[18+] Tsang, a foreign college student finds himself completely alone in the United States when his parents rejected him for coming out as gay. He decides to look for companionship online to share his troubles with.

Today’s story is the first of 2 parts of “A FRIEND IN WINTER by MikasiWolf, a Singaporean Wolf Mercenary writer. “A FRIEND IN WINTER” has formerly appeared in the FANG 10 Anthology, published by FurPlanet Publications. His works have been published by Thurston Howl Publications, Rabbit Valley, Goal Publications among others. You can find links to more of his stories on his FA or WikiFur page.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.

I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story is the first of 2 parts of

“A FRIEND IN WINTER

by MikasiWolf, a Singaporean Wolf Mercenary writer.

“A FRIEND IN WINTER” has formerly appeared

in the FANG 10 Anthology,

published by FurPlanet Publications.

His works have been published by Thurston Howl Publications,

Rabbit Valley, Goal Publications among others.

You can find links to more of his stories

on his FA or WikiFur page.

“A Friend in Winter”

by MikasiWolf, Part #1

of #2 Everyone in Twotown University loved the Christmas holidays, whether they celebrated them or not.

Those who did went home to family or their SOs,

while those who didn’t

also went home to family or their SOs.

Except for a select few,

including Tsang Hai Jun.

As is the case with many Asian naming systems,

Tsang’s first name was actually Hai Jun,

though everyone in school called him Tsang.

It was Tsang’s first year studying World Economics,

and in normal times,

he would be looking forward to seeing his family back in Taipei.

This didn’t include his older brother Hai Seng,

but younger and older brothers never do get along,

even less when they were felid.

With his head marked with white and dark stripes,

accompanied by a spotted pelt,

many recognized him as a leopard cat, which,

as Tsang had to constantly remind others;

was neither leopard nor common cat.

Tsang and his family were Buddhists,

so they didn’t celebrate Christmas like some Taiwanese did.

But like most traditional Chinese,

they did observe Dongzhi,

the Winter Solstice Festival.

Falling during winter

—22 December to be exact

—some have made comparisons of it to Christmas, with its importance second only to the Lunar New Year,

which heralds the coming of spring.

In both these festivals,

conversations at family gatherings

tended towards the side of whose son and daughter got into university or

compulsory military service,

along with the dreaded

“When’re you getting married?”

Since his admission as a freshman in September,

Tsang made regular calls back home.

All through spotty Skype and Whatsapp calls, of course

—long distance calls cost more than his student loans combined.

Aside from having to deal with his dismissive brother,

it gave a sense of normalcy

despite being so far from his hometown. Ma and

Pa had encouraged him to pursue his studies in the states

for the reason that he would have “more opportunities”,

but they also seemed to have the preconception

that he would also have more opportunities to get hitched.

Every other weekly call had them asking about his well-being,

and even whether he remembered to use protection or not.

That, despite the fact he had yet to meet anyone outside of lectures.

The fact that he wasn’t all that suave and confident in speaking to others didn’t exactly help that fact.

By the time December drew near, Tsang had

had enough of parental interference, well-meant or not.

“Ma, Pa, I’m never getting married, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tsang snapped on the phone.

His parents always listened to his calls on speakerphone;

all the better to talk over each other with.

Sometimes his asshole brother even joined in,

all part of being one big happy family.

“Son, everyone has to go through the process.

It’s part of the full cycle of life!

Just like all your ancestors that came before.”

“Well, here’s some news for you, Ma.

I like men, not women.”

Taipei has a progressive LGBT movement,

though many traditionalists still frown upon it.

Tsang immediately learned Ma and Pa

weren’t any different.

Their stunned silence was quickly punctuated by Hai Seng’s declaration

that he’d be damned by the Eighteen Courts of Hell,

and that he’d sooner kill him

than have a fag for a brother.

Tsang cut the call, and it took 15 minutes for his breathing to get back to normal.

