#chrisgates

Chris ran a lot. If someone asked him whether that statement was literal or figurative, he would say ‘yes’ (it was both, in case you wondered). The irony that he quite literally ran from his problems had dawned on him early on. He didn’t just ignore these problems or stuff them in a closet, never under the rug or behind anything. They were never masked or dealt with head on, either. He ran from them.

As he ran, he had a pair of wired earphones in. There was no music that played, only the muffled beats of his heart and sound of his feet against the ground could be heard. Chris didn’t want a complete distraction from the goings on around him, but he wanted everything to feel less overwhelming. Still, he focused intently on the rhythm of his run, so much so that he missed the figure in his peripheral. Lost in thought, he would have otherwise noticed the young woman early on and missed her.

Unfortunately for him, he ran into her. Literally.

With the run now interrupted and the pair having just experienced a ‘human accident’, Chris looked to her from his crumpled position on the trail. He wasn’t hurt, exactly, but he hadn’t been okay for some time now and his body ached something awful. “Shit. Are you okay?” He asked, though he wanted nothing more than to cut his social time and head home despite the concern he showed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see where I was going.”

— 

Running had always been a favorite pastime for Mackenzie. The young actress would head up to Runyon Canyon Park early in the morning before the sun would beat down on Los Angeles, and she’d run until she felt like her feet could no longer carry her. It was the quiet she needed to reset from the previous day’s events and be prepared to face the challenges of a new day. And since leaving, it had been one of the things she had missed most, besides her family and her career.

“Okay, Mack. You can do this. Your feet will adjust.” Of course, since becoming a zombie, running had become harder, and as the depression seemed to set in, so did the effort of wanting to get up off the couch or out of bed that early, especially after a late night binge of stupid reality shows. But today was the day she was going to try, and despite how hard it had been at first, the young zombie found herself in a stride she could handle. It was awkward at first, but she somehow made it work.

With “Body Talks” blasting from her AirPods, Mackenzie wasn’t exactly paying attention to anyone around her, until the collision sent her to the ground with a jolt. As one of the earbuds went flying out, she managed to pick up on the person’s question, and immediately she pressed the pause button and pulled the other earbud out, “I’m so sorry! This is the first time I’ve been running in a while, and I guess I was just in the-” She stopped and laughed softly when he pretty much said the same thing, “That. But, yeah, I’m fine…” Just about the time she said it, she heard the crunch of the AirPod that had gone flying as someone rode past them on a bicycle and ran it over, “But my earbud isn’t.” Her expression dropped as she reached out for the crushed pieces that remained on the ground.

— 

Chris was grateful the other person was physically okay; he didn’t really want to have to deal with an injury, especially one that wasn’t his own. He’d stay if she was, of course — he wasn’t an asshole, but he wouldn’t want to. It wasn’t the ideal situation, so he was relieved to hear that she was actually alright. His face fell, however, when he heard the AirPod’s demise. Oh, no. He’d been there before with wired headphones, but wired or not losing even one was brutal.

“Aw, man.. That sucks, I’m sorry.” No, don’t do it. “If it’s any consolation..” What are you doing? Stop! “I have another one?” Oh, you idiot. “I picked it up randomly on another jog the other day. I was gonna maybe sell it or something but.. Could you use it? I’d rather it go to someone who needs it.” His father liked to call him a hypocrisy — too soft in the heart, but a monster in the brain. Chris liked to hold onto his softness. It helped to let him know that he wasn’t all bad, but it went against everything that screamed inside him. He feared for her safety; he feared for his own.

“I don’t uh, have it on me, though.” He tried to look as unassuming as possible; in a strange town there were strange people and even though he was just a tad bit strange, he didn’t want her to think he had any ulterior motives. Not to mention the room was in such a state he wouldn’t really want her back there anyway. 

— 

“No, it’s…it’s fine. It’s not like the day of headphones with wires, right? Where if one came out, it didn’t really go anywhere, but dangle.” Mackenzie looked down at the busted earbud. Technology was nice, but also could be such a nuisance at times. Airpods were expensive, but it’s not like she couldn’t afford a new set. She just didn’t really want to fork over the money right now. However, it seemed her new jogging buddy had given a solution to the problem. But did she really want a used earbud that had been shoved down in someone else’s sweaty ear? She was a walking corpse, sure, but she still got grossed out by things. She hadn’t lost that part of herself.

“Not trying to be rude here, but is there a way to clean airpods without messing them up?” It was probably a dumb question. She still wanted to know, before accepting the offer, not even thinking if there were any other kind of motives behind his offer. She had just been a zombie out for a run trying to enjoy her day, “You know what? I’ll figure it out. Yes, yeah. I’ll take it, because Airpods aren’t cheap and you’re being so kind.” Mackenzie smiled warmly towards the man in front of her. “But first I suppose we should get up off the ground, right? Then we can figure out a meet up time or I can go with you now? Whatever you want to do.”

Shifting her weight, Mack planted her knees into the dirt path, before taking it one foot after the other. The neuropathy in her feet didn’t help matters, but as long as she could just get her footing, she’d be fine. It was a slow process though, and she felt so much older than she really was; bones popping and creaking as she straightened up. “Shit, I’m getting too old for this.” It felt weird to say, but even as she stretched her neck out it popped. Being a zombie really did a number on a person.

— 

“I mean… I do like not being restricted, but the wire is kind of like a bungee cord.. I guess. They did hurt, though, if you got one of them snagged.” Chris winced as if remembering a past incident, as if he knew the pain well. Airpods were expensive and that’s exactly why he didn’t have a pair – well, a working pair, anyway. And he didn’t even have a pair, he had just the one bud which he offered so freely to the blonde he’d just careened into moments before. That was fine, he wasn’t going to use it.

“Um…” Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure. He’d have to look it up online and see if there was a Youtube video or something on it. He’d imagine there might be a way, but it would take patience and delicate hands, and he didn’t think either of them were keen on giving that a go. “I mean.. Maybe there’s something online? It does sound kind of gross, but.. People clean technology all the time. Like the phone repair techs. They clean some stuff, too, I imagine. I’m sure it’s possible.” Chris nodded. “I guess yeah. Can’t stay down here forever. Um.. Actually, you know what? I’ll leave it up to you… I’m kind of staying in a motel right now and I know how people feel about them.” The Bearcliff Motel was a cute, quaint motel — one he was close to getting kicked out of because of the damage from that one nightmare of a night.

He had to laugh, softly, at her comment. “You?” He was about to playfully ask if she was younger than him, but then realized that it could be something else. He didn’t want to be insensitive. “Are you okay?” He asked instead, choosing concern over a joke. He did have to wonder if he maybe hit her a little too hard.

— 

Once Mackenzie was on her feet and steady, she turned her attention back to the man, “You are right about those things getting snagged. It’s like one minute you’re using an elliptical and the next, you’re choking yourself.” She shuddered at the thought as she slowly straightened up. “And there has to be some kind of video online. It would be ridiculous to think there wasn’t since you can practically find anything.” The internet was a ridiculously great source for finding information on the most random things. It was those moments when you went down a rabbit hole, especially a reddit rabbit hole, that could be scary, but cleaning an earbud couldn’t be that hard to figure out right?

Pulling her phone out, she glanced at the time, “I’ve got all day. And from someone who’s grown up spending the night in hotels and motels, I’m sure it’s fine.” She smiled softly at him as she moved forward, “Name’s Mackenzie, by the way.” Sticking out her hand, she shoved the phone back into her pocket with the other one. He seemed nice enough, and if he tried anything, he’d be in for a real surprise.

— 

The laugh that came out of Chris was more of a bark than anything, but it was genuine as he thought back to the numerous (and accidental) earbud chokings. “I guess that’s the fun of them. They keep you on your toes,” he joked, but couldn’t help the slight groan that followed the memories. “There has to be, I’m positive. I would’ve done it when I first found it but… I only had the one and I’m not really into Apple so…” he trailed off, not wanting to get into it but not knowing how she’d feel. He’d met too many diehards, on both sides, to really want to talk about that in depth. 

Her absolute normalcy towards him staying in a motel gave him a lot of relief. Too many people assumed that if it was a motel that automatically made it dingy, dirty and dank and a breeding ground for all sorts of nefarious activities. The Bearcliff was anything but, despite the only channel available being horror. “Okay cool, that’s a relief.. I’m Chris, it’s nice to meet you.” He looked back to where he had come from before jerking his thumb in that same direction. “It’s down this way, maybe like… a fifteen minute walk. A jog is faster if you’re still up for it?” He punctuated with a sheepish laugh that faded out. God, please don’t be creepy.

— 

“Right?” It was nice having someone who shared her same sentiment on corded earbuds. There had been one too many missteps, so when the airpods came out, it was a nice relief not rounding a corner and snagging the wire on something just to have it rip out, what felt like your eardrum, in the process. “Hey, I get it. The Apple and Android debate is just as bad as politics. To each their own, and I’m just gonna be grateful to have another airpod without buying a new set.” Mackenzie shot him a grateful smile.

“Yeah, no judgment here whatsoever. You’d be surprised at some of the places I’ve had to stay before for my work.” It was true. Some were super fancy, while others had a random bug or two or fifty crawling around when you turned out the lights. That was a stay Mack would never forget and shuddered thinking back on it. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Chris.” She looked past him as if seeing the motel he was talking about up ahead, “I think I can handle a jog as long as it’s not too fast. I might have to stop and walk some, but let's do it.” It’s not like she really ran out of breath, but her feet did do funny things sometimes. However, it would be nice having a jogging buddy this time around, instead of resuming her run on her own. “Lead the way.”

— 

He was grateful that she didn’t fight him on it. That would be a stupid thing to get into an argument over, a stupid thing to get worked up about and end up having a bad day because of it. And he was happy that he could give her a little help — he really hoped that the bud would work, both physically and being able to pair it with the other one. He wasn’t in the know with Apple’s programming, but he assumed the bluetooth would act similarly. “Fingers crossed the little guy works. It didn’t look like it was sitting outside for too long, so maybe the elements didn’t get to it.”

“Oh, good. I mean.. Not good that some of the places are less than stellar. What do you do for work?” Chris’ mind wandered the potential job options that would allow her to travel. Some of them he couldn’t really see her doing, just from knowing her for those short few minutes, but people could be surprising. “Oh no, nothing faster than like… maybe even a speed walk. I am on the tail end of my run…” He would be glad for those moments of walking in between, if only to maybe share a line of dialogue or two before they had to jog again. She was nice and friendly and didn’t think staying in a motel was creepy — he actually wanted to talk to her.

