Eloise tapped on her smartphone screen, stopping the timer app.

"Twenty four minutes and nineteen seconds." She announced as a sweat-drenched ram darted past her.

He stumbled to a halt, finally throwing his head down with a dramatic gasp. The hare unceremoniously tossed a water bottle at him, but he failed to react in time and it smacked against his horns before rolling away some paces from him.

"Smooth." Eloise snarked, leisurely walking after the bottle.

Although Desmond was still too winded to answer, he shot her a grin in between his panting.

"Yes, yes." She understood the meaning of his smile. "You made it in under twenty five minutes. I'm so very proud."

"F-fuck your pride…" He wheezed. "Th-that means you pay for next dinner."

"That was the bet, yes." Eloise smirked back. "Your stinginess remains your greatest motivator."

With that, she walked up to him and held the water bottle against his forehead, causing him to flinch at the cool sensation. The condensation droplets soaked into his wool, relieving him of the fervent heat trapped inside.

"That's my best time yet." Desmond announced proudly, taking the bottle from his girlfriend.

"Your classmates will be very impressed." Eloise watched him gulp down the contents of the bottle with a raised brow. "Yet I seriously doubt anyone is taking this stupid thing as seriously as you are."

"Yeah, well…" The ram licked his lips, rattling the now empty bottle. "It's an excuse to get some cardio in. I've been meaning to train for a 5k anyways."

"Although you're nowhere close to my record…" The long-eared female remarked. "I have enjoyed training with you the last couple of days. As much as I can enjoy exercise, in any case."

"I thought hares would be more prone to running."

"Perhaps, but this hare is averse to sweating."

"Does it gross you out?" Desmond asked in a mocking tone as he crept closer to her.

"Don't you dare—"

It was too late, as the ram wrapped his arms around her torso, trapping her own arms in the bear hug and maximizing the amount of direct contact made. His girlfriend screeched, uselessly struggling against his muscle-toned frame. The ram's moist wool reeked of sweat.

"Let go!" She hissed. "Let go, I say!"

"What, you can't wriggle out?" Desmond laughed.

Eloise twitched to the side, but it only caused her body to bend at an angle, forcing her face into Desmond's wooly neck.

"Ack!" She cried, muffled by his fur. "Enough! Uncle!"

Her boyfriend hummed in mock consideration at her white flag, but after a few seconds, finally relented. The hare instantly jumped back as soon as his grip was weak enough to slip through.

"You… menace." She growled.

"Am I not allowed to hug you?"

Eloise scoffed, trying to retain her furious glare. "That was disgusting."

"I should go home and shower anyway." He brushed her attempt at anger aside and began walking to the nearest bus stop. Begrudgingly, the lagomorph followed behind.

"Come back to mine. Once you're no longer a sweaty abomination, we can resume hugging."

"Cute. But I have classes tomorrow. As do you."

"Tch."

"You're more than welcome to join me for another run, though. And actually run this time." Desmond offered.

"I ran with you the first couple of times. My generosity does not extend further than that."

"So you're sure you don't wanna do the Fun Run? You'll get to see Brian and the secretary."

"And the president."

Desmond shot her a look as if to say 'don't start.' With an ambivalent shrug, she obliged.

"I rather despise these little school events. Even when I was active president, the Fun Run was the most tedious ordeal to organize."

"But now you're an outsider. No stress." The ram insisted. "If anything, to cheer me on?"

Eloise looked at her partner's hopeful expression and stroked his cheek. "I would never cheer for you."

The ram chuckled miserably. "That sounds about right."

"I hope you have fun."

She said it rather awkwardly. Eloise was not used to unironic positivity with no hints of sarcasm, so it came out unnaturally, and her face was tinged with discomfort. Desmond almost found it endearing, except for the fact that she was once again blowing off a potential date idea.

The two eventually parted ways, and Desmond made the long journey back to Noah's Arc. By the time he passed through the tall entry gates of the academy, the sun was but a bleeding wound spilling orange and red streaks that pooled at the bottom of the inky night sky, and most students had already returned to their dorms. The dormitories jutted out against the darkening horizon as pillars of pure black, interrupted by miniature constellations of lit windows. As dangerous as dusk could be for a herbivore, Desmond had to admit it gave the academy a beauty like no other.

