Morning light crept through the gaps in the window frame, strand by strand.
The warm golden-red hue first soaked half the wall, then crawled across the desktop to the alarm clock at the corner of the table.
The hands moved slowly, coming to rest at 6:20.
A tiny figure was already busy on the floor.
Bob gripped the broom handle, moving with extreme gentleness and steadiness.
The bristles skimmed across the floor, not daring to stir up even a speck of dust.
He bent low, his small ears drooping slightly.
After sweeping each section, he’d pause and listen carefully.
The white wolf on the bed was still breathing long and evenly, with a faint, barely-there snore.
Only then would Bob continue.
The corner of the desk was too high, even standing on tiptoes, he couldn’t reach it.
Bob glanced at the sleeping Kevin, then quietly climbed onto the high stool, his knees pressing against the hard wooden surface as he leaned forward slightly.
His small paws moved inch by inch across the desktop, straightening scattered pens into neat rows, aligning the edges of books into a perfect line.
He wiped every inch of the desk meticulously, even the small ring of dust beneath the base of the lamp.
When he jumped off the stool, he made almost no sound.
He crouched down again and used his sleeve to wipe the stool’s surface twice, until it gleamed.
Only after all this did he turn his attention to his own bed.
The bed was quite large for him, and had only been slightly messy to begin with, a corner of the blanket askew, the pillow tilted two inches off-center.
But to him, that was unacceptable.
His paws moved swiftly, shaking out the sheet, pulling each of the four corners flat, then folding the blanket into a neat, rigid square.
He pressed down on every crease firmly, smoothing them three times over, until the blanket’s surface was as flat as a freshly cut blue sugar cube.
The pillow sat squarely at the center of the headboard, its edges perfectly parallel to the blanket’s crisp lines.
He stepped back two paces, tilted his head to examine his work, and unconsciously pressed a paw to his chest, phew, satisfied.
Then he turned around.
The only source of “discord” in the entire room was the wolf on the bed.
Kevin lay flat on his back, limbs sprawled wide, taking up nearly the whole mattress.
The pillow had somehow been kicked to the far side, tilted at a pitiful forty-five-degree angle, wedged miserably against the wall.
His mouth hung open, a soft pink tongue lolling limply over his lower lip, his breathing carrying a dry, raspy rumble.
The sheet only reached his lower abdomen, leaving the upper half of his body exposed.
Large patches of white fur stuck up in disarray, like a field of grass ruffled by wind.
One long leg dangled half off the bed’s edge, toes occasionally curling unconsciously.
Clutched tightly in his arms was a blue thermos printed with yellow stars.
Except it wasn’t a hot thermos, it was filled with ice water.
Zootopia’s climate was pleasant enough for most residents, but for Kevin, hailing from the frozen Tundratown region, it was a bit too warm.
Every night before bed, he’d fill the thermos with ice water.
Bob sighed, his little paws clenching into fists, then relaxing.
He padded silently around to the foot of the bed, bent down, and cupped his hands under the dangling furry leg.
With a bit of effort, he lifted it and carefully tucked it back under the sheet.
The corner of the blanket was smoothed down again.
He circled back to the headboard, stood on tiptoe, and reached out one paw to gently pinch Kevin’s protruding tongue, like holding a soft, red leaf, before carefully tucking it back into his mouth and closing his slightly open muzzle.
Kevin let out a vague, muffled “Mmph” in his throat, rolled over, and hugged the thermos even tighter.
Bob stood by the bed, his two small paws hanging in front of him.
He watched for a moment to make sure Kevin hadn’t woken, then turned and walked back to sit on the edge of his own bed.
His short legs dangled in the air, swinging gently back and forth.
He stared blankly at the alarm clock on the wall, his eyes fixed and unmoving, sitting in peaceful silence.
A while later… When the minute hand was nearly at “12,” Bob slid off the bed in advance and walked over to Kevin’s bedside.
He reached out with both hands and gently grabbed one of Kevin’s ears, but tilted his head to the side, eyes locked on the second hand ticking around the clock face.
Just as the minute hand hit “12” precisely… “Time to wake up, Kevin.” His voice wasn’t loud, soft and gentle.
“You told me to wake you.
Didn’t you say Professor Ellie was looking for you today?” Kevin’s ear twitched sharply in his grip.
