The Balance and Autumn
October 15th, 2017, Frankfurt, Germany, Vanguard University
The world had softened around the edges.
It was mid-October, and Frankfurt had pulled on its russet coat. The trees lining the university park stood like weary sentinels, branches bowed beneath a golden blaze of leaves that trembled in the breeze before spiraling downward, one by one.
Tao sat tucked beneath a canopy of copper and amber, a thick, woolen scarf snug around his neck and a sketchbook balanced delicately on his knees. His paws, clad in fingerless gloves, moved slowly over the page, smudging lines into shapes, shadows into meaning.
The Eichelcafe buzzed quietly in the afternoon, students murmured over books and laptops, couples leaned close to share breath and warmth, and every few minutes the hiss of milk steaming or the clink of porcelain cups would interrupt the hush. The scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby stand mingled with the darker edge of coffe and rain-damp earth.
Tao’s drink sat cooling beside him, untouched, a chai latte dusted with cinnamon, the foam swirled like an accidental galaxy. He’d ordered it because it was warm and familiar, like Ilhan’s voice when it dipped into gentleness, like the way Ilhan would nudge his shoulder with just enough force to remind him he was there.
Tao’s charcoal paused. He let his gaze lift, watching the leaves as they fell like fragments of time itself. It had become a habit lately, thinking of Ilhan.
Not the distracted kind, not the daydreaming he’d scolded himself for in the past. This was more quiet and settled, he found himself seeking Ilhan without meaning to.
Remembering the way he’d laughed 2 days ago when Tao failed to catch a bag of chips tossed his way. The way he’d gently pulled Tao’s hood up when it started to drizzle.
They had become… close. And that closeness no longer felt like something Tao should run from. It felt safe and warm.
He shifted in his seat, and the wind picked up briefly, rustling through the leaves. A low shiver worked its way beneath his layers.
Someone’s watching me.
The thought struck unbidden, like a loose thread in his mind being tugged by invisible fingers. He looked up, subtly scanning the Eichelcafe’s inside. No one stared, just people enjoying autumn, lost in conversation or on screens. Even the barista was busy wiping down a table, humming something tuneless.
Still, the feeling clung to him like mist.
He gave a small shake of his head and returned to his drawing. Maybe it was the season, autumn had always made him feel introspective, like things where shifting just beneath the surface. He sketched the curve of a tree branch. Then the shadow of a hoodie on a nearby bench, unoccupied but shaped like someone had just left it.
He brushed that thought away, too. You’re just tired. Stop being weird. But even as he lost himself again in the strokes of graphite, a faint itch remained at the back of his neck.
“Guess what I almost stepped in,” came the familiar, playful voice from over Tao’s shoulder.
Tao got startled, charcoal jerking across the page. He looked up to find Ilhan standing there, cheeks slightly pink from the crisp cold air, a ridiculous grin plastered across his muzzle. His red panda tail swayed behind him like punctuation.
“Was it dignity?” Tao asked dryly, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion.
Ilhan gasped, pressing a paw to his chest as if wounded. “Rude! I’ll have you know, it was a very aggressive pumpkin someone dropped. Its remains are all over my left shoulder.”
Tao’s lips twitched, the tension in his shoulders already starting to melt. “The pumpkin didn’t deserve that.”
“It had it coming,” Ilhan said, slumping into the seat across from him and pulling his scarf loose. “Honestly, how are people still this bad at carrying food?”
Tao watched as Ilhan dug into the paper bag he’d brought with him, revealing a flaky croissant and two jam-filled cookies. He pushed one cooking toward Tao without comment. Tao hesitated, then took it, setting it beside his chai.
“I had to argue with the lady at the bakery cause they swore they’d run out of vanilla cookies” Ilhan propped his elbows on the table, “I was like, ‘how do you run out of the most basic flavor’ and then she said ‘Well I checked the back and we don’t have any vanilla jam-filled cookies’” Ilhan said in a mocking tone.
