A large cloud bloomed in front of Collin's lips. It was so damn cold. The thin black coat he wore provided him no warmth, and even when he propped its collar up, hoping it'd at least block the cold from wafting in, the chilly air found a way to seep in through the cracks, jabbing at every inch of his skin.

He swore in his mind. He should have taken the car. But no. For once, he listened to his mother.

'Collin, you sit at your desk too much', 'Collin, you should really go out sometimes and get some fresh air', 'Collin, you should be more active; it's healthy'.

Collin this, Collin that, and here he was, freezing his butt off when he could have been toasty inside his car instead.

He pressed on through the snowy sidewalk, ankle-height boots crunching with every step. A little bit of snow got into his shoe, slipping down his ankle and soaking his sock. A plastic bag swayed from his arm with the small bit of groceries he'd picked up. He shielded his eyes when snowflakes attacked them, many settling down on his shoulders and in his fluffy, blond hair. The reddened skin on his cheeks stung.

He took a turn to the left into Fletcher Street, which in reality was a narrow alleyway behind a local Chinese restaurant. Some boxes moved behind the filled dumpster. A rat, he thought, but then a larger shape emerged from behind the soggy cardboard. It wasn't any rodent at all, but a dog. Medium sized, with brown fur, definitely a mix of something and a German Shepherd. Maybe a Golden Retriever? It paced in a slow circle before curling on the ground.

Collin stopped mid-step. It was cold as hell. Far too cold for anyone to safely stay outside over the night. Slowly, he approached, careful not to startle it and hoping it wouldn't lunge at him. The animal lifted it's head, not showing much of a reaction, almost seeming lethargic. He extended his hand, letting it sniff it, before he patted the wet fur. He felt along its neck—no collar.

"Are you a stray?" he asked.

The smart brown eyes watched him.

Was he really going to take this animal home? It could belong to someone, but… he couldn't let it stay on the street in this cold. It was well below minus ten degrees Celsius. He didn't think the dog could survive that.

He straightened up and gestured toward himself. "Come. You'll stay with me tonight. We'll look for your human tomorrow."

The dog didn't move.

Setting his grocery bag on the ground, Collin pulled out a slice of deli meat, swaying it in front of the animal's nose. Immediately, it tried to lift itself up, but its movement was heavy, sluggish. Strained.

"Hungry, huh," he commented, moving his hand away just out of reach so that the dog couldn't eat it and had to follow. But when it took a few steps forward, it became clear it was only using three legs. The two at the front, and the left hind. It was avoiding stepping on the right one. Something had to be wrong, but it was too dark for Collin to see.

He fed the slice of meat to the dog and slowly put his hands under its stomach. With a strained groan, he lifted it. It was surprisingly compliant, not protesting at all, just hanging over his arms like a floppy doll.

Collin wasn't a strong man. He leaned more on the skinny side and average height, but he never worked out. Sports wasn't anything he'd ever been interested in. He hated everything about it—the difficulty with breathing, the sweat, the heat. So even though the walk back home was only a few minutes long, he was more than glad when he finally reached his apartment. His muscles ached and his breath was ragged. At least this exercise warmed him up and he was no longer cold.

Mother would be proud. He technically did some dead-lifting.

Huffing, he laid the dog down in the hallway and kicked his shoes off. He hung his coat away, and shook some of the snow from his hair. On his way to the bathroom, he stopped by the kitchen island to set the groceries down, and came back with a towel. He draped it over the dog and dried it out with brisk strokes. He couldn't hold in a chuckle when the soft fur puffed up, doubling the dog in size.

"Let's take a look at this leg, huh," he said, throwing the towel aside.

Petting the dog, he tried to gather the courage to touch the injured leg. The animal seemed calm, but he knew that touching injuries could set it off into a defensive mode. So very slowly, his hand inched to the hind leg. The spot was darker than other fur, syrup brown, and the hair clumped together. He gently moved it with his finger and sucked in his breath. A long gash ran down almost entirely from ankle to paw.

"What happened?" he asked, glancing at the dog's face. It lay down on its side, not paying any attention to him anymore. "I hope you'll let me clean this up, buddy. I promise, it'll make you feel better."

Back in the bathroom, he tossed the towel into the washing machine and turned to the cabinet to grab a first aid kit. He unzipped it and gathered everything he needed—gauze, bandages, antiseptic.

The dog didn't protest as he cleaned the wound. It only lifted its head when he was disinfecting, and at that moment, Collin's heart raced, scared he'd get bitten.

But nothing happened.

And even though it should, it didn't make him feel any better. A part of him started to worry it was too late. Like the dog was in the cold for too long and maybe he couldn't save it.

He went to bed with a heavy heart that night.

Early sunlight shyly peered through the window. It ran down the floor, climbed up the bed and shone right into Collin's eye.

The blond man rolled onto his left side, trying to escape it and both his cheek and his forearm met skin.

Not fur. Not fluff. Skin. Human skin.

