It was a pleasantly calm afternoon in the campus courtyard. The kind of day where you could just lay back on a bench, ignore literally everyone around you, pull out a good read, and burn through it under a gentle breeze. Not that bad weather or people ever got in the way of Owen reading a book, but something about reading outside always felt better to him. Maybe it was the fresh air, maybe he secretly loved to read in public like a weirdo. Either way, he was currently occupying a bench and burying his head in a novel for class.

              The name of the course, “English Literature," couldn't have been dryer if someone blasted it with sand. Still, with a few gems scattered about American and British letters he figured at least one book he hadn't read yet would be decent. The book he was now holding was… well, interesting at least. He hadn't actually read anything by the author yet, though he'd heard that she was a fiery critic in her time. Turns out she also had a thing for incredibly long sentences and saw no reason not to kill off her main character in the least exciting way possible, kill a bunch of her family members, shove a side character into the lead role, and then just proceed as normal. That was modernism for you. Fuck traditional story structure and go wild. Show how indifferent time is to the dead by killing off the main cast and almost immediately setting side characters center stage.

              The course itself wasn't quite so innovative, though. Not only was it your standard Read 100 Books And Write Papers About Them schtick, it didn't seem to look for literature outside of the human canon. This was possibly because anthros didn't have access to traditional publishing streams until a few decades back, beginning with pulp novels which had mostly fallen out of print, and much of the literature that would have existed was either lost or hidden somewhere. Or maybe the prof just wasn't interested in that area. He personally found himself growing increasingly curious about it. Over in the city anthros lived among humans… sort of. They had their own districts, sure, but had to wander out regularly and at least be around humans. And yet, even in grade schools there was hardly any interaction. Or at least any that was friendly. Not that either group was a fully cohesive unit, but he always found that anthros were this peripheral culture whose ideas and writings he could never really access.

              And now he was here, instead reading edgy death-core and being reminded that he was going to die. Like, really. It was happening. Not now, but someday. Leave it to old English authors to lighten the mood…

              While the book's contents continued to contrast the tone of the afternoon, the rest of campus continued on as if Owen weren't even there. Some wolves and tigers practicing rugby in the courtyard behind him, an almost faceless crowd of humans and anthros passing by him in front, even the occasional overhead shadow of someone jumping between the trees. He hadn't really considered that living more directly among anthros would be different from grade school, having been more fixated on the move up to university and what books they'd expect him to read. But this place actually tried to make them at least somewhat comfortable. Scratchable walls for felines, course slots in the evenings for nocturnals, even these long wooden bars scattered about which possums and bats seemed to hang out on. Hehe… “hang" out… ahem. It made for a unique experience, if nothing else.

              But he couldn't be too hard on them for the lack of interaction. He, himself, tended to keep other people walled out, as he'd become accustomed to over the years. People were awful no matter what covered their exteriors. Hardly worth the effort to peel the outside away and find the same shallow soul underneath. At least part of him worried that he was just conceited and judged everyone too quickly, but he still never felt inclined to seek out new people the way he did literature. Never feeling like other people could enrich him in the same way, as if people and books needed to be synonyms.

              But sometimes the world has other plans for you. And they come to you in ways a quantum computer couldn't predict.

              Walking down the pathway leading through the courtyard was a big gray wolf morph, strutting along to the music from his clip-on headphones. Milt found it easier to deal with crowds if he didn't have to hear them, and there was just no avoiding them on campus. What specifically he was listening to was less of a concern, so he let the Shuffle function do the work for him. A clement, folky strumming was currently taking him back in his hometown, walking down a street at night. Crisp air lightly stroking his fur while he drew pictures in a starry sky. Just enough around him to be in civilization without suffocating him in skyscrapers like the city did.