The ram solemnly hiked the uphill path to the central buildings, passing by the stygian lawn that now resembled a dark lake. If it were not for the lampposts that illuminated the main path he walked on, he too would be wading through the absolute darkness. Such a thought was enough to make his wool stand on end. Now that his sweat had dried off, even the faintest of breezes blew right through him with an unmerciful bite.

He reached the top of the hill, where the cobblestones leveled evenly and split into several diverging trails. Desmond considered making a stop to the cafeteria, but his exhaustion convinced him to simply dine off of whatever remained in his mini fridge, and so, he made for the male herbivorous dorms.

Suddenly, he noticed something in the encroaching darkness. Under a flickering lamppost stood a bench, and on that bench was... Hafsa. Her head hung back, sunk into her neck and exposing the glistening white of her fangs. Her arms stretched to grab either end of the upper back rail. It was a less than flattering pose, reminding the ram of dozing old men he would pass by in parks.

"Haf…sa…?" He approached her and timidly reached out, though not daring to actually disturb her.

The serval snapped to attention immediately. Her eyes trained on him, and after a quick look-around, she seemed to have understood the situation.

"O-oh, um, hi!" She stuttered. "I was just going back to my dorm and I sat down to watch the sunset for a bit and I must have—"

"Slow down." Desmond tried to calm the motormouthed feline. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Uh, yeah! A-okay!" Hafsa grinned a bit too forcefully. "The air was really nice and I just wanted to clear my head for a bit. Looks like it was a bit too nice."

"You've been here since sunset?" The ram repeated. "That was like two hours ago."

The female blushes. "It's been a long day."

Student council drama, no doubt. Desmond was intimately aware of the recent string of violence plaguing the academy. Someone as meticulous as Hafsa must have been up to her neck in work, especially with the Fun Run around the corner. No wonder she passed out just by watching the sunset.

"God, were you gonna spend the night out here?" He asked, exasperated.

"I guess it's a good thing you showed up then…?" Hafsa chuckled sheepishly.

Desmond remained unsatisfied. "For wool's sake… You may be a carnivore but you're still a female. Have some more self-awareness."

She flicked her ear, annoyed. "I know. It just happened, okay? Besides, I'd like to see any beast stand up to me."

"Oh? Are you Noah's Arc's apex predator now?"

"Your mighty student president took down a Bengal tiger all by herself, did she not?" The serval grinned haughtily. "I am this academy's alpha."

Desmond snorted. "Oh yes, how could I forget. We are but peons that grovel at our mighty alpha's feet."

"Very good, my minion. I shall let you live another day, then."

They exchanged subdued laughter until Hafsa finally stood from the bench. The ram almost forgot how much taller she is than him. Now that they were spending far less time together, he found himself forgetting little details about her. How her whiskers perked up as she smiled. How her tail curled around itself when she was lost in thought. How her dark spots lit up in a rusty brown color under harsh light. Such minute things escaped his memories the longer she was out of sight, yet so easily returned at the smallest glimpse of her. She was always Hafsa down to the smallest feature, whether it was appreciated or not.

It occurred to Desmond that perhaps he had been staring at her for too long. He cleared his throat. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Her expression softened. "Yeah."

"You can start be letting me walk you to your dorm."

"Uh huh." Hafsa rolled her eyes. "Carnie walks herbie home. Them's the rules."

"Well, I tried."

The duo made their way to the male herbivore dorm.

"And what are you doing out so late?" Hafsa asked. "On the hunt for defenseless females?"

"Hardly. I just got back from the city. I… met up with Eloise this afternoon."

"Oh, that's nice!" The serval smiled. "Glad to hear that's still going." Her eyes widened. "Sorry that sounded shady. Of course you two are still together. You're a great match and I'm happy for you is what I meant!"

"And with the brevity of a haiku."

"Okay, awesome, I'll just stop talking forever now."

"Maybe this is just me being an empath but you seem a little on edge."

