While I'm doing microfiction for the new pages of Carpe Diem (http://www.cdcomic.com), I thought I'd post them here as well.
Trent turned away from Burt, unable to look at him. The anger warming his cheeks. How dare the panda, his panda, tell him he was whining?
"I'm not whi--"
"You were whining, Trent, but I can't blame you," interrupted Burt as he studied the room, his eyes lingering on the bottles of liquor. There were at least a half dozen bottles. Burt knew it took a lot of alcohol to get the giraffe drunk due to his size, but it was still mind boggling Trent could even remain conscious. "I don't have cancer. Never had a family member who had it either. I don't know what you're going through."
The anger now flooded Trent's system, burning away the alcohol-enhanced self-pity. "So what gives you the--"
Burt still had his eyes on the mess the room was in, and held up a hand. "I'm still talkin', Trent. My tolerance for drama's low, so just let me think out loud."
Trent caught the Scottish burr in Burt's voice; the panda's accent only came out when he was in a mood. It took a lot to get him there, and Trent wasn't drunk enough to push his luck. Though when Burt turned around to face him, Trent flinched, wondering if he'd already pushed his once-boyfriend too far. Burt was not one for violence, but he did have a temper.
"We're gonna clean up this room, and you're gonna stop living day to day. It's time to think of the future, however long you might have." Burt held out his hand to the giraffe once more. "You're comin' home with me, Trent. No more runnin' away, okay?"
Trent's anger drained away, and he found himself smiling.
Burt was giving him a second chance.
They were going to be in a relationship again.
He took Burt's hand.
"O-okay," he said, not knowing just how wrong he was.