"We can be whoever we want to be outside of our responsibilities to keep our head above water and to meet whatever bullshit routine we need to do to keep our heads clear." Bojack turned his eyes up to you as your expression dimmed while meeting into his eyes as he snapped his hand in front of him in a gesture to make his point. "But we need to know who that is. And I do. So what about you now?"

Your words paused as your lips pressed against one another, your eyes turning across Bojack's insistence as his tone spoke everything he needed to show how set he was. There was a stoic, mature, blunt and abrasive acceptance to how he spoke that seemed as if the life was being taken out of him even as he spoke it; but the edge of his conviction had a certain accepted and depthful profound loss and the deep reflection in it that showed just how truly mature Bojack was that made you stop for a moment, just as everything Bojack did. You paused as your expression met into the empty look of his eyes; and there was an understanding there from the chaos of the confliction between you as the emotional red of your eyes met up onto his expression; stoic, accepting, empty and cautious, and seeming beyond compromise, even as especially for himself.

"There's a nothingness with certain people, honey. And they can try to reinvente or create or try to change it or make it something new or make something out of it that would be something other than pain-but the fact of the matter is is that sometimes, there's nowhere to go." The emptiness didn't leave his expression as his stoic eyes met on yours. "This is reality, and this is the kind of person I am. And that person that you're trying to get something out of right now-he's not here. I know you want control, and clairty, and good things, which is the reason why I'm here now, telling you the truth."

His plush body leaned against the side of the door frame, and his eyes lowered down as his ears flicked back, the brown of his dark skin and plush body leaning against it as his ears flicked back, hand coming to rest beside his arm as his eyes turned downward into that barely suppressed boyish shame that eased with a demand across his expression and the tender apology across his face.

The vulnerability that as dressed in his fragile apology and adorability was enough that your head turned downward, and your hands squeezed across your arms as your lips pressed against one another. Your head turned up as your eyes searched across his expression and the clear stoic shame what he was entailing for what he had settled for, the damage of the narrative of the only thing he had ever been told he was good fro and deserved as it was for people who weren't suited to love him specifically; and the clear bundle of the inevitability that he had allowed the narrative to control him, even as there was an emotion across his features that was begging for the idea of something beyond it.

"Let me redress the question, then." Your hand dripped the white dress that you were about to put on your body. Bojack turned his eyes up as he met across your face with the vulnerability eased on his eyes as he met your expression. The dress dropped, and his eyes widened as he saw the way it fell to the floor with his hand raised up uncerintly.

"We should go to bed. You're right." He grunted as he kneeled down and pressed his hand on the dress while he picked it up, eyes lowering as he kept his focus on the mundanity of trying to organize it in his hand.

"Do you want our daughter to come into this world?"

"Do I want to?" His eyes turned dryily across the sheets, and his eyes avoided turning up to gaze at you; his feet even took to making a few steps back as his ears flicked tentatively behind him. His shyness took on a vague femininity as he winced and he turned his head over his shoulder. "I think the general idea of that has already been understood."

"I think it has, too. But I've been reading a different sign of what you're asking; and I think you don't know what you're asking for yet, even though we can both feel it."

Bojack's minute deep breath turned down onto the sheets as he played with the folding of the white dress on his palm. His ears were flicked down as he stepped back and further into the bedroom, his eyes tentatively turning up to you, but only for a flicker of a moment of vulnerability.

"I've said everything the way it needs to be laid out. That's all." He stepped behind his feet as he turned his eyes up and met your expression as he gave you a flash of a nervous grin in that boyish and tentative way. "You don't want to have to deal with whatever trouble they come up with tomorrow on our own, right? We don't need any of that. I'm sure these next few days are going to be more eventful than we think. May as well get a little bit of rest and try to make the most of the resting night if we can't focus on making love, right?"

"Do you want to have her here?"

"We don't know who she is. We don't know anything about her. That's the entire point of making sure that they never have to be here."

"Everything you've said tonight has been the way you think things should be. The way things have been dressed up to you."

"There's a reason for that." His eyes winced as one hand reached away from where he was cradling the sheets as his eyes met on yours. His eyes flicked over to the messiness of the gray sheets. "Look, honey, I'll make the bed. You can get some water, go outside, we'll reset in a few minutes, ok?"

"When you take away all of that-the baggage of who you've been told through your existence your entire life, when you've been told by other people and these circumstances where you think there's some permeance of hw things need to be; when there's always room for difference and a change every day. There's no permanent way of having to be."

"And what if there is?" His expression took on a flare of anger as much as someone as naturally tender, to you, could be as he gave you a flare of his eyes while he gave you a sharp glare as his eyes winced while snapping across you. "If things keep repeating, its for a reason. And every person I've ever met in my life has come down to the same conclusion-except you. A dirty, lost homeless woman who I found wailing on the side of the street with blankets wrapped around her body. You. That's you-that's the person that saw something in me that would be capable of this. You. That's the kind of person that would do this to me; that would see something that irrational, and if we're taking things apart and giving them a logical material equation, it's not hard to understand why it would be that kind of person."

Your eyes dimmed; an emotion, not necessarily one of disrespect, but rather of lack of surprise, was the only thing to take the fire out of Bojack's eyes even if only for a few inches.

"Is that how you see me?"

He paused, and for a moment the fire in his eys kept his body tense, the wrinkles under his puffy eyes more embedded into the story of his emotion. But something inside of him was cut away as he spoke, somber and authentic as one who truly suffered spoke;

"That's the only kind of person who's ever been in the amount of pain I've been in to ever have enough purity in the dark to see where I'm coming from."

The muscles on your face lowered as your frowned while your eyes cross against Bojack's expression, and your shoulders eased down as you met his docile eyes. He placed the sheets on the front of the wardrobe as he gave a grunt of a breath, rolling his shoulders as he turned to the wardrobe and opened up the drawer while his hands continued to play by the folded sheets. You stepped forward as the defense fell into a gradual understanding as your eyes turned across his disposition while his hands kept on the drawer. His ears flicked up, and his eyes turned down to the drawer as his hands rested on the end of it for a moment, his palms rested on the edge of the drawer. His eyes had that docile look in his expression that gave away the amount of true maturity that he possessed in his air; your stepped forward as you tried to make sense of the amount of protection and the love you felt go through you, enough that it overcame any cynicism or even bleak thought of logic as your eyes crossed against his disposition.

"I wouldn't try to patronize you. Not intentionally. When I saw you on the edge of the stree that day, dirty and looking for freedom, or help, I felt a need to involve myself in a way I never had before. I could see much you had dug yourself into this black hole-and it was deep enough that in an odd way, I wanted to join you. That felt more real and more human to me than going home back to my big, empty house and sitting in my usual complacency and getting drunk. And I think there was a part of me that knew that there was an understanding of misery between us that for once felt like a freedom, or a truth, to fall into it. Like a certain release." His eyes were kept stoic onto the drawer as he pressed his hand against it, pulling on it and in as he eased his palm against the drawer, and his chubby shoulders gave a vague shrug. "And I was right. Going to that misery feels a lot better, makes a lot more sense, than trying to find something that isn't there for me. I think I was brought to seeing you that day because I had finally been brought ot a point where I had no choice-not if I wanted to follow the only thing left that was there to give me even the slightest vague relief. Human physiology isn't complicate,d but on that day, it was."

His head turned up, and the void of his eyes met on the front of the wall as his hands kept on the drawer. Your eyes turned against the lovable plush disposition of his body as you memorized him. He was deflecting, turning you onto another road that he felt would guide you over to the flaws of his headspace, not unlike the average terrified person who was self aware of their own fleeting existence and the inevitable terrifying truth on the other side of their consciousness they had been born into to become aware of the fear. You loved him, and it was only because you loved him that you would humor him for a moment in his insecurity as his head turned up, ears flicked forward as his hands kept on the drawer.

"Where were you going that day?"

"What day?" His head turned over his shoulder as he raised his brow, hands cramped across his chest as he watched you with a tentative quizziness; despite his air of his attempted cluselessness, it was clear that he knew what you meant from the jolt of fire in his eyes, ears splayed.

"The day you found me. Took me in. You must have noticed something that made you want to stop." Your fingertips caressed across your wrists as you stepped forward, and his eyes winced as he turned his expression down while he gave a heavy breath, though there was an attempt at keeping it subtle. "Or was it just anther empty day where you would have just taken or done anything?"

