Barnaby was running, holding Kevin’s arm in a tight hold. He was shaken by the grasp the golden retriever had, but he wasn’t interested in sticking around for Derevan and Julia.

And it looked like they had that in common.

Twists and turns, Barnaby hopped down a whole set of steps, holding Kevin’s lithe body by their side, like cradling a lover after a wedding proposal. Kevin had no time to think about the scenery, everything was a fast blur.

The duo made their escape.

Barnaby took their paws from under the white feline, and put them over their chest, gasping for air. Kevin fell onto the floor as soon as Barnaby let go of him.

UFF!

Barnaby barely heard an audible whimper from Kevin as his back made a hard hit on the concrete pathway. “Away from that freak show.” The golden retriever said with malice.

“Not even a sorry, asshole?” Kevin blurted out.

Barnaby smiled wildly, looking over at him. “That’s not my word.” They answered with a condescending look in their eyes.

What.

“I don’t need a penny to tell you and those two have some drama. I’m not DEAF, ‘Kev’. But that rat sure is.” They continued, as if preparing a long villain monologue at the capture of the hero.

“Y-You… heard us?” Kevin spoke back, walking a few feet away from Barnaby. “Ain’t deaf.” Barnaby answered swiftly, pointing at their short ears, both standing at attention.

Kevin wanted to look away from this weirdo. He wanted to run off as best as he could to some police station. Maybe Barnaby had some complaints already that could pile up, as if the bar wasn’t a health hazard by itself.

“Now, I’m no comforter, and it’s either you spill it, or we waste time gawkin’ at each other till that damn party starts.”

I sure wonder why you can’t comfort anyone.

Kevin turned around, realizing his surroundings. They were in an abandoned subway. Vegetation growing on the steps, hanging from the old tile ceiling, and a lot of trash building up on the railway platform.

Barnaby groaned. Kevin turned around.

“Kevin… could you please explain the problem?” They said, holding their tongue on their teeth as they punctuate and amplify their use of such a simple saying.

He didn’t say anything.

“I don’t get people like you. You go around, acting all fine, being picky in who and what you talk to. Am I not worthy or some shit?”

Barnaby shook their head, holding back a few more words they’d have said in their unfiltered monologue. “Here I am trying to deal with best friend number two, and you’re just being some cardboard cutout that dumbass loves more.”

Kevin shook his head in confusion, holding his arm out in a splayed position at the spiraling canine. His mouth hung open, one eyebrow raised, all signs of judgment.

Barnaby sucked air through their teeth, mouth wide in a frown. “You waltz into my life on a dime, and I just gotta accept you like you’re not some weirdo.”

They took a step toward Kevin.

“Is shitting on you the best way I can get you to talk? Got me treating you like some damn toddler. Might as well be one with how Abe’s dealing you like some playdate.”

Every word stuck to Kevin’s ears.

“If he wasn’t offering cover, you wouldn’t be here. Is that GOOD for you? Would you be HAPPY with that?” Barnaby’s voice began rising with each word.

“NO!” Kevin shouted back, his voice echoed down into the tunnels of the subway, beating Barnaby’s octave.

“Why NOT? You got me in more mixed signals than that…”

Barnaby paused for a moment.

“That fucking rat.”

“He’s worse than you could think.” Kevin said, looking to ease the tension of the moment, and possibly divert it.

“There you go again.” Barnaby put their paw to their temples, actively rubbing their forehead from an oncoming headache. “I’m getting a beer. You go suck off Abe or something, I’ve about had it with whatever you’re trying.”

Kevin stood back as Barnaby passed him, bumping his shoulder roughly as they made their way up the steps, masked in the light of the afternoon sun.

Kevin looked back at the subway tunnels, unsure of what to do. Barnaby spoke up quite a storm, all words as heartfelt as their mood, and all he could offer in return was being the reason for it.

Grumbling and contemplating, Kevin knelt down by the platform, letting his legs dangle down near the tracks, still sitting at “ground” level, as far as that term can get.

They’re such an asshole.

