>That something involves you shimmying out of the open window onto the roof

>You crawl out of the frame and plant two palms on the gritty shingles

>You notice three things

>One: the air out here is free, but it feels like swallowing ice water with every breath you take

>Two: the rooftop shingles paint black streaks on your palms and the hem of your priest robes

>Three: Above your head, the moon hangs like a fattened guillotine, so close that you swear to God with a good sized ladder you could reach up and tear a hunk off like it was cheap styrofoam

>This HAS to be fucking up the tides and the oceans

>Full moons for a whole week? Yeah, shit is fucked in coastal towns

>You stand up at full height on the rooftop, staring up at the bold moon

>It's hard to believe a bunch of angsty teenagers with a magic book could have this much of an impact on an ancient celestial body

>And it's even harder to believe that a communist, an anxious bunny, a coward, an asshole and one perfectly normal vixen are going to push it back into place tomorrow night

>You hear the sound of struggle and turn to see Sam crawling out of the window

>With the bone-white light of the moon draped across her like a thin sheet, she looks like a specter

>When she looks up at you, sweat kissing her brow, she tries to smile, but the exhaustion is plain enough to turn her smile into a strained frown

“Careful now." You crouch down on instinct. “One good tumble and you're going over the edge."

>She squeaks and freezes up halfway out of the window

>Good going Anonymous

>You scared her

“That's just like, the worst case scenario. Let me put it like this,"

>You release your grasp on her and lock eyes

>You love the way her eyes shine like gold nuggets hit with flashlights in the dark

>You love the way they're so full, like they could hold all of her troubles and pain in there, and blink them away

>You love the way she lives life as an art form

>You love he-

>"Y-Yes?" Sam says. “W-What w-were you g-g-going to s-s-say?"

>You must have been staring for too long, lost in the wisps of your thoughts

“I meant to say: I may be drunk, but I promise, I won't let you fall."

>You extend a hand to her

>With a slight hesitation, she takes it

>Her palms are slick with sweat, and trembling from exhaustion yet you interlock your fingers all the same

>With a determined force, you pull Sam through the window

>And once again, you don't know your own strength, or how weak Sam is, because she flings towards you with less-than-acrobatic grace

>Thankfully, you planted your feet deep into the shingles, so instead of knocking you down like a holy bowling pin, you lean steady her against you, like a tree in a storm

>Which isn't all that hard, actually

>Her body is soft and small against your own, lithe and feminine

>You wrap your arms around the back of her neck and pull her tight to keep both of you from rocking backwards and taking an involuntary swan dive into a backyard without a pool

>It feels like you might break her if you squeeze too tight, but you can't help it

>Instead, she returns your gesture, wrapping her arms around your waist to 'steady herself'

>She cinches her body tight against yours

>And for a moment, in complete stasis, you two stand atop that rooftop, locked together like two pieces of a puzzle

>You can feel her heart hammering against your chest, the heat of her body radiating off her, the catch of air leaving her chest when she sighs into you

>She stands on her toes and looks up into your eyes

>And her smile is bigger than the moon

>"T-Thanks for c-c-catching me," she says, color high in her cheeks

>You instinctively look away, hiding your relief and the embarrassment now pressing color into your nervous body

“I told you I wouldn't let you fall."

>From the corner of your eyes, you can still see her looking up into your face, finding serenity in your soft features and boyishness

>You settle on her thin, pinkish lips

>Magnets aren't even attracted to each other this much

>You almost lean in and-

>Something catches your eye

>Something at the apex of the roof

>Two lone figures, silhouetted against the moon like two figures on a canvas

>One of them has a tail that's fanning back and forth and a pair of sharp ears perked high into the air

>The silhouette couldn't be more obvious to you

>Jenna

>And

>The person next to her must be Mike and

>Oh my god

>Your heart leaps into your throat as you see Jenna's shadowy figure lean into Mike, her predatory face pressed against his

>"S-Something w-w-wrong?" Sam asks, still buried in your chest

“N-No, nothing's wrong. In fact…"

>The world is just spinning a little too fast

>Or that's the beer

>"Y-Your he-heart is beating r-really fast," Sam coos. “I can h-hear it like a d-d-drum."

>A cruel idea springs to mind

>You figure you owe Mike this for pummeling the shit out of you on Tuesday

>And really, just in general, for being a calloused ass

“Things are about to get better. Follow me, and be as quiet as you can," you say, disengaging from Sam, much to the bunny's disappointment

>You crouch low and try to distribute your weight as evenly as you can

>You even spread your arms to keep balance as you climb up the slope of the rooftop towards its shingled summit, where the lone figures of Mike and Jenna now sit, awash in the revealing light of the moon

>Sam is much better at this than you are

>She must have more experience being stealthy, because she manages to pass you on your way up

>She casts an expectant look over her shoulder

>Mike and Jenna don't seem to be paying attention to anything except each other

>And to each other's tongues

>And right when they break apart, staring romantically into one another, you announce your presence with crescendo of claps and whistling

>Jenna and Mike both jump almost a solid foot into the air, putting Sam's jet-pack reflexes to shame

>You crawl up behind them both

“God, you two are precious, you know that? Just absolutely precious."

