a wolf is a wolf, even in a cage, even dressed in silk.

“she’ll only make you cry.” your mother said.

“shes not for little kids to talk to.” your father said.

but your doggy was still approaching the house, her nose pressed against the grass. you followed the shepard, your eyes wide with curiosity at getting near the “forbidden” house. your dog stuck her nose into a small window near the base of the house, and you followed suit, kneeling down to observe the hole.

both you and your dog were startled when a little boy stepped into the dim light shining through the window. he was very far down, his neck craning up to look into your eyes. his gaze was unnerving, but you were ever so friendly.

“h-hello..!” you say politely, offering a small wave. you sat down crisscrossed, peering through the small window, down at the boy staring up at you.

“..hello.” he replied curtly. he had brown hair, which looked greasy and unkempt. his shirt was too small for him, but he was still able to fit. you noted how thin he was. “whats his name?”

you were confused by the question, tilting your head and trying to figure out what he meant. sensing your confusion, he pointed to your dog who was seated next to you, patiently watching the boy.

“her name is cleo! shes really nice.” you say enthusiastically. you held a hand out for your dog to shake, and you watched as interest filled the boy’s expression. you smiled brightly, and the boy smiled right back.

from that day on, you would frequently visit the strange basement-boy. you would bring your dog, or youd go alone. you could spend hours chatting with the boy, laying on your stomach as you talked to him. you learned that his name was pavia, he liked animals, he didnt like his aunt, he liked your eyes.

“your eyes are very pretty.” hed tell you frequently, incase youd somehow forgotten how much he admired them.

you would sneak food from your breakfast, your lunch and dinner and you would share it with him because he was extremely skinny. he grew visibly healthier as you had “picnics” — you would call them — bringing many different snacks or meals for him to eat.

on special occasions, your mother brought gelato back from the city. on those days, you would immediately excuse yourself, running to the house with the treat in your hand.

“pavia!” youd call for him. he would emerge from the darkness of the room, under the small patch of light that shone through. “try this!” you stuck your hand down the hole. the contents inside the cup had melted a bit by now, but it was still relatively cold.

he trusted you full heartedly, reaching up to gently take the cup. he brought the spoon to his mouth, and his eyes softly widened at the taste. he held the styrofoam cup with such gentleness, savoring the treat on his tongue. he looked up at you with a soft blush on his cheeks. “what is this?”

“its gelato! do you like it?”

he smiled and nodded.

you had been friends for quite a few years at this point. during this time, he grew less quiet, instead more relaxed and engaged in your conversations. you were a naive kid, but you still managed to pull this reserved boy out of his shell. he frequently talked down on himself, shyly asking you to stay longer with him, but being very hesitant to accept the little gift you offered him. he didnt like himself and he said you shouldnt hang around someone like him, but you didnt really care. slowly, he bantered right back with you. he teased you, telling you he was probably taller than you even if there was no way to measure. he was snarkier, more friendly and less nervous.

you also became less cautious around the house. your comfortable attitude around him led you to forget all about his aunt.

“what do you want?” the woman spat aggressively at you as you walked up the hill that the house was on. your dog growled at her, and you shrunk from her mean visage.

“i-i was just passing by your house to p-picnic on the other side-“ you quickly stutter out, lying so she wouldnt do anything to pavia. you knew that she hated him just as much as he hated her. she didnt buy it, scowling at your barking dog. she kicked cleo, your dog whimpering and hiding behind you, continuing to growl.

“if i ever see you or your dog on my property again, ill make sure your mutt is dead.”

you nodded and left abruptly, your dog following close.

not that that would stop you, however.

that same night, you had a few slices of bread in your pocket, as well as a small jar of jam. even if you two couldnt share the large basket of snacks you had prepared, you still wanted to share something.

“why are you back?” hed asked as you called for him. he was once more hesitant to take the jar of milk you passed, as well as the bread.