              The university drew him in because he knew he wanted to do something with computers, which meant he either had to figure things out in his parents' basement while they slowly grew to resent him or he had to go to college. At least the latter offered him some adventure, even if it meant being on his own for awhile in a place with little relief. After one bus ride he found himself surrounded by some alien world of concrete and glass with way more humans than he'd ever seen before. The school itself was located closer to the outskirts of town, which at least gave him the option of seeing some green whenever he found himself overwhelmed. But even after being a student there for over a year he never really lost the urge for his old home. Particularly the quiet nights which had since been replaced by a darkness full of shouting and breaking bottles. That was dorm life for you…

              The mixture of the song and his nostalgia had the wolf inadvertently daydreaming while he was walking… in a crowded university courtyard with lots of things to run into. Like, perhaps, a bench with a bookworm sprawled on it. Before he could open his eyes and maybe prevent it, one of his legs collided with the side of the bench and physics had the remainder of his mass continue in a downward trajectory.

              A light shockwave first alerted Owen to what was about to happen, followed by an “oh SHIT!" to draw his attention forward. Just in time for the world to disappear behind a heavy curtain of fluff, along with what breath he'd been holding. He also heard a light clacking of something else falling and hitting the bench. For a moment he just lay frozen in place as his nostrils got filled with fur and a light musk. The thought moved through is brain that he was being smothered by an anthro of some sort. A canine, probably? Whatever was the case, he found his need for oxygen outweighing his curiosity.

              For a few seconds Milt just lay there with his eyes closed, hoping his fur would keep his deep embarrassment covered. He didn't want to guess how many people just saw him trip and fall over like an idiot. Then it hit him that the bench he just fell on felt oddly… organic. Almost like he fell on someone, which was confirmed by an insistent tapping on his bicep. “Whoa!" The surprise had him instantly shooting up off the poor creature under him and looking down to see if they were okay. “Sor-“

              What he saw surprised him even more, the cumulative amount of it stopping him mid-apology. A human. He just fell on a human. A bespectacled one with short… headfur? He wasn't really sure what the technical terms were. But he immediately noticed the brown, examining eyes looking back into his own. And it was like they hooked into him, holding his gaze. Then, as if on cue, his nose caught the scent he gave off. It didn't even register to him that his tail began wagging and his eyelids lowered. Who IS this guy?! A low rumble sounded from Milt's chest, and whatever part of his brain was supposed to find this weird was completely overwhelmed by the creature before him. And why does he smell so good?

              On the other side of this silent exchange, Owen's senses had recalibrated and become acutely aware that he was pinned under this big gray wolf guy… who was moving in oddly close. And sniffing him. His eyes briefly set on the light twitching of his wet nose, breaking away from the two hazel orbs coming down on him. The end of his muzzle was slightly parted, too, showing a set of tiny front teeth and a hint of his fangs. Even his whiskers were more apparent this close up. Amazingly, the big white patch over his right eye and lightened tips in his… headfur? Both came secondary to the simpler aspects of his face. But with a fuller vision of his assailant, who seemed to be in a different universe right now, he had to wonder. Who the hell is this guy? His subconscious briefly pondered that the patches where fur and skin connected were warm and somewhat comfy, and that the wolf's own musky scent wasn't unpleasant. He even noted a familiar tune coming from what he assumed were headphones. He'd been listening to The Hip. Nice. But Owen still had a Victorian Emo novel to finish, so this spontaneous interlude needed to come to an end.

              Milt was still floating a bit and taking in the human below him when the guy suddenly hardened his expression. Whatever spell was binding him was finally dissipated by a simple incantation: “…can you stop crushing me now?"

              The wolf's eyes widened and he seemed to simultaneously snap back into reality and off of the poor human. In about a second he was vertical again, immediately making the mistake of looking around the two of them. Far more bystanders than he was comfortable with had been eyeing their rather queer collision, their attention varying from curious to utterly shocked. In particular, he noted several other canine morphs eyeing him suspiciously. Staring at the human with his tail wagging probably wasn't the most subtle gesture. Oh, right! The human! He was still lying on the bench, also looking at the wolf with mixed suspicion and confusion. The look sent a crazy, strange heat through his chest and outward, flushing his face and making his knees go weak. His brain was like a tempest with everything running through it. The other people staring at him, the poor guy he just crushed, and the fact that he couldn't really look him in the eye without being spellbound. Averting his gaze before his tail started moving again, he shook his head and started spouting the word “sorry."