"Who me?" Hafsa chuckled sardonically. "I just haven't been getting my eight hours, is all."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, me too." She yawned. "At least things will clear up somewhat after the Fun Run."

"Maybe the exercise will be good for you." The ram offered. "I'm sure the cheerleader in you would agree."

"She's been retired for a while." Absentmindedly, the serval reached into her bag, producing an energy bar.

"Oh-ho." Desmond whistled. "Dinnertime already?"

"I ate early. But I could use a little energy boost to get me from here to my bed." She answered, stripping the snack out of its aluminum foil and chomping down.

"Better it than me."

"You're a bit too small for my appetite right now."

They continued their banter until reaching the foot of the male herbie dorm. Hafsa took a moment to look up, admiring the faint glow of light emanating from the building.

"Well, here we are."

Desmond kicked at the ground. "Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company."

"Thanks for waking me up. The mosquitoes would have eaten me alive."

"That's what you were worried about?"

The serval giggled. "Good night, Desmond."

God.

Hearing his name in her voice... he never much cared for the name 'Desmond' but it sounded like a magic spell when she said it. He wanted her to say it again.

Fuck.

No.

"Night."

He turned and brusquely marched inside his dorm. He regretted his callousness instantly, but it couldn't be helped.

"It's nice talking to you again. You know, as a friend."

He said this to her back in the escape room. At the time, he genuinely meant it. Hafsa made his life brighter, regardless of their relationship. Even if they just happened to lock eyes from across a room, it still meant something to him. But they can't be anything else. They can't even be best friends. They shouldn't want to.

Desmond was dating someone, and so was Hafsa. Even if she thought nothing of him, the ram had to acknowledge that a filthy, horrible, irreplaceable part of him would always want more. And that wouldn't be fair to Eloise, or Hafsa, or Solomon, or himself.

The more time spent with her, the more his bad habits resurfaced.

Despite Eloise's cynicism, she agreed to join him in one last training session the day before the Fun Run. They met at the same street as usual, and to Desmond's surprise, she wore athletic clothing: a matching sports bra and knee-length legging combo complete with running shoes.

"I suppose if I won't be going to that idiotic run, I might as well join you in this." She explained, acutely aware of her boyfriend's ogling.

"Here I thought you had some evil plan to beat me so hard on this run that I'd lose motivation for tomorrow."

The hare snorted. "An added benefit, I suppose. I do indeed plan to humiliate you."

"Let's make another bet." The ram suggested as they began stretching. "Loser has to do whatever winner says."

Eloise's ears pricked up at that. "For a whole day or just one request?"

"Just one thing. I gotta look out for myself on the offchance you do beat me."

"And this can be anything?"

"Anything within legal limits."

Eloise smirked. "Oh, I will enjoy this."

A shiver ran down Desmond's spine. "Maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut…"

Once the pair had finished their stretching, they took their final swigs of water before lining up at the imaginary start. They already knew their goal: an ivy-covered old building with a yellow fire hydrant out front approximately five kilometers from where they stood. Eloise took her phone from her waist bag and showed the sheep the stopwatch app, displaying "00:00,00" in bold text.

"Last chance to back down, Desmond."

He gulped. "No way."

"Your funeral."

With that, she clicked the start button and dashed away.

"Wha—" Desmond bleated, scrambling to a jog. "No fair!"

"All's fair in love and war!" The hare called out some strides away.

The race was afoot. Desmond and Eloise had run together during the first few days of marathon prepping, but it was mostly a platitude on Eloise's part. Despite exercising far less than her horned counterpart, her birthright of being born a hare naturally gave her an edge when it came to agility, and so she mostly just matched his pace and kept time for him. A proper race between them would give Desmond a proper look at her true athletic potential.

So far, her reputation held true; regardless of her trick start, she gained a comfortable lead through sheer speed, leaving Desmond to toil behind her. But with his days of training, he was not going to give up so easily. A 5k run is ultimately a battle of endurance, not speed. So long as he could keep goading her on, she would tire, and he would claim the ultimate victory.

"If you slow down, I'll jab you!" He taunted, giving the air a good headbutt with his four horns.

"Then I won't slow down."

She has the arrogance of someone who's already won. Desmond thought. Let's see how long that lasts!