Their journey took a little less time than Chris originally predicted. His anxiety spiked a little when the motel came into view, but he urged on and led Mackenzie from the trail to the sidewalk to the parking lot and then to the front entrance. The lobby matched the retro exterior, maybe even pushing the style further, but it was cozy and what drew him there in the first place. Not to mention its distance from too public of places. “Sorry for the mess… The window, uh, is broken and they still have to fix it. It’s been kind of a headache,” he explained sheepishly when he opened the room door and stepped inside.

“You can come in, if you want. I think I put that little guy.. Over here…” He drifted off as he wandered over towards a bookcase in the far corner of the room, by the bed and by the window. The desk sat on an adjacent wall and a laundry basket sat beside the bedside table. There were clothes strewn beneath the bed and a backpack sat by the bathroom door. Camera equipment and photographs littered every other occupied space.

— 

Her attempt at getting back into physical activity had proved successful in a different way than she had even imagined. Mackenzie was glad to have been on the path to making another friend, and the jog to his motel was rather pleasant. She had explained her career as an actress. Talked more in depth about the earbud that had started the whole thing. And included some other various topics, including mentioning an old lady she had come to know since coming to Wicked’s Rest. It had become a regular thing to take her meals and visit with her.

When they made it to the motel, Mackenzie could totally see the appeal of the place. It was quaint and surprisingly welcoming to look like she was stepping back in time. And as she followed Chris to his room, she took in the sights around her. Maybe a potential location for a movie if she ever got back into things, since Goo Girl was just on the horizon, and the real possibility of what could jump start her career again.

As they reached the room, she glanced back behind her to take note of the other rooms and numbers on the doors, before walking in, “Hey, my house is a complete and utter disaster, so I get it. I’m sorry about the window. I know that’s gotta be annoying, especially since it’s starting to get colder outside.” She moved closer in and shut the door behind her. “Are you a professional photographer or is it more of a hobby?” She had caught sight of the equipment and started to step closer to it, “Do you mind if I take a look?” Mackenzie didn’t want to impose if he didn’t want her to see his work, and stopped moving just until he actually gave her permission.

— 

An actress? In Wicked’s Rest? He had heard about the recent movie that was circulating — an unusual title if he had ever heard one, but who was he to question art? The conversation continued on pleasant enough, until she mentioned an older woman she liked to spend time with. There was something there that made his stomach drop, made him remember the taste of iron and hair. It was pushed away as much as he was able, but it stuck to the back of his mind as they made their short trek.

Chris shrugged at her apology, his smile nothing short of sheepish. “It’s okay, th-... Thanks. Freak accident with a… Tree. I kind of run hot, so the cold never really bothered me much. I mean, I get cold, but it's not too bad..” The moment he heard the door close, he tensed slightly. You’re fine, he thought, you’re fine and she probably wasn’t going to hurt you. Get over it. So he ignored that feeling and opened a box up that he thought he put the bud in. No dice. “Professional, I guess. I do a lot of freelance work, a lot of contract stuff. I’ve been taking pictures my whole life, it feels like.”

He looked from the bookcase to the nightstand and frowned in thought before making his way over to it and the guitar case that looked like it had toppled over in the night. His eyes drifted from the table to where Mackenzie focused her attention on and nodded, “oh yeah, sure. That one has a few buttons that like to stick, just uh… to let you know.” Chris sighed when he realized that the wireless earbud case he had the lone Airpod in had fallen off the side table thanks to the guitar. He must have knocked it over in his sleep.

“I think I found it, sorry that took a minute,” he apologized as he moved the guitar and a jacket away from the corner, hoping to find just the earbud case. Instead he caught sight of a bloodied blouse, blue in color and wildly out of place. With hurry, he covered it the best he could with another clothing item before standing to full height with case in hand. Maybe she hadn’t seen. Maybe she’d be thrilled to see the lone white Airpod and forget the room around her. Or maybe she’d see the stained sleeve of a cardigan that peeked from the hole in a shopping bag that had been tied tightly with at least four knots. It sat by the bathroom door, next to the backpack. 

He had meant to take it out that morning.

— 

It was funny. Someone that ran hot while she ran cold. Did that mean he was something of the supernatural sort too? Mack wasn’t about to ask. That was his own personal business. Just like how her being a zombie was her own personal business, “As long as you don’t mind it, that’s what counts.” Once she was given permission, she began to move forward again.

“That’s amazing. I’m sure you’ve got some great work and experience under your belt then.” She had always loved photography. Photoshoots could get tiring, but she did like how they turned out. She wasn’t always too fond of the editing some photographers and magazines did though. It wasn’t fair to the viewers. People turned to celebrities to identify with them and their characters. How was that possible when you looked artificially made? “I’ll just be a spectator then.”

Mackenzie glanced over towards him and smiled, her eyes falling on the guitar, “Do you play?” One of the things she had missed dearly was making music, “I was just starting my music career when…” She paused and faded off. “Funny how life gets in the way of things huh?” Biting her bottom lip, she continued to tour the room while he looked for the earbud. But her tour was soon cut short at the sight of what appeared to be a bloody sleeve, and Mackenzie’s breath caught in her throat.

Maybe he had just cut himself working on something or maybe…There had to be a number of excuses running through the young woman’s mind at the moment, until she noticed the snag on that particular sleeve covered in a dark crimson, which peering in closer, held the exact same stitching pattern like a sweater that she had specifically told Ms. Bea looked like something her grandmother used to have.

“You know what? It’s fine, if you haven’t found it yet. I’ve gotta get going anyways. Just remembered I was supposed to meet a friend.” Would the excuse work? If he asked for specifics she had friends she could call. Make the excuse more legit and even let someone important know she was potentially in danger…

Mackenzie inched closer to the door trying to stay calm; taking note of everything she could potentially use as a weapon if she absolutely needed to.

— 

“Yeah, right.. Plus, it’s not so bad. I get fresh air now… The window was sticking, so I could never really open it all the way.” It did make him nervous to think that anyone could get in, but it was a good escape route if the door were to ever be a problem. In truth, even though he was pretty sure he was the one who caused it, it gave him some comfort to know that he wasn’t completely boxed in.

Chris shrugged again in the presence of her praise, praise that shouldn’t have been given because she hadn’t even seen his work. She wouldn’t know — she was just trying to be nice. “I guess so. I, um.. I have a website. And I can show you some of the stuff on there if you want,” he gestured to the finicky camera she had pointed out a moment before. “I think that one has a bunch of pictures of flowers. I think. Either that or the ocean…. I can’t remember, honestly.”

He paused in his search to smile at the guitar before he nodded at Mackenzie. “A little. I’m just starting out. I might be tone deaf, though. Or just shit at tuning it,” he laughed as he set the guitar upright. He noted the way she paused, sobered slightly, and chose not to question it. One, it wasn’t his place, and two, they just met. He didn’t expect her to just tell her life story to a stranger. Instead he nodded and offered her a sympathetic smile. “Life just sucks like that.”

Suddenly the energy in the room changed. It felt like it dropped, as if someone had lowered the temperature. He looked up from the case in his hand to the blonde, confusion evident on his face. He was never one to push, he knew better than that, but he didn’t like to be left wondering if he’d done something. It was an unusual situation at best — most people wouldn’t be too keen with following a stranger back to their motel room, especially for a single Airpod, so maybe it was that — but everything had been fine until now. So what changed?

“.... Did I.... Are you sure? I have it right here.. If you need to go you can just.. Take it with you..” He offered the case out at an arm’s length, deciding it was better not to step toward her — he noted the need for distance, he noted the sudden chill that filled the room. He’d been in that same spot and he hated it. He didn’t know what he did, though. He thought everything had been okay; did she see? Is that what happened? Chris felt his throat grow tight. “Are you.. Okay? I..”

— 

Mackenzie hated feeling like this. He had seemed so nice, but she knew within her heart that that sweater belonged to someone who wasn’t him. How could she have been so dumb to go back to his place for an earbud she could have just bought herself. It’s not like she wasn’t stupid rich. Instead, she listened to him speak. Kept her eyes trained on him, refusing to turn her back to him. She would be at the door soon enough and could make her escape right? He wouldn’t come after her. It was the middle of the day. The sun was shining. Maybe she was overreacting, but it was quickly reminding her of the stalker situation that happened years prior to her ever coming to Wicked’s Rest.

“No, it’s fine. You know, now that I think about it, it probably won’t work not being the original that came with the set.” At that point it didn’t even matter. He could keep it. Maybe sell it to someone else. But in that moment, her mind racing with too many thoughts at once, she let her eyes glance from him and the earbud to the bag she had seen with the bloody clothes. Like the ocean sending a wave straight towards her, the air was knocked out of her realizing what she had done. Mackenzie’s eyes quickly darted back to Chris’ to see if he had noticed.

Without answering, she turned and started to make her way to the door, and in a desperate chance at fleeing, started to fumble with getting the door open. Come on, come on, come on!!! Shit. Shit. Shit!!!!

— 

It never ceased to surprise him at just how quickly he was able to mess something up.

And it was usually when things were just getting good — the end of an all around decent date, meeting the same runner on the same path a few times a week, getting to know someone and finding a lot in common. It wasn’t in the beginning or the very end, it was just after the start, just at the apex as the climb started to reach the curve upwards. And then he’d fall, which arguably was the worst part for him. Not the hard hit when he met the ground, but knowing that it was just going to happen anyway and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Of course he followed her gaze. He wanted to find something, anything, that could explain the sudden shift in her mood. When he saw it and looked back to her, he was sure his expression showed how his heart dropped into his stomach. A small flicker told him, no, she didn’t see it, no way, but her immediate and hurried draw to the door told him otherwise. Her fumbling only made him feel sick.

“Waitwaitwait, Mackenzie, it’s not —” he set the earbud case down onto his desk and wanted nothing more than to reach for her, but that was probably the absolute last thing she needed right now, so he kept his distance and begged instead, “— it’s not what it looks like! Just — let me explain, please.”

— 

Mackenzie continued to fight with the door, but couldn’t get it open out of the fear that was behind her. For someone well trained in fighting and already dead, it was the past trauma she had experienced keeping a tight grip on her mind. She had just wanted to escape, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t get the fucking door open, and like a caged and fearful animal, she quickly turned back around, and pressed her back up against the door refusing to move any further, “What!? What is there to explain? That’s my friend’s sweater…and there’s blood on it…What did you do to her?!”