Kevin’s thoughts started in a wave of judgement towards the canine, then washing down to his own display.

They weren’t too happy with me either.

Weighing the experiences on a metaphorical scale, Kevin could see the problem. It wasn’t just him, it was both of them.

Footsteps echoed. Kevin turned his attention to the source. It was Barnaby, walking down the steps with two plastic bags of beer packs.

What… are they doing here?

Barnaby had a dead expression, bordering from a low frown with tears in the eyes, with just a thin line on their muzzle for any facial interpretation. They must have not noticed Kevin, their head dropped down to watch the floor, as they made their way to sit by the platform just as Kevin did.

They sat down just a few feet away from Kevin.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” They said, cutting one of the tied plastic bags open. Kevin watched with half-shut eyes as they tore apart a case of beer and chugged a can down in quick speed.

And I’m the baby.

Barnaby tossed the can down at the tracks, joining with the rest of the trash thrown in the abandoned subway. Kevin watched it rolling as the can collided with a small sludge pile of moss. A few mushrooms were growing out of that green stain.

It looked like a practiced habit.

As Kevin continued his focus in the unsanitary ruins of his environment, he recognized an all too familiar noise. Sniffling?

He looked at Barnaby, still watching the ground as if they’d float into space if they stopped anchoring their eyes down. Kevin couldn’t see their face from his perspective, but he knew he heard some kind of crying.

Uh-

Barnaby hastily fished into the torn plastic bag for another beer can, drinking it all in one big gulp. An impressive feat, if it weren’t in the face of self-destruction.

“Barnaby?” Kevin spoke, tensing up as he tried to reach out to the golden retriever. They looked over at him, their blue eyes tinted in red, some tears still visible.

“And you’re still here.” They said, pulling their head back, and tossing the can down to the tracks. Barnaby shot glances back at Kevin in silence, hoping for him to pick the signal to walk off.

“I want…” Kevin paused speaking for a moment, watching Barnaby’s ears lower down as he began. “...to talk.”

Barnaby didn’t answer.

“I… don’t know you.” Kevin said, trying to think of something motivational for the situation. God, I suck at this.

Barnaby drank another can, and tossed it down the track.

“But… you- Uh, you… You’re not happy.”

“If you don’t have a job, let me suggest being a detective.”

Okay, that was a good one.

Silence was the only sound between the two. Occasionally broken by the sound of rapid breaths through Barnaby’s nose. Trying to silence their sadness, by the sound of it.

“I still don’t know how I feel about you.” Kevin interrupted, the noise of sniffling snuffed out by silent anger. Barnaby turned their gaze to Kevin, a long frown on their muzzle.

“You’re- uh… You kinda helped me… but- but at the same time…” Kevin’s statement slowly trailed to a hushed sound.

Barnaby drank another beer can right in his face.

“But-”

And threw it into the tracks.

“-I think you’re… uh… Fuuuck.” Kevin shook his head left and right in a vapid motion, trying to slow down his thoughts.

“This stuff’s better when Abel says it.” He admitted.

Barnaby scoffed, drinking another can between the expression.

“Barnaby… I don’t get you either.” He said, as they finished gulping the dark ale. Barnaby twisted their head toward the white cat, Kevin took it as a sign of catching their attention.

“You act like an asshole to everyone.”

Barnaby threw the beer can down the track with hard force, not once moving their eyes off Kevin. He struck a nerve now.

I’m digging my grave, aren’t I?

“I-I’m not comfortable talking… a lot. Abel makes me comfortable, he’s a good guy. You make me talk too, but that’s not the same, you make me feel really uncomfortable.”

Barnaby’s eyes rolled.

“I’ve barely known you for… I don’t know, three hours? Meeting you was… uh…”

Kevin paused for a moment, scratching his head. Barnaby smirked lightly. Kevin bit his tongue, preparing a saying. “You’re going through something.”

Barnaby’s face shrunk in confusion.

“You’re getting drunk because… I’m not talking to you? You think I’m stealing Abel from you? You hate Derevan? I… I-I don’t get it. What am I doing?”

