That night was one to remember, even if it was rather hazy. One too many beers had me beat, and I was barely holding onto consciousness. Yet, he dragged me out into the outback, under a tree, and set up a fire. It was too nice of a night to go back into a stuffy house anyway, plus, after that wild night... I didn't think I wanted it to end.

I sidled up against him, resting my head in the nook of his neck, took a breath of his scent. Don't think he really minded. We were best friends, after all. I still don't think he knew that I quite liked him... but tonight would not be the night I told him. No, especially not as drunk as I was.

It was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire, and the symphony of the nighttime bugs, crying out into the night in search of each other. Off in the distance, I could hear the faint sounds of crashing waves, beating down on the Australian shore. Maybe I'd have a dip in it later, to sober up. If I can convince him to let me, anyway.

Speaking of... "You right mate? I reckon y'might've had too many beers tonight", he said softly, looking down at me. "Bah... yes, I'm fine, Mum", I replied, my speech still slightly slurred. He didn't say anything back, just an amused huff, and raised a brow. He was a quiet one, for sure, but damn, did I love it about him.

It was quiet again between us. A comfortable quiet. Till I said, "Oi, Prince, I wanna take a dip, hoist me up yeah?". He shot me a stern glance, "uh, no! You really are drunk, aren't you? I'm not letting you nowhere close to the sea, not with how wasted you are now". Under his breath, I could hear him mutter, damn drunkard. "Aw, but Mum, I jus' wanna quick refresher!" I quipped back, a goofy grin plastered on my muzzle. He gave me a shove, shaking his head and chuckling, "piss off with that mate. I'm just worried for you, yeah?". "Heh, yeah, I know you are," I said, leaning back up against him once more, garnering an arm around my shoulder to pull me closer in, "you're a damned worrywart. But, you're my damned worrywart". Again, a silent chuckle, and a shake of his head. He was so cute when he did that.

A few moments passed, and I was beginning to feel the alcohol really doing me in. Fighting for consciousness was a difficult battle, and Prince seemed to sense this. He propped me up against the base of the tree and headed towards my beat up truck. I had almost passed out when, in my blurry vision, I saw his paw holding out a canteen. "More booze?" I joked half-heartedly, taking it from his paws, lifting the opening to my lips. As the cool liquid filled my maw, quenching my thirst, Prince gave me judging glare, shaking his head, "Oh har har, very funny, love. You know I wouldn't intoxicate you further" he says. I stayed silent, an amused grin on my face, and watched him wander off to the other side of the fire, setting up our tent for the night.

"I'm surprised you can set it up," I said, watching him attach the poles together over the tarp, "I thought your mum taught you mostly book stuffs?". "She taught me to be prepared," he said, laying them down in a cross shape, "and that can include knowing how to set up a shelter". He looks back at me, slightly annoyed, "just 'cause Daryl's the stronger, more outdoorsy type doesn't mean I can't do some of the things he can", he said, before shifting his attention back to the tent. "Yeah, well, sorry mate, didn't realize it" I replied, lifting the canteen up again to drink from it. "Whatever" was all he said.

For once this night, the silence between us was uncomfortable. In the back of my mind, I knew I'd have to bring up the big thing soon, and he knew it too. But neither of us wanted to say it. Instead, I dragged him along to a concert, got bum-fuck wasted, and now the poor sap's setting up our tent on his own. But, now, it seemed like there was nothing left to do but to talk about it. There was no avoiding it.

"Prince" I started, starting to sit up. "Hm?", he banged in the stakes of the now fully erected tent. "Are you... Are you really leaving?".

He gave the stake a rather harsh bang, enough to anchor it into the ground. He stopped, holding the mallet, not sure what to say.

Again, it was silent, and most certainly not a comforting one. The tension was thick, and I could tell he was trying to think of the best way to answer.

He placed his mallet down to the side, and walked back over to me, plopping down next to me. He pulled out something, a rectangular leather pouch, and opened it, taking out his slightly banged up Polaroid camera. "Hey... it was a good night, yeah?" he said, offering a strained smile, "how about a picture to remember it?". "Prince, c'mon-" I started, but he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in. He raised his camera up, facing it towards us, and gave me a light kiss on the cheek, pressing the trigger. The mirror flipped up, and the camera took a few seconds to take in the scene before the sound of its mechanisms whirred and its rollers rolled, the instant sliding out from its slot. He took the picture gingerly, before placing it against his chest, sliding it down to his pant pocket. To let it properly develop, I remember him telling me once.

"Prince." I started again, and he knew he couldn't stall any longer, "please. Tell me". He stared at the dirt below him, tracing aimlessly in it with a claw. "I... I don't know" he finally said after a bit of thinking, "I... Dad says we have to... and it would be best for us, but... I don't really want to". Tears started to well up in his eyes, a drop hit the parched dirt below. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him, holding him tight as he just let loose. His silent sobs mingled with the crackling of the wood burning in the fire. It was a sad cry, he really didn't want to leave.

I stared into the flickering fire, looked deep into the white-hot core of it, as he sobbed pitifully into my chest. "Prince... it'll be okay," I said softly, trying to comfort him, "I mean, you got my number, you can always give me a ring. O-or... we could do that dumb cheesy thing and send each other snail mail if you want". He just continued to cry. I didn't know what else I could say to make him feel better.

I waited for him to stop sobbing, but he just... kept going. It broke my heart, hearing him cry so terribly like that. I just... I had to make it better somehow.

"Prince... hey," I said, lifting his chin up so he could look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, red and still filled with tears, I could see the glint of orange-red of the fire, and the stars twinkling in the sky. Dumb cute mutt. "Hey, goofball," I said softly, leaning in, "I love you, you big dummy". And I closed the distance, our lips met.

A song, to set the mood.

This absolutely amazing piece was done by the astounding artist,  sixfoot, go give them some love!

This takes place right after a separate commission I've gotten, right here!
This is the first of my, hopefully, many story-and-art pieces for Prince's story. Hopefully, you liked it!

Oh and uh, Prince is the blue aussie shep, and Gaz, the narrator, is the african wild dog boy with the blue hair.