“youre my best friend, where else would i be?” you giggled. he was quiet for a while. under the moonlight, you swore that there were eyes watching you from the darkness, nearly glowing that you couldnt have noticed before.

“youre gonna get in trouble.” he mumbled, mouth full of bread. you only laid on your back, your face looking up at the sky full of stars.

“for you? id get in trouble if it meant i could hang out with you more.”

the very next week, there were a number of new faces in your little countryside town. there were many people passing through, on their way to a festival in the big city. lucky you, your father surprised you, telling you that you would be heading with him to the city to view the same film that so many tourists were talking about.

that night, you visited pavia again.

“im leaving town for a little while.” you informed him. you had brought a loaf of bread that you had baked yourself, and butter that you bought from a neighbor.

“how come?” he asked curiously.

“theres a festival that my dad wants to take me to. ill take you to one someday!”

“festival?”

“its like… a show! with lots of people, and different colors and smells.”

“and you would take me one day?” you couldnt see him due to the lack of light from the sky, but you assumed that he had wide eyes like he always did when you told him about new things.

“mhm.”

during your time in venice, you had bought a cheap ring, and bundle of handcrafted postcards. when you snuck back to the house, you were greeted with a wooden board covering the window that he was behind.

“..pavia?”

you didnt get a response. even if you knocked on the planks, he didnt say anything. you knew he was behind there still due to the shuffling from behind, but he didnt say anything back to you. you dropped the cheap ring through the small thin crack between the boards, hearing it clatter against the ground.

you kept talking that night, even without his response.

during the day, you began writing down your thoughts on the postcards youd bought in venice. at night, you kept talking about your day until there was nothing to talk about. you slid the postcards through the planks, even if he couldnt read them in the dark room. you would draw little pictures, write down your meal recipes, really whatever you thought of.

your last letter to him before you moved to the city read:

“come find me in sicily one day? ill be waiting for you! cleo says hi :)” accompanied by a muddy pawprint.

you told him all about the city, all about what you would miss in your little town. you told him that you would be leaving, and that you couldnt wait to talk to him again.

in the city, you brought your dog everywhere. she was an adult now, and you were entering your adult years slowly. you had found yourself a steady job, and you took care of your parents as they took care of you.

another gala came your way, and you dressed up all nice as you brought cleo to the large show of different films and costumes and displays — you noticed that she was unusually interested in something. while usually she followed you without a leash, you brought one due to the sheer amount of people that were at the festival. she tugged on the leash, and you followed her. she eventually began sniffing at a man’s ankles, and you tugged her away. the man turned around curiously as cleo was trying to sniff his pant leg, and you pulled her away, bowing your head in apology.

“sorry, shes not usually this curious.” you quickly said. the man in question was tall and muscular, he had many tattoos and piercings, snakebites under his lips and hair that was white with brown roots. he just smiled, a toothy grin that showed off his sharp canines as he spoke to you in a charming voice.

“no worries, [name].”

at first you were relieved that you avoided an awkward encounter, but blinked in surprise when you processed that he somehow knew your name. you stared at the man, unnerved by his sharp eyes and familiarity.

“I’m sorry…” The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was soft and lilting, with the barest echo at the end of his words. The sound of it was oddly comforting. “I just saw you standing there, and the light from the streetlights made your face look so… nice.”

In a matter of moments, the figure begins to rematerialize. Click appears in all his tattered war uniform and pale grey skinned glory, sheepishly holding his camera up. His hands curled tightly around each side of the device.

“You know you can just ask for a photo,” You say with a small smile.

“I know… I just love how you look when you don’t think anyone’s watching,” He murmurs. “Your expression is far softer. And that combined with the lighting… it almost looks like you’re glowing.”

He cleared his throat, his cheeks blushing lightly.

“Sorry… am I keeping you out in the cold?”

“It’s fine—”

“You should go home.” He interrupts. “But before you do… could I trouble you for a favour?”

“Of course, what is it?”

He holds up his camera. “If you don’t mind… could I take one more?”