Barnaby put their paw to their forehead, rubbing it aggressively. Kevin watched as they did so, anticipating a response.

Nothing.

“I wanna talk.” Kevin said, trying to muster a smile.

“Are you gonna take him?” Barnaby said, slurring most of the first bit of their sentence. “What?” Kevin asked.

“You’re gonna leave me with nothing?” They spoke again, this time, faster. Kevin craned his head forward, stumbling his words. “Uh… I’m- not- what did I take?”

Barnaby fidgeted with the zipper of their jacket. “Leave me with no one? Alone again?”

What?

“...No?” Kevin let out, such a response only holds as much validation when sincere, instead, he spoke it as a question for horrible interpretation.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“He likes you… he doesn’t say that about me.”

Who are we-

“Abel doesn’t want anything to do with me, does he?”

No?

“He… he- He…” Barnaby’s voice trailed off. It sounded like they were trying to refer to Abel, or maybe it was an odd cut laugh. They took a hard breath of air through their nose, the sound was an ugly SQUELCH with how much mucus must’ve been in there.

“Uhm… Bee?”

“Nooooo… only Ay-bull calls me thaaat.” Barnaby protested, now sounding like a toddler. Kevin looked over to the steps leading out of the subway, pondering.

“Do you have your phone?”

Barnaby patted their pockets a bit, and then took out a fancy touch screen device. Such technology still untested by the tech illiterate feline. “Can you give it to me?” Kevin asked, in a slow manner. As if consoling a child.

Barnaby said nothing, still holding it out in the air. Kevin slowly swiped it out of their grasp. They didn’t react.

“How… how do you use this?” Kevin asked, tapping on the screen, a lock on. The wallpaper looked like an image of Barnaby and Abel. Oddly enough, there were some crude lines drawn over Barnaby’s face.

“Nooo…” Barnaby answered, swatting at Kevin. He ducked low, avoiding their limp attack. “I can’t call anyone like this.” Kevin remarked, trying to identify a potential password.

Please enter pin or facial recognition

“Barnaby, look at this!” Kevin said, shoving the phone into their face. Barnaby groaned when the phone bumped them in the face, sighing in relief as Kevin reeled it back. Just as he’d hoped, the phone unlocked. Now on the home screen.

Okay… now…

Kevin scrolled around on the home screen, trying to find a “call” application. All he could see were pages of nothing, along with different images of them and Abel hanging out. Almost each one had Barnaby crossed out in some way.

Uh.

Scrolling one last time, Kevin found the call button, as well as a gallery and text chat. Yes! He exclaimed in his mind, tapping onto the call button.

A list of contacts appeared on screen, one labeled “FRIEND - ABEL”, and the other as “911”.

Two numbers?

Kevin looked over at Barnaby, who had dug into the second case of beer. It had to be their seventh can at the least. He shook his head, then tried to smile with some sense of empathy.

It was a wide dumb smile. Something Abel would’ve made in a situation like this, most definitely. Kevin had little clue on how to better console this situation, so he tapped the call button on Abel’s contact.

The call rang, long and painful in silence. There was no answer. Kevin shook his head, out of options.

“Heyyy…” Barnaby spoke up. “Don’t steal my… my phone…”

There was a pause in the middle of that sentence, definitely losing their train of thought. Kevin had to cut the supply before this got worse.

“Barnaby, we’re… uh… let’s go to my apartment.”

“Not- not… enough locks…”

What does that even mean?

“Uh… let’s go to your apartment, then.”

Kevin got up from the platform, and picked up the remains of the cut plastic bags, hoisting them up into his grasp, he tied them shut.

No more beer.

Barnaby tried to stop him, holding their paw over the last bag. Kevin easily overpowered the drunk canine with a hard tug, gaining control of their conscious escape.

I wanna toss these onto the tracks… but beer isn’t cheap. Especially if Barnaby’s drunk from just a pack. I’ll put them in their fridge.

“Can… you get up?” Kevin asked, looking over at Barnaby, one paw full of plastic bags, he couldn’t move them much. Not as if he was comfortable touching anyone regardless.