Her eyes were wide and her chest heaved up and down as she glanced from the bag to Chris and back to the bag again.

The night she had come home from a long day on set to find a man she had never met in her life waiting in the dark in her bedroom had been forever ingrained in her mind. And though it wasn’t quite the same situation now, she was trapped with someone who she knew could potentially overpower her. Luckily, for Mackenzie that night, she had used self-defense techniques she had learned to escape what could have been worse than what it had been. But, now, here she was once again trapped in a room with someone she didn’t really know, “Please, please just let me go. I promise I’m not going to tell anybody…” Could she really keep that promise though? That little old lady had a family and friends. People who loved her. Mack had loved her.

Tears had already started coming to her eyes as she pleaded with Chris waiting for him to explain himself.

— 

Chris felt too aware of how small the room actually was when she snapped at him with absolute horror in her voice. It sent a shockwave of guilt, grief and disgust through him, causing him to wrap his arms tightly around himself. This was the first time he was dealing with someone who actually knew the deceased — the meal. His fingertips dug into the pits between his ribs. He started to shake. Regret was surely evident on his face, but that didn’t matter to her. He didn’t blame her for being scared of him or angry. He had… He had killed someone that she loved. He remembered it, most of it anyway. Enough to know that it was stupid for him to feel his eyes sting with tears. He didn’t deserve to feel like that, not with the way she was looking at him.

The pit in his stomach only grew and he felt heavier and heavier with each passing second. Anything he thought to say, that might explain what happened, or help alleviate whatever pain she was going through, only sounded stupid and pointless. There was nothing to say. It all just sounded like an excuse.

A tightness weaseled its way into Chris’ chest, prompting his heart to beat faster. He suddenly felt very warm and a wave of dread washed over him. Oh, no. Not now, please. Pleasepleaseplease, not now. The begging mantra repeated over and over in his head, but it wouldn’t work. He didn’t know why he even bothered. He shook his head quickly, clearly distressed. It was unclear if he was shaking his head at her or his own thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t me.. It was an accident…” Accident. He sounded pathetic and like a liar. “Y-you can.. Go. Just….” He wasn’t trying to keep her there on purpose, the door was just a little shit. But could he really trust that she wouldn’t say anything? “P-pull the.. The d-doorknob out… and then.. just…” 

He dropped his head as a small groan escaped him. The pressure against his side turned sharp and painful. He felt the skin along his arms ripple. A shadow started to creep in from the edges of his vision, but he foolishly tried to fight against it. When would he learn that there was no stopping it?

— 

Her back remained pressed up against the door as hard as she could, the thought in her mind that if she just pushed a little harder, she could break through. But Mackenzie knew that would never happen unless she were a hungry, raging zombie desperate for blood and flesh. Instead, she watched him. Never letting her eyes leave any part of his body, but something seemed off. His words started to sound different. She knew something about him was off, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

Mackenzie was torn on whether or not she should turn around and take her eyes off of him or stay trained on what was coming, but if it was something bad, which by the look on his face, she could tell it was, what was she going to do?

Making the snap decision to turn back around, the zombie once again fumbled with the door trying to open it. Why did old motels always have shitty door knobs? What was it he said?! Pull and what?! Mackenzie continued every method she could think of, before finally feeling it give.

— 

It was a strange feeling to lose control over the body. The mind went heavy at first, cloudy and dark, until the feeling dropped down to the rest of the body and started twisting the bones and muscles into something else. Chris would feel his consciousness fall into a cold nothingness, but he was still aware of what was going on with his body. He couldn’t stop it, but he could feel all of it. He was paralyzed, reduced to nothing but a suit of skin and meat. A vessel to hold the monster inside.

He knew that Mackenzie was still in the room, still struggling with the door. He could hear the way her panic made the doorknob clink. But he couldn’t call out to her anymore. He was too busy being replaced. It was a jarring sight — the way his body stretched and distorted in that too domesticated bedroom, littered with photographs and clothing and signs of life other than the violence that clawed its way forth. 

It was getting better at this. Coming from behind the mind and stepping into the spine to alter the rest of the man’s body started to become easier, faster. It managed to finish the rest of its fur growth and lock its bad shoulder into place before the woman could get the door open. There was no confidence that their secret would be kept, so in a flurry of anger and fear, the creature lurched forward with its claws and teeth bare, intent on meeting flesh and tasting blood.

— 

She was almost free, but it was too late. The sound of bones breaking and twisting into something new had caused a pause of fear in her. It was something she hadn’t witnessed in person. She knew of them. Her best friend was one. But Mackenzie was now standing in the presence of a werewolf. And any actions to move forward proved unsuccessful as she could barely smell its rank breath from behind. You’re a fucking zombie. Do something, Mackenzie?! However, that something was unreachable at the moment. She didn’t know how to just tap into it. It had always been provoked by injury or death or…fear.

Her mind was starting to dumb down, and her eyes began to glaze over. Mackenzie could feel the feral side of herself starting to come out. A rage of her own started to brew and simmer. One that told her not to back down, but it had also slowed down her reaction time, and when her eyes drifted down to the door, she was still holding onto, she had forgotten why she was trying to leave. Only that there was something in the room that she was longing to taste.

— 

Claws met their mark. They dragged against her back while she remained stagnant by the door. But the closer they were, the stronger that smell was. It was nasty and unfortunately familiar, though largely avoided by the beast whenever it was on the hunt. It had been noticeable before, yet muted and not overly bothersome — until now. Not food. That meant this would be more difficult to handle, to keep quiet and continue to ignore and pretend that it never even happened.

Beneath it all, the odor was able to reach Chris, despite the solitary darkness his consciousness remained in while the furred creature made another move to strike the blonde before it. If she could not be food, then she would be torn apart and buried like the rest. With such a small room and such small prey, despite the smell, the beast was under the impression this would end favorably for it.

— 

As she felt the claws rake down her back slicing through deadened skin, Mackenzie let out a loud hiss that caused her to drop to her knees. That was just the thing she had needed to start to shift into full zombie mode. She would rip into that furry flesh and have a filling meal before it was all said and done. And as she slowly climbed her way back to her feet using items around her, she then slowly turned with no fear whatsoever and a hollow expression and inched forward with arms outstretched ready to grab with her hands and tear with her teeth.

It was then that Mack saw more claws coming at her, but this time they swiped her face leaving deep wounds in the money maker, which had further angered her. An airy demented noise coming from her mouth, she lurched forwards despite already being injured with her maw gaping wide and a mixture of foam, blood, and drool leaving her mouth. One good tear with her teeth in the right place and the dumbed down dead girl would be able to overtake the big hairy beast.

— 

Not normal, not normal. She fell, a success, but then she got back up again, which was a rousing disappointment. Combined with the smell, the wolf was horribly confused. It didn’t like that she wouldn’t stay down, it didn’t like that she seemed to be run on a wire, dead set on meeting it on the other side. No, it didn’t like that at all, and somewhere underneath, Chris really didn’t like that.

Another left hook sent claws like kitchen knives into Mack’s face; they felt the skin give way, and saw the way her meat and blood oozed within their newly formed flesh ravines. And yet she still continued, her face void of any expression the monster was able to read. There was nothing. Nothing but the vacant look in her eyes and the viscous liquids that dribbled from her searching mouth. Worth it? No, not really. She certainly wasn’t food and the brain seemed to disappear, but would it come back, neither of them knew. All they knew was that they didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Nothing changed and she kept getting back up — that wasn’t very fun or fulfilling.

He clenched his hands into tight fists as he wandered off the set path. His mind was racing. Flashes of the woman's body that had sent him running danced through his mind. Flashes of driving back to California, how numb to the world he had felt in those moments. Even after his extensive therapy, something just didn’t feel right. He had been told it was all in his head, but he had difficulty believing it. It just didn’t… didn’t add up… 

Elias closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a loud scream. All the anxiety, rage, and confusion he had bottled up inside came tumbling out. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he stomped his feet hard on the ground. When he stopped screaming, he took a deep breath, feeling slightly better. Not much, but a little.

Running from his problems was something that Chris did best — and he didn’t even know about half of them. While holed up in Wicked’s Rest, however, the running wasn’t cutting it. He felt more pent up than ever, more sensitive and susceptible to giving in to the very thing he tried so hard to ignore. It just wasn’t working, and with Halloween so close, he thought he might jump out of his skin with nerves. 

So he took up screaming. (It’s weird, he’s aware of it. Please don’t rub it in). Not in public places, of course, but more in the sad, isolated corners of the creepy little town. Anywhere that wasn’t frequented by human kind, at least not at all hours of the day, Chris would venture into and let go of some of that frustration. He didn’t think it’d be that much of an issue considering the unusual ambience. But he also didn’t think he’d have to share that space. How naive of him.

Just as he made it to the little clearing, he heard someone else. For a split second he thought that they might need help, but the tone of their scream caused Chris to halt in his tracks. They were doing the same thing he went out there to do. How awkward. Deciding it was in both of their best interests, he started to back away as slowly as he possibly could. Given the nature of the forest itself, it was only natural that he would step on something loud and abrasive, something that would give away his position. A branch — a few dried leaves still clung to it.

Wide eyes darted up from the branch to the figure half obscured by the tree in his line of sight. Did they hear that? Oh god, he hoped not. He didn’t really want to be alone with someone out in the woods — especially since the sun had already started to set. It was going to be dark soon. 

Hearing the sound of a snapping branch after Elias stopped screaming caused him to freeze in place. Was someone out there? Or worse, something. He didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move. Instead, he threw his hands into his pockets and pulled out the can of mace he had started to carry on him. The woods were too dangerous, especially when the sun was going down. He wasn’t about to learn the hard way how dangerous these animals could be, especially after working with Regan long enough to see that damage first-hand.

He looked in the direction of the sound to see a humanoid figure. There was a vague hope in the back of his mind that it was some form of cryptid he’d been reading up on, but he tossed those hopes aside. It was definitely a human. “Uh. I can explain?” Elias called out, his voice rising at the end in embarrassment. He really couldn’t explain, but that was neither here nor there.