Around the ten minute mark, the male pushed to close their gap. His opponent watched as he galloped to her side but made no attempt to flee.

"Feeling the pressure yet?" He prodded, trying to gauge her exhaustion.

"I've broken more of a sweat trying to open pickle jars."

"I think that says more about how puny your arms are."

"Then maybe when I win, I'll make you open all of my jars from now until the end of time."

"So this was your whole goal all along. I'm just a glorified jar opener. You literally objectified me."

Eloise smiled. "You're selling yourself short. As far as jar openers go, you're not half bad at running."

"I don't need your pity compliments!" Desmond spat with a sneer.

They exchanged some more big talk for another ten minutes until the path they ran down became more crowded, forcing them to lower their voices out of courtesy. It wasn't uncommon to find the city streets bustling with people, especially on a Saturday, but they specifically chose this route for its history of low foot traffic. They jogged in silence, hoping the mob would eventually thin out, but to their dismay, it only grew denser.

"What's going on?" Desmond mumbled to his partner, who in turn slowed down.

"No clue. Some kind of event?"

The pair assessed the crowd. It was immediately obvious that this was no ordinary gathering; all of the surrounding animals were carnivores. Specifically, wolves. Sheep and hare's original race was quickly abandoned at this realization, and the two opted to stick close and tread carefully.

"We should leave. Find another path."

"Right." Eloise fished her phone out of her pouch and rushed to open her GPS app, but a sudden bump on her flank causes her to drop the smartphone.

"Shit." They said in unison.

"I'll get it." The ram offered. " Stay behind me."

He ducked down, trying to find the metallic sheen of the phone amidst the sea of shoes. A task much easier said than done when exposing one's back to one of the most dangerous carnivores on Earth. After some scanning, he turned up empty. Cursing internally, he gave up and stood back up, only to find Eloise gone.

Vanished.

Immediate panic overtook him. Could she have been…?

No. Desmond shook his head as if to expel the very thought. This is exactly what those assholes at DAVID would expect.

She must have gotten swept up in the crowd. Still terrifying, but at least that means she's alive, and hopefully not too far away. Knowing her, she certainly wouldn't call for him. Eloise was the type to die silently trampled before causing a commotion. So it was up to Desmond to raise his voice.

But among so many wolves…?

Would they get annoyed? Angry, even? They may not be predators, but they could still flush him out of the area before finding the hare. Desmond ultimately decided to weave around the larger animals before making any rash decisions.

The canines marched dutifully on towards their mysterious destination as the sheep maneuvered around the flock as gracefully as a four-horned animal could. The carnies seemed to pay no heed to him, far more interested in their own conversations. Desmond wasn't particularly invested in whatever they had to say, instead using his focus to keep an ear out for Eloise's voice. If only he were a little taller. Or a lot taller. He could hardly tell what direction he was going amidst the shifting forest of fur. The less progress he made, the more frustrated he became. Weren't wolves supposed to be solitary? What kind of pack has hundreds of members?

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. Wait… sweat? Oh, no. He must be reeking of sheep and that means Eloise must be reeking of hare. If a hungry wolf managed to single them out… Desperation took hold of him.

"Eloise!" He shouted, astonished at how he could barely hear his own voice amongst the pack. The ram could only pray the hare's hearing was sensitive enough to pick up on him.

Desmond wandered around more, enduring the shoves and bumps of unaware wolves. Each time he called for his girlfriend, his voice rose, becoming more urgent. Suddenly, a strong push knocked him to the ground.

He instinctually raised his arms to cover his head, recoiling into himself for fear of getting trampled.

"Hey, my bad." A voice said above him. Hesitantly, he looked up and locked eyes with a grey wolf. The canid eyed him with a look of concern, head cocked and ears at attention. He had his hand outstretched, and without thinking, Desmond took hold of it, allowing the much stronger male to pull him back up to his feet. Unlike felines, wolves don't have retractable claws, so the feeling the razor-sharp nails wrapping around his wrist nearly caused his heart to falter.

"You okay?" The wolf asked, dusting the ram's shoulders.

"Y-yeah, thanks."