"It wasn't just another empty day." His expression winced as his eyes turned downward, ears splayed back while his fingertips caressed against his wrists. His teeth poked as his eyes turned down, the muscles on his face cramped in his concern through thinking over the day. His eyes turned in that shamed and puffy eyed shame as he turned his head to the side. You stepped forward as your arms pressed across your chest, eyes turning against him in that red edged eyed question. "I was-I had a breakthrough, that day. Something changed in my mind that day that made me realize that whatever it was I had been clinging on to, even if it was fear, wasn't worth having it control me anymore. I was trying to make something that I had always had in the back of my head, all the time, really, a reality-but, sober that time. I would never allow myself to even think of it before. I was too…well, terrifying."

The boyish cowardly tenderness became present in his eyes as it washed across his expression while the muscles on his face cramped. His eyes turned forward as his pupils dilated while he looked in front of the bathroom where you had kept the stagnant light on, the emptiness of his insecurity fully lending into his eyes; adorable, pathetic, lost and humbly human at the same time.

"What were you so afraid of?"

"Of..acting on it, I guess. Not because I thought there was anything worth keeping around here. But the thought of having to accept whatever it was that confounded literally..everyone. Everyone who's ever been here or ever has been. If any other person could never think of it without some criss, God knows I never would have been able to." The depth of his worry eased further as he kept the heaviness of his expression turned down in the reflection of his melancholy, adding onto the age of his puffed and aged expression.

"And you were going to try to what?"

He shrugged, in that same sheepish action that was presented in his eyes as he gave you a shrug in the same timid demeanor. "Jump. Sober." His eyes rolled up to the ceiling as his ears splayed back. "Granted, I did get a little buzzed that morning, even then. But that was more of my morning routine than it was something I was doing for the sake of getting rid of the fear. I hadn't been sober in so long that even being that amount of buzzed was nothing in comparison." He laughed, rasped and edged with the depth of his thought as his eyes turned downward, though his hands kept on his palms as he continued to scratch his wrist. Another ironic chuckle met his words as he breathed out; "I considered it me being brave."

Your stepped further forward as your hands grazed across his palms, your fingertips turning over to his wrists and the entanglement of his fingertips on his skin as your hands found the spaces under his palm. His eyes turned up as he met your expression as your hand eased across his skin, his eyes flicked up as the muscles on his face treamored with the shamed tension on his features.

"It's so funny. How much it can feel like it's not in your control, even though it all comes back to you."

The dryness in Bojack's bleak eyes didn't lessen, but there was the vague interval of the opening of his curitory as he spoke, somberly; "What's that?"

"Everything. Perception, belief, mood; it all comes back to what you can control. And yet, somehow, the future of my husband and marriage felt that black so deep and fell even deeper to the point where he felt that narrative was the only option; even though emotions and headspaces aren't real, and it's just small little choices emotionally and mentally we make every day; the easiest thing in the world, and yet also the most fragile."

"Yeah, well." Bojack's eyes grazed down as his ears splayed back, and the shame on his features that gave him even more humble humanity on his features eased down as he felt your fingertips cradle across his palm. His ears were splayed back, delicately, in that vaguely shameful ease, but as it was with the way you inevitably were meant to see him, there was nothing there but further humanity meant to be followed.

"I felt the same need. The second I saw you walking around out in the car when the cashier pointe you to me."

Bojack's expression turned into a vague cocky humor as his eyes glimmered up to yours. "What, the rich douchebag swearing under his lips because he ran out of gas?"

"I felt that same feeling of the black coming over me; accepting the helplessness of it. When I saw you, I thought it was just another projection that came along with someone who was desperate just to have any relief at all; and I knew I was becoming an idiot again. And then I walked outside, walked across the street to sit back down by the side of the building, and you looked at me, and for the first time it wasn't a projected cope, but you gave me the time of day." Your hand squeezed across his chubby palm, and Bojack's eyes eased down as his ears turned back further, thoughtful shame crossed on his features. "You turned me into something that was more than just a countless number of incomprehensible nothing. And here we are."

"And here we are." His eyebrow raised in a dry and superficial way as his eyes crossed up to yours. "With you still not being able to accept the situation, and me still trying to process that anything that was actual connection happened in the first place." Despite the cycnsm of his statement, his eyes turned down as a vague shyness of a tint of humor cross over his expression as he felt your fingertips caress across the spaces of his hands. "Wonderful."

"Do you want our daughter to be here?"

Bojack's eyes turned up as he met your eyes fully again; there was a vague wince on his expression as his pupils turned against yours, more wondering and wounded than it was anything that was an insult. He gave you a warning with a tilt of his eyes as his expresison turned across yours as he began to take his hand out of where it was placed in your palm, turning back over to where he had placed the clothes folded into the wardrobe as he kept his hands pressed onto the folded clothes and gave the wardrobe a shut, turning his way back over to the bed as he began to play with the messiness of the grey sheets while they were crumpled on top of the mattress.

"Why are you asking me this?" He curled hid hands on the gray sheets as he turned to the bedside, turning the material in his hand as he rhythmically played with it, barely getting anywhere, and clearly using it more as a distraction than he was caring anything about organization; you knew it well. Bojack was the kind of man who had long since given up on worrying about anything to do with his direct existence that made it seem like anything about his life mattered. "It's trivial. It doesn't have to matter what I want. Not when it comes to bringing anther life to this world." He laughed again, his head shaking as he turned his head onto the grey sheets crumpled on his hand. "Especially not that."

Your head turned onto the gray floor reflected by the neon light of the pool; your eyes turned up as you began to step your way behind him. "Why not?"

"It's been made very clear at this point in my life that I don't get that. It dosen't happen for people like me, and it should be that way. It's what's fair. There's a reason why people fall into blackness, depression, emptiness, suicide-whatever else you can contrive and come up with." The edge to his voice was becoming more pointed as he waved his hands through the air in a gesture of his frustration. The cloth of the thin gray sheet he was curling in his hand was already starting become more twisted against his palm the more that he played with it, almost becoming comically stacked on his hand the more that he crumpled the sheet further against his hand in his attempt of distraction. "At least I'm one of the black holes of people on this earth that accepts it for what it is. What I am. Better that and to keep a level head on your shoulders and to keep at least one little minute breath of suffering away from the rest of the rest of the chaos of people that do whatever they want. I did do whatever I want, but at least I didn't make it the born problem of another person." He snapped his finger to you as he turned with his eyebrow raised in that quizzly jaded fashion, more cynicism in his expression to hide the depth of what was underneath it. "Wife or otherwise. A quick bang and a few months was all anyone needed. And even that was bad enough."

"You made it my problem."

You heard him give a breath as his head turned down to where the sheets were crumpled across his hand, ears lowered as he turned his focus back to the crumple of the sheets.

"Of course I did. You were one of the few people I've ever seen that looked like they were already stacked in problems that maybe they wouldn't notice this one little thing coming around and making it even more notable."

You kept walking forward until you were in reach of the crumpled grey sheet that was pressed around his hand. Your palm reached out as it crossed and squeezed across the crumple of the sheets that were now settled as a bundle of the cloth against his wrist. His ears lowered as the pout on his features became heavier, and there was that emotionally intelligence of understadnig in him of taking the path that was far from the e one that would lead to that bond of profound emotional understadning and clarity, no matter the fog around it from the rest of the world.

Your hand reached out and placed on where he had buried the chubbiness of his palm under the grey and crumpled sheets. You began to unravel it, and after a moment, as his heavy eyes darted to you did he begin wot join you as his palm began to release from the gray sheet s it began to unravel in its tension. The gray sheet began to release from his grasp as you placed it back on the mattress, your hand coming to grasp on his palm as you squeezed your hand onto both of his hands as his fingertips rested on his wrist. Your hands squeezed across his skin in the form of you wanting him to face you as much as the black and sickly eear that had been on the both of the chaos of your air that day; Bojakc turned as his eyes met on yours as he turned to you as he shouldered his hip against the edge of the bed, settling for raising himself down on the edge of it as he ketp his hands on your wrist, dry eyes turning and gazing at you with that mirror of the hard emotion in his gaze as his expression and snout met onto your eyes while he searched yours with that life experience and the boyish maturity of timid hope. His arms crossed, dry emotion of defense on his features as his fingertips pressed across your wrists. "You're not letting up on this."

"Why would I? I want to give you everything."