Tao’s ears flattened on his head, but a small smile tugged at the ends of his lips. “Y-you didn’t have to do that…”
Ilhan raised his eyebrows, “But it’s the flavor you like! It’s outrageous they didn’t have it. So anyways, she checked and guess what, they did have vanilla jam-filled cookies!”
The wolf let out a soft laugh and took a bite out of the cookie, now with unspoken appreciation and affection for Ilhan.
Ilhan’s presence, like always, filled the space with a sort of invisible warmth. Loud in the right ways, quiet in the right moments. He always made Tao feel ike he could breathe deeper.
“You’ve been here long?” Ilhan asked, nodding toward the sketchbook.
“A while,” Tao replied. “I was enjoying the light, and the baristas decided to brew chai, and you know I love the smell of it.”
Tao’s gaze flicked towards his mug, halfway full with the chai latte he’d been drinking, “You want some?” He gently pushed the mug towards Ilhan’s side of the table
Ilhan’s ears twitched as Tao offered him a sip of his chai, he lifted the mug and had a short taste of it, the flavor could only be described as cozy, it was the perfect temperature and the sweetness was just right, Ilhan unconsciously let out a soft chirp out of content.
Tao’s ears perked up upon hearing it, deciding to stay quiet for the moment.
Ilhan leaned forward to glance at the drawing.
“Damn. You caught the tree perfectly. If it had color, I’d think it was real.”
Tao quietly chuckled and his ears rose back up, “Like those Looney Tunes gags with the fake road?”
“Exactly.”
Tao smiled faintly, then glanced around the cafe. The strange feeling from before had dulled, like a shadow pulled back into hiding.
Ilhan noticed the look. “You okay?”
Tao hesitated, then shrugged. “Just… felt like someone was watching. But it’s nothing really.”
Ilhan didn’t brush it off. He turned a little, scanning the area himself before relaxing again. “Well, if anyone’s creeping, I’ll fight ‘em. With a leaf blower, probably.”
Tao huffed a small laugh. “Terrifying.’
“Absolutely,” Ilhan agreed, tearing a bite from his croissant. “I’ll weaponize whatever I've got at my disposal if it comes down to it.”
The wind shifted again, scattering a cluster of leaves outside. Tao pulled his scarf a little tighter and finally took a sip of his drink. The cinnamon sat sweet on his tongue, grounding him.
The world had softened in Ilhan’s presence, it finally felt completely safe. Even if something in the periphery still felt unsettled.
As Tao and Ilhan stepped out of the cafe together, their laughter trailed behind them like breath in the cooling air. The wind had picked up slightly, tugging at their coats and sweeping leaves across the cobblestones like dancers with nowhere to go.
Ilhan nudged Tao with his shoulder again, something mumbled about a dumb professor and too many readings, and Tao responded with the kind of quiet smile that only Ilhan seemed able to coax out of him lately.
Neither of them noticed the figure seated near the back window of the cafe. Alone and unmoving. A pale white wolf, his cup untouched, his eyes never leaving the spot Tao had occupied. He didn’t blink, not even once.
The days that followed blurred together in gold light and slate-gray skies, the hum of the upcoming midterms and the whisper of falling leaves. But for Tao, something else began to stir beneath the surface of the routine, a pattern he couldn’t quite name.
It started small. A mere face at the edge of his vision.
In his art history lecture, he spotted him once, tucked in the back row, eyes half-lidded as though barely paying attention. Tao only noticed because the stark white of his neat fur caught the corner of his eye like chalk against a blackboard.
When he looked again, the wolf was still there, flipping through their notes without looking up.
Later, in the hallway near the art studios. Tao caught that same pale figure standing at the far end, near the bulletin board.
Not reading anything, just standing. Facing the lockers and Tao. When he blinked, the wolf was gone, as if vanishing; he had slipped away deep into the crowd.
It could’ve been a mere coincidence. It should have been. But this wasn’t just once. Or twice.
Over the week, he saw him again and again: exiting the men’s restroom just as Tao walked past; sitting alone at a table outside the student center with an unreadable expression; brushing past each other in the hallways, their eyes meeting for a second too long before they blend in with the crowd.
No words were ever exchanged. Not even once.