"You should probably head for another street." The carnie warned. "There's a big event for wolves up ahead."

"I figured." Desmond looked around. "But I'm all turned around."

"Well, fastest way out is against the current. But I wouldn't recommend it, obviously. Maybe once you're at the venue you can call someone to pick you up?"

"Venue…? What's going on exactly?"

"The Great Pack Meeting. It's a gathering of all local packs. But more importantly, it's where all the young wolves go to get initiated into a pack."

That sounded like something Desmond would absolutely not want to go to. A sheep walking into a den of wolves… that's hilariously stupid.

"Listen, I'm looking for my girlfriend. We got split up in the crowd. I'm just trying to find her and leave, we don't wanna intrude on your pack meeting or whatever."

"Girlfriend?" The wolf raised his head and scanned the area. "Is she a sheep too?"

"No, she's a hare. Big long ears, brown fur, scar on her face, running clothes…"

"Hmm.." The canine grimaces. "Can't see her." Suddenly, his eyes widened as if struck by a great idea. "I know! Now's the perfect time!"

"…For what?"

"I can test out my howling!"

Before Desmond could ask to elaborate, the young wolf let out an ear-shattering howl that cut through the surrounding chatter like a knife. Every other wolf around turned to them, silent and attentive, until the howling wolf finally quelled his baying. The surrounding animals continued to walk, but the air remained filled with an ominous silence.

"What the hell was that?" The ram hissed, more on guard than ever.

"I asked the others if they can spot a brown hare."

"What? How? That was just…noise!"

"Howling language is old, but it's part of wolf tradition!" The carnivore wagged his tail proudly. "It's very complex, so us aspiring packmmates train hard to at least know the basics before the Great Pack Meeting. Pack leaders teach us the really advanced grammar later on."

A faint howl in the distance echoed throughout the still-silent street. The wolf's ears pricked up at this.

"Oh, someone found her!"

"What?!" Desmond bleated. "Really?!"

"Yeah! Lemme ask where they are!"

He let out another howl, shorter than before. After a few seconds, the mystery wolf responded with another cry.

"Okay, they should be down here." The wolf turned to face the opposite direction they were walking. "Grab on."

He wagged his tail emphatically. By grab on, did he mean…?

Desmond was hardly in a position to argue. He palmed a handful of surprisingly fluffy tail and allowed himself to be guided by the young canid. The large carnivorous shield parted the current of animals with ease, protecting the herbivore from further shoving. Occasionally, the wolf would yip or bark into the open air, only to be met with a quick response.

Eventually, the two came across another gray wolf, a female a great deal older than Desmond's guide, holding the arm of a trembling hare.

"Ah, you must be the boyfriend!" The stranger waved to him before nudging at Eloise. "Look, here he is."

Eloise looked to Desmond and walked to his side with exaggerated coolness, but by the way she gripped his arm, he knew she was seriously freaked out.

"Did you find my phone?" She asked, avoiding his gaze.

"No, sorry."

"I was going to buy a new one anyway."

The male wolf lolled his tongue out contentedly. "Thanks for helping, miss!"

"It was nothing. I just happened to spot the little one curled up against the wall when you asked."

"How was my howling…?" The wolf asked timidly. " I don't get to practice very often."

"Flawless pronunciation!" The female carnivore answered with an approving grin. "I had expected you to be a lot older! How can a pup so young howl that fluently?"

"Gawsh!" The wolf's tail went into overdrive, cooling the herbivores off like a fan. "Thanks, auntie!"

"You'd make a fine addition to our pack." She mused. "Unless you already have one in mind."

"Excuse me," Eloise suddenly snapped. "Sorry to interrupt but do you think you could escort us out of here?"

"Oh, sure." The older carnivore approached them. "Let's call the staff. They'll take good care of you."

Before either of them could protest, she let out another high-pitched howl. Within minutes, a uniformed arctic wolf appeared at their side.

"Security here." The wolf declared. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Could you take these two back to the main streets?" The she-wolf asked politely.

The guard nodded. "Of course. Just follow me."

"You two take care, okay?" The female canine smiled, followed by the younger male.

"Yeah, see you around!"

