Lars lay on the floor of his dorm, staring at the ceiling. Looking endlessly at the blank, horrid off-white paint he had always despised. The room seemed to spin a little, and the young Tiger allowed himself to get lost in his own thoughts. He continually found himself down on the floor these days. The last couple of weeks had been…well…they had been. That was about all Lars could’ve said about them…they were filled with nothing in particular, not challenging or simple; an incredibly, painfully typical three weeks. He was unsure whether that meant he was bored, depressed or both. Luckily, the floor was always here for comfort, his life had felt slightly unreal as of late, but the practical carpet underneath him was always consistent. It provided a safe place of grounding, and that was perhaps why Lars kept returning to it. It was equally lucky that his dorm-mate Jessie, an athletic young Dalmatian, seemed to have his class time opposite to Lars. They rarely spent any time together during the day in the shared room, and barely spoke to one another when they did. The Tiger was broken out of his trance by his phone buzzing in his pocket, signalling a recent message. Opening it, he saw it was from the lead singer of one of the two bands he belonged to, Ishmael the Burned. Lars was not a huge fan of the name, but it gave him experience working in a group, and that was what he desperately needed.

Are u coming to practice today? Was all the message read, which prompted Lars to realise it was almost 4:30, which was the time they all met for practice on Thursdays. He gave a quick, affirmative reply and picked himself up, collecting his bag and some of his mind. With a start he noticed that he’d been laying on the floor for almost two hours, just staring off at nothing. With a shrug of resignation to no one at all, Lars quickly hustled out of the room, keeping a quick jog so he could maybe make practice only a little late. Moving speedily through the sparsely populated university grounds, he regretted slinging his backpack over one shoulder, since it was bouncing around like crazy, and distracting him. Despite this monumental challenge, he made it to practice by 4:35. This was not a huge achievement, since the practice studio was on university grounds, and made quite available for students to book out for audio work of any kind.

“What’cha been up to lately, Ulrich?” Asked the bass player casually. He was a charming husky, who took great pleasure in the fact their band’s drummer shared the same first name as a certain world-famous drummer. Made worse the fact that Ishmael the Burned (And Lars himself) played mostly heavy metal songs. Lars acted like it annoyed him, but he had also found it quite amusing, his parents had apparently not even heard of the famous drummer before…which made it even better.

“Nothing really. Just…stuff. You?” He replied curtly.

“You know me, a final here, party there. Usual shit.” Lars nodded in response, setting himself down at the drum kit, making sure everything was sitting in his preferred position. At that moment the lead singer, Matt walked in. Matt was a pretty intense fur, and he got on everyone’s nerves a little, most of the time. He was a punk-themed goat, who possessed an incredibly powerful voice – and knew it. His horns were dyed black, with red patterns painted on them.

“Where the fuck are the others?” He barked, clearly annoyed. Lars and his husky comrade (Named Alex) just shrugged, attending to their respective instruments. “God damn it.” They heard Matt mutter, mostly to himself.

“Dude, I’m sure they’ll show up.” Said Alex, attempting to placate the angry goat.

“Yeah, eventually. Fuck-ups, seriously. Sometimes I wonder why they come at all.” He snapped back, waving a hand.

“Probably just had a test or something. It’s not the end of the world.” The goat had no response to that, he just walked back outside angrily.

After Jake and Isaac (The other two members of Ishmael the Burned) showed up, it was almost five. The band practiced for a good forty minutes, but then had to call it in. Matt had relaxed a bit, especially since everyone was in the mood for some easy, fun songs to play. By the end most of the furs were laughing, and they all left in a good mood…except Lars.

He didn’t exactly feel bad, he just felt nothing much. Running mostly on autopilot by this point, Lars slipped his earphones in and walked back to his dorm room. There he got changed, managing with some difficulty to keep his earphones in. Then he headed out and left for work.

As well as study, Lars played in two different bands and worked part time at a local comedy club. All he did was tend the bar and serve drinks, but it paid what he needed. He didn’t hate watching the acts, and occasionally got to meet someone interesting to chat with for a while. It also gave him time to be alone, but while focusing on a task, which helped him avoid getting lost in his head. Just like the previous three weeks, tonight was no different to any other night. He arrived at work, served his drinks and took his break. The various budding stand ups weren’t amazing this night, but Lars still made sure to clap at the end. He knew how nerve-racking it was getting up on stage, with nothing but yourself to keep the show entertaining. It was slightly easier for him, being buried behind the band in his drums, but comedians just…stood there. The young tiger honestly had no idea how they did it. Apart from that, the shift was dull for most of the night. Things took a minor change however, after everyone had left.

Well, almost everyone.

Left sitting at the bar, with his backpack casually resting up on the bar itself, was a loner-type, pitch black fox. He was carefully nursing a vodka-something, only occasionally taking sips, while rocking back and forth ever so slightly. For a bit Lars left him alone, since he clearly was comfortable in his own space, but eventually he’d tidied all he could. They were the only furs left in the building. When he got a little closer, he realised with concern that the left side of the fox’s face was swollen, like he’d been hit pretty hard. He was wearing a grimace and staring straight into his glass, a dark grey hoodie up over his head.

