#highston

Bright, friendly colors, a sign posted out front that boasts “Fur-ever Friends” for great prices in all of your favorite licensed characters.

You can’t help but step inside, just for a moment.

You’re just looking around anyways, right?

Bins like the right side of the store, full of the un-stuffed bodies of all different furry friends, from scruffy dogs and purple cats to…a hobbit? Yoda?

It really has been a while since your last visit.

There’s a few small kids with their parents on the far side of the store, much further along in the process of building their furry friend than you are.

No. You are not buying a stuffed animal here right now—

“Hi, welcome in. You need some help deciding?” A soft voice interrupts your train of thought, and you glance over to find the source of said voice.

It’s a guy about your age, wearing an employee’s blue apron and a plain white t-shirt underneath. He’s got a sweet smile, a dusting of pink on the tops of his soft cheeks.

He’s cute.

Your brain goes offline for about eight seconds before you reboot and remember that you need to actually answer him.

“Oh, uh—yeah, I’m just- looking around, thanks.”

This is the kind of store that you only really enter if you’re ready to make a hefty purchase. Your wallet cries out in mourning of the money you know you’re about to spend here.

The employee—Highston, it says on the name tag pinned to his apron, written in black sharpie in bright, friendly letters—nods, his smile widening a fraction.

“Awesome,” he grins, taking a half step backwards to give you some room to decide.

“I’ll be over there—“ he gestures to the first station of the process, where you select a sound to be heard inside the bear, “—whenever you’re ready.”

You give him a soft smile in return, waving him off politely as he steps away.

—

After much deliberation, you’ve made your decision.

You were almost tempted by the pink and green frogs, but in the end, you settled for something classic. A bunny, with soft fur and floppy ears.

Highston’s all smiles when you walk over to the sound station, and it’s definitely got some upgrades since the last time you were at the Workshop.

It used to be little drawers of pre-recorded sound buttons; dogs barking, maybe a hit song—just cute little animal sounds and things to stuff your friend with.

Now? It’s all high-tech. Screens and buttons and it takes Highston a few minutes to help you get sorted with the sound you’ve picked.

For the sake of comedy, you’ve decided to put a dog’s bark in your bunny plush.

Highston snorts a little when you pick it out. It’s adorable, and you hate it.

The next step is the stuffing station, where things get serious.

Highston settles down into a chair on one side of the stuffing machine, taking your un-stuffed bunny and sound button from you gently.

He asks your name, and you give it—he writes it down on the bunny’s tag, adding a little smiley face at the end. Then, he tears off the barcode of the tag, and stuffs it somewhere in the bunny’s front paw, followed by the sound button you’d picked out.

“Okay, this is a pretty make-or-break question,” he starts, a slight tease edging into his tone.

You listen intently, watching him as he meets your gaze with an unwavering intensity.

“How much stuffing do you want your friend to have?”

He’s got a sweetness to his voice, clearly picked up from talking to probably hundreds of little kids, going through the same dialogue a million times daily.

“We can make her soft, or hard, or somewhere in the middle?” You settle on somewhere in the middle. You always do.

Highston presses a button on his side of the station, and the machine whirs to life. He kicks out a little black pedal that lands somewhere near your feet.

You know the drill by now. It’s stuffing time.

You step on the pedal, and Highston gets to work stuffing the bunny—the metal pipe that extends off of the machine working to quickly fill out all that fur.

When you’ve reached about the ‘in between’ level of stuffing, he flicks the machine off again, and you remove your foot from the pedal.

“Okay, moment of truth—“ he jokes, handing you the now-stuffed bunny. You give her a hug.

Perfect. Not too soft, not too hard.

“She’s perfect,” you affirm, and he beams.

“Yeah? Awesome. Let’s get things rolling, then.”

And, of course, the most important step is next.

The heart ceremony.

“Go ahead and pick a heart,” Highston tells you, gesturing to the heart-shaped container attached to the front of the stuffing machine, filled to the brim with little satin hearts. Some are solid red, some are checkered.

You grab a solid one.

“Okay,” he starts, putting on a serious face, your bunny held safely in his lap as he begins.