Hello, he thought in his mind as he rolled his eyes at himself. My name is Elias, and I like to scream in the middle of the woods when it’s getting dark out. You know, because it soothes me. Yeah, there was no way that would go over well with a complete stranger. Or anyone, for that matter. Elias let out a sigh and kept the bear mace in his hand. He still wasn’t sure if this person was a friend or foe. “Sorry for disturbing your walk.” He then called out, albeit a bit sheepishly.

The hair all over his body stood on end the moment he saw the flurry of a hand and retrieval of something. Chris couldn’t tell what it was at first glance and it made him immediately nervous, but upon further inspection he noted the shape of the nozzle. Not a gun, at least, but it was definitely a spray of some kind. Great, at least he wasn’t in any immediate danger, he could relax a little. The hesitant voice that came from the other man definitely helped to ease him more than the not-gun did.

“It’s cool,” he returned, just as unsure as his company sounded, and with his own hands up defensively he hoped he didn’t come across as a threat. “I mean,” should he be honest? He, too, had wandered out into what he assumed was the middle of the woods to let off a little steam in the form of yelling, but should he be honest about that? If their roles were reversed and he was the one found, Chris would want at least a little understanding. But he also would be too embarrassed to have much of a conversation, anyway. 

“I, um..” he had to laugh, awkwardly. “I… Actually came out here to do the same thing.. So… all good, I guess?” Maybe that little bit of honesty would help to ease some tension — and lower that potential can of danger.

Upon hearing the stranger’s voice, Elias immediately relaxed. The stranger’s hands went up, and he put the spray away. He found that he wasn’t that embarrassed for his actions. After all, anyone in his shoes would be screaming along with him. And this stranger, they seemed to know what he was talking about. He blinked once. Twice. He was out here to do the same thing. A part of him felt bad that this man had it hard enough to feel a need just to escape the world and scream as loud as he could for as long as he could. He didn’t like that they could relate to his need for it.

Elias gave a sad smile, then shrugged his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’ manner. “Guess we both have shit going on in our lives, huh?” He remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sorry that you had to bear witness to that.” He then added, giving a bit of a sheepish smile. “Life just…” he trailed off, eyes going distant before he continued, “...sucks sometimes.” He finished, voice soft and far away. 

Balams. If such a thing could exist, then why couldn’t fae? And if fae could exist, then why couldn’t vampires? Werewolves, selkies, bigfoot? Once one became real, all species of supernatural creatures became open to the possibility of being real. It was too much to handle. Elias squeezed his eyes shut and willed the thoughts away. Balam wasn’t real, and that Felix person was just a very enthusiastic furry. They had to be. Because if they weren’t, then Elias didn’t know what he would do with the information. His entire life was suddenly a lie. And he didn’t get to know why? Because he was a human? Boring? 

Because he was weak, Elias knew this to be the real root of the problem. Obviously, he was weak. He ran away the second he caught a whiff of something otherworldly. He was weak and out in the woods screaming as hard and loud as he could because he couldn’t handle the truth, no matter how hard it screamed back at him. He sighed, defeated, opening his eyes to look at the strange again. “Well, if you’re here to scream about life’s problems, don’t let me stop you,” Elias spoke with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You’re telling me… Understatement of the year,” Chris returned with his own half-smile. It wasn’t just shit and it didn’t just suck, but he wasn’t about to go into details with a stranger. Even though this guy seemed just as stressed as he did, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be unpredictable. People could be complicated and not everything was black and white. He still needed to be careful despite the relief that came with knowing he wasn’t alone.

“I figured this might help more than running does…” Which it helped some, but only for the run. He wasn’t releasing anything from hitting the pavement or grass or sand. He was just running from it, not accepting it and letting it go. A yell or scream into the unsuspecting foliage that surrounded them felt a lot better in the long run, even if Chris didn’t think he would ever find complete relief, only bandaids along the way. Though, he was going to need to find a new spot if he wasn’t going to be the only visitor to this neck of the woods.

Chris kicked at a rock and disturbed some of the grass there with the toe of his sneaker. “Oh, well, I don’t know if I can now…” he gestured vaguely at his company before both hands found a resting spot at his hips. “I get a little stage fright,” he joked, but it wasn’t a complete lie. Then again, he did wander into this guy’s own intimate little therapy session. He didn’t ask for an audience, and yet there was Chris, giving him one. It would only be fair, right? “Only if you think it’s fair, I mean.. I did intrude.”

Elias couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of someone actually screaming because he told them to. It tickled him. He held a hand up, shaking his head as he laughed. “Please don’t feel like you need to scream. You’re totally fine!” He insisted. He chuckled at the idea of this guy people-pleasing so hard that he flew into the sun and screamed the whole way. Man, this was funny to him. He let out a sigh as he finally got himself under control. “I’m Elias,” he introduced, sticking his hand out toward Chris to shake. 

“And while we could totally form a screaming in the woods to let out our existential dread club, I have been looking for some running  or hiking partners.” Elias began to explain with a smile. “You mentioned you run to help alleviate stress.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m still pretty new to the area; I could use someone who knows the trails better than I do.” He looked around the woods, frowning for a moment. “Plus, there’s also the fact that creepy animals live in this town, and it’s probably not that safe to go running alone.” He amended, thinking back to the weird rat thing he saw when he first arrived or the lightning-shooting not-Pikachu he ran into at the bog. 

“If you’re interested, don’t feel the need to say yes out of feeling bad.” Elias held his hands up, eyes widening. The last thing he wanted was to make someone feel obligated to do something they weren’t inclined to do in the first place. 

If Chris could physically see his anxiety fall away, it would look like the very top of a sand castle, loose and crumbling. Maybe there wasn’t actually anything nefarious or ulterior about this mildly unusual conversation between the trees. Maybe he was being too careful, too paranoid. It was normal for someone to want alone time, especially to let out steam. Unless your house or apartment or room were soundproof, or you worked in a kitchen with a walk-in freezer, there weren’t too many options to just let it out.

He mimed a wipe of his brow in jest. “Good. Good! I can’t perform under pressure so that’s a relief…” God he wished he hadn’t said that. His eyes crinkled just slightly in a wince, but he tried to keep the smile on his face friendly instead of disgusted. “Nice to meet you, I’m Chris,” he returned, though he’d taken a second to grab and shake the other man’s hand. His nerves fought him every step of the way. 

But his want for friends was greater than that, so the mention of a running or hiking partner piqued his interest. There wasn’t inherently off about Elias, either, at least not that Chris would immediately ping. Some people had a smell (not a normal, body odor kind of smell but something rotting) and others still seemed to be absolutely quiet — there just wasn’t a single sound, blood rushing or heart pumping, in their body. Elias didn’t immediately seem… off. Other than the ‘screaming in the woods’ bit, but that was completely normal.

“I do feel bad… but you’re making some very good points.” He knew the trails pretty well — it had been over six months since he first moved to Wicked’s Rest and he’d done well on his own, but he’d come across some strange and sometimes dangerous things along his travels and it wouldn't hurt to have a running buddy, especially one who seemed to be like-minded. At least, when it came to stress relievers. The little monster inside his head didn’t want that, but Chris did and that was enough. “You know.. Yeah,” he shrugged with an attitude of ‘why not’, “I’m down.” If Elias needed a guide, then he would be it. “How long have you been living here so far? I only just moved here this year but.. I feel like I practically live out here.” 

Chris’s admission of performance anxiety elicited another round of laughter from Elias, who shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. “You’re very honest,” he noted with an amused smile. “But, then again we both came out to the woods to scream like idiots, so.” He shrugged his shoulder after his statement. He pulled a face, completely unaware that he was being scrutinized by the man beside him.

“Something tells me you often feel bad.” Elias wagered with a narrowing of his eyes, though it was playful. “I often have good points, that’s why I get paid the big bucks.” He waggled his brows at Chris, then let out a laugh at his own expense. “As much as I love running before sunrise on the streets of Wicked’s Rest, I think I’d like it better if I ran in the woods. It’s more peaceful, always has been. Too many hobbies of mine include being in the woods.”

“I, uh, was here for a couple of months a few months ago, then I went back home,” Elias explained, realizing that he wasn’t all that comfortable sharing his mental breakdown story with a complete stranger. “And I came back about two weeks ago because I have a job out here now, so I have some experience with the trails, but not nearly as much as I’d like.” He hoped he could get away with that explanation. He’d already had to explain himself to the people who had caught him skulking around town. Then again, he was happy to have rekindled his totally-not-friendship with Regan again.

Honest, yes, he was very honest. Sometimes to a fault. The truth, to the right person, had a tendency to come spilling out, even if it was laced with a laugh or two. He just couldn’t help it. “Yeahhh…” Chris started and shifted a little uncomfortably, but he didn’t feel like he was in danger. Not anymore. That could always change at the drop of a hat, unfortunately, but he would enjoy the ease for now. “People have said that.. And okay, true, that’s fair. This is kind of.. Idiotic.” Both the screaming itself and the act of being out in the woods alone were definitely idiotic, but that didn’t mean that he had to like being called out.

“Um,” Chris worried at his bottom lip as he hesitated, “only on days ending in ‘y’.” While he couldn’t help but feel like it was a jab or a pry, he tried his best to play it off as the joke Elias had set it up as. Difficult, considering the gnawing in his belly. “What do you do then?” He asked with a small, respectful laugh in return. “I agree, completely. I don’t know how you did it.. I can’t stand the noise. Heh, me too, actually.. I’m a photographer, specifically nature, so I’m kind of always out here.”

“Well.. I’m sure I can help with that in no time. Welcome back, though. I hope the job’s worth dealing with all the weirdness again.” He offered with a sheepish shrug. “Where’s home for you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Chris wished he had somewhere like that to go back to — the only place like that was filled with death. 

Elias all but ignored Chris’s growing awkwardness and lit up like a Christmas Tree at the mention of Chris being a nature photographer. “Oh, I’m a biomedical engineer specializing in robotic prosthetics.” He said hurriedly, as it if wasn’t important or interesting at all. “But tell me what you’ve managed to photograph around here!” He spoke, eyes wide and full of childlike wonder. Suddenly, his mind was full of ideas of potential cryptids, something he had almost forgotten about! How could he be so stupid when he was finally hearing about hints of Bigfeet sightings?

“I’m sure with all the strange animals around here you’ve seen something, yeah?” Elias grinned, now hanging off of Chris’s every word. “I’m something of a cryptid enthusiast, and this town has so many sightings it would make your head spin. Big lake monsters, giant screaming moose, multitailed foxes, Bigfoot!” He took a step back out of Chris’s personal space, trying to calm himself down. He was used to being really off-putting to people when he started talking about his love of cryptids.

