When it comes to describing Morgan, you figure calling her a hybrid may be a bit of a misnomer. Chimera seems like a much more fitting term for her. Rather than a mix of two or so species like most anthro hybrids, Morgan is a veritable patchwork with the amount of species she possesses various traits of, as if God was playing mix-and-match with each of her body parts. A canine-like muzzle, large ears to rival a fennec's in size, long talon-like claws and even a scale-covered lizard tail. You didn't even know lizard anthros existed before meeting her, much less so how one would even fit into Morgan's family tree.
Morgan is a special case. You have only known her for about a year, which now all seems so long ago with how close the two of you are. You think back on your relationship with her, starting out as a complete stranger she could barely say two words to only to become one of her closest friends. You're always happy to indulge whatever new adventure she cooks up for you, be it teaching you how to do a kickflip on a skateboard or listening to her six-hour deep dive lecture on hardcore Bionicle lore. If you didn't know any better, you might even say you have a tiny little crush on her.
That's a bold-faced lie, you're absolutely smitten with the girl and you know it. Half the time you can barely string a proper sentence together in front of her without stuttering like an idiot.
You check your phone for the time. 5:45 PM, more than enough time to get home and wrap the present before Morgan gets off work. Before you can slip it back into your pocket and save your freezing fingers, you feel it vibrate in your hand from a new text message from your other housemate, Lauren.
Still shopping. Be back tonight - Lauren
Which seems perfect to you, one less worry about spoiling your present before you had a chance to wrap it. Luckily you already have Lauren's present at home under the Christmas tree. The rather smug lynx is always easy to buy gifts for, exclusively wearing turtleneck sweaters year-round and being, in her own words, "at the age where she gets excited by clothes for Christmas." Green may be your color, but as you don't recall ever seeing Lauren wearing that color sweater before it seemed like a no-brainer.
Morgan on the other hand is a bit more eclectic in her tastes. With her near-obsession with skateboarding and all things cool and radical, Morgan often seems like a teenager living in the 90s rather than the 30-something years old she really is. The kind of girl who would rather wear her red Converses with just about any outfit she owns, no matter how little they match. A part of you wonders if that contributes to why she has never had a boyfriend for as old as she is, but you feel somewhat guilty for the thought.
Not that you're far behind her, after all.
With Morgan occupying your thoughts for most of the walk home, you get back in no time at all. Opening the front door, you let out a sigh of relief as you enter the comforting warmth of the dark interior. Lauren hasn't returned as she said, and no sign of Morgan just yet. Not wasting any time, you shed your winter clothing and rush to your own bedroom where your wrapping materials lay ready for use. You take a moment to peek at the gift, opening the box to peer inside. Confirming with yourself that the tasteful lines of black and white are the perfect gift for Morgan, you get to work on wrapping.
Several minutes and multiple online wrapping tutorials later (which you would never admit to needing), you look at the mess of wrapping paper scraps around you and sigh. Deciding that cleaning can wait, you quickly set the wrapped box in your closet to be put out later in the night. The sudden opening and subsequent slam of the front door causes you to panic and rush out of you room, shutting the door behind you harder than you had intended.
"H-hey, Morgan, welcome back. How was work?" You say as casually as possible. The lack of response begins to worry you, so you decide to greet Morgan directly. As soon as you see her standing in front of the door, you can immediately tell something is off.
"Morgan? What's wrong?" You ask, watching the chimera wordlessly and aggressively leave her coat and snow boots on the floor. "What happened?"
Morgan's eyes meet your own and you feel your heart break.
Her usual vibrant blue eyes are pink and puffy from crying, barely visible behind her dark ashen hair. You watch her entire body tremble as she repeatedly attempts and fails to vocalize anything more than small cries. Visibly holding back tears, she pushes past you without resistance and rushes to her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her. You very rarely ever saw Morgan upset, let alone enough to come home from work crying. The hole in your chest grows deeper at the fear somebody may have physically hurt or taken advantage of Morgan.
Brushing those fears aside, right now you know you need to make sure Morgan is alright and everything else can wait. The short distance to Morgan's bedroom feels like an eternity as you let scenarios play out in your head. Do you burst in, demanding to know what happened? Do you give Morgan space and let her come out on her own terms? By the time you reach the door, you come to terms that you really have no idea how to approach the situation. In the end you decide on a more diplomatic route. You put your ear to the door, hearing Morgan's soft sniffling from the other wide.
"Morgan?" You ask in a gentle tone, "You, er... mind if I come in?"
No response. You try the door and the knob turns, leaving you momentarily thankful Morgan hadn't locked it in her haste.
"Morgan, I'm coming in, alright?"