"If I see that devastated look on your face that comes along with making too many mistakes, I will never come back from that. I know it when I see someone who's had a grief overcome them more than they can carry. I've seen it too many times. I've done it too many times. And it was bad enough-and it scares me how much I love you. I never thought I could feel that. I had accepted the stagance and the bleakness. As much as I ever could. My life is messy, grotesque impulsive decisions, and any given woman around this area would be able to confirm that, It's sweat, and messy undeserving stupid superficial relationships and who know what other shit drowned in alcohol and pain and the blurriness of trying to accept that I was even alive-something that was horrifying with it not being a thing anymore, and something being terrifying if I had to stay. No matter what I did, it was fear and pain and struggle, and I spent my entire life being in the middle of it and not even wanting to be here. And the worst part was that all I could do was be afraid of it on either end. And it didn't matter if it was my brain spirlaing out, or my circumstances, other people-didn't matter. But on that day, I decided, for the first time in my life, to take control. So I took it. Until I didn't."

His voice lowered into that somber tone as he transitioned from the anger in his tone that came from the edge of anger in his voice began to raise further throughout his emotion, like a height of step that came along with the core of everything he did; the loathing. Your legs began to kneel down in front of him as your fingers kept cradled on his wrists as you kneeled yourself down in front of him, and Bojack's panting breathed further in his intensity as his eyes had that empty look in his eyes again as he breathed through the wall of emotion he created.

"Do you want to have our daughter here?"

Your fingertips continued to caress across the top of his hand, and your head turned up as your expression titled over to his eyes; in there was there a deep set motherly kind of evenness that was the opposite of himself were the deepest love and admiration was found in what came along with the opposite nature of two people that came to love another deeply though that. For the first time that night, he allowed himself to fully hear your question, and his shoulders turned down as the dim of his eyes met on the caress of your fingertips while they glided across his skin,

"I do." His voice was somber, accepting as his eyes turned back to yours. "Of course I do. Like anything that you wouldn't see here, It's all that I've ever wanted."

"Then let's do it."

"But its-" His eyes turned in front of him frantically as his pupils dilated in conflict. "Selfish. To bring her here."

"Then be selfish. Be selfish for one last time." Both of your hands now came to grip on Bojack's palm as your fingertips gripped his fingertips. "You've spent your entire life tormenting yourself over your decisions and going over whether or not they're something you could ever find peace or happiness with. We can do this, togehter, as a last act of what your life was before. We can take that black sickness and we can turn it into something worthwhile; we feel so terrible anyway that we can give it one last try for hope, right?"

"Be selfish." His expression was pointed as he gazed at you with a wince, his eyes turning on yours as his ears kept down. "Do you hear what you're saying right now?"

"You're speaking the same language. And I think we both know what we think it means. We're both speaking the same language."

Bojack took an intake of a heave of a breath as he turned his head to the side as he winced. "Honey, I don't think you should tell me this."

"You want to hear this for a reason. I won't love you and know your heart and I will love you no matter what-but I won't take this answer when I already know what you want."

Bojack kept his eyes kept away from you; there was a heaviness in the puffy nature of his worn face that came along with an empty life that lead to being an increasingly more cheap person; but the depth to him that came from the answer kept coming to the forefront. Your fingertips took the place of where he had kept his fingers on your skin a moment before as your fingertips took the place of where his had been attempting to take the lead a moment before. He gave another shaky breath as his eyes winced while he gave a shaky breath, his eyes turned to the side as he gave a wince from the exhaustion of his eyes that added to the playful adorability of his vulnerability humanity.

"I see it in everything you are. It's all over your features. You were born to be a daddy. You just needed someone to see it in you. And I feel it beyond anything; I feel the way I was supposed to love you and see that in you."

He gave another shaky breath; "Honey, I don't-"

"You've already given me the answer. I know you have. I just want to hear you say it; out loud, so when I make love to you and unravel hat beautiful tender wonderful father that you can be, I know that we're both doing it openly, and together, and doing the best that I know and feel beyond understanding that I was put on here to give you."

Your head leaned forward as you pressed your lips on his knuckles, and his vulnerable wet eyes turned back to your face as you pressed your lip on his knuckles. "I love you. Please be on this journey with me openly, and fully." Your head leaned forward again as your lips pressed on his skin while he kept his head turned to the side, ears lowered and eyes turned away into a tremor. "I'll love you anyway. But let me ease this into one another in a way that we can both feel in rhythm with. Let me make this as open as I know what you want. I love you, anyway, and I know you, anyway; but it would be so much easier if everything was out in the open. I want to help you feel as clear headed as much as either of us could ever hope; I want even just the smallest hope or lightness to be with you if it makes anything even just a little clearer."

Bojack's snout was gleamed especially sharp against the blue of the outside city lights, the neon light of the pool illuminating around his snout, the wear on his eyes turning into a puffy exhaustion as he kept his head turned to the side wile it added an ancient wash on his features that dded to the profound look of grace that already dressed across his feuatres that to you seemed ehtenral and timeless that you knew had left a deep crevice of a mark on you untilt the end of your life.

"Do you want her to be here?"

Bojack blinked, and his snout turned down as his eyes winced onto the curled up sheets. He rolled his shoulders as he turned his eyes over to you, and there was a vague glint of open ended turn of clarity in his eyes as he turned his expression downward and onto your eyes, your posture having settled for keeping your hands gripped and caressed on his palm.

"I do." His ears lowered further, but for whatever shame or doubt he would have felt for speaking the question, there was a sudden turn of a light in his eyes as he turned his expression back to yours, and a vague sense of the idea of strength of his allowance to believe in them as his eyes turned back to yours, expression illuminated into the beauty of his expression as he turned his eyes over you. "I do want that. I want-her. I do want her." His teeth poked as he winced while he turned his eyes over your body as his eyes squinted onto you. "Is that ok? To bring her into something that as far as I can tell is just one problem and one pain leading from one into the other-but I do want it."

Your face was unreadable for a moment as you met the questioning of his eyes and the puffy nature of his tenderness and the guilt of his vulnerability; his expression winced across your hand as your fingertips caressed on his skin while you leaned your head forward and pressed on his fingertips. A shaky laugh left your lips; quiet, shaken as it eased into the air while you leaned your body forward and wrapped your arm against his lovehandles. Despite the clear tension that was dressing around his body, there was something about himself that became more flexabible as his arms froze being dressed around your body for a moment; and then, with a vague whimper of his breath that came along with his vulnerability did he ease his arms forward and press it around your body, pulling you into his lap as your body crossed against his thighs. He chuckled, this time in a far more full and indulgence tone as his snout curled into the edge of your neck while his snout turned onto the curve of your shoulders.

"I want her more than anything, to be here, with the two of us. Or any amount." His snout curved against your shoulder as he leaned his snout across the curve of your neck. "Of course I do."

"And she can be here.' Your palms shook as there seemed to be a layer that broke away from your face where previously there had only been a stagnant questioning; your eyes met into his with a wet that came across with the film of your emotion as your eyes turned into his eyes while your cheeks grazed on his cheek. Your eyes illuminated on the red of your eyes as an emotion broke; your hands shook across his cheek, and Bojack felt his own way crack, a rasped chuckle leaving his lips as his broke out over to your expression as a tentative humor met across his expression while his eyes winced and turnd across your eyes, the nervounsess of his rasped laughter easing against yours as he kept his hands on yours.

"Samantha, right?" His eyes turned over as his expression gleamed across your eyes while he tilted his head downward to be able to meet further on yours; there was a clumsy awkwardness that came along with his air as he turned his eyes down and met on yours while his fingertips eased across your cheek.

"I don't know. We'll see." Your head turned down as your lips began to pepper across his hand, and your own palm came to rest on the back of his plush hips as you began to ease him down onto the mattress. Bojack's eyes didn't leave yours as he allowed the plush of his body to be raised backward against the mattress, the sheets curling back from behind him as your hands cradled across the delcialy of his body while he allowed himself to be curled onto the front of the gray cushion.

"This will work, do you think? Not just tonight?" His voice was tentative, clumsy as his palms raised up to ease across the back of your head, palms caressing on the back of your shoulder as his chubby arms raised up above his head while your body began to ease over the curve of his plush stomach.

"I don't know. That's the entire reason why we have to be selfish; we need to understand that we don't know, and go for it, anyway." Your words were vaguely breathless, and Bojack chuckled lightly even as his face had that dress of a tremor across his features as you leaned his snout back, your head tilting to the side as your lips began to dress against the side of his cheek. Your body curled against the plush curve of his body as he gave a rasped hitched breathed while his head turned back as your lips pressed against his cheek, and he felt fully cradled as he began to feel yourself thrust into him again while the rhythm of the waves of his body began to become immersed into your love making again.