Once he sufficiently calmed down, he tuned back into what Chris was saying, blinking a few times for good measure. “Oh, I’m from southern California.” Elias spoke, nodding his head with a bright smile. “Not anymore though, now it’s here.” He shrugged his shoulders at the idea of leaving California behind. It didn’t bother him. Plus it wasn’t like his family wasn’t like his family was never going to demand he come home for the holidays. They did it to his sister who lived in England, they’d certainly do it to him. 

Bio robot– what? Chris heard what Elias had said, but he couldn’t grasp it. It hurried by too quickly and a question had already taken its place by the time he realized he hadn’t quite understood. “Oh, uh,” he started, a little taken aback but he was happy to talk about his work, “a bit of everything, I think. I haven’t been to the crater, though. Yet. It’s on my to-do list. But I’ve been about everywhere else.”

He offered a shrug. Had he seen anything weird? Well, yes, but did he want to believe it? No, not really. But then Elias hurried through his words, excitement evident in his tone as he listed various cryptid creatures. “Sorry, haven’t seen anything like that. I saw a really big chicken once? But I think it was just.. Bigger than normal. Nothing crazy, though.” He wasn’t about to mention the weirdness that surrounded Zane, but he didn’t think that was ‘cryptid’ material anyway. “There might be something in my camera roll? I don’t have anything on me.. Oh, there could be something on my website, too. Maybe you’ll notice, like, a hiding Bigfoot or whatever in one of them.”

Elias’ excitement was both amusing and endearing, but Chris was glad when he toned it down. His elevated energy was palpable and the distance between them had started to shrink, making that anxious energy rear its ugly head again. “Really? I’m from Oregon. Not the same state, but… West coast,” he shrugged nervously but with a smile all the same. He hoped this place would be more permanent than everywhere else. “It’s a difference, that’s for sure.”

Elias blinked. Of course, there was a crater here. “A crater. Yeah. Alright.” He spoke, seeming to echo his thoughts. “Of course, there is. Why wouldn’t there be?” He rolled his eyes, the ridiculous nature of the town they lived in seeming to become more visible to him. “Giant chickens and giant craters, Wicked’s Rest.” He shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I saw a giant rat once. It was, like, the size of a small dog.” He blinked, remembering how real that felt for him. “Or it was a small dog that looked like a rat.” He then spoke, not wanting to sound completely crazy. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

He seemed to relax after Chris explained he hadn’t seen much. He was a bit disappointed, but he expected the response all the same. “Well, if you ever come across Bigfoot, tell me first.” He spoke, leaning in towards Chris conspiratorially. He was mostly doing so in a joking manner, though there was a hint of seriousness deep down. “There’s a lot of weird cryptid stories around here,” Elias explained with a nod of his head.

He smiled as Chris explained they were from Oregon. “West coasters displaced onto the east coast.” Elias remarked with a smile. “Seems to be a few of us out here.” He thought for a moment about the number of people who lived here that weren’t originally from Maine. It seemed like a random town to be drawn to, but he supposed that if he could be drawn to the strangeness that was this town, then surely others did as well.

Chris had to laugh a little at Elias’ reaction. The crater was a surprise to him, too, when he’d first heard about it, but after seeing it, it was really amazing to see. It was huge — just as big as people described. “You should go see it, if you’re into that kind of stuff. The crater I mean — or maybe you’re into the giant chicken, too, I don’t know…” Maybe it was a cryptid and he didn’t know about it. “I.. hope it was neither. That sounds awful. What was it– you know what, I don’t want to know.” The image alone was enough, he didn’t want to know what it was doing. Or where.

“Yeah sure. You’ll be the first to know.” It wasn’t like he knew anyone else who would be interested in that kind of stuff. Who else would he tell? “I’ve heard of a few, yeah. There’s one involving mimes but I don’t remember all the details.” He suddenly perked up as he dug around in one of his jean pockets. “Oh, here,” Chris handed over a plain, white and slightly bent business card. “It has my website and email on there. The website has everything else linked so,” he gave a sheepish shrug, but a smile nonetheless.

“Maybe there’s some kind of supernatural energy bringing us all here, like in a Stephen King novel or something. It’s nice, though. Similar to home, but it has its own quirks. I’m starting to like it.” Chris blinked up at a few falling leaves and sniffed at the shifting air. “I’m gonna head out, I think. I don’t really feel like screaming anymore so…..” It felt wrong to say anything else. “... thank you. It was nice to meet you. Uh.. Are you going to be okay by yourself?” He would have walked with him back to the trail, to safety, but a nod of confirmation was all he needed from the other man. He would be okay, he supposed.

Chris twisted his fingers enough to where he could feel Zane’s skin. He was cold. A flurry of panic started before he could remember all the weird stuff that happened before — the red eyes, the teeth, that whole alleyway stand-off all those months ago. That math, although it worked in the fictional sense, didn’t add up to him. He wouldn’t let it. That would mean that everything else was real and Chris didn’t want that. 

He leaned forward to take a firmer hold of Zane’s own wrist; worry became his driving force, overriding everything else. The pain would be there whether he moved or not, so he ignored it in favor of a better view of the other man’s face. There was no breath nor life to be found. “Zane?” Came Chris’ hoarse, panicked whisper. A moment of exhaustion elicited a weak sigh from him, but he gave Zane’s forearm a gentle shake with the hope that he wasn’t dead. Something told him he already knew the answer, but that didn’t stop him from thinking the worst.

—

Sometimes, there was an upside to a dreamless sleep, if sleep was even an apt word for it. Zane no longer really needed sleep but it was a good way to pass the time since being conscious for 24 hours a day, every day, was exhausting. It was a clear blessing now that no dreams haunted him in his current state of not being - they would have been filled with visions of blood and pale skin and feral eyes which could have belonged to either one of them. Because there had been two of them, hadn’t there? Yes, someone other than him, someone whose skin was warm against his cold palm, pulse thrumming faintly. A soft voice speaking his name, breaking through the haze of unconsciousness. 

Along with the groggy relief that flooded him at the sound of Chris’s voice came the pain. There was no fear or adrenaline keeping it at bay now, letting the tearing and burning sensation run rampant. Zane’s grip tightened on the wrist it held for a moment, hiss escaping through his teeth and eyes scrunching before finally fluttering open. Seeing Chris awake, still definitely pale and covered in blood but alive, was a decent distraction from the pain. “You’re okay?” he breathed, needing to hear it confirmed, not trusting his eyes to not betray him. With every second he gathered his thoughts better, ‘woke up’ in a sense and finally let Chris’s arm go. It hurt to turn, to move and sit up straighter, torn shirt sticking to raw skin and wounds and tugging at them. He needed to see his work from last night, see that the bandages had stuck and nothing was bleeding through. That the full horror of his own doing, the evidence of which was dried all over his neck and shirt, wasn’t visible. 

—

“Eh,” came Chris’ reply. He weakly dropped his head back onto the couch once he knew that Zane was alive. Relief was evident on his face — or maybe that was just the fatigue. Okay was definitely not the word he’d used, but it would do. He was alive, by some miracle. The amount of blood that had dried onto their skin and into what little clothing remained told him that at least one of them should be a goner. He was glad it didn’t come to that. A shiver overtook him then once his worry for Zane gave way. It wasn’t violent, but it was noticeable. “I’m.. okay,” he assured, though he wasn’t entirely convinced of that himself. 

Chris could see Zane’s chest a little better when he moved. He followed the mess of blood down to the wounds visible beneath the torn and frayed gashes of what little shirt remained. He couldn’t make out much detail, but his initial, woozy assumption was correct: Zane did look worse. He didn’t even know the extent of his own injuries, but he could tell he made it out with the better deal. “Are..” oh how dried his mouth and throat had become. Did he sleep with his mouth open or something? He tried to clear his throat, accomplishing little, but it was enough to get out at least one question. “Are you okay?” That was probably a stupid question considering how badly Zane’s wounds looked, but he was alive and sitting upright, which had to be a good thing.

—-

Zane would have laughed if it didn’t make his chest burn but a tired smile did form on his lips because ‘eh’ was the perfect way to describe the current situation. They were both alive, or so to speak, and at least for now, Chris didn’t seem to want to throw the blame for the giant wound on his throat. The sudden shiver didn’t go unmissed and panic rose in Zane for a second, hands instinctively moving to pull the blanket over Chris higher up. Decency hadn’t exactly been his main worry last night but as he moved the only thing currently protecting the other man’s dignity, he was acutely aware of the glaring lack of clothing. He’d need to get the other some new clothes but a shower seemed necessary first and…

His attention snapped back to Chris as he spoke, thoughts still spinning around behind his eyes, which followed the other’s gaze down to his own chest. Right. “I’ll be fine, looks worse than it is,” Zane explained quickly and, as if to prove the point, moved to stand. It did the opposite, the process filled with wincing and harsh breaths sucked through teeth but at last, he stood. “See?” he attempted, jaw still clenched from the waves of pain. “I heal fast,” Zane added after a beat. 

“I think… we should get you in some clothes,” he thought aloud, grateful to be able to focus on removing the needle from Chris’s arm as he approached the subject. “A shower first probably makes sense, there’s one on this floor so no stairs. If you think you’re up for it, might get you warm, too.” Needle discarded, Zane looked over at the other to gauge for a reaction to this plan and found himself, even in these worst of circumstances, thankful that blushing was no longer a thing he could do. Even pale and covered in grime and blood, Chris was breathtaking, especially up close and Zane really needed to get some distance between their faces right now. 

Straightening back up with slightly less effort than before - at least the distraction of these very inappropriate thoughts helped with the pain - Zane offered a hand. “Wanna give it a shot?”

—

Chris wasn’t one hundred percent sold on what his mind told him what had happened. There were flashes of images that made no sense — but they were familiar. He’d seen things like that before. He just thought that the gore that seemed to plague him was merely a figment, a fabrication of his trauma. He didn’t think it could potentially be real; no — he never wanted it to be real, so he tried his best to push it away and ignore it. But it was here again. There was no ignoring it this time. He was grateful for Zane’s helpful hands and the distraction that came from the blanket as he didn’t want to linger on those thoughts. Not right now.

