This landing page is a mess. Not only could I have gotten off of a kidney transplant list in the time it took the website to load, but finding information was more like a scavenger hunt than a simple task. It had me following clues on a treasure map, foraging through different links and articles to dig up a date and time. Luckily, being raised by forum boards and older internet users ever more wise than myself, prepared me for such a moment, and in no time flat, I had the date circled in my planner. The poor soul hired to update this page needs to retake his CS classes because if a music major can outdo his best efforts then I worry for his graduation aspirations. Yet, through all of this turmoil, the only thought swimming around in that brain soup up there is… How do I make this sound less like a date? 

It sure sounds like I'm asking Oskar on a date. I don't plan on inviting any other friends to this concert, so it'd just be me and him, alone, doing something I'm not even sure he's interested in but is important to me. Isn't that what couples do? The last time I invited someone to a concert solo, it was the start of a two year long relationship. I was a nervous mess back then, barely able to stumble through my pre-planned question to ask her out as my braces accentuated my already horrible lisp.  It was fun enough. Plenty of dancing, with a Jesus-approved amount of space between us, sugary drinks, and awkward staring into each other's eyes as I hoped things would go further than that. Thankfully, she took the initiative and bit the shit out of me in an alleyway outside the venue. I can still feel her on me. When she leaned in, I closed my eyes thinking that she was going to kiss me. Crippling fear took over as soon as she sank her fangs into my neck and… Well, hopefully Oskar doesn't try the same thing… 

Twisting around, my wooden chair scratches against the floorboards as I try to get a better look at him. I don't know why I even try though; I feel like he's always in this position. Hunched over his desk, brows furrowed in concentration as he scratched something into a notebook. His large back is illuminated in the darkness by a small metal lamp he brought over from Germany. It's one of the only things he brought actually. Save for a couple family photos and small knick knacks, his side of the room is completely barren. A far cry from my wall full of posters and other objects. 

I'm not sure why they paired us together. That was one of the draws of this university; they boasted about their freshman match program every chance they got. It was one of the only things I heard about when they came to my school to do a pitch. And yet, it ended with a weird and lazy music kid being paired with a stringent, no-nonsense German guy. Their system must be as broken as this website. With a sigh, I rub a paw against my face, trying to pump myself up. Oskar is only as unapproachable as I let him be. Don't let his nonexistent decoration skills push you away. 

“Hey Oskar," I call expectantly. The cat's ear twitches and he lays down his pencil with a sense of grace new money will never be able to buy. He shifts in his seat, resting an arm on the top as he looks over at me, his red eyes unwavering.

“Yes Cali?" His tone is mostly flat, but the way it raises at the end makes it clear that he's tired. You wouldn't be able to tell that just by looking at him.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you…" I trail off, trying to find the words to make this not as gay. He doesn't need to know what I'm into. 

“Oh, are you ready for bed? Sorry, I can go somewhere else if the noise bothers you." 

“No no no, “ I quickly profess. “It's uh, I was wondering if you wanted to go to a concert with me!" My heart beats as fast as it did back then. It's the type of moment that fills you with adrenaline and excitement. All over asking a friend to attend an event with you. Not out on a date. 

“A concert?" he replies. The way he raises his eyebrow makes him look like that one meme. If he wasn't a Siamese cat, he'd fit the physical description too.

“Yeah, like a place where you go to listen to music, ya know?" His questioning glare only gets more intense. 

“I know what a concert is, Cali."

“Oh, yeah, of course haha."

Someone fucking bash my head in with a sledgehammer. Now I can add insulting his intelligence to the list of grievances. Don't Germans learn English in elementary school or something? Why did I say that? By some miracle, Oskar doesn't seem too annoyed. In fact, a small smile slips onto his face for a second before disappearing. Did he just laugh?

“When is it?" he asks. 

“Oh um…" 

I turn back around to my laptop and start scrolling. Nevermind the planner sitting right in front of me, I don't want him to think that I have this all planned out. Spontaneity is cool! At least, I think it is. After a few seconds of fake searching, I turn back around. 

“The 22nd. So…" One more fake search wouldn't hurt.

“Two weeks from now," Oskar says, looking down at his own planner. These crappy notebooks were given to us by the school to help with time management, but he's the only person I know that actually uses it seriously. He has notes under every date. Even, though I can barely see it from over here, on the 22nd. 

“And the time?"

“Um… 7pm!" I say a little bit too excitedly, so I shut my mouth right after, just waiting on his response.

Oskar holds a page of the planner in his paw and looks down at the correct date with… what I assume is disdain. It's difficult to tell when his emotions are so slight. It looks like his neutral expression with a tiniest bit of downward tilt at the corner of his lips. His shoulders slump ever so slightly as well. After a few moments of looking, he takes his pencil and crosses out whatever was there.

“Yes, I can go," he says, this time with a larger smile. I turn around to hide my own  and wiggle the mouse to wake up the computer. 

“Great! We just need to register. Um, what's your student ID number?" 

“OF4726689," he responds instantly. The room is quiet again as I type that in.

“And your last name?"

“Fuchs."  I stop typing, my fingers gently leaving the keyboard, and look over at him.

“What? Fucks?" I question and his dark fur reddens.

“No. Fuchs. Like the animal." 

“What kind of animal is called fucks?" I can't help but chuckle even when the displeasure on his face is apparent. He shakes his head and gets out of his chair. It takes him only a few strides to cross the room and before I can stop him, the cat's at my keyboard typing 'F-U-C-H-S' into the column. He looks a lot more daunting up close. Towering over me with that glare and red eyes of his, so proper with a tie underneath his sweater. It's a little intimidating. 

“Fuchs," he repeats. “Like red fuchs. Mischievous fuchs."His stare deepens, but when he talks like that, it's all a little goofy. I break down laughing again and he glares at me before sighing and walking back to his desk. 

“Americans…" he says under his breath. 

“Hey, hey, hey," I respond, trying to calm myself down. “I get it, you mean fox. Your accent's so thick, man." He rolls his eyes before sitting down, so I keep talking instead. “So wait, you're a cat named Fox?"

“Yes, my family are, were…" Now it's his turn to trail off. He looks around the room for a few seconds before asking, “Pelzhändler?" When I stare back at him like he's crazy, he starts grumbling again and takes out his phone. After a couple of taps, he looks up at me with a beaming smile as if he had just struck gold.

“Ah! Fur traders!" he exclaims, stashing his phone back in his pocket. “They dealt with fox furs." 

My heart ripples like a wave and I can't help but smile back at him. I don't get to see this version of Oskar that often, but when I do, it's always a treat. It's like traversing through a dangerous moat and climbing the tall castle wall to rescue the princess inside. Instead, it's a German Siamese cat who's really into buildings. I try to imagine his ancestors. Bigger, gruffer, and probably the same amount of seriousness as Oskar, holding up thick fur pelts between their paws. Honestly, the image fits pretty well in my head, but maybe that's just my impression of Germans. 

“Fox…" I mumble under my breath and he looks at me inquisitively again.

“Yes, foxes," he adds, probably under the impression that I'm setting up for another punchline. He's gonna love what my brain soup cooked up this time.

“What if…" I look around for dramatic effect, “I call you Fox? Isn't that a cool nickname?" I try not to sound too excited, but my body has other plans. I begin rocking my chair back and forth, giddy at the thought that I'm becoming somewhat close to my roommate already. When he stares me down for the umpteenth time today, I don't even back away! He breaks the eye contact with a sigh and a shrug.

“That's my name isn't it?"

I have to stop myself from squealing. The 22nd can't come any sooner!