Desmond nodded, a wave of guilt suddenly washing over him. "Thank you very much, both of you."

Eloise said nothing, only clutching onto Desmond's scarred arm tighter. With that, they followed the snow-white security guard down the road.

"Are you okay?" The sheep whispered to his partner.

"I'm fine."

Definitely not, then.

"You know…" Desmond started. "This means I win."

Eloise's expression turned less distraught, and looked at the sheep with questioning eyes.

"Look." He pointed at a yellow fire hydrant a few meters behind them. "I'm pretty sure I made it there first."

The hare let out a bemused wheeze, smiling despite herself. "So you have. Congratulations. Meaning I, as the loser, am obligated to do whatever you say."

"That was the deal."

"So? What is your wish?"

"Hmmm…" Desmond let out a prolonged sigh, as if considering thousands of possibilities. "I command you to let me take you home."

The hare raised her brow, nose twitching, before clasping her mouth shut with her hands. Small nasally laughs escaped between her fingers.

"You really are stupid." She said at last. "You were going to do that anyway."

The inside of Eloise's studio remained a cool twenty degrees as it was since the last time Desmond visited and every moment in between. Her air conditioning was perhaps her greatest treasure in life, even if it was paid in full by her parents. Her boyfriend often teased her for it, but he had to admit that returning to a crisp and cool room after an exhausting and very hot day was a feeling he assumed comparable to a carnie drinking blood for the first time. In short, addictive.

"Are you staying for dinner or does Cinderella need to leave before midnight?" Eloise asked, with her typical confidence and snark restored.

Desmond paced around the glass display case, where the lagomorph's impressive assortment of crystals gleamed. "I need to be at the Fun Run early, but if you don't mind that, I don't mind staying over."

To that, the hare let out a satisfied hum. "Okay then. Go shower while I get started on dinner. I refuse to let your ram stench infest my room any longer."

"I'll just rub myself on all your towels while I wait for the water to get hot."

The two were still chuckling by the time Desmond closed the door and turned on the shower tap. The now familiar stream of water sang its usual shrill song as he undressed. He observed the corners of the mirrors as they began to fog up, and took it as a sign that the water was ready.

Hot water was miraculous for sore, overexerted muscles. He closed his eyes as the steaming liquid ran down in rivulets, dripping from the hard keratin of his horns and tracing his frame until finally slinking down the drain. The heat of the water settled on his left forearm, intensifying the throbbing pain that had been bothering him for some time. Eloise had held it too tightly, and as a result, she reignited the strain of an old scar.

He rubbed some shower gel into the greyed mark absentmindedly. It tore through his arm like a crack on parched soil. He remembered exactly how it felt like, where Hafsa's claw sank into his tender flesh, staining his white wool a shade of red so vibrant, so… alive.

His mind turned to the wolves. He felt embarrassed at his initial distrust, especially when they proved so helpful and kind. They didn't need to be, after all; it was a gathering of their kind. They could have done whatever they wanted to the two herbies under the justification of intrusion. But then… why would they? They weren't beasts. They were people. And people often choose to be kind even if there is no reward.

I never got their names.

Desmond traced the length of his scar.

Dinner was typical of Eloise's standard of quality: all vegetables, not a carbohydrate in sight.

"Are you trying to doom me?" Desmond picked at a cherry tomato, trying in vain to stab it with his fork. "Have you ever heard of carboloading before marathons?"

"There's probably some crackers in the pantry." The hare suggested, tone apathetic. "It's a 5k, Desmond, you'll live."

"Maybe I should have made my request to order pizza."

"I told you you're stupid. Now, come on, let's watch a movie."

Desmond knew what that was code for, although Eloise seldom did the roundabout thing of using a code. They hardly made it past the opening credits before the hare began to nuzzle against the sheep's wooly neck. Part of him hadn't expected the female to make a move, considered the stress she underwent, but then again, Eloise always moved at her own, inscrutable pace.

Nuzzling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to making out, and making out turned to touching. The laptop playing the movie was flipped shut and discarded to a corner of the bed, the couple repositioned themselves in the center.