Zane’s pain was another helpful distraction, even if he’d prefer not to see him in it. A lie, Chris thought as much. Did he… What could have done that? An answer blinked across his mind, but it didn’t linger. He watched with raised brows as Zane pushed through the discomfort at having to stand. “Looks.. like it feels pretty bad, too…” He coughed out; there was just the smallest edge of humor in his observation, but concern overrode mostly everything else. “Not fast enough,” If he was still standing there with gashes in his chest, then no, it definitely wasn’t fast enough. Wolverine would have been fine — Zane, not so much.

Clothes sounded great, but a shower sounded even better. The blood that coated him was no longer sticky, but it stuck in uncomfortable places and pulled at his chest hair whenever he moved. He didn’t think he could really make it, depending on how far the bathroom was from where they were, but he would try. It would be a little awkward with the misplaced footing and nudity, but this was not the first time he’d been completely naked in front of the other man. He doubted it’d be the last. 

Chris watched as Zane removed the needle from his arm without a wince to be found. It was nothing compared to the pain that throbbed from his neck. He hoped the shower would be a good distraction from the agony that found home in tender spaces — he also hoped it would be hot. He needed to feel his skin sear. He needed the water to scald him. There was no answer as to why, it just felt necessary. He gave it just a moment to think, wondering how exactly the trip would go, when he figured to just go for it. Zane was there to help, after all. (Wasn’t he?) So Chris nodded and offered him a small, but eager “yeah” and took his hand. 

—-

Zane appreciated the concern, he really did, but waved it off nonetheless. “It’ll be fine. Seriously. Healed a broken leg in just a few weeks, so…” The pain probably would have been overwhelming without the distraction of something more important, if not for the need to help someone more important. Not only was Chris just barely brought back from physical devastation but the confusion and hurt behind his eyes eluded to the war being waged inside his head. A strange familiarity had flashed behind the dual colored eyes upon looking over the gashes, quickly overtaken by something else, something dark. 

At least Zane knew what he was, even if he neither liked nor particularly wanted to accept it. 

“Yeah,” he parroted back, smiling softly as he grabbed the other’s hand. As expected, it was… a hassle and a half. Supernatural strength or not, Zane’s chest tugged and ached with every movement and Chris wasn’t exactly small, wolf or not. At least this was an improvement from last night, with the other man awake and somewhat able to stand on two feet. The blanket, that would need a very thorough cleaning once this was all through, was haphazardly secured around Chris’s waist before they moved further, allowing both of them to cling to the delusion of privacy. 

After the short but arduous journey was complete, Chris slowly lowered down to tiled shower floor, Zane heaved a sigh of relief. Leaning back against the wall, head settling back as he let his eyes close for a moment while the black edges of pain faded from his vision, a short huff of a laugh escaped him. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” he sighed, amusement tinting the words because if there was no humor to be found in this, the melancholy of it all would drag him to the ground and he wasn’t sure if he’d get back up again. 

Eyes finally opened again and he glanced down at Chris, offering another smile. “Towels in the cupboard, I’ll bring back some clothes and uh… call out if you need anything more, I guess?” Wary to leave the room in case horror struck again, Zane finally did - with the door left ajar - after one last glance at the man he had only managed to meet under the strangest and bloodiest of circumstances. 

His ears were perked the whole time as he settled for cleaning off his face and chest at the sink, not wanting to miss a shout for assistance if he jumped in one of the house’s showers. A pair of sweats, neatly folded, were placed outside the bathroom door where everything still sounded fine, Zane finally slumping back onto the couch once his own ruined pants had been changed as well. It wouldn’t do much for the healing but still, he started the process of getting some bandages on his own chest. 

—

It’ll be fine, he said. It didn’t look fine, Chris thought, but he figured there was no point to argue, not when Zane seemed so sure, and not when either of them were in no position to argue in the first place. If he didn’t do something about those cuts, though, then he’d bring it up again, but for now, he accepted the help without pushing the subject again. 

The walk sucked. It wasn’t the worst walk he’d ever have to do, but it still sucked. He was grateful for Zane, for his support and company. He made the short, yet uncomfortable trip to the bathroom just a bit better. Relief found him when they made it to the room and he was finally met with the cooled tile floor. They felt good on his angry, inflamed skin. 

Zane’s comment pulled a tired, but full laugh from Chris. “Hey, I’m not complaining,” he joked, but actually he would like for them to stop meeting like this. This was a little too traumatizing for his tastes. Their first meeting had been unusually awkward enough, but it only seemed to get worse from there. At least he was nice. “No, I’m kidding…” he had to clarify with another small laugh and held a hand up in defense. “Something more.. Normal would be nice.” For next time, but he didn’t say that out loud. What if next time ended up being worse? 

“Thanks…” went his lame ass reply of appreciation, but he really did feel grateful for what Zane did and continued to do for him. He hoped that at least it showed on his face. If not, he owed him regardless. It only seemed to get better when the door was left open — mostly likely to be able to hear for any potential accidents on Chris’ end, but having not been confined, even in the bathroom, relaxed him immensely. He knew the shower would do wonders for his aching muscles and low mood, but the act of leaving the door open, especially when most people would prefer privacy, left him feeling over the moon. It was stupid, but it made him happy.

The shower was… Well, it was nice. It felt like every other shower after a night of whatever it was he managed to get himself into. He made sure not to get the stitches wet, even though that was never instructed on Zane’s part — that was difficult, however. He wanted nothing more than to dip his whole head under the stream of water, but he’d rather err on the side of caution.

After the water was shut off, Chris stood in the shower for a bit longer than necessary. He really didn’t want to get out, but he didn’t want Zane to worry more, so after another beat, he stepped out, dried off to the best of his ability, and found a set of sweats neatly folded just outside the bathroom door. He had wondered about that initially, but he was glad Zane seemed to think of everything. Feeling clean and having clean clothes was honestly the best, and it felt like he was being wrapped up in a warm hug. He savored the feeling for just a hair longer before he figured he should probably poke his head out and find his very consistent rescuer.

The journey back to the living room made the most sense, so Chris headed in that direction to find Zane on the couch. He would have looked comfortable if it weren’t for the long cuts along his chest. Bandages, good — at least they were being taken care of.

“Hey..” he greeted softly.. Both of his hands were buried in the pockets of the sweats he wore; they messed with the soft inner fabric, a nervous habit.

—-

From the second the water stopped running, Zane’s ears were perked even further, listening for any sound of trouble. It took every inch of self control not to call out or rush in there as the silence drew on for longer and longer but he couldn’t - wouldn’t - hover uncomfortably. Plus, Chris’s sense of privacy had been abused enough for one day. The fact that he had seen the man naked, held him naked to make things even better, more often than some of the people he’d been intimate with was really a painfully ironic situation. 

Luckily for the vampire’s frayed nerves and the endless spinning of his thoughts, Chris finally appeared, now the much healthier looking out of the two of them. “Hey,” Zane breathed back, fully ignoring the warm feeling of seeing someone else in his clothes because the situation that forced it was horrendous and made the feeling bad and twisted. “I, uh… I ordered some food. Since I don’t really keep… any.” His hands fiddled with the roll of tape he was holding before he finally put it down, glancing back up at Chris. 

“Do you… I mean, should we talk about… last night?” His voice was hesitant, the words chosen carefully which ultimately just made it sound like they’d accidentally hooked up and were now trying to tread the waters of a morning after. “We don’t have to but… I’m here. If you want to.”

—

At the mention of food, Chris’ stomach grumbled as if it were waiting for that cue. Oh, right, that was something he needed to do. He remembered having lunch the day prior (was it the day prior???), but anything after that was a huge blur. Apparently, he was far overdue for a meal, but he was tickled that Zane had thought about ordering something even if he didn’t need to — really, he would have been fine if there was no mention of it but the fact that he went ahead and took it upon himself to add even more comfort to an already jarring experience made Chris feel incredibly cared for.

It was the first time in a long time and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Really? You didn’t ha...” Objection, objection, objection — to some that would be disrespectful. He caught himself before he resorted to the usual dismissal of anything good his way and instead replaced it with a look of sheepish appreciation. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t help but to feel like a burden, even now. “Thank you,” he conceded, his tone nothing but sincere. This was just another thing to add to the ‘owe list’, he supposed.

It was nice of him to add that they didn’t really have to talk about what happened the night before, but — they should, shouldn’t they? If you woke up to a neck wound that needed stitches and a friend that looked like they fought a cheese grater and won, you’d want to know too, right? Chris worried at the soft, wool-like material with his thumbs before he removed both hands and shuffled over to the couch. He settled back onto the couch heavily — he tried to ignore the blood stains — yet carefully enough to not disturb Zane too much, in case he too was still in pain.

His palms ran along his thighs and smooth the sweatpant material until they found purchase against his knees. He gave them both a squeeze, clearly uncomfortable. He needed to know. “I, heh.. I don’t really want to, but…” Chris felt a curl of hair fall until it tickled the very top of one of his eyebrows. He didn’t bother with fixing it. He couldn’t move his hands. “... What happened.. Exactly?,” he asked hesitantly, fearfully. 

—--

Ordering food, the idea of nourishment after the blood Zane had aggressively removed from the other man, had been more instinct than actual thought. He hadn’t meant for the gesture to bring that look of guilt onto Chris’s face, hadn’t even meant for it to be a gesture at all. The thought that he owed Chris a meal anyway since the other had, nonconsensually as it may have been, provided Zane with a meal, tickled at the back of his mind. A poor joke, one that thankfully stayed locked up. “It’s nothing,” he said instead, thankful when Chris decided to join him on the couch instead of running out. Maybe the promise of food was good enough to keep him here. 

Zane turned on the couch and crossed his legs, facing the nervous man and waiting patiently. It was easier to focus his gaze on the restless hands than the stray lock of hair just begging to be pushed back but even just the hands were setting off ‘Nurse Zane’s’ innate need to provide physical comfort. So he dug his own fingers into the material of the couch, glancing up once Chris finally gave permission for the story to be told. 

“I saw…” He hesitated, heaved a useless breath, and then continued. “I saw a wolf. A giant one. Disturbed it feeding so it went after me, instead.” Zane’s eyes moved down to his chest, bandaged but still aching. “I, uhm… I’m not much of a fighter but it had me trapped so I just… well, on instinct, I guess, I… bit it.” He wanted to glance up at the wound he had inflicted, now covered by bandages, just like Wynne’s, but refrained. “And then the wolf, uh… was you. Is you. Like you sort of rearranged yourself back to… normal but then you were bleeding a lot so I… I brought you here.”