He could no longer return home,

that’s for sure. His parents tried calling back,

but he chose to ignore their calls, knowing ignorance was better than hearing whatever they deigned to say.

And what was there to hear, anyway?

“Son, you better do right by your ancestors, or the Gods help me, I’ll matchmake you faster than you can say ‘gay’!”

Two nights later, when the phone rang and he forgot to check the caller ID,

he heard the beginnings of a roar from what sounded like his dad

and dropped the phone.

The parents had sent him

countless text messages, but Tsang couldn’t bring himself to read them.

He’d grown up with his family

for close to 21 years,

if he included his time in military service,

and he couldn’t bear to see the words of ridicule and denunciation from the only people he could have counted on.

They hadn’t yet cancelled his university education,

though it would probably be a matter of time before the admin office contacted him.

It felt better pretending that he still had a family who would accept him for who he was,

rather than waiting at the airport with cleavers.

Needing all the cash he could have on paw,

Tsang cancelled his flight back home,

to receive 50% of the ticket’s value. None of Tsang’s

dormmates knew about his sexuality.

They’d likely assumed he was just another loner who spent most of his day studying or more likely jacking off to whatever porn he called up on his computer,

as if anyone could jack off more than an hour straight.

He didn’t have anyone he could call friends,

unless he counted Mike Zhang,

a yellow-throated marten who studied the same economics program Tsang did.

Mike was born and raised in the states,

his parents having come over thirty years back,

and though he didn’t speak much mandarin,

he and Tsang got along fine.

He always seemed

so laid back in lectures,

yet always had an answer for the lecturer’s questions,

and had a joke ready for everyone.

Mike was on the debate club

and had no shortage of friends,

and Tsang had so far failed to talk him into going out for a movie or lunch,

with others having beaten him to the punch.

And as the Christmas break neared,

all the students new and old

packed their stuff and returned to their hometowns or birthplaces,

till school resumed in January.

December 20th came.

Being alone in the dorm

was a most surreal and unfamiliar experience.

Whenever the other dormmates were around,

Tsang could never summon the courage to tell them to change the TV channel to something he’s a little more familiar with,

even if it was in Cantonese with English subtitles.

They left him pretty much alone,

but as Tsang saw it,

all it would take was one dispute for everyone to hate him for the next three years they were to room together.

Now that they weren’t around,

Tsang felt slightly liberated having the dorm

and TV to himself,

yet felt something was missing.

For lack of anything to do,

the leopard cat headed to the mall to do some grocery shopping.

The university campus was devoid of any soul,

save for a few work staff and the university’s security officer.

The university’s LGBT association had some of their lights on, however,

suggesting they had an event on for those who hadn’t yet returned home.

Or perhaps couldn’t return home for reasons just like Tsang’s.

A knot made itself known in his stomach,

and Tsang fought back the tears that threatened to come.

He’d considered dropping in on a LGBT meeting

to see what they had to offer;

perhaps even see if there’s someone he could relate to.

But the fear of cultural differences

and the potential of someone he knew spotting him headed there

caused Tsang to give it a miss.

Even now, with the building more deserted than during the school terms,

he didn’t think a great idea to pay a visit like he was desperate for company or something.

The leopard cat made his way to the city center,

where the roads were busier,

and the sidewalks crowded.

He huddled into his jacket,

wondering once again if he should buy a thicker one,

or wait for his winter coat to grow out, which it never seemed to do.

Perhaps his body was too used to coming

home to a warm house or something. His home in Taipei

never lacked for heat, that’s for sure.

And because of that,

he now had to shiver

in half-assed dorm heating.

Last-minute shoppers thronged the corridors of the malls,

looking for that special something for that special someone.

Tsang wondered how many of them were there looking for something meant for their significant other,

yet not being able to tell their family about them.

He wished he had an SO to call his own,

and not have to tell his family about them, but the

truth was, he didn’t even have anyone remotely close. Mike was

straight, and he wouldn’t be paying attention to Tsang even if he wasn’t.