“Nooo.” Barnaby answered, leaning to their side, almost falling down into the tracks. Kevin’s eyes widened in horror, dropping the bag of beer, he grabbed Barnaby’s free paws, and pulled them away from the edge.

Barnaby was mumbling inaudibly during the drag, but said “fuck” after Kevin let go of them. Their head hit the concrete floor, probably the reason behind such vulgarity.

Kevin knelt down, trying to pull one of Barnaby’s arms over his shoulder. Any way to get them on their knees would help getting them on their legs. He groaned and whined, barely able to lift the large canine.

“Barnaby… uhm- uh… get up.”

Barnaby wasn’t responding. Just a faint emotionless expression over their eyes. Kind of like seeing a ghost, but in a “I’m not surprised” way than a “they’re real!” reaction.

“Please.”

“Fuck… you.” Barnaby let out. Kevin shot them an angry look. Confused on what in the everloving hell they were trying to say.

Barnaby slowly got up, Kevin watched them do so, standing by the stairs with the bag of beer. He poured all the cans into one plastic bag for ease.

“I’m… I’m fine. I’m fine.” They said, as if in any such statement.

“How… much did I drink?”

“Eight, maybe?”

Rubbing their temples, Barnaby figured that number would be right. “I’m… fine.” They repeated like a broken record. “Let’s… uhm… get you home.” Kevin suggested, looking behind him as he made his first step up the stairs. Barnaby slowly followed, holding onto the rusty railing as tightly as possible, the world spun with each time their feet raised into gravity.

Some time passed, however much it was, neither knew. Kevin stood by Barnaby’s apartment door, holding his left arm behind the canine in case they fell again. They sobered up a bit, still mostly gone, but it was a better state than before.

Can you open the door?

Kevin stared at Barnaby in silence, who was doing the same. He looked over at the door, signaling for Barnaby to unlock it.

“Oh… oh… the- the key.” They said, patting their pockets again, and pulling out a small golden colored key.

They tried putting it into the keyhole, missing terribly the first time, then barely landing the second, back to missing horribly for the third.

Oh for crying out loud… He groaned.

Kevin took the key out of their paw, and opened the door.

The door creaked open slowly, with Barnaby standing right in front of it like a deer in headlights. Kevin leaned forward from the side, slipping in, and grabbed Barnaby’s paw to pull them forward.

Barnaby leaned with Kevin’s tug, and fell over onto the floor in the apartment. A hard knock on the neck. Kevin was too busy tossing the bag of beer onto the couch to notice the fall.

Shit.

Kevin tiptoed over their body, and shut the door. Slowly repeating the same locking ritual he witnessed Barnaby do earlier. Half of these don’t even do anything.

He looked back at the recovering canine, still on the floor. Kevin could’ve sworn he heard some kind of whining. From the fall maybe, or another drunken stupor.

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling down to try and help them up. Barnaby grunted, blowing air roughly from their nose. “I’ll… take that as a maybe?” He said, confusion laced in tone.

Barnaby got up, their legs wobbling like jelly. Kevin stood back, but kept his arms out at the ready to catch them for the fifth time. The walk to the apartment was worse than this.

They stood still, still faintly shaking. Kevin watched Barnaby raise a paw, rubbing their chin, while squinting their eyes. Their paw moved toward their mouth, flashing it open to red.

Oh shit.

“I-I’ll get a tissue.” Kevin said, looking over at the bathroom. Surely toilet paper could work as a substitute, he didn’t want to go through any more of their things as is.

Kevin dashed into the bathroom, noticing all the clothes piled onto the sink. While semi-proud of the attempt at cleaning, his focus remained on preventing the apartment from looking like a bloody murder.

He took a whole roll of toilet paper from on top of the toilet, and ran back by the couch, Barnaby lying down on it. They were still rubbing their chin and mouth with faint whining.

Kevin held his paw out, holding the roll over Barnaby’s face. They grabbed blindly at his arm, and smeared it over their mouth. “NOO!” He shouted, pulling his arm back in blind panic.