—

It’s nothing. No, maybe not, but to Chris it was an incredibly kind gesture. There weren’t too many people in his life who were thoughtful like that — there weren’t too many people in his life at all, actually. Regardless, he figured it was best not to linger on that. He had other things to worry about, like the slightly confusing information that Zane just dropped onto him.

He listened to it, absorbed it, and took note of the pauses. Despite being still and mostly unreactive, his hands had clenched tightly around a clump of material at both knees, knuckles pale, revealing how he felt. Him? For years now there had been plenty of what he assumed were displaced memories of horrific things that plagued him every waking and sleeping moment. For years they were the same or similar in their blood and carnage and he always assumed that maybe, just maybe, they were manifestations from the horrors of his upbringing. He thought it was just in his head, that he was just broken.

One of Chris’ legs started to bounce. A lump started in his throat, one he desperately tried to push down to no avail. He felt his eyes sting. A breath of a small, sardonic laugh escaped him, unable to really believe what he just heard. No, no that couldn’t be. But the bite. Everything else could be explained away but the fucking bite. He could feel it throb, as if on cue, beneath the bandages that were wrapped tenderly on his neck.

He looked down at his lap. A wave of lightheadedness overtook him then and he had to let out a slow, shaky breath as he shook his head. “Um…” He swallowed. Or tried to. “Are you… Are you sure?” His voice broke just a hair at the end, inflection raised as if he were asking Zane not to be.

—

This was too much. He’d said too much, too fast and Chris looked about ready to break. Zane finally caved, one hand finding the shaking one on the shifter’s knee, giving a tight but gentle squeeze. “I wish I wasn’t,” he said quietly, his own voice breaking with hurt for the other man. “But it wasn’t… it wasn’t you. I know I don’t exactly know you like that but it was completely different from you. I don’t know if it’s just a part of you or what but you’re not someone who would hurt people willingly.”

Zane scooted closer on the couch, desperate to make sure that whatever he was saying, however little knowledge he was basing it on, was heard. “Chris… I’ve hurt people too,” he continued, voice thick. Unsure if he was making things better or worse right now. “Without meaning to, without wanting to so… if you want, I’m here. I don’t know how but I want to help, if you’ll let me.” And if he wanted to bolt out of here, never run into the vampire that only seemed to pop under the worst of circumstances, Zane would let him. 

—

The hand that found itself over his own was a comforting one, but it did little to quell Chris’ rising panic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from lifting his thumb to try and caress what skin he could reach. A part of him wanted to shake himself free of Zane’s touch, but there was nothing but care here, nothing but a tenderness that made him want to at least try to be normal despite the whirlwind of emotions. The sting in his eyes only worsened when he’d felt the hand. Tears swelled, though not quite enough to fall over the brim of his lower lashline. Monster, evil, stupid thing. “How…” He swallowed thickly before he continued with a shaky breath. “How do you know… I.. I don’t even know.. N-not anymore.”

He felt something else grow behind his distraught and growing anguish. It nestled in the pit of his stomach and churned with each thought and memory of death his mind managed to dig up. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Zane also being a potential murderer. He couldn’t pick apart his emotions or figure out where one ended and another began. It was a mess and although it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling with accidental serial killing, it made him feel sick. He killed all those people and just… forgot about it. Chose to forget about it. He still wanted to forget about it, ignore it until it ate away at him again and again. He didn’t want this hell—

“I’ll… be right-back...” Chris promised with a hurried tension. His nausea only worsened the more he continued to think and try to unthink; the only thing that really helped tether him to the present was Zane’s hand. That wouldn’t stop the knots in his stomach, so he had to remove himself from the couch, from the other man’s touch, and stiffly walked, not ran because that would have made it worse, back to the bathroom. He became acquainted with the toilet in there, although the relief was brief. The sob that escaped him echoed within the porcelain bowl and threatened to keep him fixed to the toilet, but he willed himself up to at least rinse his face in the sink. He shook with every step and even though his body reacted so viscerally, his mind continued to rebel against it.

Chris couldn’t help it — he dropped to the tiled floor and cried. The sound of his knees crashing against the floor, though covered with material, was probably audible. He didn’t care. He was too busy with his face in his hands, crying, and wondering why him.

—-

How did one know if someone was a good person? Zane had definitely put his trust in the wrong people before, on more than one occasion but… so far he hadn’t been wrong about the presence of a genuine kind soul. He thought about people like Ariadne and Jonas who simply warmed you with their presence but when that didn’t feel like the right comparison, he thought about Emilio. It would have been so easy to judge the slayer on his actions and his words, just like with Chris, but it was impossible to ignore the innate kindness. Even covered in blood and bodies. 

“Guess you’re just going to have to trust me on that,” was the only thing Zane could think to say, squeezing the hand in his tighter until he was forced to let go. 

The relief felt when Chris didn’t gun for the door was short lived, the pained sounds from the bathroom gluing Zane stuck to the couch for a moment. He finally moved closer, slowly, taking a seat next to the door and leaning his head back against the wall. It was unfair that Chris was going through this with someone who barely knew him, someone who couldn’t even tell how to help him, if anything even would. Zane was overthinking this, he knew that, and in a way was grateful for the alarming sound coming from the bathroom that forced him into action. 

Whether it was a bad idea, whether it was violating boundaries, didn’t matter. Zane found himself on the floor right alongside Chris, arms wrapping around the shaking frame, holding the man tightly despite his chest protesting. Maybe he was crying too or his face simply wet from where it got buried in Chris’s hair, maybe he held him and murmured comforting words for minutes or an hour. There was nothing to say and the only thing he could think of was to attempt to impart some feeling of safety on the bathroom floor of all places, going through every soothing gesture he could think of as long as Chris would let him. Not even thinking about the intimacy of stroking someone’s back, their hair, holding them to his chest, as long as it seemed to be helping just the tiniest bit. 

—

Chris didn’t have a lot of trust in people, but he wanted to trust Zane. He trusted his actions, for the most part. Nothing the other man did seemed to have a lick of ulterior motive, but his words, though reassuring as they were, didn’t seem to fit in with his lived experience and the paranoia and accusations that followed him tirelessly. He just couldn’t believe them, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how confident Zane seemed to be.

As he sat on the cold floor and heaved gasping, crying breaths into both palms, he didn’t hear the bathroom door open. He didn’t hear Zane creep in, either, didn’t even know he was there in the room with him until he felt hands on him. A spark of panic initially started, tensing Chris’ body from the sudden intrusion of personal space he didn’t see coming, but his shoulders relaxed the second he realized who it was. He couldn’t remember the last time he was held like that. It had to have been with his sister, surely, but that was towards the end of their time together. Had it really been that long?

Hesitantly and with shivering body, Chris leaned into the comfort that Zane was providing and welcomed the slight chill that came from his embrace. Consolation so tender helped to alleviate some of the hiccup-like sobbing that escaped him, but it couldn’t help the small bouts of embarrassment and self-pity that tried to get him to leave. So he tried to bury himself into Zane’s arms further, as if to try to shut off those parts of his spiraling thoughts. With some time and patient, steady compassion, his tearful weeping turned into small whimpers and dry eyes. “I’m sorry…” came his voice, small and breathless, and thick with tears that threatened to fall again.

—-

After a while, his chest stopped aching, overthrown by the dull pain in his heart. Zane’s journey into the supernatural hadn’t been a nice one and even though his clan at the time had been far from perfect, at least he’d had them. At least he’d gotten some insight into what he was now. Chris’s whole world had just come crashing down all at once. At the very least, Zane hoped this might be the start to some healing instead of breaking the man completely. 

Chris stood outside Zane’s house with the front door key in hand and a small, grocery bag in the other. He looked a little conflicted as he stared at the metal object in the middle of his palm. It felt a little odd to enter the other man’s home without him there, but he’d been given explicit permission — and he had the messages to prove it in case anyone asked. Still, he couldn’t help but to hesitate before resigning that it wouldn’t have been offered if Zane hadn’t meant it. With a decision made up, he unlocked the front door, slipped inside and locked it immediately behind him.

Other than the distant sound of laughter from a trick-or-treater or two, the house was quiet. It felt different with Zane gone, but it was still better than the small cell-like motel room. While it had its charms and coziness when he’d first moved in, the Bearcliff motel started to feel more and more like a prison than a place to rest. He was grateful for this reprieve, even if he had to spend the evening alone. Chris removed his shoes at the door, a habit forced onto him, and set the bag onto the couch side table. He stared down at one of the cushions for a moment, noting the faintness of stains that lingered in the fabric before he turned back to the bag.

The rustling of plastic filled the room when he opened it and procured the outfit Zane had lent him the last time he was there — as well as the sweater from that first time. Apparently it had gotten lost among Chris’ other clothes, forever eaten by the hamper — or so he’d thought. He set the loosely folded items onto the table, balled up the shopping bag, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. A stomach growl erupted from the depths of his stomach, which promptly reminded him that Zane had mentioned snacks. Now, he did feel a little embarrassed to be taken care of, especially so frequently, but he would be a fool to turn down food.

The house was big and the quiet was constant, but the snacks and change in scenery helped to ease some of Chris’ Halloween anxiety. He nested himself onto the same couch, a familiar and somewhat comfortable spot, with a blanket and munched away while he perused on his phone. Every so often he’d respond to a message from Zane or reply to an email regarding an order, but the sound of a Youtube video ended up filling the space as he drifted off to sleep.

—--

Excusing himself regularly to sneak a look at his phone was a new thing for Zane, his cell usually kept somewhere to the side while he worked since there was never really anything pressing to look at. Now, he found himself eager to check it between patients, hurriedly typing away a reply to Chris, heart warm at the thought of him finding comfort in the house. It wasn’t much but so far, it felt like the one genuinely helpful thing Zane had been able to do for the other man throughout all of their interactions. 

The other nurses noticed his distracted state, of course, nothing getting past those keen eyes. Their smiles were teasing as they poked fun at him, asking who the lucky guy was and leading to a very unconvincing argument that it was just a friend. They didn’t believe him and probably had no reason to as he got visibly flustered. A friend, just casually staying at his house? If they’d gotten any more details, Zane’s story would have sounded even less convincing. The fact that he was rushing home the second his shift ended definitely left his coworkers smiling coyly at his back. 