              Seeing the big wolf standing there awkwardly and seemingly apologizing for everything from falling on him to merely existing was… you know, for the roughly one million or so words in the English language, Owen couldn't think of one he knew that could describe this. As the performance went on, he just found himself getting more and more confused. What was up with this guy? A few seconds ago he had his eyes locked on him and sounded like he was… whatever the canine equivalent of purring was. Now the wolf couldn't even look at him and his vocabulary seemed to be reduced to one word. Then Owen noticed them. The audience they'd drawn in. Great… wouldn't take long for this little encounter to go around the gossip ring. He was tempted to tell the wolf to relax and ignore them, but before he could get another word in the guy seemed to remember how his legs worked and bolted down the courtyard. By the time Owen was sitting upright again he was half-shrunk into the distance.

              And so he was left there. Disshelved, fur all over his clothes, but book still in hand because of course. Watching a big wolf guy running away from him. He slid his other hand up the bench a bit and looked down when it encountered something. Headphones. One of them fell under the bench and got caught between two of the boards when that wolf took off. While he was looking down and picking them up the guy disappeared from his vision entirely. He wasn't aware of the light red in his cheeks while he sat there looking where the wolf had been, wondering to himself. What… Out loud. “What the hell just happened?!"

              Owen nearly bolted out himself when the crowd turned their attention back to him, with a few of the anthros giving him the same look they'd given that wolf. He just rolled his eyes and walked off rather than engaging with anyone, given he was still discombobulated by the whole encounter. He thought he'd heard one of them shout something at him, but he wasn't really paying attention as he moved to get literally anywhere else, tucking the headphones into his pocket on his way to wherever. After all, he still had that novel to finish. Now with the burden of existing to everyone as comic relief. Hopefully this particular role didn't last very long… that book was hard enough to dissect as it was.

              Elsewhere, Milt had slid down and sat against a random wall once he felt he was far enough away from the crowd… and that human. The pinches of his fur catching into the brick faces barely registered at that point. He could hardly think or speak for a couple of minutes afterward. Everything had happened so fast and left him completely spun. Even now it felt like things were just… different somehow. Something in the way that human looked at him, his scent, even the brief sound of his voice. Despite everything he'd heard about humans growing up, and the fact that this was very, VERY taboo, no amount of reminding himself of that cooled the warmth he felt at the idea. There was something about that guy that just… stuck in him. This guy he didn't even know. And who probably thought he was a giant creep. And who probably had his headphones now. “Fuck…"

              The walk back to his dorm was far less pleasant without his music, and he couldn't help but keep his ears down the whole time. Not to mention how nervous he was about running into that human again… Even though their encounter hadn't happened that long ago he could tell that word was already permeating about it, given the people staring and pointing at him. It all seemed to go on for an age before he finally shut the door to his room, silently thankful his roommate wasn't there right now.

              He quickly walked over to his bed and plopped down on his back, throwing an arm over his eyes and groaning out in frustration. A whole flock of other students just watched him fall on a human and then stare at him like he was going to mount him. He could tell the other canines caught something else, too, by the way they'd looked at him. He'd been giving off pheromones. What could he possibly say to explain THAT? And why for a human, of all things?! For the next little while he just laid there, trying to wrap his head around what was happening. But he couldn't help wandering back to thoughts of the guy.

              For a second he could feel his hand wandering lower, but then quickly snapped it away from his groin and shook his head. “Don't make it more obvious…" He opted to rest his hand down on his stomach and give it a light scratch. His mind briefly pondered what that human's fingers might feel like, but then he remembered where he'd been going before he fell on him. He just growled and sat up again. “Fuuuuck…" He'd been on his way to the computer lab to work on a project which was due tomorrow and hadn't even been started. Now he had to rush it out AND hope nobody pestered him about his little incident. All while having no headphones to tune everything out.

              Figuring it best to just get the project over and done with so he could be back here sooner, he got up off the bed and started toward the door with a stone of dread in his stomach. Partly from the unwanted attention he was expecting to receive, but also from what this could mean. Am… am I actually into a human? A rush of panic immediately welled up at the question and he shoved it back into the dark recesses of his head. He wasn't in any position to break this down yet. So that settled it. Project now, horrible identity crisis later. He clung to that resolve and held onto it as he walked through the door.