The white wolf let out a long, agonized groan, raised his paws to cover his face, and squirmed around in bed for a while before finally sitting up like a lump of reluctantly assembled dough, swaying unsteadily.
His eyelids were still glued shut, barely half-open.
Bob didn’t say another word.
He dashed into the bathroom like a streak of oil.
Water splashed for a moment.
He stood on tiptoe to grab a cup from the shelf, filled it with warm water, then flipped open the toothpaste cap and squeezed an even strip of paste onto the center of the bristles.
He picked stray hairs off the comb one by one, rinsed it under the tap until it was spotless, flicked off the droplets, and set it beside the cup.
He ran back to the bedroom doorway and poked half his head in.
Kevin had only just swung his legs off the bed, hunched over on the edge in a daze, tail drooping, face completely blank.
Bob scurried over in three quick steps, grabbed Kevin’s wrist, and tugged him stumbling toward the bathroom.
“Come on, hurry up.” A splash of cold water hit his face.
Kevin jolted awake instantly, his pupils snapping into focus.
He stared blankly at his own dripping-wet face in the mirror, water trickling down the corners of his mouth, then turned in confusion to the little otter now climbing onto the sink counter beside him.
“How…
how did I get to the bathroom?” “You tell me,” Bob said, shoving the toothbrush into Kevin’s hand and pressing the cup into the other.
Then he climbed up onto the counter, grabbed the comb, and began tackling the unruly mess of fur on top of Kevin’s head.
Kevin watched the focused otter in the mirror, blinked twice, and said nothing more, beginning to brush his teeth.
—— Thirty minutes later, the two of them were downstairs.
The campus was still quiet, the morning breeze carrying the scent of fresh grass.
Kevin swung onto his bike, and Bob sat on the back, clutching Kevin’s backpack, clinging to him like a little starfish.
“No breakfast?” Bob’s voice came muffled from behind.
“Nah, later.” Kevin pushed off, and the wheels began to turn.
He estimated that Professor Ellie should be arriving at her office soon.
Cattrick had mentioned that this professor was incredibly busy, so Kevin had called half a month in advance just to secure this brief morning meeting time.
Before the bike had even fully stopped, Kevin’s gaze locked onto a figure ahead.
A middle-aged snow leopard in an off-white dress was walking from the parking lot, her pace unhurried, spine ramrod straight.
“Bob, that’s Professor Ellie,” Kevin said in a low voice, touching his toe to the ground and turning the bike to meet her.
Ellie had clearly noticed the pair too, a white wolf on a bike with a small otter on the back, the latter clinging to the former’s backpack with two short arms like a little gecko.
She stopped, tilted her head slightly, and her eyes behind her glasses swept over them calmly.
Kevin braked two steps away from her.
As he steadied himself.
He nearly lost his composure and had to press his lips together.
“You must be Kevin?” Ellie spoke first.
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it had a sharp, penetrating clarity.
Her gaze moved from Kevin’s face to the otter behind him, then back again.
Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
“I have very high standards for my students, both in ability and in mindset.” She adjusted the thin-framed glasses on her nose, and the lenses flashed with light.
“You two…
aren’t, like, a couple, are you?” The scrutinizing gaze was like a blade.
Before Kevin could open his mouth, Bob on the back seat reacted as if he’d been burned, he sprang off the bike.
He stumbled half a step upon landing but quickly regained his balance, his two small paws waving frantically in front of him, flapping like he was shooing flies.
“No no no, no, no, he’s not, I’m not either!” Bob’s voice was two pitches higher than usual, his ears drooping.
“See, look…” He fumbled frantically in his pocket for a moment before finally pulling out a photo and holding it up to Ellie.
The photo was of a glamorous antelope pop star.
“I like Gazelle!
Like, really like!
I have three of her concert posters at home!” Bob blurted it all out in one breath, then gasped and quickly added, “Kevin and I are just roommates, he…
I…” His tongue seemed to tie itself in a knot.
His paws held the photo frozen in midair, his eyes wide as saucers.
Ellie looked at his flustered, incoherent panic, and finally, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, just barely.
The smile was there and gone in an instant, but Kevin caught it.
He pulled out the postcard Cattrick had given him and handed it over.
Meeting this professor, Kevin noticed his tail involuntarily tucking between his legs.
‘What the hell…’ Looking at professor Ellie, he felt like he was facing his high school homeroom teacher.
Ellie took the postcard, glanced at the front, flipped it over to scan the handwriting on the back, and her expression remained unreadable.