His had turned to the side, and his eyes widened as he felt a black shock go through him at the fact that he was allowing himself to tumble down onto the edge of a cliff of where he thought he would never allow anywhere to be searched or even thought of; black complacency was enough to make him feel conttment cheapness to it, and with it being ripped away now, he felt his stomach physically drop at the thought of the conception.

"Wait-honey." His head snapped up to you as his hands gripped your shoulder, breath coming out panting as he winced; but the curve of your torso kept on him.

"Samantha." Your lips turned from were your mouth was keeping on his cheek, and your head turned over to his lip as his teeth poked as he caught your lips on his, himself giving a gruff breath while your mouth pressed on his mouth as his ears flew back. "She'll be here, sweetheart, if you let her. Say her name, please."

"I-I did." His voice rasped into that usual confidence of his attempted grace, but his words were stammering through the emotional undertaking the prompt was giving him. His head turned up from where he was rested against the pillow, his arms easing forward from the mattress sheets while his teeth poked and eyes guided across yours. The wet in his eyes reflected against the outside light, the depth of his desperation easing into his muddled confliction. "I said her name earlier."

His voice was almost becoming whiny in his overwhelmed emotional undertaking, his eyes widened and the shyness of his expression dressed across his snout. There was a pain in his eyes that was double handed; on one, the inevitable stretching of personal layered exhustions and emotions of inner walls and hurt that came from the stretching of a long period of being alone and what he fear would happen on the other side; on the other, the abrasive changt that would come over him that would challenge any given comfort in his mundanity and cheap settlement previously.

"You have such depth to you. I can feel it beyond anything. It's cheap; or it feels cheap, because you've settled it with complacency and with settlement for things you never should have had to." Your palm came to caress across his cheek, and though there was that tender fear in his eyes and the wet of his dressing emotion, there was something relaxed coming into his air; a feeling of himself falling into the place where he was meant to be and where he belonged, no matter how long the journey to get there had been, or how much transformation it took, and no matter what opinion or perception might have dressed it up to make it something less than admirable. He was falling into the gradual acceptance of belonging there and of molding into the place where he had avoided for so long, and all because it had been far from perfect; but his exhaustion of avoiding it so long was getting the best of him. His shoulders lowered as his tender eyes eased across your expression as his shoulders lowered down while your hand rested on his shoulder, the other on his cheek as his body gradually turned down to the mattress fully.

"Samantha. I know." His hands came to rest on his torso as his head tiled up to the ceiling, hands rested on his chest as he turned his head up, a sobriety easing across his features.

"You'll be saying her name a lot longer than that if you allow this to break the way it's meant to. Even if it's terrifying or anything similar."

His ears splayed back, eyes turned up to the ceiling as the emotion on his eyes darkened in thought, but his voice came out tender, considerate, as he spoke; "I get it."

"Samantha." He breathed out the name this time, and there was a tender cramp on his features as he closed his eyes as his ears flicked downward, the muscles on his features trembling as he closed his eyes; there seemed to be a weight to the effort he was speaking as he titled his head to front, your hand still delicately cradling his cheek. "That's her name?"

"She'll be anything we want her to be; for a little while. And when she grows up and gets older and matures into whatever she's meant to, the timelessness of how much I've loved you and the depth of that will follow her, and we'll do what we can to follow her. The same way I did everything I could to follow you and love you, no matter how much effort it took, or how many doubts were following my way. You kept me clear headed and edged and straightforward."

"Good." He chuckled as his eyes winced while he turned his head back on the pillow, eyes winced as he turned his head up to the front of the ceiling that was splashed across the blue light in front of him. His hands rested on the small curve of his chest to the curve of his stomach, the intelligence of his emotional wisedom coming out in the quality of his rasped breath as his eyes squinted to the ceiling.

"Samantha." He said it with a wonder as the name rolled around in his mouth, eyes glinted up and turned over with wonder as his eyes kept on the ceiling, the innocence and the depth of the good and peace that he carried creaking out from even the idea. Your hips continued to ease against the front of his plush stomach, and agreement between the two of you of your bond of you gradually giving him he trails of his thought, the lending of your eyes leading to a minute end of vague more hope that came along with something as simple as belief. He lifted his head up only a few inches as hs eyes met yours. "How did you come up with that?'

"It just feels like her. The presence she is. I feel it, the same way that I feel how much I love you from the moment that I had time to truly focus on you. You took me in as soon as I began to feel who you truly were; spoiled and clumsy interactions and everything that makes up your complexity in between and beyond; there's something about the genre of the air of your story, your world, and how you carry yourself that brings me into the center fulfillment of my deepest longing, and I know I belong with the depth of you and your niche corner of your world and the eyes you've given me."

"Ok." He spoke it tentatively, his eyes wet as the emotion seemed they were pouring out of them from the wear underneath the wrinkles under his eyes. "So-you think this is a good idea? Long term? It won't become some cheap or terrible-or just, wrong later on in life that makes it worse for everyone Especially her. And, obviously..you." His eyes turned down as his expression tentatively turned up to the embrace of your arms as your palms caressed against his body. Your eyes dimmed in thought as your hips fully settled against the curve of his plush stomach as your legs entangled against his thighs and the pelausr e of your intimacy gave another wave of pleasure; Bojack's eyes widened at the feeling of it, and he turned his head up, eyes wide as he gripped agains the sheets. His eyes closed as his face clenched, fingertips gripping against the sheets as his eyes closed and the muscles on his features tensed with a cramp. Your head turned down as you felt the adorabtion of the boyish clumsy consideration of his tone, his breath coming out intense and rasped at the feeling of the emotion and decision you were striking through his body.

"I could spent the rest of my life in cheap complacent. Maybe even lessen the pain with mechiamins that would allow my brain and the emotional part of it to be settled enough that I could wake up and keep the ache that I know would kill me off to the side at least for a little while on the daily; like a mundane toll every day of keeping the ache just low enough not for it to consume me or to feel more than emotionally uncomfortable, but I would always know behind everything I did, everything I was, because the absence of the family I was meant to have with you would be so evident that I would never be able to do anything without that weight until I died. Not enough to kill me, but enough for me to feel it every day, with everything I ever am."

"Right." His voice was low and blunt in comparison to your tone as he continued to breathe his labor against your face, and another pleasure of your hips eased into his body. His eyes widened again as he took another heavy breath, ears splayed back as the muscles on his face treamored. "God, you are killing me tonight anyway. No matter what happens."

"I could do that. The way that you seem to be convinced would be for the best."

"And then it works out-and nothing too terrible ever happens again?" His eyes were closed, and he wa spanting in that clumsy, awkward way as he panted; it was a lovable and pathetic adorbaility. "Sounds like a better plan than the alternative."

"But I would already be dead."

"No, you wouldn't." He opened his eyes, glaring at you with that grumpy insistence as he waved his hand in front of him, as if to make a point in his grumpy cynicism, "You would be getting up, walking, talking, and not be traumatized. Ask me and that's the completely opposite of what you're describing."

"Maybe I can't explain it. The pain, the stagnant weight where the mistakes and the love and the possible-" You paused as your hands caressed up his arms, plush and welcoming and modeled as his body tensed under your touch. "-Trauma would be."

"And you want to take that chance?" His eyes winced as his expression turned up to yours, teeth poked and with the complication of his tender heart eased into his eyes. "There's still time left." His hands rested on the middle part of your back as your eyes searched his. "I could get birth control tomorrow, make sure we wear double condoms to ensure that nothing out of the ordinary happens." His fingertips tapped on the middle part of your back as he thought it over in his tender panic. "We can find our own way with the marriage in and of itself. I know we can."

You leaned your body forward and pressed your lips across Bojack's, the tender feeling of your action meeting into the adoration you had for his clumsy boyish apology of his tone. His head turned back as he gave an abrupt sound of his mouth while your lip caressed against his snout, his head turned back as his ears splayed back as the emotion in his lip met on your mouth. His hands caressed against the middle of your back as the low, mumbled an clumsy breaths breathed across your mouth as he closed his eyes while he turned his head back, the plush of his body molded onto the mattress as his ears splayed back while he gave the gruff sounds of the low tone of his lip across your lips.