His green eyes shot open. He jerked backward, but his butt hit the edge of the bed and he tumbled onto his back with a loud thud. For a long second, he lay frozen, his heart jack hammering in his chest so hard, he'd almost thought it break his ribs.

There was a man in his bed. And he sure as hell didn't remember bringing anyone over.

He scrambled back up, clutching the blanket to his bare chest—he only wore his long, checkered pajama pants—and poked his head up to peek over the edge of the mattress.

Brown eyes stared back at him and the stranger's face seemed puzzled. At the top of his head perched a set of dog ears. Great. Not only has some rando crawled into his bed, but he was also a weirdo.

"How—Who—" he let out. His lips felt sandy and dry, so he licked them. "Who are you?" he finally squeezed out.

The man propped himself up onto his elbow, the movement sending Collin crawling closer to the wall. But when his back pressed against it, the blanket slipped from the stranger and dropped onto the floor.

"Oh god," Collin groaned, raising his hand to block his view. "Why are you naked?"

"I didn't have any clothes," the stranger answered, sitting up.

"You came here naked?!"

It was getting worse and worse by the second. Have any of his neighbors spotted this man entering his apartment in nothing but dog ears? But how did he get in? Collin was sure he locked the door. Before he went to bed. He fed the dog some meat. He set out a bowl of water for it. And then he locked the door. He locked the damn door!!!

"You brought me here," the stranger answered. He spoke calmly. There was no embarrassment in his voice, no urgency, not even a threat.

Collin's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Last night," the man said. "You picked me up from the street and brought me here. Bandaged my leg." He lifted it up as if to show it. "But it fell off."

The frown on Collin's face couldn't get any deeper. The only being he brought and patched up last night was a dog. He wasn't high on anything to confuse a dog for a person. But when he peered from above his palm, still trying to cover any private areas that were out there on display, he saw the gash. It went from the knee to the ankle, the entire inner side of the right calf. Same place like on the dog.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He couldn't have confused anything. Dogs couldn't turn into men. That wasn't a thing, right? Right?!

"Please, cover yourself," he requested.

The stranger glanced around before he picked up a pillow and covered his crotch with it.

"Oh god, not my pillow," Collin groaned. All of it would have to be thrown into the washing machine, if not the trash.

Still wrapped in the blanket, he got up. "Stay here," he said. Keeping an eye on the stranger the entire time, he slowly backed out of the room.

First he checked the kitchen. The small space with orange-ish wood drawers and the small counter space filled with various appliances (toaster, coffee maker, waffle maker, air fryer, blender—all in various shades of silver and black) was empty. So was the living-working room. No sign of the dog on his green mid-century couch. Not on his rustic, washed out rug. Not near his TV and his snake plant. Not even beside the book shelf and his work nook by the window.

The door was locked and the dog was gone.

"You're seriously telling me you're the dog?" he asked, once he crossed the threshold to his bedroom.

The stranger still sat on the mattress with the pillow covering his junk, just as he'd left him. He nodded.

Collin's eyes swept through the other. The ears did look like those of the dog he picked up yesterday, and they moved in a very natural manner. But that was not all. Behind him, half-hidden in the sheet, was something furry. A tail.

"Can I… touch your ear?" he asked. He had to feel them for himself—if they were fake, he'd know.

The man shrugged. "Sure."

Taking slow, careful steps, Collin approached the stranger. He extended a reluctant hand and grabbed the ear. Brown eyes watched him as he examined them. The ear felt so real. The fur was very soft, the material inside warm, flexible, even kind of bouncy, flopping around just as any dog ear would. He moved some of the hair aside. The ear grew out of the head; there was no hair band, clip or whatever else a cosplayer could come up with to attach these. But he still tugged it and the stranger winced, letting out a quiet 'ouch' sound.

Collin stumbled back, covering his mouth with his hand. This was… insane. He couldn't believe it was actually happening. He had to be hallucinating. Or he just snapped. Or it was carbon monoxide poisoning. Either way, not ideal.

"Can you turn back?" he asked weakly. "Into the dog?"

The stranger scrunched his brows, focused, expression constipated like he was actually trying, but nothing happened.

"I don't know how," he finally said.

"And you have nowhere to go?"

"I don't remember where I live," the man admitted. "I don't remember much in general."

"Your name?"

He hesitated. "Not sure."

"Okay," Collin said slowly. For a moment, he thought of a name they could use, before he finally settled on something common for both—humans and dogs. "Let's just call you Max then."

"And you?" the man asked.

"Collin," he introduced himself.

He turned to the wardrobe to pick up some boxers, socks, a loose t-shirt and some sweat pants. He threw them to Max.

"Put these on."

Then he picked up his own clothes and went to the bathroom to put them on. When he exited Max was already waiting in the hallway. Immediately, it hit him just how much taller and bigger he was. The plain white t-shirt was not loose on him at all. In fact it was very tight on his chest. The sweatpants were also a bit too snug and a bit too short.

"God, you look like you shopped in the kid's section," he commented. "We need to get you new clothes."