She held the postcard between her fingers and turned her gaze back to Kevin.
“Cattrick recommended you,” she said.
“But I have only one question for you.” Kevin unconsciously held his breath.
“What is the 666th digit after the decimal point of pi?” Kevin’s brain spun through a rapid series of question marks, wasn’t he studying finance?
Why was she asking this?
But his mouth was faster than his brain.
“Three.” It came out almost reflexively.
Ellie stared at him for two seconds.
Her expression behind the lenses gave nothing away.
Then she handed the postcard back, her face still cool, her tone still businesslike: “Hm.
At least it proves you’re not an idiot.” She paused, then added: “After you’ve completed your basic coursework, contact me again.” With that, she turned and walked toward the office building.
Kevin looked down at the postcard returned to his hand and murmured, half to himself.
“…That’s it?” “Hey, Kevin!” Bob’s voice exploded from the back seat.
The otter was still clutching the photo of Gazelle, his expression sour.
He looked down at the glamorous antelope singer in the picture, then up at Kevin, opened and closed his mouth, and finally forced out: “Do I…
do I really look… you know… gay?” He asked it carefully, his voice trailing off at the end, caught between wanting confirmation and fearing the answer.
Kevin was bending over to tuck the postcard back into his bag.
He glanced back at him.
Bob’s eyes were glistening wetly, his nose twitching slightly, as if he’d suffered some great injustice.
Kevin tilted his head, unable to suppress the smile tugging at his lips: “You know what?
Kinda, yeah.” “Huh?” Bob’s ears shot straight up, and he froze like someone had pressed pause.
The photo nearly slipped from his paws.
“Kidding.” Kevin swung onto the bike and patted the back seat.
“Come on, let’s get breakfast.” Bob stared for two seconds before snapping out of it.
He stomped his foot in indignation, but still scrambled onto the back seat under Kevin’s urging gaze.
His arms hooked around Kevin’s backpack with practiced ease, his mouth mumbling complaints under his breath.
The bike rolled back onto the tree-lined path, kicking up a few leaves that twirled in the morning light before settling back to the ground.
They hadn’t ridden far when a ringtone suddenly sounded from Kevin’s bag.
Bob’s ears perked up.
His paw was already reaching for the zipper: “Want me to answer?” “Yeah.” Bob knelt on the back seat, straining upright, and held the phone up to Kevin’s ear.
His short little arms stretched straight up, the phone looking a bit oversized in his paws.
A crisp, cheerful voice came through the speaker, brimming with bubbly energy that went straight into the ear: “Kevin, did you forget what day it is today?” Kevin’s pedaling stuttered for a moment.
“Hm?
Oh, it’s Fru Fru,” he said lightly, but the paw gripping the handlebars tightened unconsciously.
“You forgot what day it is, didn’t you?” The girl’s voice pitched higher, carrying a blend of pout and deliberate tease.
“Of course I didn’t forget,” Kevin said with a smile, his face wearing the expression while his heart dropped with a thump.
‘What day is it today?
Oh no…’ Fru Fru’s voice rang out again, bright with undisguised anticipation: “So what gift did you get me?” A gift.
Today was Fru Fru’s birthday.
He took a deep breath, keeping his voice steady.
“I’ve got something ready but it’s a surprise.” “Love you, big brother!” Fru Fru’s voice instantly soared, bright as a bird just released from its cage.
“Tonight, me, Dad, Mom and Grandmama are all waiting for you at the house outside campus!” “Oka–” Before he could even finish the word, the line went dead with a click.
Kevin stared at the road ahead, his eyelid twitching slightly.
Bob tucked the phone back into the bag and settled back into his seat, craning his head around from the side: “She’s that…
uh…
little sister you mentioned?” Kevin let out a snort of a laugh through his nose.
“Yep.” He pumped the pedals, his tail swaying gently behind him.
He paused for two seconds, then tilted his head slightly.
“You wanna come?” Bob blinked, his paw unconsciously picking at the backpack fabric.
“I…
can I?” His voice carried a hesitant note of being pleasantly surprised.
“Of course.” Kevin said it casually, his gaze sweeping toward the turn ahead.
“Since you’re coming too, we can put together Fru Fru’s birthday gift together.” Bob blinked a couple more times.
“…Huh?” ————•★•————★ Author Note: Thanks for reading!
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