Desmond had gotten to know Eloise well during their time together. Her coarse fur turned soft the deeper he sank his fingers in, and for all of her bravado, there were certain spots that turned her meek as a rabbit, at least for a few seconds. While her docility lasted, her lover gently flipped her underneath him, nipping at her velvety ears while hands traced the length of her nightgown, finally settling at the lacy hem.

Eloise's hand eagerly joined his, helping it raise the fabric above her head until she laid in only bra and panties.

"Your turn."

The female lunged at Desmond, bringing him down and swiftly rearranging herself on top of him. She made quick work of his own clothing as he ran his fingers down the flank of her torso, swirling on her thighs and back up again, ruffling the tawny pattern of her coat. The ram tried looking into her eyes, but often found he could never hold her gaze for too long; many times the hare's gaze proved too intense and made him nervous. Instead he liked to look at her other features: her sinuous ears, her slender waist, her delicate breasts, her sylphlike legs... But for some reason, his eyes caught his outstretched left arm that caressed her abdomen, and the scar that indented itself into his wool.

Even then he felt the wound ache in dull pulses, matching the frenzy of his own heart. It was distracting.

"Desmond…?" Eloise whispered into his lips.

That was his name. A name he didn't care much for.

He got distracted. "Sorry." He muttered, resuming the kiss. His lover played along, willing to ignore his faltering, and slid her hands down his chest, past his abs, following the direction of his v-line, into the secrecy of his boxers…

"Hm?" Eloise opened an eye, quirking one brow up. She confirmed her suspicion with another stroke.

"You're… not hard."

"Give me a minute." Desmond reddened, jerking his head up to chase after her lips. "Keep going."

The female was unconvinced. She retracted her hand from his boxers but remained atop him, straddling his waist.

"Something's bothering you." Eloise concluded with some annoyance.

"No, nothing's bothering me." Her lover insisted, gripping at her thighs. "Come on, don't put me on the spot like this."

"You don't have performance anxiety, Desmond. I think I would know that by now."

"It's nothing, its just…" The ram sighed curtly. "It's really nothing."

Eloise's face turned pensive. When it comes to sex, suddenly she turned into an ace detective.

"Something happened with the cheetah, then? Hannah?"

"Hafsa. Serval."

"So I'm right?"

"No!" Desmond bleated. "Not at all! We're hardly even friends anymore!"

"So that's the issue?"

"Why are you trying to play therapist right now? Can we just have sex?"

"You're clearly not in the mood."

"Fuck's sake…" Desmond slumped back down on the mattress, his left arm covering his eyes.

"I know what this is, Desmond." The hare continued. "Despite your obvious denial and pathetic insistence that we are actually dating. This has always been about her, right?"

"Where the fuck is this coming from—"

"The whole mixup with the wolves had you rethinking your entire relationship with carnivores again, which reminded you of your ardent love affair with the carnivore who got away and broke your heart, and how life can never be the same with her but also how it can never be the same without her because you're a melodramatic bleeding heart who overcompensates for your own self-hatred by championing the rights of animals who would love nothing more than to eat you." She took in a gasp of air. "Or something along those lines. Am I close?"

Desmond opened his mouth, but his retaliation got stuck in his throat until it melted into a dreary, hissing sigh.

"Good lord Desmond, you're so predictable." Eloise chided. "If therapy actually worked, I would send you there."

"I still…" The male spoke up in a small voice, eyes still covered by his arm. "I still like you. I still want to be with you."

"I don't need you to protect my honor."

The hare suddenly shifted her weight. Desmond lifted his arm slightly, craning his head to see what she was up to, but she reached to return his forearm back atop his head.

"Shh," She murmured. "Let's just be adults, okay?"

"Wh-what are you…"

"Just keep your eyes closed."

He could feel her regain her balance on his groin. The lack of vision certainly made it more… unexpected.

"Now." Eloise's voice was soft but stern, like a teacher's. "Pretend I'm that serval girl."

"What—!"

"Don't fight. Just imagine. I'm Hafsa right now. Everything I do to you, imagine that it's her."

Desmond had one hundred different objections to such a horrific idea, but Eloise (or rather Hafsa?) gave him no opportunity to speak. One hand was already hard at work, caressing his cheek, jawline, lips, nose, while the other kept a steady pressure on his arm to make sure his eyes remained covered.