There were lots more choices for him in and outside of university,

and the marten didn’t have to worry about an ocean separating him from the other.

Tsang trawled the shelves of the supermarket,

figuring that if he couldn’t celebrate Dongzhi at home,

he could at least celebrate on his own.

Instead of hitting the liquor shelves in a bid to spend his night drinking,

he looked in the confectionary section for tangyuan,

glutinuous rice balls filled with sesame seeds and sugar.

They were an integral part of every Dongzhi gathering,

and symbolized unity on aspect of their roundness.

Despite the relatively international offerings on the shelves,

no tangyuan could be found.

The fact that few if any people here celebrated it probably helped make that fact,

and Tsang settled for getting some microwavable mochi instead,

his tail lashing a wild storm.

He rarely drank, but grabbed some ramen fish noodles,

fish chips and two cans of Tsingtao fermented milk beer anyway,

figuring it would be a pain to rewalk the cold streets to get anything he felt peckish for.

Tsang’s phone vibrated as he joined the snaking queue

to the fast check-out lane.

He always kept his mobile data connection on, and figured it was his parents doing their best to get him back in the fold again.

Two expletive-laden messages had made their way to his phone recently,

but the manner of phrasing had him wonder if Hai Seng was the one who sent messages

through his parents’ phone.

The older leopard cat was never creative enough to vary his sentencing and words,

and one could pretty tell it was him who wrote any message.

Figuring he had nothing better to do with his time,

and the queue wouldn’t move faster anyway,

Tsang thumbed the screen with a pad,

his unsheathed claw slipping twice against the tempered glass screen protector.

How’s your holiday so far?

Tsang stared at the Telegram message,

before registering that it had come from Uni:

Mike Zhang Economics.

Mike had asked him to join the guys for meals before,

but aside from that project on Informal Economies in 3rd World Countries,

never contacted him on the phone before.

But then, this was also the first holiday break they had at the same time, so perhaps he’d just been flipping through his contact list in his spare time.

Wondering if he should text back or save face with silence,

Tsang hitched his groceries under his arm

and settled for the former.

Boring as Hell, he typed.

Back home, words in the equivalent of “Hell” or “Death” were avoided,

as it’s believed to bring bad luck or misfortune.

Even the number 4 was avoided where possible,

as it sounded like the mandarin word for “die”.

But Tsang figured the rules didn’t apply if he wasn’t actually home.

Shopping for some snacks and beer X0.

Mike’s gotta love all these emoticons.

Some call it “booze”.

Where you at? Still at your dorm? :P

Mike’s reply came fast enough that he was likely chilling on the couch or something.

Yes. Tsang figured there wasn’t any need to lie about that.

For the next 30 minutes he was in the queue,

followed by the long walk back to what looked to be his new home for a while,

Mike didn’t reply.

Tsang had never felt more lonely. #

Tangyuan is traditionally served after being boiled,

but it seems that this wasn’t to be the case with microwavable mochi.

Tsang stuck his tongue out as he scraped it down with a plastic tongue cleaner,

wondering what possessed him to try getting a taste of home when mochi

were most definitely not from home.

The mochi had disintegrated as it was boiled,

turning the water brown with its red bean filling, and Tsang had sampled one before deciding he’d pass.

He cracked open a can of milk beer to wash the taste out of his mouth,

and headed over to the common room couch,

turning the TV on to see what’s planned.

Plenty of Christmas-themed shows were on different channels,

including Home Alone,

a movie about a young dormouse forced to defend his underground country home against two psychotic cats

when his family forgot about him.

Just as he settled on that,

the bell to the dormitory rang.

Tsang’s ears stood as he wondered

who could be visiting.

Definitely not the housing staff; they had their own access cards and didn’t need to ring.

Once they even entered when he was trying his hand at cooking pasta at the stove,

and meekly offered them some.

The thoughts of an armed gunman outside entered his mind

as he thought back to all those online news stories he’d read before coming to this country.