Back in the bedroom, he grabbed the largest hoodie he owned and the winter jacket he just recently considered getting rid off, and handed them to Max.

"Put these on," he said. "And hide your tail."

He found a beanie and pulled it over Max's head, tucking the ears inside. Although he was sure he could explain it away as some A grade costume accessory, he didn't want any attention drawn to them at all.

"Don't take these off," he said. He zipped up Max's jacket and grabbed his own coat. "Let's go."

The mall was practically empty. Save for a few people lined up at the coffee shop for their morning energy boost, there hardly were any customers around. But that worked in Collin's favour. The fewer people they came across, the lower the risk of anyone noticing Max's ears and tail and snapping a video of it. The last thing he wanted was to end up on TikTok with a caption 'Furry couple spotted in the wild'.

Lost in his thought, and that horrifying image, Collin stepped onto the escalator.

He really was just doing it. Shopping with some guy who could apparently turn into a dog. Nothing weird about that. Nothing at all.

"Wow, what is that?"

Max's voice came from behind him. Turning, Collin noticed Max stood frozen at the base of the escalator, staring at it like it might bite and hesitant to take the first step. His brows creased and he stepped back down.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't—" Max frowned. "This is weird."

His big brown eyes narrowed in suspicion and followed the steps rising one by one.

"It's an escalator," Collin explained. "Just takes you up."

"I don't like how it moves," Max muttered and took a cautious step back, never looking away from the escalator. "Makes a strange noise, too."

Collin glanced at the steps. Over the mall's music, he barely heard anything at all.

"Does it?" he asked.

Max nodded.

"Well, all it is, is just stairs that move. Nothing dangerous about it," Collin said.

But Max didn't look convinced. In fact, it seemed like he was about to bolt.

With a sigh, Collin stepped backward onto the escalator again, letting it carry him upward a short distance, before walking down to remain eye-level with Max. "See?" he asked. "Nothing's happening."

Max studied the escalator for a moment longer. Then he jumped onto the same step Collin was standing on.

The impact almost sent Collin flying when the hard sternum between those thick man breasts hit him straight in the nose. He barely caught the rubber railing before losing his balance entirely. Pain shot through the center of his face, and his eyes began watering.

"Oh, god," he groaned, taking an awkward step up. "Please, just warn me next time."

Wincing, he blinked the tears away. Max tilted his head, watching him with open curiosity, oblivious to the fact that he'd almost broken his nose with his literal chest.

When they reached the top, Max took an exaggerated step off the escalator, raising his leg high as if stepping over an invisible fence.

Collin led them past a makeup store where a bored shopping assistant examined his nails, a shop with candles that oozed with spa-like scents and finally into an affordable clothing store. He weaved through the racks full of women's dresses, crop tops and leggings, until they reached the man's section.

He grabbed several large t-shirts (all plain and in neutral colors: black, navy, deep green) along with sweatpants and jeans. On the way to the changing rooms, he added a couple of loose hoodies to the pile.

"Come here," he said, pointing to the third changing room on the right. He set the clothes on the small seat. "Try these on. I need to see what fits."

Max disappeared inside, emerging one outfit as a time ready for inspection. The clothes fit him much better than Collin's, and were loose enough that they could conceal the tail and still look normal.

They gathered the chosen items and headed to the register.

As the cashier scanned the items, Collin fished his card out of the wallet, eager to leave.

"You smell good."

Collin almost snapped his neck turning. But Max wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the cashier. The woman stiffened. Collin froze, his cheeks flushing pink.

The good news was that she saw him. She definitely heard him. Collin didn't just hallucinate him. Max did in fact exist. The bad news was, he had no sense of social norms.

Collin shot him a scolding look, but Max didn't seem to register.

"Like meat," he said, as if hoping to help them understand. There was not a thought behind those eyes. "But really good meat."

Collin's mouth fell open. The cashier's eyes widened. She scanned faster, hands shaky. One of the shirts slipped out of her grasp and hit the floor.

"I'm hungry," Max continued, not trying to be discreet, tone loud and clear.

"Sorry," Collin mumbled. They had to get out of here—NOW—and he'd never come back here again.

"I think she ate something tasty," Max said.

The cashier finally took Collin's card, avoiding eye-contact as she scanned it. "B-bacon, egg sandwich," she muttered.

Max's hand flew out, gripping Collin's forearm. His eyes lit up full of hope.

"Can we have that?" he asked.

"Yes," Collin said quickly, snatching his card back the moment the cashier returned it. He grabbed the bags and practically fled the scene.

"Are we going to eat now?" Max asked as soon as they crossed the entrance.

"Yes."

"Yes!" Max exclaimed.

In the sudden burst of excitement, he jumped to Collin, almost knocking him over.

"Okay, okay," Collin said, stumbling and barely managing to stay upright. He patted Max's arm. "Don't lean on me like that. You're heavy."

Max stepped back, but too excited about breakfast, he couldn't stop bouncing as they walked, excitement radiating off him.

Breakfast, apparently, was very important.