“Go ahead and rub that heart between your hands, so that your friend is aaaaallways warm.”

You do, rubbing the small cloth heart between your palms like you’re trying to heat it up. After a few seconds, you stop, and he carries on with the next step.

“Alright? So, now you’re gonna wanna take that heart and rub it on your ears so that you know she’s a good listener..”

You follow accordingly, rubbing the satin heart on your ears. It only feels a little silly, but the way he’s grinning as you go through the ceremony makes it worth every second.

“Perfect. Now, go ahead and rub that heart on your arms so she always gives the best hugs.”

As he instructs you, he goes through the motions as well from his seat at the stuffing machine, your furry friend perched carefully in your lap. His smile never wavers once as you rub the heart on your arms.

“Now we’re gonna take that heart and rub it on our head, so that she’s always smart, and then we’re gonna rub that on our nose, so that she always nose the best jokes.”

He looks totally proud of himself for that last one—his grin wide, dimples showing in his cheeks and that pink tint just a shade brighter.

“You’re doing great, now you’re going to make a wish to that heart, and then you’re gonna put it into your furry friend here, okay?”

You nod, holding the heart close for a few seconds as you make a wish, before you push the heart into the opening at the back of the stuffed bunny.

Your fingers brush Highston’s as you push the heart into the stuffing. You try not to think about it.

He’s still grinning as he takes the bunny back into his lap, quickly sewing her up and securing the knot before he trims away the extra thread.

He gives her one last once-over before she’s handed off to you.

“You’re all set. You can go ahead and give her a bath, dress her if you’d like, and then give her a name!”

You can tell that he’s running a little on autopilot, probably having given those same instructions a thousand times just this week alone, but his smile is so wide and his blue eyes are so kind that it almost doesn’t matter.

“You’re the best, Highston,” you tell him, and you swear the light dusting of pink on his cheeks floods down his ears to his neck.

Grinning, you step away from the stuffing machine, heading off to give your bunny an air bath and decide on potential outfits.

You opt to go without an outfit—the reality is, your wallet’s already hurting from a $30 bunny, so dropping probably another $30 on a cute little outfit for your bunny is where you draw the line.

Now onto the naming part—arguably, the most difficult.

You approach one of the computers, leaning over to get a better view of the child-height screen.

Decisions, decisions.

You could go classic, name her something like Fluffy, or something absurd like Bartholomew Edwards IV, but you settle on the tried and true.

You scan the tag on your bunny’s ear, and when prompted, type out the name you’ve decided for her.

Honey, like the warm, golden color of her fur.

You fill out the form with your information, and submit it over to the printer behind the checkout counter.

It’s bittersweet, your time in the Workshop is coming to a close, and all you’ve got to show for it is an undressed bunny named….Honey.

You bring her up to the checkout counter, and your new companion Highston is there, grinning like he’s the one with the new toy.

“Everything turn out okay?” He asks, making small talk as he turns away for a second to get the newly-printed birth certificate from the printer.

You give a hum of affirmation, and when he turns back around, he’s got the paper in hand, grin wide and flush ever-present on his cheeks.

“Honey’s a good name,” he tells you, eyes trained downward at the counter, focusing more on ringing you up than actually looking at you.

There’s a few beats of awkward silence as he types a few things into the register.

“Honey bunny…” he murmurs, chewing on his lower lip, and your heart does a little somersault in your chest.

Okay, yeah. He’s really cute.

When the total is finally rung up, you see that the final cost is a lot less than you thought it was going to be. You give him a questioning look when he lifts his head, and that blush on his face deepens.

“I, uh—used my discount. Hope you don’t mind.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his thought, feeling flattered and a little flushed at the same time.

“No, no, not at all. I really appreciate it, Highston.”

He seems to falter when you use his name again, all flustered and shy just from the acknowledgment.

Some sick little part of your brain wonders what else will get him flustered.

No. Stop that.

You watch as Highston pulls a marker from the front pocket of his apron, and scribbles something on the paper tag that’s clipped to Honey’s ear.