Your hips thrusted against the plush curve of his skin further, your head tilting to the side as your mouth eased against his lip while your legs curled against his hip, head turned over to the side as he gave his gruff breath across your mouth. There was a simplicity to where the both of you were heading; to life in general; the both of you had experienced everything there was to life, and there was nothing left except for mirrors of past mental patterns, whther good or bad, and the same routnines of the understanding of life. But you heard the clumsy and lovable and intelligent rasp of the sound of his lip agasint your lip, the feeling of hs chubby palms across your body as your hips caressed and thurted into him, the remembrance that the specific way his tormented black, playful and soppy tender world was had invited you into a niche part of the world that was a rare and quick peak into a rare beauty of understanding of your reality together; the only place or the only specific road into reality and understanding of it that you had ever wanted to be, in his bittersweet, black, adorable genre of his life that he had painted for you to belong.

His hands were now welcoming themselves access the middle of your back as he continued to give the intimacy of his deep rasps, body giving away his content as your hips turned across his body that was now responding to yours with more confidence, plush stout legs and the curve of his stomach and the chubbiness of his arms wrapping across the middle of your torso as he continued to lead his head forward while the rasp of his pleasure met across your air.

His hands caressed against your hips, and he gave a grunt of a timid, overwhelming and adorable breath as his eyes winced while his fluid began to intermingle with the feeling of your skin across his; the cheapness of humor and detachment he had used to just barely carry him through life was now replaced by something far more enduring and human known as true human depth, and the believability that he could become apart of it.

"You give me clarity. A clarity of heart, energy, purpose." Your mouth was gasping as it turned across his skin. "I know that emotions aren't real and that I could live a controlled life of knowing you're here and that I could stay with you and love the life that I convince myself is bearable; but the more I chip away at the richness of loving you, the more I feel that fall away entirely."

"What? What is that?"

His voice was boyish, tender with the adorbality of his vulnerable humanity that was as lovable as much as it was seen as pathetic; for your own eyes, you had never seen or felt someone so worthy of love when the most tender helpless and awkward part of his personality came to the forefront; a grown man, pathetic and underdeveloped, and the both tender and easy to love and meeting into your love language for that very reason.

"You. Just you. That's all. It's so simple, but its the core of any complication that it would have if you were gone."

As he felt his semen passing through your legs that was keping by the rocking of your legs of the film of sweat of your intimacy, bare and open and on purpose for the first time in his life, he felt something overcome him that he had been gripping for in every woman he had ever been with; every relationship that had felt more like a compromised grappling for meaning and for satisfaction; but more than that, the ability to believe that he could genuinely feel the other woman love and reciprocate it to him-the feeling that under his cheap disposition, he was capable of being worthy of anything real at all.

"I don't even know what that means."

"You don't have to. The majority of anything worthwhile I've ever experienced had nothing to do with what I understood. The most human things I think either of us will ever experience is that they aren't."

I've never heard that said before in my life. Not one woman. The more woman I got with to think they could even want to love or see me when it was clear I was meant to play the majority of that role-and I couldn't, because I don't even know what that means. They wanted me to give them something that I didn't understand. I spent my entire life playing along with this Hollywood thing that people didn't matter, and yet the only people that did matter was getting the attention of people who said they didn't. I would say that both personally and professionally, I've proven to myself that I'm either."

His snout tensed as he gave a sharp intake of a breath while he turned his head back against the pillow, his breathing becoming more intense as he felt your hips continue to ease further against his skin; but in the safety you gave him did his voice come out calm, intelligent, thoughtful as he eased his head back onto the pillow. "I thought I had reached a point where there were these components of people of who belonged where in life for whatever reason." He winced, in that thoughtful and boyish way as his eyes turned down to where he was gripping the sheets. Your hips contuiend to rock against him, the slick feeling between your legs, and not for the countless time in the warmth rhythm that made up you taking care of one another was it proven that there was the deepest lessons in the most profound pain, rather than stagance. " I still think that. I think at a certain point, people are who they are-and it dosen't matter how that person got there. It just is what it is."

A slight hitch came in his throat; there seemed to almost be a physical pain that accompanied his words. You rocked yourself into his body one more time before you took the grey sheets and crumpled them around your hand. Bojack's eyes turned up as his expression winced while he looked up at you in tender question, his shoulders raising up from the mattress as your entangled the grey sheets across your hip while you eased your body off of the edge of the bed.

"If you want me to get drinks, I can." He sat up, placing his elbow on his knee as he watched you with his eyes lowered into that same exhaustion of dryness and emptiness; but there was a vague better energy now to his emotion as he watched you trip yourself out of bed. "Best thing about feeling like you weren't meant to be happy on this earth is to at least enjoy the benefits of drinking and of not even being here half the time and feeling oddly better than other people for it."

Your hips leaned forward as the beauty of the pale of your skin reflecting from the city eased into an illumination against your body; the gray sheet was currently hiding your breasts that was crumpled against your skin as you leaned your body forward for Bojack to take. His eyes widened as he gave a slight undercertain tender breath while he saw your hand raised out to his. The plush lump of his stomach eased against his thighs as his eyes turned up to yours in a vague dry question as his palm came to rest on your hand, thighs turning out from under the sheets as he began to ease his body off of the edge of the bed.

"I guess it would be stupid and pointless to go over and over again of the things that could be done differently if we've already made up our mind."

"If you're going to make this decision and know the pain behind it, let's process the pain and then mature and become even with the fear and know that nothing will change if we make this decision; but then the peace that comes after with acceptance can aid us. Can we do that?"

Bojack's eyes, though still heavily lidded and heavy with detachment, eased over the entangelement of the sheets that was dressed around your slender body that was beautiful and painfully longing for him for more than just the conventional mold of what his own loathing of his body type told him he didn't deserve from the standards that had been jammed into his disposition. He gave a shrug, something confident and both timid at the same time as his eyes followed your over to the window.

"I know I won't ever be able to look back on this and feel good about it if it's anything less than a good thing. But I feel it, too. So-either way."

His chubby palm squeezed against your hand as he began to followed you over to the square window that led over to the expanse of the city; there was a vague blue fog that was rested over the city buildings as it settled against it in a minute exhausted end of a whisper through the buildings that came along with the noise of pollution. There was an edge of neon light to it; not unlike the way the red fog had looked as the maddening look of the woman had opened her eyes into that twisted of a scowled disbelief as her head was snapped back and over through the intensity of the demand of it; though this time there was a surreal feeling of an astral blessing of agreement between your bodies and the air of your disposition and your decisions; and there was something far too addicting about the feeling of going forward to what felt like an electric nature of a bond between the both of you; but mostly; to undo the muddled nature of his complacency.

"Are you ok? Do you think that was enough? I can do it again if it would make you feel more comfortable." His eyes were tender as his teeth poked while the delicacy of his apology on his expression eased across your body as he stepped with your hand that was rested against his palm while you guided him over to the window. He gave a minute awkward and clumsy whimper as he felt your hand guide his palm over to the middle of your stomach again; with a tender, vague and uncertain "oh" did he feel his hand press on your stomach as your eyes turned up and met across the conflciton of his eyes as he felt your palm caress across his palm, ears lowered back while he felt the tremor of your skin across his hand.

"Couple of days." Your fingers squeezed across his palm. Bojack's eyes turned up as he winced as his ears lowered, vague panicked breath easing out of his tremor of his lip.

'What?"

"We'll check in a couple of days. For a heartbeat. Anything that shows off life. If there's nothing, then we can try again."

"Oh." His eyes, vaguely crossed in the hangover still passing through his body, turned down as he thought over your words. "Yeah. Sure. I guess that would be…how it would work."

"Try to remind yourself that our minds are full of tricks every single day; that we don't have to feel weak or sick or ashamed, or feel loneliness of the heaviness of our past sickness in isolation or whatevr sickly narrative our minds ever made up before." Your expression turned down to wher eyou had his hand entangled across his palm, and his eyes followed yours as your hands encurled There's nothing inherently wrong with you, there never has been. Don't let the curroption of other people of the world of just as equally muddled people stop you from trying to have peace with who you are at all hours. Nothing of any negiavity you or anything has ever said is real. Just other equally muddled minds trying to find the balance between loneliness from serpation of others and the long term issues they have with that, and trying to find agreeability with other's flaws when they can't handle it anymore."

"I think we need to stop analyzing what this is." His eyes turned down as a heavy consideration eased into his eyes as he turned his expresson down; the intelligence of his consideration eased across his snout, giving a vague shrug of his shoulders, timid and turning over in his troubled thought. " I'll do it enough as it is."

There was an admiration to his troubled thought, and your hands squeezed across his palm as the other that was keeping the sheet cramped against your chest fell down to the ground. Bojack's eyes turnd over to you as his expression enlightened while his eyes crossed over the pale of your body that was now illuminated further agaisnt the blue light that served as a backdrop agaisnt your skin. His expression lowered into a softer, gentler guidance as he stepped forward and eased his hands on your hips, and a peace overcame the compsct intleligent thought of his worries as his palms caressed against your skin while you curled into him.