“You doing okay over there?” Asked Lars, slightly amiss at what else to say. He felt he should help, but the fox was giving off a distinct don’t-help-me vibe.

“Yeah I’m cool. Could do with another drink…unless you wanna kick me out, that is.” The fox quickly downed his drink.

“Why would I kick you out?” The only response Lars received from that was a wave of the fox’s hand, as if to say do I even need to answer that? “What uh…what happened to your face? I-if you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Oh, some dickhead and his buddy jumped me when I got off my fucking train. I don’t care so much about that though.” With that, he opened the backpack, sliding out a crushed laptop, bits of broken plastic and screen crinkling from inside the pack. “This shit pissed me off though. Must’ve happened when I fell…fuck it’s such a bitch getting a new one.” With that he haphazardly slid the ruined laptop back into the bag.

“Oh. That does suck, yeah…why’d they jump you, any reason?”

“Nah. Other furs just don’t like me much.” He took a moment to look at the tiger passing him his new drink. “How about you?”

“What do you mean, what about me?”

“Well you’ve been tall, dark and misery all night…got a reason for it?”

“Oh, you noticed huh?” The fox only nodded, sipping his new vodka-mix. “I…I dunno. Anyway it’s my job to listen, not to whine.”

“Fine.” The fox returned to his drink, and after a painfully awkward minute of silence, Lars couldn’t resist introducing himself.

“My name’s Lars, by the way. Lars Johansen.” He held out a paw, trying to be friendly. The fox just stared at him for a moment, slowly accepting the drummer’s paw.

“Great.” Was all he said.

“Can, uh…can I know your name?” He asked, nervous for some reason, which was unlike him. He felt like he was being too forward, demanding this solitary fur speak to him and divulge his name.

“Of course, it’s not a secret.” Still, the mystery fox didn’t actually say what his name was.

“So…will you tell me?”

“Of course I will, if you ask.” Lars took a second to realise what he meant. Then sighed, slightly amused, slightly irritated. The fox hadn’t told him what his name was, because Lars didn’t ask. He asked ‘CAN I know your name?’ And yes, he could, but he never actually asked the fox what his name was.

“What is your name?” He said, directly.

“Riley.” The fox said with a smile, meeting the tiger’s gaze.

“Okay, jeez. It’s nice to meet you Riley.” Riley nodded in response.

“I assume the ‘jeez’ is due to my obnoxious attitude? I’m a particular person, it drives everyone around me insane.” He chuckled to himself, sipping his drink again.

“So why do it?”

“Why not? So many people say one thing, but mean another. I hate that, mean what you say, and say what you mean, y’know?” He pulled out a cigarette and gestured to Lars, as if asking permission. “This okay?”

“Well, technically no…but nobody else is here. Go for it.” Lars was enjoying this conversation immensely, and didn’t want the fox to leave. This was the first time something had genuinely caught his interest in three weeks. The fox quite happily lit his cigarette, blowing smoke in the other direction.

“So what do you do here? You have that ‘uni-student’ look about you Lars, so what are you studying?” Asked Riley, alternating between the cigarette and his drink.

“Oh, I’m studying music production.” He said, blushing for some reason, not knowing why.

“Ah shit, you’re one of them eh?”

“One of them?” He asked, not comprehending.

“A creative type, probably play the acoustic guitar a lot, sing shitty folk songs.” Lars laughed at that.

“No, not at all! I’m a drummer, for one. And I prefer heavy metal.”

“Wow, so there are some surprises. I bet you’ve heard everything about your name then?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well I won’t point out the obvious…your family musicians too?”

“No, that’s the funniest part. It’s a pretty normal name in Denmark. They moved here right before they had me.”

“Ah, I see. Still, it is amusing. You could’ve gone into film making too, there’s a good Lars over there as well.” The tiger wasn’t much into movies; he only really watched major films that came on at the cinema. He didn’t hate foreign films, or art films; he was just never really exposed to them.

“I…uh, wasn’t aware.” He rubbed the fur on the back of his neck, self-consciously.

“Von Trier. Maybe I’ll show you one day, blow your mind a little.” Lars loved the sound of that, the fox was incredibly intriguing and he definitely wanted to hang out again.

“So uh…Riley, what are you studying?” The fox laughed.

“Uh, don’t make fun of it…but I’m doing cyber security.” He put his cigarette out in his glass, which was now empty. Lars knew he was about to leave any second, and wanted to try and stretch their conversation out just a little bit longer.

“Why would I make fun?” He asked.

“I dunno, it just…That’s why I’m so pissy about the laptop. Gotta get another one quick-smart. But normally when I tell furs I’m going into cyber security, they ask if I’m the next ‘Mr Robot’ or something. I guess since it’s involved mostly with hackers.” He clearly saw the reference was lost on the Tiger, and just shook his head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m not caught up with pop culture enough.” Said Lars, laughing at himself. He saw with dismay that Riley was done, since the fox stood up, collecting both himself and his backpack.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix you.” He laughed, slinging the gear over one shoulder.

“Well you can try.” Lars laughed nervously yet again.

“I’ll see you around, Johansen. Be sure of that.” He gave the drummer a wicked smile, and then vanished out the door. Lars was left standing at the bar, remnants of the cool night air washing over him.

He had no idea what had just happened, but he loved it.