Jayson

"Get out of the soap!"

Jayson stepped into the bathroom where his ferret had pulled a slinky move and squeezed under the door. After making yet another escape attempt from his cage, Loki clawed his way out of Jayson's room and slithered his fat ass under the bathroom door. How he managed it without getting stuck was a mystery. Loki had been the size of a baby monster when Jayson had bought him at five months old. Now, nearly a year later, the little trickster was almost the size of a puppy.

Loki nudged open the cabinet door under the sink with his nose and was now gnawing on a brand-new bar of generic soap, leaving powdered flakes all over the tiled floor. He spared Jayson a lazy glance that dared him to do something about it.

He scooped up the ferret with one hand and snatched up the soap with the other. Teeth marks pocked the orange and white patterned soap where the edges weren't chewed off. Jayson scrunched his nose at the smell that only Tropical Tidings' off-brand could give. Everything about the company was cheap, from its flaky powdered texture to the rough cardboard box it came in. His company issued one-ply toilet paper that had better quality than this excuse called a soap box.

"If you stole my soap again..." His other roommate, Taylor, stopped behind him, ready to defend his weird addiction. The world could experience a shortage of soap, and Taylor would have a secret stockpile hoarded away somewhere. What had started out as a prank a year ago where Jayson had innocently stolen his soap had become a fully fledged war of pranks, where one had gone viral on YouTube before Jayson had pulled it. Taylor getting his ass beat by an eighty-year-old woman might have been a step too far, especially since he'd manipulated Taylor's ex-girlfriend into filming the incident.

Jayson sighed and tossed the soap bar into the trash can. "No, it's just Eric's crappy soap. Loki got into the cabinet again."

Taylor scrunched his nose. "I read an article this morning that Tropical Tidings just did a mass recall on their soap. Something about a bad batch and people getting sick."

Jayson snorted and placed Loki on his shoulder like a snake. Only Taylor would read articles about soap. "If that was the case, they'd have been out of business a long time ago. Eric only buys it because he's cheap."

Taylor mock-gasped and brought his hand to his chest in dramatic fashion, exiting the bathroom now that it was clear no one was out to steal his soap. He could be so strange sometimes, but it was his quirks that made him so much fun to live with. That, and he was the best cook in the house. After the YouTube incident, Taylor didn't cook for a month, leaving Jayson to live off ramen and mac and cheese. That had been a lean month—after the first few burnt meals, he'd gone straight to microwaveable meals, upsetting his stomach and forcing him to acquaint himself with the bathroom better than he liked.

He went back to harmless pranks after that.

Making his way to his room, Jayson called out over his shoulder, "What's for dinner?"

"Whatever you want to make," Taylor grunted in a muffled voice as he bent over to rummage through the refrigerator. "I'm not your boyfriend!"

"I'll make you mine for a night," Jayson teased, knowing Taylor would give in and make dinner anyway.

Taylor laughed and pulled several items out of the fridge, balancing food and beer in his arms as he kicked the door shut. "Oh, please. We both know you couldn't handle me."

Sexual orientation aside, Jayson occasionally considered making an exception for Taylor. As high maintenance and goofy as his friend was, he'd be perfect boyfriend material if he'd just open up more. Taylor's fear of commitment had driven him and Monica apart, no matter what his excuses had been, but Jayson couldn't help feeling protective of him, and there were times he dreamed of them together instead. It was unnerving to discover those desires so late in life, especially considering his conservative background and the fact Jayson liked Monica too. His feelings were complicated, and Jayson did his best not to examine them too closely.

Heat crept into Jayson's cheeks at the thought of Monica. They worked together in a drugstore where Jayson ran the front and Monica ran the pharmacy. Had they been in the same area without a half-wall and cage separating them into sides of 'We' and 'They', shots would have been fired and their job would have become a battleground. Monica was so serious while Jayson was fun, and it often resulted in an eye roll followed by a condescending remark to act his age instead of his shoe size. None of that stopped him from constantly fantasizing about running his fingers through her dark, curly hair or pulling her on top of him and letting her have her way with him.

Ever since he'd brought Loki home, though, Monica had warmed up considerably, making excuses to come over. She was a sucker for cute animals, and Loki was more than happy to betray his bond with Jayson if it meant more cuddles. There were just two problems: Monica still didn't like Jayson, and she was Taylor's ex-girlfriend. There were rules.

Jayson was about to crack another joke when Loki simultaneously threw up on his shoulder and pooped, sending fluid down both sides of his shirt. The smell triggered his gag reflex—there was a reason he held his breath in port-a-jons.

Damn Eric and his crappy generic soap. Loki could lick his own butt and be fine, but threw up the moment he ate soap.

Jayson gently placed Loki onto his hammock in the cage and scratched his neck, hoping the poor animal's upset tummy passed quickly. The last thing he needed was an expensive vet bill.

***

Loki wasn't eating.