His parents had even insisted

he bought a gun as soon as he enrolled.

Tsang had refused,

given he’d no idea how to go about this.

Besides it would look strange that a foreigner was trying to get one for whatever reason.

And anyway, his university didn’t allow students to carry on campus.

They’d insisted he get pepper spray at least, but given that his nose couldn’t stand even the emissions of curry Tsang

never thought it a good idea to incapacitate himself at the start of a fight.

The leopard cat got up from the couch

and pressed the intercom button.

“Yo, who is it?” He added the “yo” so that the newcomer wouldn’t guess he was a foreign student on his lonesome.

There was no response,

and Tsang briefly wondered what to do.

He then remembered the intercom system on their end had been broken since the semester started,

though Maintenance had insisted they’ll fix it in due time.

A month had already passed since the last request,

and Tsang had no doubt yet another month would on account of the Christmas break.

So this was what $30,000 a year got them.

“Hang in there,” he said ineffectually to the intercom,

and walked to the main door.

Through the glass in the door,

Tsang couldn’t see anyone.

He decided that he’d open the door quickly,

stick his head out and shut it if anyone tried anything.

He opened the door and looked both ways.

Seeing no one save bushes,

he made to shut it,

only for a resistance to make itself known on the door.

“Surprise!” A flash of bright yellow and brown appeared before him,

and Tsang jerked backwards,

falling onto his tail.

He cursed in mandarin, springing upright with his claws unsheathed.

“Mike?” He asked uncertainly.

The intruder held his arms out,

a grin across his muzzle.

The yellow fur on his shoulders stood out even in the dim light of the hallway,

and in one of his paws was a six-pack of beer.

“In the fur!” The marten proudly declared. Tsang’s

mix of surprise and confusion had him slowly retract his claws

as Mike helped him up.

Tsang’s fur was all bushed out,

and he tried his best to flatten it with both paws,

licking his arm fur as Mike laughed.

“You really should ask who’s at the door with the intercom,”

Mike commented. “I could always be some nutter with a gun.”

“Intercom’s down since the semester started.

Who knows? Maybe for the last three years.”

Tsang waved the marten to follow him through the hallway.

“I doubt it. The seniors say this building got a makeover just last year.”

Mike confirmed. “A piece of shit renovation it turned out to be, then.”

Tsang opened his dorm’s door with his access card.

“I was wondering when you’d get into the lingo,”

Mike laughed as they entered the lounge.

He stared at the remains of Tsang’s meal.

“What, you were drinking alone?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.

Everyone else is gone.”

Tsang shrugged, picking up the beer can where he’d left it.

“Nice choice of movie, this.”

Mike indicated the movie on screen.

The movie had progressed to the psycho cats sharpening their claws with a hand file

right after they’d considered the dormouse’s home

perfectly ripe pickings.

“It’s what’s on. I saw the mandarin dub back when I was a kit,”

Tsang looked carefully at Mike.

“Didn’t you say that you’re returning home for Christmas?”

“Last I checked, Christmas Eve’s on the night of the 24th. Ma doesn’t

mind as long as I turn up a little before then,”

Mike chuckled. “My ticket for the Greyhound is booked for tomorrow, so I only have to wait till then.”

The marten flopped down into the couch. “Speaking of which,

I heard you saying you were flying home to be with the family.”

“Not anymore. I cancelled my flight weeks back.”

Tsang sat on the opposite couch.

“Shiiiit…your family okay?”

Mike’s muzzle creased in worry, his ears flat.

He looked so cute whenever he did that,

but Tsang wasn’t in any mood to think about such things.

“They’re fine. So’s my jerk of a brother.”

The leopard cat picked up his beer where he’d left it

and sipped, but the familiar taste now tasted bad.

The first time he’d drunk was back when he was 16,

in one of the food streets that dotted Taipei.

He and his brother Hai Seng got along better then,

and Hai Seng wanted to celebrate his becoming 18 with two cans.