It’s hard to make out on this side of the counter, and it gets even harder when Highston takes her away to get her her very own Cub Condo (which, in reality, is just the fancy name for a cardboard box you carry your furry friend out of the store in).

He turns back around when the box is all closed up, Honey tucked away neatly inside with her birth certificate. That ever-present flush on his face remains, a permanent tint to the tops of his cheeks.

“Let’s, uh—let’s get you checked out, hm?” He manages, clearly trying his hardest to smooth over the awkwardness that’s settled between the two of you.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure…”

You take the appropriate amount of cash out of your wallet, handing the bills to Highston. Your fingers brush in the exchange, and you have to focus really hard on thinking about anything besides the feeling of his hand on yours.

Payment’s complete, change is made.

Fingers brush your palm when he hands you the coins in return.

Highston slides the cardboard box across the counter to you, and it’s a little more bittersweet.

This is a stranger, a baby-faced dude that you’ve barely spoken to, and you’re feeling all worked up about leaving.

Leaving fucking Build-A-Bear.

“I’ll see you around,” he tells you, the corner of his mouth turned up in a cute little smile.

He really is adorable. Maybe you’ll pick up some extra shifts so that you can come here more often.

“See you.”

And with that, you head out of the Workshop, the cardboard Cub Condo in tow as you make your way back through the mall.

It’s not until you get home that you finally take Honey out of her temporary room.

You sit on your bed, and bring her in for a hug.

She’s stuffed perfectly, just soft enough to be loved, but firm enough not to fall apart completely.

You go to pull the tag off of her ear and—

You see what Highston wrote on the paper.

Ten digits, scrawled out in black marker.

He gave you his phone number.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, realization clicking into place as you scramble for your phone, transcribing the numbers into a new contact, saved under Highston — 🧸.

It takes you an embarrassingly long amount of time to settle on a first message, eventually deciding on taking a picture of Honey, with a simple caption.

> found your note. 🐰

It’s not thirty seconds later that you see that he’s typing, the little bubble popping up—his message coming through just as quickly.

> I knew you would, Bunny.

Oh my god. Your heart does about thirty flips in your chest, and you feel a lot like a high schooler with their first crush.

You have to actually, physically lay down for a second to compose yourself before you type out another message.

> Bunny’s a cute nickname…

He responds immediately.

> It suits you well.

Okay, yeah. You put the phone down, turn over, and promptly scream into your pillow.

How did the literal, actual human embodiment of a teddy bear that slipped you his number become such a flirt??

A few deep breaths later, and you’re ready to reply.

> she misses you, you know.

It’s ridiculous, and bold and you feel insane the moment you hit send.

> Who, Honey?

> she’s already planning a return trip.

You don’t disclose that you’re the one already planning a return trip to the mall. You need to preserve what little pride you have left.

> I think I’d like a visit from you two. Honey and Bunny, back in my presence.

You feel like you’re going to die. Your heart’s jumping around, getting caught between your ribs. This is insane, yet here you are, being flirted with by the guy you met at Build-A-Bear.

> is that my name now? Bunny?

He types for a while. Your heart’s in your throat.

You feel like a total crazy person, sitting on the edge of your bed, glued to your phone and hanging onto every word.

The phone in your hand buzzes with a new message from Highston.

> It can if you want it to be.

Holy shit he’s good at this. Maybe you should’ve talked to him more in between the sound station and the heart ceremony.

> and if I want it to be..?

His response is almost instantaneous.

> Then you’ll have to cash in that return visit, Bunny.

Another message, immediately after the first.

> What are you doing tomorrow?

You feel like you’re flying. You throw yourself into your pillows, a total and complete mess as that second message comes through.

Half-buried in your pillows, you type out a reply; your face is on fire, the warmth probably about to burn a hole through your pillowcase.

> whatever you want, I’m there, Highston.

He reacts to your message with a heart, and you feel like you’re going to explode.

You bring Honey a little closer, and secure your arms around her, hugging her tightly.

For now, it feels a little bit like you’re hugging him, and it makes something warm bloom in your chest.

Tomorrow’s going to be so much fun.

—

thank you for reading !!!