You gently push open the door to her bedroom, electing not to turn on the lights. Illuminated solely by light entering from the hallway, you slowly step inside the room. From the very few times you ever stepped foot in her bedroom, there was always the strong and distinct smell of her that cemented in your mind. Some combination of perfume and natural scent which you could never quite place, but became forever ingrained in your mind as 'Morgan'. Surrounded by posters for skateboarding video games and various movies or bands, Morgan lies on her bed face-down with her face in her increasingly damp pillows.
Awkwardly sitting on the edge of her bed, you feel dumb that you don't exactly know what to say.
"I'm here if you want to talk about it, Morgan." You settle with, "Whenever you're ready, that is. B-but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I can-" Morgan cuts you off by grabbing your upper arm.
"P-please don't g-go, I..." Morgan murmurs, just as quickly letting go of your arm, "I w-want to tell you..."
The chimera sits up and wipes her eyes with her hands before sitting upright next to you. A full minute passes while Morgan somewhat tries to compose herself.
"I w-was stocking the shelves at work today a-and I knocked over some boxes with my stupid t-tail." She heaves and stutters, pausing to nonchalantly wipe her nose on her shirt sleeve, "W-which normally wouldn't be a big d-d-deal, b-but there was this l-lady there..."
"And sh-sh-she laughed at m-me and said that I- I..." Her breathing quickens, once again on the verge of tears, "That I was just another stupid m-mutt."
While your heart breaks for the second time tonight upon hearing that word, a small part of you is relieved it wasn't anything more serious like Morgan being physically harmed. Out of every name you're aware of Morgan being called, the 'M-word' was always the worst. Morgan consistently drew the shortest stick in regards to discrimination against hybrids with her unique physiology, but the vast majority always seemed to be wordless glares or hushed remarks behind her back.
You wish there was something you could tell her that could magically make everything better, but every thought you have comes up short. Part of you decides to place your hand on her shoulder for support, while another argues it would just be weird. After a moment shaking your hand in indecisiveness, the first part of your brain wins out. The second you touch her shoulder, however, Morgan springs forward and wraps her arms around you in a hug. Your eyes go wide in shock, before slowly placing your own arms around her in return. It's not the first time she has ever hugged you, but those would usually be a quick thanks for whatever you did. This feels different, like you're truly comforting Morgan when she needs it most.
Slowly running a hand up and down Morgan's back as she holds you close, you figure this should be exactly what you want. It's exactly the fantasy everyone has, the girl falls for them after they comfort her over a simple bad day. But this feels different. As head over heels as you are for her, the very thought of twisting this into getting Morgan to date you feels... wrong. You need to wait, you decide, and put your feelings for her on the back burner. For now, all that matters is making Morgan feel better.
You lose track of time as the two of you sit in embrace on her bed, as you continue to rub her back while her breathing slows back to normal.You silently think to yourself how nice it feels, wishing you could spend the rest of your life in Morgan's arms.
"I j-just hate people so much, Anon." Comes Morgan's muffled voice, still buried in your chest.
"You don't hate all people." You lightheartedly challenge, hoping to at least get a smile out of her.
"Yes I doooo..." She whines in response, although in a notably more playful tone than before.
"Well... you don't hate me, right? So that's one person you don't."
Morgan doesn't seem to have a response to that, but she does let a small smile work its way onto her muzzle to your relief. Victory at last, but you decide to push your luck just a bit further.
"I don't know about Lauren, though." You jest, which elicits a giggle from the chimera, "Don't worry, I won't tell her."
"Feeling a bit better?" Morgan wordlessly nods to your question, although you remain unconvinced. Your mind wanders to your Christmas gift for her, still hidden in your closet. It may not heal everything Morgan endured over the past hour or two, but it could at least show her how appreciated she truly is. "Hold on, I'll be right back."
Leaving Morgan's side for as little as possible, you rush back to your bedroom and grab the freshly-wrapped present. Holding it behind your back to preserve the surprise as long as possible, you return to her bedroom where Morgan hasn't moved an inch.
"Look, I know Christmas is tomorrow and we really should wait, but..." You sigh, "I think you could really use something to cheer you up tonight."
You gently place the box on the bed next to Morgan, who alternates her bewildered gaze between the box and you. You sit on the opposite side of the present, and give it a light pat for encouragement.
"I, uh... got this for you today." You nervously rub your neck as Morgan stares at the present in seeming shock, "Go on."
You watch as the chimera tears into the present with grace, using her long claws to easily slice through the thin wrapping material. Gingerly opening the box underneath, she gasps and quickly retrieves its contents. A rather stylized wendigo skull (female, judging by the eyelashes) stares back at her, surrounded by black lightning patterns printed on the bottom of a plastic-wrapped white skateboard deck. Flanking it above and below are the black polished metal trucks, each fitted with pro-grade black and white wheels. Exactly the board Morgan practically had her eyes glued to ever since she first saw it in the skate shop window.