Tao didn’t even know his name.
And yet, he knew it was always that same wolf, the one that was always alone and always watching.
Tao tried to rationalize it. Maybe we’re just on similar schedules. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. He’d grown up with an overactive imagination; he knew this about himself.
Still, the feeling persisted. Not fear, not quite. More so… pressure. Like eyes on the back of his neck.
Ilhan hadn’t noticed anything. Tao hadn’t told him. Not yet.
But every time Tao glanced over his shoulder now, every time he stepped into a room or scanned a crowd, that shadow of white fur flickered at the edge of his world. And it was getting closer.
And closer.
The weight of his sketchbooks pulled slightly at Tao’s shoulder as he adjusted the strap of his bag, balancing a large portfolio case in his arms while nudging the locker shut with his elbow. His paws were full, the tips smudged with charcoal and still cold from the walk between classes.
He hated carrying this much at once, but the art building was on the far side of campus, and he was too lazy to make two trips.
“Need a third arm?” A familiar voice called.
Tao turned just in time to see Ilhan approaching, wearing his usual post-lecture grin and windblown fur. He had a duffel bag slung lazily over one shoulder, and his fur was damp near the collar from either sweat or drizzle, or both.
“You look like a one-wolf moving company,” Ilhan teased.
Tao huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
Ilhan leaned down slightly, his red panda ears flicking. “Are you sure? I’m strong, I could help you, y’know”
Tao nodded, trying not to smile too obviously. “Don’t you have practice right now, Mr. Strong Man?”
“Yep. Just came to dump my bag before I run laps for an hour and die dramatically on the court.”
Tao’s brow lifted. “Sounds fun.”
Ilhan smirked, stepping back. “Text me later if you survive art block or something.”
And just like that, with a playful wavem Ilhan turned and jogged off down the hallway. Tao watched him go for a second longer than he should have, then started walking toward the stairwell, shifting his grip on the portfolio case.
That’s when it happened. He turned the corner too sharply, too fast, and collided shoulder-first into someone.
The impact jolted through his arms, and everything spilled. Sketchbooks, loose sheets, a tin of pencils that scattered across the floor like clattering insects.
“Ah- crap, sorry-!” Tao began, instinctively crouching.
“It’s okay,” came a voice. It was calm, gentle, and unfamiliar.
Tao looked up slightly. A white wolf was already kneeling across from him, carefully gathering the loose papers, one by one, treating each like fragiles glass. His movements were meticulous, precise almost reverent.
Tao’s stomach dipped. It was he, that wolf.
Up close, the unknown wolf’s eyes were a sharp, pale silver, almost translucent under the hallway lights. His fur was too clean, his expression almost too measured.
Tao opened his mouth to say something, but the strange wolf had beaten him to it.
“You’re Steele. Tao Steele, am I right?” he said softly, not looking up.
Tao blinked. “Uh… yeah.”
“We have some classes together, I’ve heard your name in attendance, and I’m quite a fan of your works displayed in the atrium. Your line work is…” He paused, lifting one sketch slightly, fingertips brushing the edge. “It moves. Like it’s alive.”
Tao didn’t know what to say to that. His heart beat faster, but not in the way it did around Ilhan. This was different, too close and intense. Like it was wrong for them to be talking.
“Thanks,” he said quietly, reaching to take the papers from the wolf’s paws.
Their fingers touched. Only for a second
The white wolf inhaled, as if committing the moment to memory.
Tao pulled his paw back quickly.
He didn’t seem to notice, or pretended not to. “You’re not the one to talk much, are you?”
“No,” Tao replied, almost instinctively.
“That’s okay,” He said, smiling faintly. “I like quiet people.”
Tao stood, awkwardly shuffling his supplies back into place. The wolf rose too, a little too close now, like he hadn’t gotten the memo that the interaction was over.
“Well,” Tao muttered, “Thanks for helping. I should get going.”
He just nodded, serene. “Any time, Tao.” the wolf took a step forward towards Tao, uncomfortable close now. “The name is Rein by the way. Rein Havlik.”