After his foray into Eric's soap, he threw up endlessly through the night until he had nothing left to vomit. Jayson had done everything he could to force the animal to drink, but Loki refused to move, lying listlessly on the bed. His head burned and his shiny, tan fur was matted with sweat. Between the vomit, feces, and musk, the odor had gone from tolerable to unbearable—it was like something had died inside the room, and Jayson hadn't had time to clean it.

There were numerous articles on ferrets and their susceptibility to human illness—surely the soap hadn't acted as poison. Loki had eaten Taylor's hand cream and come out just fine, but then Jayson remembered his roommate mentioning the recall on the product. With everything going on in the news, he wondered if he should give Loki time to feel better or skip work and take him to the vet.

Taylor and Eric were those weird corporate American men who only worked from eight to five, Monday through Friday, so asking them for advice was out of the question. That, and Jayson had a sneaking suspicion Taylor secretly wished the animal would die. Eric was indifferent, but at least he'd show a shred of compassion for his best friend's pet. Unfortunately, he was already gone for the day by the time Jayson woke up for work.

The only other thing he could think of was working a half-shift and asking Monica for advice. She wasn't a vet, but she pushed out enough of the good stuff to know something. If anything, she could provide the reassurance he was too chicken to admit he craved.

Loki slowly lifted his head and looked at him with heavy, black eyes. Jayson didn't like the thought of leaving him behind. If something happened, no one would be around to take care of him. His heart hammered through his chest as Loki weakly crawled across the bed toward him, dragging his hind legs and barely able to move. Jayson didn't want to admit it, but that animal had become his child and best friend. He couldn't imagine losing him after only a year.

He wasn't sure what to do. What was in that soap? Generic soap sucked, but it wasn't enough to kill an animal or even a person, was it?

Loki's eyes suddenly rolled back and his body jerked as a high-pitched shriek pierced the air. Anyone who knew anything about ferrets would say they were quiet animals. They would dook or hiss with the occasional squeak, but they didn't screech like birds. Loki screamed so loud, the sound permeated the walls and echoed through the house, etching itself permanently into Jayson's brain—a noise he'd never forget.

His decision to skip work made, Jayson scooped Loki up and held him close to his chest. Drool dribbled onto his arm and warm pee soaked his shirt. He stroked Loki's fur and shushed him the way one would comfort a sick child. "Shh-shh-shh! It's okay, buddy. I'll take you to the vet and everything will be fine."

The screaming continued for another minute before it stopped, and Loki fell limp.

Jayson's lip trembled, and tears stung the corners of his eyes as he rocked the animal back and forth and spoke in a tight voice. "No, buddy. You need to be okay. Who's gonna steal Taylor's soap with me?"

He pressed his ear to Loki's mouth and felt Loki's chest, trying to find any sign of breathing.

Nothing.

This wasn't even Loki's weird, deep dead sleep bit. He'd pass out for several hours without moving before waking up, looking at Jayson like he was the soap thief freak he was. This time, there was no heartbeat; no subtle rise and fall of his chest. He was gone.

A sob tore from Jayson's throat as one tear after another spilled down his cheeks, emotion wracking his chest and his throat tightening as he struggled for air. This was his baby—Loki couldn't die like this. Never again would Loki steal soap or torment Taylor in the shower. Nor would he use Jayson's chest as a pillow. Loki would never look at him with pure joy in his eyes.

The ferret was still warm but heavy in the way animals were when there were sleeping or dead. He hadn't been gone long enough for his limbs to stiffen or for his body to produce that foul, rotting odor. The stench was worse than everything else he'd produced so far, and Jayson knew he'd have to clean it quickly before the smell settled into the surfaces. As much as he didn't want to let go, the sooner he brought Loki to the vet for cremation, the better for everyone in the house. Burying him in the backyard was an invitation for other animals to dig him up. If he was infected with something dangerous, they'd spread the disease.

Jayson was about to place Loki in a blanket when the animal stirred. His breath hitched, and he watched his pet with hopeful eyes. Was it possible he'd mistaken Loki for being dead in a fit of anxiety?

His body was so hot though, increasing by the degree. At this rate, Loki would have brain damage if Jayson didn't get his temperature down. His breathing erratic, Loki twitched, but not in the same way when he had his seizure. This time, he was silent as white film covered his black eyes and foul, yellow mucus tinged his saliva.

Jayson set Loki down for a moment as he searched for a fleece blanket and a carrier, telling himself everything would be okay. He just needed some antibiotics and rest. Loki hissed, and Jayson froze. In the entire time Jayson owned him, his animal had never once hissed. He slowly turned to see his loving, gentle ferret watch him with feral eyes. Jayson had seen it all in combat, had been hit by a roadside bomb, and still, this was nothing like the fear he faced now. There was no recognition in Loki's gaze—only hunger for his next meal in front of him.

Loki's muscles were taut as he laid low to the bed, baring his teeth and hissing. Jayson slid off the bed and slowly backed toward the door, keeping his eye on him as he tried not to provoke him. The animal's eyes narrowed and his fur stood in hackles, his body coiling into a spring. Jayson reached for the doorknob right as Loki pounced.