"I'll try to be a wife who can give you something away from that. At least every time that I can. And God knows how much I love how much you overthink and your compact thoughts, anyway."

His snout tilted back as his eyes turned against your body in question; his palms gripped across your fingertips.

"Are you sure?"

"I'd rather have everything about you-your worries, your overthinking, the way you dress up the world with more proise and intelligence than anyone I've ever met. I'd rather the trouble than to have anything else."

"I don't know how long that's going to hold up." His eyes lowered down as he allowed his hands to be traced by your palm, but he stepped towards you as the brown of his skin reflected against the blue light, his hands gripping against your palms as his fingertips caressed your skin.

"Good. All the better."

"Well, good." A vague contentment turned into his eyes, though mostly there was that humble boyish fear as his expression turned up to yours. The curves of his body were especially drawn into the edge of the reflected blue light outside as it traced against his hips and on the stout height of his body while his eyes turned and met on yours, hands gripping agaisnt your palms as he caressed his hands across your body until you stepped back, your back curling against his form that seemed especially delicate and precious in how small and humble he looked in comparison to the blue light that was peeking out from the window. Your body curled upt to his as he stepepd forward tendively and allowed your body to curl agaisnt the window, your hips turning up as your head leaned agisnt the back of the window while your eyes turned up to meet his. His eyes turned across your breasts as he looked like the smallest uncertainty, but there was an ethernal timeliness to him that came along with someone who had been as worn and wrectehd across the timeline of his life as much as he had.

Your head titled to the side, and Bojack leane dhis snout forward as his lips pressed agaisnt the curve of your neck. His ears lowered as he pressed his intimacy across your neck, and the plush of his body that had long since dressed itself up to serve its purpose began to dress around your body as he stepped forward with his hands crueld across your hip, his skin reahcing aorund your body. As naturallya s much as the meaning and nature of loving one another passed through the sotires you shared btween one another, his stomtach culed agaisnt the torso of your body as your lips opened while your eyes fluttered under the end of his touch. He entered you again, this time with more of his own way, allowing himself to tske the forefront; there was a sense of making love to him that was of someone who had become lazy and complacent to a detriemntal degree of something who had never been told that they could be the one to start the meaning, to keep their enegry going because of it, and there was a refreshing leadership to him now as he leaned the curve of his stomtach across the edge of your body as your skin cirled across his stomach.

"There's simethig inside of you that's a certain magic I will never find in anyone else." Your hands came up to rest behind his mane, fingertips encurled against him as he gave a rasped breath across the side of your cheek as Bojack gave a tender breath of his amusemnt across your skin. His cock was pressed inside of you, his hips and the rytham of his body curling against yours as the curve of his stomach rythamcially pressed against your own.

"I spent my entire life feeling like I as seeing through the emotional windows of what would be, but there was no reflection of reality of that. No one was there to confirm that. It was always just a trashy feeling." His palm came to rest by the breathing of your torso as his palm rsted across the heave of your breaht that came from being adorned, his palm resting on your stomach as he leaned his snout acorss the side of your cheek, his other arm coming to tenderly wrap around your shoulder as he pulled you in. "Thank you for being my wife. For even letting me understand what that means."
In the somber authentic tone of his voice did your body turn agaisnt his arms, and the refeshment of how eveyrhting came to clartiy was communicated through your body as it rested across his embrace, a quit defeat between the two of you as your arms came to rest agaisnt his back. The cold feeling of the window rested agaisnt your body and agaisnt Bojack's palms as he took one of his arms that he wrapped agaist you in endearment and instead placed it behind the window, the pressure of your lovemaking increasing as he turned his snout forward and leaned it across your shoulder. You gave your own breaths as he made love to you, and the night went on as the rasps of his pain met through yours of the way you were untangling into a blossom of agreement through his intimacy.

"I'm always going to be low. With where life agreed to put me, there's no way I can ever not be. And I'll alwyas embody that, because it's all I can believe about myself." His snout leaned across the curve of your neck as he rasped his words across our skin. "You do know that, right?"

Your neck titled up, your breathing uneven as he felt your chest heaving across the feel of his skin across your body. Bojack's worn and heavied expression was turned to the side of your face as his chin rested against your shoulder. From how much he had been pulling into you with the natural rhythm and chemistry of your intimacy, he could sense how yo uwere breathing heavy and your voice hitched, your thighs sore. His hand came to rest on your legs, if only for a moment of rest. "I'm right there with you, wherever you are. And I mean that. You can feel a difference when someone means something, the same way a thought, about themselves or others, and I want you to feel how much I do."

Bojack chuckled as his snout turned against your neck, ears splayed backward as his hands came to rest on your hips while your body curled up from the window. His sore eyes turned up to the cold of the window still as his expression eased over to the tall Los Angeles buildings that were on they shy expanse over the roads and the hills that granted him both his freedom and his isolation. He felt your body curling and twisting back under his palms as your hips curled and curved under his hands, yourself letting out your softs gasps of your pleasure as your hips curled underneath his palms that held your skin, your skin cold to the touch as it melded against the other side of the cold surface of the window. His teeth poked as his eyes winced and turned over the expanse of the buildings, the illuminated light of the blue fog dressing over the city buildings and dressing over them in a reflective melancholic blue that dressed over them in a somber reflection, adding onto the eternal feeling of that rare feeling of somber medication between the both of you that only existed from the borderline nonexistance of two people that loved and took care of one another deeply.

His eyes closed for a moment as he felt your hips thrust against his legs again as your chest turned up and curled into the plush of his stomach. He took an intake of an intense rasp breath as his ears flicked downward further while he gave a shuffer, turning his snout downward and onto your shoulder as he kept his hand pressed onto the lower part of your back. He shuddered as his eyes closed while he felt the pleasure of the heat of your thighs continuing to thrust into his body while he felt the pleasure of the waves from your body weave through his skin, of the natural weariness that came from his lifetime of empty space and of the turn of the wretchedness of others and of how it had inevitably destroyed and worn him over a period of time that had caused his headspace of what should have been peace to become something turned up, rattled and shaken into issues that the other world had thrust on him over a period of time until there had been nothing left but mental issues that people had used agisnt him further, his weakness thrust on by others encouraged as even further weakness by their manipulation. The sickness and exhaustion of his heart and suffering that the world has manipulated into something only he experienced had done its job of turning him into an encurmenrbet of insanity and desperation to find relief into a wheirlwhind of issues, and in many ways could Bojack not remember the last time he had felt genuine peace.

But his head turned to the side of your cheek as the bloat of his cheek met across your face, and a somber look of peace crossed over his worn and wretched feautres for a moment as his burning eyes closed while he turned his head to rest against your skin. For a moment did he enjoy this feeling that he had once been so convinced didn't exist; the feeling of your hips as they turned against his body while he felt the way your hands and fingertips, occasionally twitching and inching across the middle part of his back were guidning across the slick of his brawny skin, the way he panted across your shoulders as his snout turned forward and leaned across your shoulder, the way you were treating him with the nature of someone who was genuinely precious; and with the way you were doing it, he was almost made to believe that he could feel it, and for at least a brief moment as he felt the rare of the inevitable finite feeling of you making love to him the feeling of what it felt to be genuinely and truly treated as someone treasured, rather than the replaceable forgettable trash he had always been made to believe that was cheap enough that he had always taken to following the narrative.

"She'll be beautiful." Your breath was whispered across his shoulder as your hips contuiend to rhythmically press against the curve of his stomach. His eyes opened up as his burning and edged eyes peaked out over through the wincing of his bittersweetness while he felt your palms caressed against the slick of his lovehandles.

"I wish this moment would stretch out and last forever." His chubby arms kept around your body as he continued to feel your body thrust and caress against his form as he kept his cheek by your body. A small smile raised up on the wear of his lip as he felt his arms caress your fully against his embrace. "It feels so safe here. Warm. Like there's so much meaning here that I thought could only be imagined and could only be crammed into the deepest corner of a headspace, if I could even manage that much. This feels like meaning, clarity-"

His eyes turned over the Los Angeles and their currently untouchable buildings that were crammed through the front of the ethereal look of the buildings under the bleu of the fog. As his worn and baggy eyes turned up to gaze across the hue of it, he felt an odd permission overcome him; a permission to trust himself and that o which surrounded him, the ability to trust the lack of control he had in anything in his life otherwise; and the same passing feeling of understanding that there was a peace to the acceptance that he felt being apart of it now that he had only had a vague minute understanding that he had been granted when he was a kid that had just as quickly been torn away before he had even had tangible memories that that was a reality before the even more apathetic world had taken that from him. "It makes me realize how stupid it all is, out there. That it dosen't have to be that way, or mean anything. The way people are. I know it won't last, but-to even just have this memory. To know that it can feel this way, that there's a choice that people can make up of how they dress up reality every day of their life-and people just chose the terrible one, because of course they do. And I let myself be dragged into that and become apart of it because it's all I'm surrounded by."

