Omg. I'm so cool. :D …yeah. Thasall. READING TIME!

I: Sick as a Dog


I smiled at him, he smiled at me. We exchanged a small 'hey', and it was the same every time, walking down the street we shared. Not that I was complaining, 'cause god, the guy was fucking beautiful, but that's it. I'd never worked up the gut to say anything but that one small 'hey', and the fact that he hadn't either, well, it made it clear he didn't have time for fuckers like me. It didn't matter though, he was just a pretty face. Besides, he had like three dogs. I hate dogs.

I sighed, listening too intently to his footfalls as he walked the opposite direction behind me, fooling myself that maybe, just maybe, he was listening to me walking over the panting of those damn dogs. I knew I was being pathetic, and that I wasn't ever going to talk to the guy, but whatever. A guy's gotta dream, right? And those dogs, those stupid dogs. What were they again? A Dalmatian, something like an Irish Poodle, and maybe a Shih Tzu? I didn't remember. I hated dogs.

"Yo! Alden!" I looked up and spotted Molly, her pet snake wrapped around on arm, the other carrying, well, another stupid ass dog, "Wanna meet my newest pet?"

I liked her, really I did. She was a good friend, but she was completely out of it sometimes, "If it's that dog, then no. Unless I get to kick it or something." Listen to me, Mr. Morbid, huh?

"Alden, that's just mean," she glared a little and pulled on the leash, "His name is Pepper, and he's the cutest border collie that ever walked the planet! Yes you are!" and oh my god, she was cuddling with the damn thing. The snake looked a little jealous. And fuck me, I'm crazy.

"Molly, will you please stop cooing with that… thing," I'm really not a bad guy, I even like some animals. Dogs just didn't do it for me.

"How can you hate dogs? I don't get it… you're all 'la de da I'm nice' but you're a totally jackass when it comes to dogs. It's a little scary, you know? Like that one time -" and I blocked her out right there. Like I said, I like her. She's a good friend, but a little out of it.

So, while she continued her senseless rambling, I myself thought of my fucking gorgeous obsession. I swear, if it wasn't immoral and weird in a few ways, I'd jump his bones. Smooth chin length hair, black with hot pink tips (I have a weird thing for hot pink), his eyes… oh shit. They were green, but they seemed transparent. Like green tinted glass, or that eroded stuff you found at beaches.

"-and she was all, "Yeah!" And I was all- Are you even listening to me?"

I smiled and started walking, "Nope."

She followed, "Are you thinkin' about that dude again?" she pointed behind her, though he was out of sight, "I found out his name, by the way. It's pretty goddamn weird if ya ask me."

I gazed over at her, trying not to look interested, "What is it?"

She made a look like she had a bad taste in her mouth, "Fylix Burke."

I thought about it for a second, and decided it fit his appearance perfectly, "What's so weird about that?"

"It reminds me too much of Felix the Cat," she sighed, "Why don't you go talk to him, anyway? What's the worst that could happen? He's quite obviously gay."

I suddenly felt the urge to defend myself, "He hasn't exactly talked to me either…"

Molly smirked, "He probably sensed your hate for dogs and is scared to come within ten feet of you."

I gave up right about then.


The next day was the same thing; well, almost. I got up, showered, dressed, ate, and went for that same walk. This time, however, I wasn't greeted by that same endearing face, or with a confident 'hey'. In fact, he wasn't there at all. I wasn't going to lie, I was a little disappointed; and definitely overreacting. So he didn't go for a walk one day? He probably just got busy at home, or was late. Hell, maybe he'd found some other place to walk with some other dog paranoid guy to say 'hey' to every morning.

Yeah. Definitely overreacting.

Luckily, my paranoia was interrupted. The sound behind me sounded like nails being scratched on the pavement, so I turned to see what the hell it actually was (hoping that floating nails weren't fallowing me home), and I didn't feel so lucky anymore. A dog. A fucking dog. I blinked and looked closer, recognizing it. Fylix's fucking dog. It was Fylix's dog.

I smiled because opportunity was licking it's ass right in front of me.

I think it was his Shih Tzu. Light brown fur, seemingly completely black eyes, wet nose; it tilted its head at me, after it's licking was completed, and whined. I hated that whine, and wanted to shut the stupid thing up. I didn't, choosing to try and pick it up instead.

"Come here you little bag of fur…" I reached down, and surprisingly it didn't try to kill me. I put it in my arms, and it wiggled around. The smell of dog spilled into my nostrils, and the stupid things fur covered my black tang top in seconds, "Fuckin' mutt."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it had grinned at me, "You know, if your owner wasn't so cute, I'd leave you out here to die," yes, I was being blunt, morbid, jackass like if you will; whatever. I hated dogs. It just stared at me though, and I almost told it out loud how lucky it was to be living with Fylix before realizing how corny that would've been, "Lucky for you though, he's extremely cute."