White fur now stained in red.

Barnaby gave Kevin a dumb look with their eyes, but the rest of their face read as annoyed. He put the roll on their chest, and ran to the kitchen, washing his arm in the sink. He couldn’t care about what the water was like, he just wanted the blood gone.

Through the sound of running water and brushing, Barnaby got off the couch, picking out a brown medium sized ceramic bowl with badly drawn flowers on the outer edge. They put the bowl on a counter, idly wiping their mouth with more toilet paper.

Scrubbing through fur and reaching bare flesh, Kevin nearly bruised himself from the aggression. He closed the tap, scanning his arm. It was still faintly red, but it’s better than nothing.

Kevin turned around, noticing the canine’s move. “What… are you doing?” He asked, as they dropped a tissue in red.

Barnaby didn’t answer. They crouched down, nearly falling, to pull out a packet from a different cabinet. Chicken noodle soup.

“You… you want soup?”

Barnaby’s eyes narrowed. Kevin could tell they wanted to mock him for the observation. “I’ll… I’ll uh- make it. Go back to the couch.” Kevin commanded, something he wasn’t used to.

He walked Barnaby back to the 80’s black couch, holding their back tightly with both paws, trying to steer the drunk dog. They fell right onto it, a better crash than hard floor, at least.

Kevin looked over at the TV box, and its VCR, then back at Barnaby again. “Do… you… er, want to watch… something?”

Barnaby’s face was aimed at the ceiling, they shook their head, the sound of fur shifting with the material of the couch stung to Kevin’s ears. “Just… stay.” He scurried off to the kitchen.

Kevin was by no means a good cook. Taking into account what he has for breakfast, making something for another person was out of the question. But, he had no better choice. Abel was at Liqwee, and it didn’t look like there was anyone else for Barnaby.

Pulling out a pot, filling it with water, and heating it over a small gas stove, Kevin began his attempt at making chicken noodle soup. He thought back to the last time he tried something like it, vague memories of feeding Julia such a specific choice.

Kevin poured the contents of the packet into the pot, large chunks of carrot and chicken strips spilled out and filled the long tub of aluminum. Then, he stirred it about with a small wooden spoon he found in a drawer. Looked like something you get for buying at a food truck.

It took a while, but the soup was long and ready. Nearly bubbling to the top of the pot. I need to buy this brand.

Kevin picked up the ceramic bowl Barnaby took out earlier, examining it. I swear I’ve seen this before.

He opened another drawer, searching for something to scoop up and pour some of the soup into the bowl easily. Searching every drawer, the best he could find was a rusty old ladle.

Pouring some of the soup into the ceramic bowl, Kevin heard some swishing from behind him, and turned around to Barnaby standing a foot away from him.

“It’s… ready.” He said, holding the bowl up to the golden retriever, like some kind of peace offering. Barnaby lowered their paws to hold the bowl from under, a faint smile on their face.

Kevin smiled back, letting go of the bowl.

Falling right out of Barnaby’s grasp, it shattered on the floor. Ceramic pieces blew across the apartment, with the chicken noodle soup lying still in its sad splatter.

Barnaby’s wide eyes shrunk in horror, looking down at the remnants of the shards in the kitchen. They fell down, mumbling while trying to pick up the pieces.

“Barnaby! Don’t touch- uh, don’t pick them up! You’ll hurt yourself.” Kevin advised, trying to kneel down and stop them from continuing their collection.

Barnaby didn’t listen. Instead, they responded by looking at Kevin with their maw open, some blood spilling out onto the floor, dropping right over the spilt soup.

That is DISGUSTING!

Kevin stood up, he knew he couldn’t possibly control Barnaby through strength. The best he could do was monitor this disaster, and make another bowl of soup.

He went back to the pot, leaving Barnaby to crawl around in the apartment, picking up ceramic piece by piece. Some were still sticky from the soup, others were jagged. Eventually, they had all the pieces. Some crumbs were lost, but the whole bowl could be glued back, if given the chance.