"We can have our family." Your head turned to the side of his cheeks as he felt the way your lip whispered across his cheek, your tone shaking and uneven along with the inaimcty that you were giving one another. Bojack have a shaky breath; one that was both of overwhelming thought, one part of someone that was overcome by the idea, one part of someone who had a tangible timid want and well itneitons of a tender heart that the details of had been scarred into your mind that would follow you regardless of whether you had the luxury close to heaven of being able to physcially cradle him every day of your life and the grounding feeling you gave one another through that; and every other complication of what made up his mind that would be left to the unraveling of what you hoped to do for him if he led his life forward being yours. "We can be lost in our own personal island until our life comes to an end. Anything else about existence doesn't have to concern us directly. We make choices constantly, even minute of every day, and like every person on this earth, regardless of status or wealth or otherwise, has that constant choice. We can make the choice every day to be there for one another, to take care of each other, to build a life full of want and hope and love; the rest of the world can tear itself apart."

"I'm sure you would know all about that." His voice was somber, tired, reflective as he kept his snout by the edge of your skin, and you only gave another shaky rasp of your breath against his skin as he gave a somber acknowledgement towards your body as it trmebeld under his plush hips giving you that repceitioation.

"I'm sure you would know about that, too." Your fingertips squeezed against his mane, fingers threading against it as your face turned forward into the welcome of the brown of his skin. He gave a shakiness of a breath as he turned his snout down and allowed the embrace of his body to dress around you; there was no rpessure to the intorfduction of your air and bodies interiwnting until there was nothing but that warm punch open of a space between your bodies; there was only a settling rytham of pure focus that came along with nothing but the lack of complication to love one another fully and reosoundly in the full presence of that moment, to cling onto one another, to know one another that came along with the need of survival of the freshness of being present.

"I bet she looks incredible, in the future." Bojack's squinted and worn features, dressed in his melchcony turned across your skin as your hips contuiend to ease through your privates while yor bodies contuind to intertwine into tha agreement of your bodies. "If she looks anything like you or carries even half of your wisdom, your hope, your endurance, that sweetness about you that's dressed up in just the right way-I have no doubt that she'll live a good life, no matter what she ends up deciding to do."

Your hips turned forward as your head leaned down and pressed on his shoulder. The love you were making continued to caress across his body, and he felt both the pleasure and the inteisnity of the way your were bonding with his skin as the plush of his stomach curved against your skin. There was a feeling of thought coming from your end of the consideration, and he felt his heart both squeeze and pip up in anticpaoion at the words you would speak to bring him back down to reality of his hope that he could trust the future that he was painstakingly allowing himself to believe that there was a chance it would be met by you with an air that was soothing, in the same warm promise you have one another of existing and carefully and mariticoulsy creating a perfect and detailed reality for one another just for the sake of living-to be thankful for the struggle, as it was what gave the both of you meaning and humanity each day, even if the goal to perfection was far from ever reached, if it had ever wanted to be to begin with.

"She'll be a horse. Beautiful, just like you; with that charamsia and that way that you have a natural way of being able to read people and a room. She'll have that air of natural originality and navoagtion about her that will carry her everywhere. She'll be the kind of person that can charm people, and whether its seen by other popel or appreciated or not, she'll have the emotional wisedom to carry herself every given day."

Bojack chuckled, lightly, almost shyly, as his eyes opened a little further at your words.

"I hope not."

"I know her. I don't know how to explain it, but I know her-the same way that I know you. It feels impossible to define success or what makes it tangible, or wellness or health, which is all anyone ever wants when it comes to anything people say they want; to become the exemption to suffering in the expanse of this crazy and selfish world."

"I get that." His voice was emotionall intelligent, following yours; admirable, sharp, far more than most that either got it or didn't care to execute it, or were incapable of understanding.

"She'll be incredible; she already is, because I know you, and you know me."

His eyes trailed up to where the blue was resting above the city buildings; his eyes took on a special kind of worry as he turned his expression up to the ble fog rested above the buildings. For whatever reason, whether it came from the feeling of lovemaking you were giving one another and the almost drugged and fogged over feeling it was giving him that detached him from all reality, or whether it was from the feeling of the night turning over as he fell into exhaustion for the night, or the events of what had occurred the past few days that melded into a disassociated fashion with the sureality of the maddening nature of what surrounded him did he feel himself not questioning the light as it began to form into a vague suggestion of a form of a curled body; the torso turned up into an upright position, the snout turned back while the blue fog came in and out from the light black of the sky that reflected agaisnt the light of the buildings.

As he watched it through his humbly human and fearful expression and turned the wretched worry of his eyes upward to the expanse of the blue, he saw the curl of the woman's body twist until he could clearly see the slender of her legs while it twisted over the apathetic buildings that Bojack knew was partly where his own personal hell reigned.

"It's a good thing that we're just discussing ideas." A vague watered smile crossed on his snout as his fingertips caressed on your skin, and he managed to father his snout away from resting on your shoulder as the heaviness of his eyes turned to your expression with a sleepy appreciation while his hands kept cradled on your palms. "I'm not sure how crazy I am about the idea of someone being such a physical reflection of me."

You wanted to respond, but Bojack, not so much with any trashy sexual teasing or even necessaily intentionally, thrusted himself further between your legs; you watched as your body curled up from the sudden onslaught of pleasure that was pressed into you. Your eyes fluttered as your expression watched over Bojakc for as much as the second before the warmth and the borderline pain of pleasure hit you; and then your head turned forward, your hips jutting against his body as he watched your plae body curve against the back of the cold glass, the neon light from the outside and the vauge look of the body adding an outline of a clmiaxtiv feeling that seemed like a physical agreement from the rest of the expanse of the city.

He felt the way your body curled back even further against the window; your lips were opened up as your head leaned against it, and Bojakc took to taking a few steps back, his palms curled across your hand as he felt the way your hands began to lie limp against his palm. The curve of your eyes fluttered shut as your lips opened and your head turned back, Bojack squeezing his fingers on yours in an attempt of grounding you as he saw your body curl against the window, muscles on your face tremoring as Bojack eased his cock further between your legs. He stepped back only a few inches to give your breasts and the slender pale of your torso space to cramp in front of him as your body twisted back.

The pale of the moldeing of your face looked epsiclaly comforting, beautiful in that comforting fashion that he could have spent a lifetime coming to and memorizng where there was nothing but emptiness and cruelty and the constant passing of the trahsiness of other people who had never cared about much of anything or ever would. The beauty of you face, still youthful but beginning to have marks on it that came along with someone long since worn by the world and wretched by it were reflected by the neon light from the outside as the hue traced across your features.

Bojack eased his body into you again; where there had used to be only feeble complacency at the acton, there was now a genuine attempt as his eyes turned over your expression while his teeth poked as he watched your body twist delicately under his pleasure, which was intense enough as it was, but tender from Bojack's uncertain end of things.

He was vaguely away of what seemed like a universal soft shrill of a noise; it sounded like something that had a purity to it that came from a natural soft shrill from the expanse of the neon lathered blue world from the outside as it dressed under the vague silhouette that dressed itself through the same ehtenral feeling that came from the melding of the blue from the outside, a narrative to an interwoven patheing that came from the outside expanse of the city that seemed never ending in its lonely chaotic expanse. Your back curled agaisnt the window until your feet were made white by the pressure they pressed on the back grey wall, your skin trembling across the back of the window as your head turned back and your lips opened into a trembling shock of your expression while the muscles on your features treamored with an inteisnity; and it was beautiful enough with the stinging singing of the occasional whispering he heard that came along with a distant melody of the moment that seemed form the same material as the blue fog of the overpass over the buildings that he felt his hips and his body in response to the trembling of the strain of your clmiax paralze him in his wake of his fascinaiton wit you. Your eyes fluttered frantically against your skin as you saw the blue light that was caress against your outline begin to lax back, and your entire body began to limp down and onto the window as you gave a depleted breath. Your head turned down as your body began to relax into your exhausted acceptance as your body eased down, head tilted forward as your face rested across your chest as the weight of your body began to come down.