As Tao walked off, his fur prickled at the nape of his neck. He didn’t look back; he wouldn’t even dare to.
To Rein, the hallway remained still and golden, dust motes catching the afternoon light like blessings.
He stood there for a long time, his paw still tingling from where their fingers had met.
For him, it was the best moment of his life. For Tao, it was the most unsettling two minutes he’d had in months.
And neither of them would forget this moment.
The air inside the studio building was warm and dry, tinged with turpentine and paper and the sharp sweetness of fixative spray. Tao had just pinned up his latest charcoal piece, a sweeping cityscape drawn in stark shadows and soft lines, on the critique wall when he heard footsteps behind him.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” A voice said with a dramatic clap.
It was Milos, a lanky otter with a paint-stained hoodie and a permanent smudge on his nose. He stopped beside Tao, arms crossed, head tilted at the piece. “This? This is disgusting.”
Tao blinked. “Disgusting?”
“In the best way,” Milos grinned, motioning at the shading. “Like, it makes me mad how good you are. This shadow work? You should be arrested for being way too talented.”
Tao laughed, shoulders relaxing. “Thanks, I think.”
A few other classmates wandered in and out of the room, offering quiet nods or “Nice work, Tao.” One of the professors even stepped in briefly to comment on his improving contrast.
Later, as Tao packed up, he found Ilhan learning against the studio doorframe, sweaty from practice but grinning widely.
“Did you kidnap you for dinner?” Ilhan said, “But I also came to see the new Tao Original.”
Tao rolled his eyes. “It’s just a draft.”
“Liar.” Ilhan stepped in and gave the city space a long look. “Damn. You drew all that from memory?”
Tao shrugged modestly. “I sketched some thumbnails a few days ago.”
Ilhan’s eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. “Hold on, is that me?” He pointed at a tiny figure walking along a bridge in the corner of the drawing. “That’s totally my jacket… And my ears too! Have you ever gotten the tiny piercing?”
Tao flushed. “M-Maybe.”
Ilhan laughed. “Wow, I’ve been immortalized in charcoal. Next you’ll be sketching my butt during practice.”
Tao buried his face in his scarf. “Shut up.”
Ilhan’s teasing was warm, never biting, and it always left Tao feeling both flustered and comforted, like being wrapped in the same soft light he tried to capture in his art.
But later, as they left the building together, that feeling dimmed.
Because across the campus quad, through the drifting fall of leaves, Tao caught a glimpse of white fur near the edge of a lamppost. Standing still. Watching.
Just for a second, and then it was gone. Ilhan hadn’t noticed, and Tao didn’t say anything. His claws dug into the strap of his bag.
The student diner near the dorms was always busiest around six, filled with the clang of trays, the low hum of conversations, and the scent of grease and fried comfort.
Tao and Ilhan sat in their usual booth near the window, huddled in the golden glow of overhead lights that blurred slightly from the condensation on the windows.
“Dude, you stole, like, half my fries,” Ilhan said, mock scandalized, watching Tao pluck another one from the basket between them.
“You can have my tomato,” Tao replied dryly, nudging the red slice onto Ilhan’s burger wrapper with a napkin. “And the pickles cause you to have been a good Ilhan.”
“Fair trade… Wait, what did you call me?” Ilhan said, popping both onto his mouth and talking around them. “God, I love pickles.”
Tao shrugged, hiding a smile as he reached for more fries. “They’re vile, an insult to humankind, like pineapple on pizza.”
“They’re vile and perfect. Like pineapple on pizza.” Ilhan declared. He leaned back against the booth and stretched out his legs.
Ilhan accidentally knocked Tao’s shin. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Tao nudged him back gently. “Truce.”
The tray between them was a quiet battlefield of shared wrappers and ketchup packets. Tao’s scarf was folded beside him, and his ears flicked with the relaxed rhythm of the room.
He was beginning to enjoy the comfort, warm burger buns, the sharp fizz of soda, Ilhan’s voice keeping pace with his own quieter replies.
And then the doorbell above the entrance chimed.
Tao’s ears twitched before his head even turned.
