When Marc finds his long lost childhood plushie, Mr. Wilbur "Will" Eatemup, at a yard sale, he knows immediately that he needs to recover the huggable dinosaur. The only problem: Will seems to belong to someone else.

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All characters are 18+.

To the average person, a plush animal is no more than a toy. Something to be played with in childhood and forgotten about when you grow up. As Marc stands at the end of a stranger’s driveway staring into his lost childhood plushie’s adorable googly eyes, he remembers why he swore never to write off plushies as mere children’s toys.

It’s been two decades since the bunny last saw Mr. Wilbur “Will” Eatemup. He was a nice soft dinosaur with a goofy smile and a cylindrical body as long as Marc was tall. Small enough to fit in his bed, but fluffy enough that Marc could barely wrap his arms around the thing while drifting off to sleep. To this day Marc hasn’t found out how Will disappeared.

With a shaky, brown-furred paw, Marc removes the plush from the table. Its green belly and big eyes are discolored from years of wear and tear, and its body is more shriveled, but the grin is the same as Marc remembers, with those misaligned fangs that give him a lovable silliness. To make sure it’s Will, Marc turns the dinosaur around to get a look behind the frill that surrounds the triceratops’s neck. That scar is still there from the time he got snagged on the corner of a handrail in Marc’s childhood home. His mom stitched him up under Marc’s watchful, tear-filled eyes. It’s joined by three more stitches that weren’t present before, but now he’s certain this is Will.

Elated at his chance to make up for lost time, Marc looks for a price, only to find sticky note on top of the table. Twenty dollars??? A part of Marc is relieved that Will found a happy place to live, and that he’s finally returning at such a small expense. Another is angry that his new family would discard him so easily. Didn’t they know Will’s love was priceless? Is this what happened to his sweet little dino all those years ago?

Marc pulls Will in for an embrace, and despite the fact the bunny is now an adult, his thick arms still barely manage to wrap around him. Love flows out of the dinosaur and into Marc’s chest. He can rest easy tonight, he tells himself as he looks around for the older gentleman running the yard sale to purchase the plushie.

That’s when the bunny spots a fox sitting on the curb, crying into his paws with his knees pulled up to his chest.

Marc stops in his tracks. He’s mostly kept to himself all these years – he never felt like he fit in anywhere due to his more childish interests – so he isn’t confident in his ability to comfort strangers, but he figures it can’t be too difficult to make a good impression if he’s holding a plush animal. Some pretend play might cheer the man up, and even if it doesn’t, he’ll be distracted from his problems for a moment. Marc walks over to the fox and crouches down next to him.

“Hey buddy,” Marc says with a goofy inflection, holding the dinosaur out in front of him and shaking it back and forth in time with his voice. “Do you want to be my friend?”

The man’s rusty orange ears perk up. He raises his head to look over at Marc, only for his reddened eyes to widen when his gaze falls on the plush dinosaur. “That’s not his voice,” the man says. His speech wavers with each word. “He’s supposed to sound big and scary.”

Marc frowns. Is this the fox’s old toy? What is it doing for sale? “What if I tried to eat ya? Would that be scary? Grrrrrrrrrrr,” Marc says with a gruff voice as he lifts the plush in the air and holds it over the fox’s head.

“Nuuuuuuu don’t eat me!” the man yells playfully. Almost as if forgetting about his problems, the fox starts giggling and thrashing his dainty handpaws in the air to bat away the dinosaur. He’s not actually trying to knock it away, but a stray smack sends the toy flying out of Marc’s meatier paws and onto the grass beside them.

They both stop. Marc’s heart leaps in his throat, and he immediately lunges for the plush, scouring it for any signs of dirt. When he finds none, he lets out a sigh of relief and settles back on the grass.

“I’m so sorry,” the fox whispers.

“It’s okay,” Marc says. He turns Will around in his lap so the dinosaur’s goofy smile faces him. “Accidents happen.”

“You really care about that thing, huh?”

Marc turns back to the fox. The man is looking away from him, and his ears are folded over the top of his head again, but his knees aren’t tucked into his torso anymore. Instead, he’s sitting back on his handpaws and letting his footpaws dangle off the curb so his heels barely touch the street. It’s also the first time Marc takes note of the man’s physique: under his simple white t-shirt with the logo for a metal band and a pair of cargo shorts, and under the rusty orange fur, the fox is well-built. It’s quite the contrast from Marc, whose beer belly forces his sweater to poke forward.

“He’s… an old friend,” Marc says. “I spent forever trying to find him.”

“Must be nice to be reunited,” the fox says.

“Is he… your friend too?”

The fox growls but nods. “He was. I still live with my dad cause money’s tight, but he’s a hardass. Says I have to grow up.” He gestures towards the yard sale. “That means getting rid of all my toys.”

Marc takes a deep breath. The pain of losing his friend always haunted him. When Will first disappeared, Marc stayed awake through the nights, alternating between tears of agony and wistful fantasies of reunion. When he finally slept, he did so fitfully. Even after years of scouring garage sales, scrolling through lost toy forums, and, god forbid, being gifted replacement plushies, he never filled that empty space in his heart and bed, and never found a more comfortable way to sleep.

Marc gives Will a long hard look. That dumb smile and those cute colours always filled him with so much joy. Even now, he can feel his heart beating faster at the sight of his old friend. If he takes Will home, he might be able to sleep comfortably, but he’ll always agonize over the fox’s plight.

“Tell ya what,” Marc says. “I’m gonna buy him off your dad and keep him safe. You can visit him and play with him until you move out, when I’ll give you full custody.”

The fox’s eyes light up. “R-really?”

“Really. But I’ll need both your names.”

A tear rolls down the fox’s cheek. “I’m Andreas,” he says. Then he points at the dinosaur. “And that’s Chewy. What… did you name him?”

“Mr. Wilbur Eatemup. Will for short.”

“Will Eatemup,” Andreas says to himself. His eyes shoot open with realization, and he tilts his head back to let out a hearty laugh, ears flickering back and forth. “Ha! He has silly teeth, doesn’t he?”

“That he does,” Marc says with a nod.

After the pair trade contact information, Andreas throws his arms around Marc, squishing the dinosaur between their two bodies. Marc can sense Will’s love again, like energy flowing into him and causing his chest to tighten, but there's a deeper level to the plushie’s feelings. Someone else has openly shown their love for Will. It takes Marc a second to realize that he doesn’t feel alone anymore because of that, a sensation that makes him want to hold on tight to Andreas. Maybe he ought to ask the fox to hang out again, Marc tells himself.

“I know it’s just a stupid toy,” Andreas says, “but this means the world to me. Thank you.”

“It’s not stupid,” Marc replies. It’s his turn to start shedding a tear, which runs down his cheek to drip onto Andreas’s shoulder. “Chewy’s your friend. Nothing will change that.”