Barnaby put all the broken parts of the bowl in their bedroom drawer, leaving it wide open as they lazily walked back into the living room. They fell on the couch, bumping their head on Kevin’s lap.

“Ow!” Kevin said, nearly spilling the new bowl of chicken noodle soup. Barnaby gave him a death glare, expressed most by a flash of their teeth, one canine now missing.

“I’m just gonna… feed you the soup this time.”

He tapped into a new white bowl with a better spoon, taller and wider for more soup. He dug the spoon in, pulling out a large bit of a noodle with a small carrot. “Open… uh- wide.”

Really feeding them like some baby now.

Barnaby complied, opening their maw for Kevin to drop the spoon of soup. He lowered it horizontally above their mouth, then tilted it over to spill it in.

“I think you should wash your mouth.” Kevin said, watching Barnaby shut their mouth after a delivery to the hatch. Their teeth still stained in variable opacities of red.

Kevin took out the toilet roll he was sitting next to, and handed it to Barnaby. They tried to sweep some of their teeth clean, but the white rolls quickly turned crimson dark.

Barnaby looked back at Kevin, trying to flash a wide smile. Their teeth were still stained, but at least it wasn’t as concerning. They tossed the dirty pieces onto the floor, a clean for later, and laid their head back on Kevin’s lap.

Kevin spent his time feeding Barnaby the chicken noodle soup, bit by bit, chunk by chunk, it was almost done. While raising another spoonful of a large carrot piece, a faint airhorn sound echoed from Barnaby’s pocket.

Kevin gave Barnaby a confused glare. “Wha-”

The airhorn got louder, as Barnaby fished out their phone. It was a phone call from Abel. Kevin swiped the phone out of Barnaby’s grasp, and accidentally answered the call.

“Ay, Bee. You never told me if you’d get back, so I closed the bar for the night. I’m guessing you and Kev are still at the party, he didn’t answer the door at all. How’s it?”

Neither of them responded.

“Bee? You there? I’m hearing nothing.”

They gave each other a concerned look.

“I’m gonna guess your mic’s broken again. Let me know how you two did, I’ve gotta deal with…” Abel paused for a moment, as a firework popped in the distance of the audio.

“...something. Tell Kev I gotta talk to him later.”

The call beeped, ending.

The phone screen opened to a text conversation between Barnaby and Abel. Kevin didn’t want to intrude in their privacy, and turned it off, handing it back to the golden retriever.

Barnaby sloppily dropped the phone onto the floor, slowly standing up from the couch. They looked over at the bathroom, then Kevin. “What… what happened to the beer?” They asked.

Well, they can actually talk again.

“I put them in your mini-fridge while you were crawling.”

Barnaby made an “Mmm” sound while keeping their mouth closed. They sat back down, nearly catapulting Kevin into the ceiling. Barnaby looked over at Kevin, shifting from a low frown to a weak smile.

“Hey…” They said, Kevin looked over at the canine. The two stared at each other in silence, both waiting for the other to speak. “Thanks.” Barnaby mustered out.

Kevin furrowed a brow at Barnaby.

“For… uh… all this. You could’ve left me in the subway, though. It’s kind of my spot for that.” They added.

“What?”

“Forget it. Just… thanks. I think.”

Barnaby stood up, more healthy in their stand. “I was… thinking about what you… said. And- well… I-”

They stopped talking.

“Sorry.”

Oh.

“Look, I’m still halfly… sober. I don’t think we can… make it to the party at this point. But since you’re practically wearing pajamas… uh… do you wanna sleep here?”

I can’t tell if they’re unsure or hesitant.

“No… strings. Nothing. You can… uh- take the couch, or my bed.” Barnaby said, rubbing their temples again.

“I’m… not sure I’m tired.” Kevin said.

Barnaby pointed over at the TV box. “Soup and show?”

Kevin let out a snort laugh. “Sure.” He walked off into the kitchen with the bowl and spoon, looking to get another for himself and Barnaby.

Barnaby walked over to the front door, repeating their locking mantra. Unknowingly, they undid Kevin’s progress.