Though Tsang was underage then,

his bro had bought another two cans on his behalf,

which they’d drunk till they were

absolutely wasted.

Hai Seng had checked whether Ma and Pa were asleep first before letting Tsang enter the house.

It was the first time he awoke at noontime.

Then Hai Seng had trouble finding work after high school.

He was exempted from military service because of some health condition or other,

but this also meant even blue-collar jobs weren’t eager to hire him.

Tsang, on the other paw,

did relatively well in school,

and this made Hai Seng jealous.

When he got accepted into an overseas university,

the two brothers’ relationship took a turn for the worse.

Hai Seng blamed his lack of opportunities to that of it all being given it to all the

“uni scum” and was always ready to say it was not so much his skills

as Tsang having gotten lucky in school.

Tsang was more than glad to be rid of his brother ever since he left for the States,

hoping he would return to Taipei next time to find Hai Seng had moved out.

And here Tsang was,

far from home, wondering whether or not his parents still accepted him.

Hai Seng was now an even bigger asshole, but could he really blame him for that?

The little brother he knew had bested him,

and to top it all off

had turned out gay.

Back when the brothers had gotten along,

Hai Seng had been pretty vocal about not wanting to have anything to do with homosexuals,

especially after seeing one of the local LGBT representatives hand out flyers.

If Pa wasn’t around,

Hai Seng might have started a fight with them,

outnumbered in public or not.

“Then why are you still here?

Family’s where the heart is.”

Mike popped a can from his six

-pack but didn’t make to open it.

Tsang opened his mouth to explain,

but wondered whether he should be sharing personal matters with the marten.

After all, how well did they know each other, really?

Here in the States,

everyone referred to anyone they knew, classmates included,

as “friends”, even though they might not go out to the movies together, or even be on talking terms to begin with.

To Tsang, friends are people whom you felt comfortable with,

people you could count on

not to not sell you out to others.

Sure, he’d spoken to Mike a couple of times,

both about schoolwork and personal stuff,

but that hardly counted as being friends, as much as one could call their coworkers friends.

Even now, when Mike was telling him how family is so important and all that,

wasn’t he just saying what any random stranger would say?

Everyone says family is the most important thing in public,

but the truth was, they probably had their own issues with them to begin with,

shitty siblings included.

Why were he and Mike even shooting the breeze to begin with?

Because Mike was bored, and had no one else

to talk to? “You know what, Mike? I don’t want to talk about them.

Hell, all I want to do right now is watch Home Alone,

and think happy thoughts opposite of the movie’s theme,”

Tsang turned pointedly to the screen.

“Hopefully, no psychotic canine comes along to ruin my fun.

You can stay if you like,”

the leopard cat added as an afterthought.

Mike opened his muzzle,

whether in shock or in the middle of an unspoken question.

“Come on, Hai Jun. I’m just trying to help.

No one should ever have to bear the burden of their problems alone,”

Tsang flicked his ears at Mike’s usage of his first name.

“Just tell me what it is, and we can work it out, alright?”

“It’s a personal matter, and I intend it to stay that way,”

Tsang snapped. “Look,

why are you even here?

Because there isn’t anyone else in your dorm you could talk or drink with?

You think I don’t know how things work here, just because I’m a foreigner who doesn’t know any better?”

“God above, Tsang.” The marten’s neck fur was starting to bristle,

but Tsang had enough by now.

Enough of people who wouldn’t think twice about ostracizing a homosexual coming to terms with his emotions,

enough of asshole family members

who wouldn’t accept their son

for who he was rather than who he preferred to fuck.

And last of all, Tsang had enough

of a certain entitled marten

who thought they could gatecrash

his own melancholic self-reflection just so that

they had someone to help while away their time

before catching their own ride back home.

“I’m gay, and I really don’t care what you think about that!”

snarled Tsang. “And neither do I care what my family thinks!”