"Sweetheart." His voice trembled, and still did the name of such affection feel strange in his mouth that had previously been met for nothing but actual name of business, temporary joke flings with girlfriends to pass the time of his muddled life that he never believed in to build anything real or felt the bleeif or need to; of cheap jokes and even cheaper punchlines and of empty cheap words he had been defined to believe his entire life was all he was; the faith he felt as he reached his palms forward and tenderly guided his hands on the slick of your skin as your head titled up to his again as he saw the heat of your eyes, and as you began to come back to coherent clarity at least for a moment did your lips raise up as the heat of your expression met his eyes. He chuckled, nervously, but with a vague end of charismatic confidence as his hands caressing your hips pasued as the heat of your eyes turned to meet his. "Are you ok?"

Your breasts shook to a degree that sounded like a physical reset from how intense it was; Bojack's snout turned back as his hands titled forward and eased across your wrists as your body began to turn forward while you came down from the rushing of the wamrht he ahd put you through. Your head titled down now fully as your body went limp, and you gave a shaky breath as your allowed yourself to step forward clumsily over to Bojack.

"Whoa. Easy. Bad timing, I know." He stepped back backward as his eyes turned across your body as you side stepepd clumsy from the window. As he kept his hands cradled on your wrists for the sake of balance, his hand moving from the side of your wrists and gradually caressed against your skin and over to the middle part of your body as he pulled you in fully to his embrace, he took to turning his eyes over to the blue sky settled in front of the buildings where the form had been a moment before; it had had the same air of settlement to it that he had had being around the focus of you. Your body curled into him as your naked body pressed across his skin while you gave an uneven breath of your mouth as you stepped your way clumsy forward and into his embrace. There was only a detached disassciaoted fog now where there had been a shape that had been recognized a moment before. Bojack's eyes wided as he gave an abrupt grunt of a breath clmusily as he felt your body stumbled further across his body.

"Whoa-ok-ok." His hands came and squeezed across your palms as he abruptly stopped you where you were clumsily stepping forward towards him in your sudden exhaustion. Your eyes turned up to Bojack, your expression looking vaguely disoriented as your eyes turned up this while you tried to collect yourself; there was a look in them that seemed foggy, distant, coming back from wherever it was either of you went when lost in each other for too long. But you blinked frantically as the emotional fog began to leave your eyes, and that sweetness of that emotional wisdom began to become fully present as your eyes turned back up to his in your presence of sensing him again.

"There you are." Bojack's expression turned down into a kinder, gentler relief as he reached a thumb forward and caressed it under your chin, if only for the habit of bringing you both back to reality for a moment as you came out from the intensity of the climax. "We're good, honey. We're good. We made the first step. We tried it." His eyes revolved across your expression as he gave a quick, nervous and feeling laugh while his palms continued to caress your skin. Your eyes flicked downward in thought a syou began to come back to yourself frm the inteinity of your involvement.

Your face broke out into your own breathy disbelief, and your eyes turned up as the full sweetness of your awareness met Bojack's eyes again. For whatever doubt he had ever had about his pain or the validation or sense of it, he felt there was all he understanding of coming home as he saw you begin to regain your balance as you stood yourself up.

"She's coming. This is the time." You have a curt nod of your head as you met Bojack's, and in his timid uncerinity did his pupils flick down at the words, though his attempt at being able to be the good confidence he wanted to be for you was attempted across his snout while he kept the softness of his tenderness on his snout as he gave you a quick nod.

"Well-this is the first step." He shrugged as he turned his eyes up, a sense of attempt of casualty from his end that was no doubt meant to keep away from fear at the promise of a genuine end result. "Who knows if this will actually last. I mean-" He chuckled as the bottom of his puffy eyes winced as he flashed his teeth at you through his grin. "-This can't be a promise that we'll actually have a kid. I mean, geez, it's only the first attempt, right? Might as well just call it a cheap blueprint that will have to get thrown away after, because that could very well be where this is going."

You began to readjust your balance, standing on the balls of your feet as you straighted up your body, and though your hands kept on Bojack's palm, you had a new sense of reaffirmation to your air as you turned your head up to meet Bojack's; his expression lost his confidence for a moment as his his face fell in the middle of your intention.

"Her name is Samantha, and I know her as well as I know you."

Bojack stammered, the muscles on his face cramping into a vague resistance as his head titled back. He laughed as his fingertips curled across your skn, nervously albite gracefully offering you both mutual approval and caution at the same time.

"C'mon, honey. We were just talking things out. Brainstorming. Doing little things to help us feel better. Honestly, there's really no guarantee that there will be any kid, much less than to have that specific one. Better to just wake up in a few hours and start out day and see what happens going forward but not to think about it too much."

"I know her." Your eyes turned against Bojack's form with a look of something that was detached and distant as your expression lowered down, your hands gently gripped across his palms as you kept on him for support; but there was a distance to your disposition emotionally. "I know this is something real. Something solid I can give you."

Bojack gave another one pathetic uncertain sound as his eyes watched your movements. Your face leaned forward to press on his knuckles as you gave him a kiss. Your eyes met back on his again; not necessarily challenging, but with a serenity of an emotion that seemed like the more settled verison of the foggy chaos in your expression a oment ago from the intertiwnaiton of the itesnity of your intimacy. There was a warmth there matching the red tint of your eyes that came with a trouble heart that seemed confident, stoic, no matter what amount of fear or logic he may have applied to it.

"Ok. I get what you're saying, honey. And I appreciate it. But Samantha isn't real. If we do have a kid, we need to make sure we can be prepared for something real. Something that will actually happen." His palms came to twist across your skin as his eyes kept on your cautiously. Your head titled up as your somber eyes met his; in the confidence of your sweetness did he feel like his words were empty, foolish, but there was no judgement there, only wisdom. He took a breath as his heavy lidded eyes turned down while his hands squeezed on your skin as a wordless reassurance to diappite anxiety.

"I'm glad we did this tonight. Even though I'm-terrfied more than anything about what it means long term. But I know when something feels good, and it's this..aunapologetic life to someone, rather than the emptiness of letting life trample who they actually are until there's this empty nothingness. No matter what else happens in the morning or however we decide to see things, thank you for that." His fingertips caressed against your skin as his head titled forward and met across the red of your eyes, compact with emotions and narratives he was now certain he was never meant to understand, but certainly to feel. "Thank you for being my wife."

Your lips raised up, supple and bittersweet as your eyes turned down in a vague thought for a moment. Your hand caressed across his palm as you brought his hand cradling yours over to your stomach; he gave a more tender noise this time of his off guard uncerintity as his ears flicked back while his pupils watched over your expression as you raised up your lip while your hand pressed against the still heaving curve of your stomach. Bojack's ears splayed back as he felt the skin ease across his palm while you guided him with your eyes.

"Without you I would jus be someone that would have the certain eccentricity of seeing and feeling existence for the terrifying emptiness that it is without the usual grounding of a fake purpose of a job t see the truth. Because of you, because of Samantha, I'll know what it feels like every day to have a purpose rather than the terrifying expanse that nothing is without you, my husband, the love of my life-" Your head titled down as your lips pressed on his knuckles, and he watched as his teeth poked while that natural look of apology he always carried with him followed your movements. Your head titled up again as your fingertips caressed on his palm. "-With our family. A true, genuine and human purpose; what we're meant to fulfill. No distractions, no fake sense of fulfillment, but a constant and fulfilling life."

Bojack took a moment, then chuckled in that shy and uncertain way as his eyes flicked down for a moment, then his pupils turning back up to yours after a moment of fleeting thought of shyness. "That does sound pretty good."

The morning of the next day ws already starting to take over the snapshot of where your body had been curled against the window a moment before; the moment of that ethernal intimacy between you was already becoming something that would, at best, be a profound memory to enrich the present, or would become a stagnant baggage if the future held any of the punishments Bojakc feared it would that would come along with loss.

But the orange sunlight began to raise over where the blue fog had been and the vague sound of a gentle low whispering that seemed to come from the most blessing of nature, and already was logic taking the majority of perception, rather than emotion. His eyes winced into that tender and attempt at helplessfull as his hand reached out and caressed against the middle part of your back, giving soft vague tender breaths as he pressed his hand on the middle part of your body while he pressed your body off, still limping from the force as you came to rest across Bojack's embrace while he turned you both to the bathroom, the stagnant light now less harsh as the noise and busyness of the daylight city began to meet it.