>The vixen's blush is so bright you swear you can her cheeks glowing in the dark

>And…

>Oh that's just beautiful

>Mike throws his head to the side in a pout

>But really, it's so you can't see that he's also blushing like a school girl

>"I don't suppose it's too cliche to say 'this isn't what it looks like?'" Jenna whispers

>Your smile widens as you and Sam scoot up next to them and plop down on the roof

>Happy now?

“Far too late, my dear. And you-" you level an accusatory finger at Mike “-Do you have protection?"

>Jenna pales

>"P-Protection?" She stammers, shrinking into her bumblebee costume

>"Anon, shut the fuck upppp." Mike buries his face into his palms

“I'm serious. I know you don't pay attention in Biology with Mr. Bolm, but you still have the right to bear your third arm — for now."

>"His WHAT?" Jenna shrieks

>"Anon, don't answer that," Mike commands you

>Well, you've had your fun

“Awww you crazy kids." Your tone is mocking. “I'm just teasing."

>"I'm older than you are, you assfucker," Mike hisses, turning his focus back onto the moon

>Anything to distract from the fact that his face is burning red, made all the more obvious by the fact that he's hopelessly pale now

>Whatever happened to not liking anthro women?

>Quietly, Sam whispers in your ear: “D-Do humans h-have t-t-three arms somewhere?"

>You slap your palm over your mouth

>It's all you can do to keep down the laughter

>Sam looks towards Jenna for guidance. The fox — still helplessly crammed between you and Mike — mouths something at the bunny

>And now you're the only one not wearing hot scarlet across your face, as the realization strikes Sam with the expediency of an iceberg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qbk-xo6Zqs&list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J&index=9&t=0s

>The four of you fall silent, save for the distant thrum of bass from the house, or the shrieks and shouts of drunken teenagers spilling (or stumbling) out into the backyard

>The moon looks so swollen in the sky, hanging above Ranchview as if dangling on a single, translucent thread

>A chill gust sweeps past you

>You tighten your arms around your body, shivering

>Mike and Jenna don't seem to be too bothered — Mike's jacket should keep him plenty warm, and you're sure Jenna's bumblebee costume is padded

>How you wish your were a bumblebee and not a knock-off priest

>You feel a bright spot of heat nuzzle up into your side

>Sam pressed herself up against you

>Your eyes meet for a quick second like flint and steel striking each other

>And you're about to say something

>But then you turn your focus onto something behind you

>Grunting

>Noise

>Struggle

>A dark shadow crawls up the rooftop

>In your addled state you almost scream and hurl yourself forward off the roof to escape

>You tense up, ready to explode forward and take that promised swan dive

>A cloud rolls past the moon, releasing a flood of white light that strikes the dark figure like a spotlight from God

>Oh

>It's Alex, and his arms are loaded with beers

>You spin the rest of your body to face him

“Yooooo!" You call out

>"What is up comrades?" He says with a hoarse grunt. “Thought I'd come join my co-conspirators on this monument to man's misery."

>He plants himself next to Sam and starts unloading beers from his arms, passing them down the line

>Sam takes one and examines it, as if unsure of what it is

>You pluck one and twist the lid, releasing a sharp hiss of pressure. It'll be shitty beer, and you're already cold and slightly drunk, but moments like these feel right for a brew

>Jenna cautiously takes hers and sniffs at it, grimacing at the sharp scent of hops

>"So," Mike says, sitting back on his palm and throwing back his beer. “What brings the great Alexi up to our humble perch?"

>Alexi sucks down on his drink and issues a triumphant belch

>"My work is seldom appreciated by those who don't understand it," he says, as if you're supposed to know what that means without context

>His voice is ragged and strained

>He must have been shouting for a good after you and Sam dipped

>"I got them too riled up. I swear, they're about to riot down there," he continues. “I'd approve, of course, but I didn't want to be the center of it. Buncha rabid animals."

>You cringe at the utterance of the 'r' word, but Sam and Jenna don't seem to care all that much

>"Good work comrade," Mike says. He sets his empty beer down tenuously on the slope of the roof and leans his head on Jenna's shoulder. “Sew the seeds of the revolution."