He sprang up from the sofa,

and Mike fell off the side of his sofa in shock.

Tsang stalked towards the dorm door, yanking it open.

“I think you’d better leave.”

Mike stood slowly up from where he fell,

his fur all bushed up.

His expression looked uncertain

as he walked slowly towards Tsang.

“Tsang, I get that this must be all...”

“Leave. Now.” Tsang’s voice took on an edge

that had Mike stride out with his ears down.

Tsang slammed the door harder than he ever had,

his breaths coming in hard and fast.

Now that Mike wasn’t in front of him

asking difficult-to-answer questions about why he wasn’t going back to the family,

Tsang wondered if he had overreacted to the whole thing.

He didn’t have to tell Mike he was gay,

and he certainly didn’t have to tell him to get the fuck out,

although spending the afternoon in an uncomfortable silence with someone else

holds very little appeal.

But Mike hadn’t been a jerk to him in any way,

and could always have found some other way to spend his time,

such as pay-per-view television or something.

Everyone seemed to have a subscription to Netflix these days.

The marten had no lack of friends he could have called or messaged

through any combination of messaging apps, let alone some foreign leopard cat

he’d only spoken to a couple of times.

Tsang put his face in his paws,

wondering just how deep his problems had gotten.

He’d been disowned by his family, no question about that;

but he’d also ostracized one of the few people that would ever consider talking to him,

friend or not. Damn,

Tsang didn’t even have any childhood friends in Taipei he spoke to after High School came and went.

He’d been alone most of his life,

and now he would stay alone now,

doomed to spend Dongzhi and Christmas

and the rest of the holidays alone,

subsisting on ramen

and what passed off as shitty tangyuan over here.

The leopard cat spied the remaining cans in the six-pack Mike had left behind.

He really probably should return those cans to Mike,

at least as a common courtesy, but Tsang couldn’t bring himself to speak to the marten at this moment.

The last thing he needed was for a full-blown argument to make itself known

right now and make the situation far worse.

Besides, if Mike had brought the six

-pack down all the way here,

he must have been willing to share.

Tsang would need something to take his mind off his troubles anyway.

He prised a can of Budweiser away from the cardboard packaging,

opening it with a satisfying hiss.

The smell of hops and alcohol emanating was far more noticeable than that from the milk beer Tsang was drinking,

and at least didn’t remind him of his brother.

And as he poured the golden fluid down his tongue,

the sting of the mix of fermented grains enlivened him somewhat,

reminding him that for everything that happened,

he was still alive and kicking.

He drew his eyes back to the movie before him,

Kevin the dormouse’s jury-rigged traps having wounded the psychopaths.

Despite that, the two burglars remained determined to pursue the mouse

who’d caused them so much bloody grief.

This drew Tsang to an interesting observation.

Like Kevin, Tsang was alone

and vulnerable to the cold cruel world.

A world that really didn’t give a shit about their fates mainly because they had no one to care about them.

Despite the difficulties faced by the cat intruders,

and being the lowliest of scumbags to say the least,

at least they had each other to count on,

to understand their trials and tribulations,

even if it was a common enemy three-quarters their height.

The leopard cat felt that having someone to count on,

be they friend or lover

would make life so much bearable, so much less harsh.

He, Tsang Hai Jun had not a soul to count on,

but that doesn’t mean it had to be this way.

A warmth spread itself from the pit of the leopard cat’s stomach,

and he sat up straighter in the couch,

reaching for his phone.

The modern world

had its advantages,

and Tsang knew how he could make use of that.

He had a Fuzzbook account,

though its settings were always set to private so no one else could add him unless they were friends of someone else

who actually knew him.

And in the US, that was nobody.

Tsang unchecked all those restrictive settings and applied them,

right before realizing

this wouldn’t help him,

at least in the short term.

It’s not like people he knew from classes would be queuing up to add him on Fuzzbook,

especially when they already tried and failed almost a semester ago.