I knew where he lived. (I practically stalked the guy home one day. Molly and her friend Jonesy had been there, for moral support they said, and I'm sure Fylix had seen us more than once.) I walked straight ahead, the dog obviously hating being in my arms, but I didn't care. I was glad to see the thing suffering.

Five minutes later I was at his door step, dog at my feet, and I was a little nervous. I had his mutt though, and I certainly wasn't going to keep it, so I knocked. I heard a loud, exaggerated groan, feet on hard wood, and the door swung open.

The face that looked back at me was his, and he looked beat. Or maybe sick; oh, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. Right, anyway… "Alden?" he was staring right at me, green eyes blinking, and he looked, essentially, fucking adorable, "What-" and the cute left when his dog jumped into his arms. Stupid dog.

I sighed, "I found it wonderin' around outside… it's yours, right?" he looked down at it, and blinked up at me. His face looked relieved.

"Yeah. It's mine," he started petting it, "Thank-" he turned his head to cough, "-you. A lot. I've been sick all morning and it got away on me." I assumed that meant he was home alone.

I tried too look like I didn't care, "You're sick?"

He nodded, "Just a fever. I'm sure I'll live."

I gave up not caring and pushed him inside, "You shouldn't be home alone with three dogs while you're sick! Are you crazy?"

I'm sure he smiled as we entered his kitchen, "I'd say you're the crazy one. Commin' into my house," a sneeze, "uninvited like this."

I realized then that I was kind of being rude, "Sorry. I can-"

He put a hand over my mouth and bent over a little to let the mutt jump out of his arms, "Shut up. You're inside already so now you gotta wait on me." I kind of liked his bold attitude.

I grabbed his hand to move it, but when I tried to let go he grasped mine tighter. I ignored it, "Good then. You go lie down and I'll make lunch. Chicken noodle soup okay?"

He shook his head, "I'm a vegetarian."

Well, that was interesting, "Tomato it is then," I smiled and he let go of my hand to go lie down in what I assumed was the living room.

I managed to somehow find a pot, a can of tomato soup, open said can, and learn how to work his stove. I was quite proud of myself to be honest, all I needed now was a bowl and a spoon. I was about to call out to him and ask where said things were, but I heard music coming from whatever room he was in, so I asked about that instead, "What the hell are you listening to? Don't you have a head ache?"

"It's Grand Theft Bus," he coughed, and I felt bad for making him talk, "And no, my head is fine."

"Okay… where are your spoons and shit?"

"Well, my spoons are in the drawer by the fridge. And I don't feel comfortable telling you where my shit is." I knew he was grinning.


"Your soup makin' skills suck," he said after the very fist sip. He was bent over, elbows on his knees, and a white fuzzy blanket over his naked arms. Cute would be an understatement, but I thought he looked it anyway.

"I don't think cookin' soup from a can counts as a skill, Fylix, dear," he turned his head sharply to face me, surprise leaking onto his expression.

"How'd you know my name?"

I blinked, "You know mine too…"

"Yeah, I asked your friend Molly. But how do you know mine?" he was leaning closer to me (I was sitting beside him), and I couldn't tell if he was playing around or seriously weirded-out that I knew his name.

"Molly told me yesterday. She said it reminded her of Felix the Cat," his face was about three inches away from me now, and he looked really worn out, "I'm sorry?" it was more of a question, because knowing his name wasn't something to be sorry about.

"It's…" he fell over me slowly, and I jumped, not excepting the extra weight. His head was on my chest, eyes closed, and I'm sure his back was bending in the most uncomfortable way possible, "… okay. I just wanted to be the one to tell you, is all." I knew that line was way too sweet to be his normal words, so I blamed it on the fever. I smiled despite said fact, and pushed his head back a little, wanting to check his temperature. It fell onto my shoulder though, pitifully, and he grunted.

I laughed, "Work with me here," he groaned, and I forced his head up straight with one hand, feeling his forehead with the other, "Holy shit. You're warm."

He opened his eyes to glare at me, "Holy shit. I hadn't noticed."

I pouted, brushing some black and pink hair out of his face, "Don't be like that. I'll go get you some blankets, alright?"

"No. No you wont…" he collapsed on me again, "You're gonna stay here."

I blinked down at him, "You can't be comfortable laying like that…"

"I'm not. Now shut up and stop worrying," he turned so that his back was facing me, and pulled my arms around his waist. He leaned onto my chest, and I got a good whiff of his probably not recently showered hair. It didn't matter though, he was just a pretty face. I didn't even know this guy…

Maybe I could get to know him. Hell, we'd been hitting it off disturbingly well considering he was sick and there were three goddamn dogs in the house, "Can I… take you out somewhere this weekend…?"

"I was gonna make you," and I know he smiled.


There was little or no point to that :D Fylix&Alden! Hopesomeone likes it :3 It's gonna be a one-shot, because I've got two many stories I'm working on right now. Sorry. (heart)