>He sounds a million miles away

>Distant, yet happy

>The vixen's head snaps left, then right, down the line of people, her face puffed up and red

>When you lock eyes, you see the request for permission in them

>You shrug in indifference

>She knocks the lid off the beer, and with eyes scrunched tight, brings it to her dark lips

>You don't care what they do or what they drink

>You're too at peace to care

>Around you the world seems to erupt in hormonal chaos and drunken debauchery

>Social worlds you'll never be a part of

>Things you'll never do

>But you like it better up here with your friends

>You feel like a tiny raft adrift on a very large and unfamiliar ocean, and everyone of you is a torch against the darkness

>You'll happily burn for them, together, like one big bonfire

>Or five logs leaning against one another in a blaze

“Ever thought that this is what you'd be doing your senior year of high school? Fighting the forces of evil for a bunch of people who don't even know you exist?" You wonder aloud

>"Them down there?" Jenna points a finger forward the knot of costumes moving around the backyard. “They know we exist. I think."

“They know, but they don't care."

>"Gahhh don't get all emo on us, Anon," Mike says. “You keep talking like that you're going to start siding with the goths."

“Bah, never. I'm not that much of a titanic idiot. Besides, I DO care about those kids down there. But I care more about the people up here on this roof.  That's why I'm doing this. And because I'm sick of being a coward, watching from the sidelines, running away from what scares me, hurting who I care about in the process."

>Your mind flashes back to Mr. Bolm and Gloria, both casualties of your cowardice

>And then there was Sam

>The way you treated her for so long makes you physically cringe

>You hope, in some way, you're setting things right

>And not just with her, but with yourself too

>Your heavy eyes flick down to her slight, pink lips, curled up in a shy smile

>"Awwww we care about you too," Jenna adds, her voice flush with joy and the beginnings of inebriation

>Is this her first time drinking?

>"You know what I care about?" Alex says. “Changing things for someone somewhere. I wanna do something that matters. That's why I fight against oppression in whatever form it takes. Be it at The Shop N' Save, school, or even at this gathering-"

>"It's called a party," Mike cuts in. “Just call it a party. And I don't seem to recall you running for any sort of student office… ever. How exactly do you fight oppression?"

>"My existence is resistance," is Alex's retort

>"I'm with you on doing something that matters, but that was a lame excuse and you know it."

>The communist crusader shrugs and pulls back on his beer again

>When all reasoning and logic fails: beer

>Beer is a universal language

>It's clear that this isn't the time or place to discuss thin-

>"I-I wan-want to do something th-that matters t-too," Sam squeaks up.

>She drops into a whisper. “I w-w-want to f-f-finally b-be brave."

>You're a little shocked that she's actually talking on her own behalf for once, but then, registering her words, you start to nod

>Doing something that matters

>Being brave

>Now those are ideas worth dying for

>There's something to rally behind, whatever 'something that matters' is

>How do you quantify it? How do you define what matters?

>Does it matter?

>Maybe you can channel the pervasive energy of an idea or a goal, however nebulous it may be, and achieve something immeasurable?

>As if all the great forces of evil and old and adult age were the clear sky, and you, your little group of friends, were the hurricane that would go nameless and uncategorized

>You want to do something that matters

>You want to stomach everything and keep it down — all the terror, the fear, the anxiety, the shame, the regret, the pain

>All for something — and someone — that matters

>You want to be brave, like Sam, who has already endured so much pain and hardship, who grows by leaps and bounds and strides every chance she gets

>And that's when you made your decision, settling again on her lips

>Two things were happening in that moment:

>Mike, Jenna and Alex were staring at you, shocked, their faces practically glowing in the pale moonlight

>And you were —consciously or unconsciously — wrapping your arm around Sam's slender waist, while her words pounded into your skull, in-step with your wild, hammering heart

>'Be brave'

>She looks up at you, startled, at first, but she doesn't draw back when you bend your neck and lean forward

>'Be brave'

>Her eyes flutter shut before yours do

>She leans up, towards you, drawing on the unconscious muscle memory that teaches birds to fly and fish to swim, to draw her arms around your neck and pull you close

>'Be brave'

>Your lips meet hers

>Every heartbeat you spend there feels like it could drag on for eternity

>With delicacy, you press your lips together

>Her fur tickles the tops of your lips

>You taste the sweat, the salt, feel the palpability of her slender mouth tight against yours

>Before you even realize what's happening, Sam tightens her arm against the back of your neck, further pressing you two together, breaking the parallel distance that spans separates you from her

>It feels…

>…Like heaven in her arms

>Like wetness and fur, like comfort and grace

>And you start to tremble at the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once — the kiss, the alcohol, the night sky, your friends — but to Sam, that's all a galactic mile away

>There's only you and her: doing something that matters