As appalled as he was, some sick subconscious urge still couldn't help but entertain the hypothetical. What if these hands were Hafsa's? What would it feel like if she ever touched him like this? Her hands would be much larger, for starters. Larger and bonier, yet also soft and feminine. Muscular but so much more considerate than a herbivore's. He recalled how her hand felt on that cold night, how desperately he caressed every inch of it so that he might remember the feel of it for the rest of his life. The lingering sensory memory descended on him like a phantom from time to time: during lonely hours of the night and listless hours of the day. He imagined her touch so as to not forget it, just as one practices an instrument. He played the memories of her touch so much that in that moment, Eloise's hand melted away, and he could feel her there, her weight on him, her warmth on his.

Hafsa's fingertips danced around his face, lowering to his neck, and dug deep into his fleece. He remembered how much she loved feeling the wool around his neck, especially in the winter months. She would pet and play with it absentmindedly. They once had that kind of relationship. Desmond let out an earthy gasp.

Her hand finished playing with his curls and descended lower still, tracing the outlines of his chest and abdomen, tickling his sensitive skin with the tips of her finger, jumping about with the deep and erratic breaths that quaked his body. What kind of face might she be making? One of hunger? He had seen that face plenty of times. The desire etched in those thin, sharp pupils always rattled his heart with fear. Yet her face when her hunger was sated, be it by an energy bar or any other relief… it was a thing divine. Wild, joyous, alive. It robbed him of breath. What kind of face would she make now? He longed to see it.

At last, Hafsa reached the elastic of his boxers. Desmond heaved once more, mouth tautly open in a pant. She took a moment to feel him over the fabric, and indeed, he's far more prepared than he was a few minutes ago. He heard an amused hum.

"Say my name."

Desmond let out a wanton moan.

She slipped under the fabric, caressing him.

"Say it."

"Haf…sa…"

No.

He whipped his arm off his face and bucked his hips, throwing Eloise off of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

The dazed hare took a moment to sit back up, ruefully fixing her fur. "What?"

"That was so beyond fucked up!" Desmond screeched. "You're fucking sick!"

"I was just doing what you wanted."

"I don't want this!" He roared. "I didn't want any of— Why can't we just be normal?!"

Eloise's eyes were piercing but earnest. "Do you want to know what I think, Desmond?"

"…What?"

"I don't think we're right for each other."

He stayed silent.

"I think we're both looking for different things. We may have fun, and we may have good sex, but ultimately, we're not where we want to be."

He said nothing.

"But you already knew that."

"…Of course I did."

He laid back down on the bed. Eloise sidled up to sit next to him. She stroked his cheek.

"Do you think it was a waste of time?"

Desmond scoffed, looking up at her. "No."

"Hm." Eloise looked past him, to one of her display cases. "Well, it's clear you're incredibly selfish."

"That's fair."

"So let me ask you something selfish."

A beat passed.

"Am I beautiful?"

"…What?"

The hare removes her hand from his cheek, raising it to meet her own scarred face. "I know the scar doesn't do me any favors. It was made by someone who hates me. It's proof that they hurt me. And even if they don't have a scar, I'd say I hurt them way more. Where it counts. But I don't regret it. I'll never regret it. And I'm scared that not regretting it makes me ugly. You… as obnoxious as you are, you're beautiful. That's why you shouldn't be with me. I have no use for people more beautiful than me."

Desmond sat up, meeting her gaze. His black-tipped fingers brushed against the rough, hideous scar that marred the right half of her face.

"You're gorgeous."

Eloise closed her eyes, smiling.

"It's a shame. I really don't think I'll find a male half as amusing as you."

AN: Thanks for reading. This was hell on earth to plan and write, thus why it took far too long. Sorry and thank you for your patience as always. Still, I think it's what it needs to be. RIP to all Desmond/Eloise shippers (including myself, I loved writing their dynamic).

I'd like to make another interview chapter but I don't know if Junior Year can make it to 50. Perhaps I'll post it randomly.

Take it easy and stay safe.