"I know it won't help with everything that happened tonight, but-"
"You remembered it..." Morgan cuts you off, not that you mind. It was pretty hard for you to forget the board, with how much she stated she loved the design on more than one occasion.
"Of course I did. And I thought it could use a little extra Morgan flair to it, too."
Morgan turns over the skateboard, revealing her name printed on the top deck tape in what you could only appropriately describe as blue and white 'skater font'. Her muzzle hangs slightly open in shock as she runs a furred hand along the rough grip tape.
"I-I was going to get it after Christmas, if they st-still had it..."
"Well now you don't have to." You smile warmly, "They gave me a special discount, too, you know. 'Anything for their favorite skater', they told me."
"Th-they really said that?" Her voice carries a noticeable amount of astonishment in it, as if Morgan was surprised anyone would give her that sort of special treatment.
"They sure did. Your name on top was even Roxy's idea." Although Roxy is much more Morgan's friend than your own, she is easily the most knowledgeable person you know when it comes to skateboarding and was more than happy to help you decide how to personalize the board.
"You have plenty of friends, Morgan. People close to you, who really..." You pause, picking your next words very carefully. "Care about you, alright? You have Lauren, and Roxy, and... and me."
"Don't let your life be ruined by a few jerks who will judge anyone who doesn't meet their perfect fantasy standards. All that would do is make you as grumpy and miserable as they are."
Morgan opens her mouth, but says nothing as if searching for the right words. A few seconds pass before she wraps her arms around you once more, nearly crushing your ribcage in a surprising show of strength for her small stature. This hug feels much warmer than before, with Morgan making short brushing motions with her lynx-like cheek tufts against your chest. After hearing muffled words that vaguely resemble "thank you," she just as quickly lets go as your mind begs to hold on for much longer. You clear your throat as she places her new skateboard on her lap.
"So... do you like your present?" You ask. Morgan vigorously nods, idly spinning one of the skateboard's wheels.
"This is, um... going to be awkward, b-but..." She pauses to take a deep breath before continuing, "I have s-something for you too. I was going to wait until tomorrow..."
Now she has you curious. Before you can react, Morgan crawls to the opposite side of her bed and leans down to retrieve something from underneath. You catch yourself staring at her long lizard tail wag through the air before hastily averting your gaze, not wanting her to think you were sneaking lewd glances towards her. She places a familiarly-sized rectangular box on your lap, wrapped in green wrapping paper with fitting red bow on top.
"Open it!" Morgan commands, which you feel you can do nothing but comply.
Ripping open the wrapping paper reveals a plain cardboard box, exactly the same as the one you had just gifted to Morgan. You shoot a sideways glance towards her before opening the box, only to erupt in laughter when you see the gift she had gotten for you.
Another skateboard, more than likely from the same skate shop. She must have bought it before you had a chance to pick up her skateboard, you figure. You run a hand across the bottom pattern, which appears to be boxy white lettering on a green gradient background.
"'N' NON?" you ask, which elicits a soft giggle out of the chimera.
"It was supposed to be A-Anon, but I'm not really good at anything and it's the best I could design..."
"Wait, you made this?"
You bring the board for a closer look. What you first thought was an 'N' is in fact a sideways question mark serving as the 'A' in your name, all cleanly painted in crisp white on top of the green skateboard deck. With how neat the paint was applied, only the broad brush strokes betray it as custom paint work rather than a professional application.
"I- I know green is your favorite color and I w-wanted to paint your name on the bottom. It's not as good as the one you got from the shop, but I thought..."
"It's, it's great! Morgan, I love y-" You mentally panic, stopping yourself before risking a slip of the tongue. "...it."
"The gift. I love the skateboard, yeah. Th-thank you." You awkwardly reaffirm.
Smooth.
"M-maybe now I can teach you how to do a-all sorts of tricks, now that you have your own board. I-if you want, that is."
For a moment, you swear Morgan's snowy-white fur gets a tinge of red to it. Maybe...?
No. For now you banish the thought. You already decided not to let your feelings get in the way of the moment, you don't want to risk ruining it by misreading her intentions.
"I'd like that."
Morgan rests her head on your shoulder as the two of you settle into a comfortable silence on the edge of her bed, matching skateboards in hand. You want to do more, to say so much more. To tell Morgan all about your feelings for her. How you believe she's one of the cutest, sweetest, bravest people you know. How you want nothing more than to show her every big of affection she deserves. How you maybe even want to hold her hand in public like the deviant you are.
For now, you decide to settle for telling her three simple words. Perhaps not the three words you wish you could tell Morgan, but all of that can wait for another day.
"Merry Christmas, Morgan."
No comments yet. Be the first!