Tsang knew he needed something more immediate to find someone he can relate to.

He knew about dating websites and apps;

they were popular in Taiwan where one’s success in life

was also counted in whether you had a girlfriend or boyfriend.

But those required time to build up a conversation

and trust with someone before meeting them,

assuming things even got that far.

The leopard cat doubted anyone would be online or even be checking their accounts with Christmas so close.

Tsang flipped through the other apps he had installed in his phone but never used.

These included Tinder, Grindr and Knaughty.

He remembered from his search months ago

that Tinder seemed more oriented towards a straight audience,

and Knaughty seemed more targeted more towards canines,

what with emphasis on the more canid details such as tongue length and knot size.

He’d liked Grindr the most,

because of the good-looking male models he’d seen there,

but have yet to install it because he didn’t have the confidence to talk to anyone there.

Tsang figured that it’s time for him to set up an account after all,

something that was long overdue.

There were several sections

regarding his personal details that he filled up,

including “Pelt Makings” and “Sheath/Shaft Appearance”,

of which he took a selfie of his own dick he stroked to feline perfection.

Thrice Tsang had to retake the photo so that his barbs were shown in full view,

though he hoped that wouldn’t put anyone off.

But better to be rejected beforehand than right at their door, right?

He checked the location map of other nearby Grindr users,

noting that most of them were situated in the City Center.

There were at least three others on campus, however,

or at least those who didn’t turn their location finder off.

One was in the staff block,

probably a TA or lecturer.

Tsang figured it might be better to speak to someone of his own age,

so that they had some common ground to begin with.

It’d be a real joke speaking to someone who could be grading him on this semester’s finals

and have a shit grade come back to bite him in the ass.

Looking at the map once more,

Tsang saw an account by the name of

H4ppyLife

located somewhere in a dorm building.

The name looked promising.

And he was a jaguar,

so there would at least be some species familiarity.

Tsang took a minute to gather the courage to type a message out to the guy.

Yo, you hanging out in the dorm or something?

Tsang typed. Despite not having done anything like this,

Tsang didn’t think he had time to watch a Youtube video or read an article on the best conversation opening lines he could use.

Especially when the few people who would understand his situation

could already be getting ready

to leave for home.

It was several tense minutes as Tsang stared at the form,

praying to the Heavenly Deities

that H4ppy would reply with something, anything, so that

he could go through another avenue of recourse already.

Then H4ppy’s status changed from “Away” to “Online”,

followed by H4ppyLife:

Yep, nowhere else to hang around!

Family is and will always be a pain xP,

came the reply. Well,

they definitely have a common point to relate on.

In this case, a shitty family.

Tsang’s tail quit lashing in anxiety,

an involuntary purr building up in his throat.

The use of emoticons would also mean this guy would express his emotions overtly.

Tsang always had difficulties reading other people’s emotions,

even if they were of a similar species,

but this could have been from being on his lonesome much of the time. H4ppyLife:

What’s up? You don’t seem in a rush to get back home either. ×.×

A confident guy the jaguar seems to be. Lonelyheart:

It’s complicated. You don’t want to hear about it.

Tsang kicked himself right after he sent the message.

If he sounded troubled,

practically any sane person wouldn’t want to touch or whack him with a barge pole,

or whatever the idioms around here was. H4ppyLife:

Hey, lighten up already.

That’s what this app’s for :D.

Look, how about you come up and let me take care of it for you?

My dorm’s in Elden’s Gate, level 2.

Just ask for me at the intercom?

Gods of the Heavenly Palace,

was this guy a professional counsellor or what?

Not wanting H4ppy to think him ungrateful,

Tsang thumbed out a quick reply. Lonelyheart:

Thanks! See you there :) #

This was the the #1 of #2 parts of

“A Friend In Winter”

by MikasiWolf, read for you by Khaki,

your faithful fireside companion. Tune

in next time to find out how Tsang’s search for friendship goes?

As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening

to The Voice of Dog.