White fur. Silver eyes, a tall, pale wolf, scanning the tables.
Rein.
Ilhan noticed too, mid-chew, and gave a small wave when Rein locked eyes with them. Rein approached with that strangely quiet gait, calculated and slow, as if each step had been rehearsed.
“Hey, Tao,” He said first, voice light and polite. “I wasn’t expecting to meet you again in here.”
Tao stiffened slightly. “Hi.”
Ilhan fixed his laid-back posture into a more focused one. “Wait, you two have met each other?”
Before Tao could speak, Rein answered, “Yes, Tao accidentally bumped into me and we had a nice chat.”
Tao just nodded, unable to say anything to that.
Ilhan chuckled softly at the mention of Tao bumping into Rein; he perfectly pictured the situation in his head. “I won’t have to introduce you to each other, then.
Rein’s gaze lingered on Tao just a second too long before shifting to Ilhan. “We’re both in Professor Schafer’s calculus seminar.”
Tao’s ears perked up at the mention of it. I had no idea Ilhan even knew basic arithmetic. Let alone calculus.
Ilhan wiped his paws on a napkin and nodded, friendly as always. “Yeah, we sit diagonally from each other. What’s up?”
Rein adjusted his sleeves, though they didn’t need adjusting. “I’ve been having some trouble with the optimization stuff he covered last week. Mind if I pick your brain sometime? Maybe after class?”
“Sure,” Ilhan said, nodding. “Catch me after Wednesday’s lecture. I usually have time then.”
“Great,” Rein said, though his eyes flicked back to Tao again, unreadable. “Anyways, enjoy your dinner.”
He left without ordering anything. Tao’s stomach had gone hollow beneath the warmth of his meal.
Ilhan glanced at him. “You okay?”
Tao nodded too quickly. “Y-Yeah. Just a little full.”
Ilhan didn’t press, but his face lingered.
Tao looked back down at his fries, no longer hungry. The ketchup had started to congeal.
The night had fallen soft and slow, draping the campus in a hush broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath their shoes. Tao walked beside Ilhan, their shadows stretching long under the streetlights that flickered like lazy stars.
The air smelled of damp earth and chimney smoke, and somewhere in the distance, a tram hissed along its rails, disappearing into the city’s quiet atmosphere.
They didn't speak much. Ilhan had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his head slightly tilted as he hummed a song under his breath, something upbeat and shapeless.
Tao kept pace beside him, his own hands buried in his coat sleeves, gripping the fabric like an anchor. His scarf was wound tight around his neck, but the chill had worked its way in regardless, curling beneath his skin.
Rein’s face lingered in his mind.
Not the interaction or the words. But the way he had looked at him. Like Tao was a riddle, he already knew the answer to. Like he was… claimed.
A shiver skittered down his spine.
He didn’t want to admit how deeply it unsettled him. Didn’t want to sound paranoid or dramatic. But something about that gaze, he didn’t seem interested, he seemed like he wanted to own him.
And yet beside him, Ilhan’s presence radiated ease and comfort. Tao found himself subtly leaning toward it, matching his steps to Ilhan’s rhythm, like a gravitatory force.
Why didn’t I say anything? Because what would I even say?
“I think a guy I barely know looked at me weird.” It sounded absurd, even in his thoughts.
And yet… it didn’t feel absurd. It felt like the beginning of something, something that made his stomach revolt.
They reached the dorm building’s front steps. The lights above the entrance buzzed faintly, casting the stoop in a pale gold. Ilhan turned to him, grinning a little.
“Still full from all those stolen fries?”
Tao nodded, the smile that rose to his muzzle more reflex than real. “You’re never getting them back.”
Ilhan snorted. “I’m sure I’ll find a way.”
There was a beat of silence. The wind stirred fallen leaves across the concrete. Tao looked at him, at the brightness in his eyes, the casual way he stood like the world had never pressed in on him.
And Tao wished, deeply, that he could live in this moment a little longer. That the night didn’t have to end. That there weren’t shadows creeping around the edges of the warm light.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ilhan asked.
Tao nodded. “Yeah.”