It was still dark by the time he trudged up to the house, sun just barely starting to make its presence known, so Zane moved quietly. It was a strange comfort, knowing there was someone inside, other than Buddy who was usually too lazy to even greet him at the door. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, spotting Chris bundled up on the couch and it reflectively brought a soft smile to Zane’s face. He finally looked goshdarn peaceful, curls framing the relaxed face and the remnants of snacks consumed littered on the small coffee table. 

For a moment Zane wished he needed to sleep, wanted to have a solid reason to tear himself away from his current spot where he was acting like a certified freak. Really living up to that romance-vampire farce. Finally snapping out of the daze, the thought of having someone to wake up with or come home to every day, the thought that things weren’t messed up, Zane resigned himself to a shower instead. Excited for Chris to wake up, to talk to him in person after the night of online messaging, but in no way prepared to wake him from the peaceful sleep. 

Hands ran through wet curls once the night shift had been washed off, thoughts about how much he needed a haircut occupying his mind as a towel got wrapped around his waist. His attempts to not think about Chris being asleep in the other room while showering had been successful enough to make Zane distractedly leave the bathroom on a mission towards his room, fully forgetting that someone might have been awake out there by now. 

—

Suffocated by nightmares or dead to the world were the only two ways of sleep that Chris tended to get — if he even slept at all. Fortunately, the sandman found a modicum of mercy that night and did allow him to sleep without too much twitching, talking, or tossing. He was able to curl up and bury his face into the couch cushions, a blanket wrapped tightly around him to keep his warmth close. He didn’t hear the front door open. He didn’t know that Zane had come home.

He thought something was off, however, when Chris did open his eyes for just a crack as he started to rouse. The plan was to close them again, to roll over and go back to sleep for who knew how long, but the sight of something other than the motel wall or flat pillow or plastic alarm clock sent a shock of sudden confusion and brief terror. Familiarity rolled back into him the minute he sat up. You’re fine, he told himself as he steadied his breath. You’re safe.

Chris loosened his grip on the couch and leaned against the back of it. His elbow pressed down into the cushion while his chin rested in his hand, ready to fall back asleep like that. He took note of the trash on the coffee table and sighed again. He was about to chastise himself for not taking care of his garbage before passing out when he heard a noise come from the direction of the bathroom. The light that eagerly tried to peak in through the curtains meant that it was morning. Did that mean Zane was back from work?

A beat of silence had Chris listening intently, though nervously. “Zane?” He called out, hesitantly, sleepily, and completely unsure of himself. What if it wasn’t Zane? What if someone else lived there, or if those other friends of his could get in, if they knew where the key was… He sat there with his eyes on the archway that led towards the hallway that contained the bathroom, alert and with breath held.

—

It was a matter of debate who got startled worse once Zane rounded the corner, him or the houseguest he had let slip from his mind. Post night shift brain fog was real but this felt like a giant oversight on his part, parading around the house in nothing but a towel. At the very least, he would have called out before exiting the bathroom, probably even doubled or tripled the amount of towels. Backtracking honestly felt like an option at one point but in the end, that seemed much more telling than simply swallowing his awkwardness and fumbling through this. 

“Hi! Hey, you’re… you’re up. Sorry I didn’t - I mean, I didn’t want to wake you when I got home because you looked way too comfortable.” Not that he’d been looking looking… One hand furtively moved to grip the edge of the towel, keeping it firmly in place even though Chris was definitely entitled to being on the other spectrum of accidental nudity for once. A stray drop of water trickled down his neck and Zane suppressed a shiver, feeling much more exposed now than the other night, every other aspect having been dimmed by blood and injury and panic. 

Now he was just standing half-naked in his own living room, trying to filter out all the weird things his brain was suggesting he say at this moment. 

“Guess it’s about time you got to be the fully dressed and not awkward one for once.” Yeah, weird shit like that. “Not that you’ve had any reason to be awkward, obviously. I mean, not obviously but more like, it’s not like you have anything to feel awkward about. In the sense that you’re… uhm. How was your night?” A very smooth save. Zane couldn’t help chuckling at himself, head shaking and eyes averting to the floor. “Sorry. Brain’s not… good after a night shift.”

—

Oh. Oh, good, it was just Zane. No one else had managed to sneak into the house and he didn’t wake to find himself somewhere else, somewhere horrible. He hadn’t dreamt the whole past month or so either, even though he sort of wished he had. No, this was real and Zane was there and everything was fine — for now. His own relief took hold quickly and visibly eased the stiffness in his shoulders and tension in his arms, but the other man still looked a little perturbed. Maybe it had something to do with the towel around his waist.

Chris expelled a calmer breath. “Hey,” he returned with a smile before shaking his head. “Oh, no worries, I think I needed the sleep anyway.. So thanks for not waking me up,” he finished with a small laugh. He sat up a bit better, now that he knew he didn’t need to make a beeline for an exit or fight for his life, and rubbed at his eyes to wake himself some more. He still felt tired, of course. He didn’t think that would ever go away. But last night’s rest had been one of the better nights; he was grateful it hadn’t been interrupted. He didn’t think it would really end well, either.

Zane stumbling over his words earned a laugh from the seated blonde who had just started to stretch his arms. “It’s okay, I get it. I, uh… I can definitely relate,” he pointed to his own head before uttering another little laugh and brushing away a stray curl that started to tickle one of his brows. “My night was… Good, pretty good. Definitely five stars compared to some of my other nights..” Another chuckle, this time with a tinge of that awkwardness Zane so endearingly threw out into the universe.

“Was work okay? When did you even get in? I didn’t hear a thing…” He asked with a more comfortable smile before his eyes widened with an ‘oh!’ and he patted one of the arm’s of the couch, the one closest to the side table. “I also, uh.. Brought you your clothes back. I cleaned them, of course.. I’m sorry if I stretched them out or anything. I tried really hard to be careful about taking them off…”

—

It probably proved how little Zane knew the other man, how surprised he was at Chris’s complete lack of discomfort at the situation this rambling was in no way improving. He mostly just looked relieved to see him, which did work some to calm the storm of anxious thoughts in Zane’s mind. Asking a question had seemed like the best way to divert the conversation back into something normal but he hadn’t figured for the actual conversation to follow. At least Chris’s laugh was helping to distract from the current situation. 

“Definitely less blood,” Zane agreed, smiling and letting himself once again enjoy just how calm the man looked, such a stark contrast from each and every one of their last meetings. 

He finally shifted, letting his feet move from being glued to the ground in mild terror, risking a few steps closer to the couch since standing all this distance away felt dumb. “Work was fine. Definitely busy, plenty of drunk people.” Zane sighed, recounting the hectic night. “Less weird than I expected, to be honest,” he chuckled, raking back the wet curls that were trying to drip into his face now. Attention turned to the clothes resting on the couch and he smiled wide, recognizing the hoodie from way back when. 

“Heh, thanks. Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t even expecting them back, anyway.” Closing the rest of the distance, Zane pulled the hoodie from the neatly folded pile, shrugging it on and feeling that much less exposed. Although it still smelled faintly of Chris which was a different problem all on its own. “I’m gonna put on some… more clothes,” he said sheepishly, shuffling his feet towards the stairs. “Help yourself to cereal in the kitchen if you want.” 

Once he finally had the comfort of pants, Zane returned downstairs with a skeptical Buddy in tow. Knowing Chris, the baku had probably gotten a decent meal last night. He left the hoodie on, zipped up to cover the faint remnants of the wolf’s damage, chastising himself for just how much he was letting himself enjoy the warm smell. “I totally forgot to mention the only other living thing in this house,” he started once Chris was in sight, gesturing down to Buddy who regarded the other man with wary curiosity. “This is Buddy. He, uh… eats nightmares.”

—

Chris had always felt sensitive to people’s emotions or to their posture — for as long as he could remember, he had the ability to read the room and adjust to it. Or leave, if it came down to it. He could generally tell if someone was happy or sad — or uncomfortable (was that the trauma or the wolf?). He could see a little in Zane, or rather, feel it. But he couldn’t blame him; the situation was too messed up, it felt surreal. At least, it didn’t feel completely like the nightmares that terrorized him. At least, Zane was there to make it a little bit better.

“Less weird?” He parroted, “that’s a good thing though, right?” Chris leaned back into the couch, happy with the comfort it gave him. “What were you expecting?” He asked, genuinely curious. He’d only ever witnessed the crazy a couple of times, but he assumed the ER was hectic during most, if not all, major holidays. It was over, though, and Zane was reunited with the sweaters he’d so willingly handed over. He watched as the hoodie was slipped on, effectively hiding Zane’s chest and the claw remnants that marked it. “It’s the least I could do… I wouldn’t be able to not return them, anyway.” Unless he broke them by accident, then he’d probably just get him a new one.

“Oh, yeah dude, go. Take your time.” Cereal sounded good; his stomach growled on cue, empty and with hunger pains. He was hungry, though something richer, more savory was preferred, like eggs or sausage, but the cereal would have to do. He found a seat in the kitchen, figuring it was better to eat in there than in the living room and had nearly finished the first bowl when Zane returned, this time clothed and dryer than before. Good. The damage Chris had supposedly done to the other man’s skin was a little too distracting for breakfast. He didn’t need to worry about that, though, not when there was an animal in the room.

He had paused mid-bite when he saw the creature that Zane referred to. It wasn’t a dog, no, nor a pig or a miniature pony — or really anything that could be considered a pet. Maybe it was something exotic, but again, nothing really sprang to mind when he took in Buddy’s appearance, tilting his head as if that would help him discern what he was. He looked back at the creature just as warily, chewing until his mouth was free so he could reply.

“Hey, Buddy…” Chris greet with a small, confused wave from his free hand. His head tilted to the other side as he regarded Zane’s… friend. The nightmare bit gave him pause. “What do you mean, he eats nightmares? Like, actually? … What is he?”

—

Leaning against the doorway, brown eyes flickered with mild worry between Buddy and Chris, the two now staring each other down. The baku seemed slightly on edge, perhaps sensing some sort of animalistic kinship in the man, stuck between that wariness and wanting to display affection for the lovely meal last night. Eventually, the baku dared to trod away from Zane’s side, moving closer to Chris after the hesitant greeting was delivered. As the long snout sniffed at the house guest’s feet, Zane relaxed and found himself smiling at the other’s adorable look of confusion. 

“Yeah, for real. He’s something called a baku, apparently. I had no idea, just brought him in off the street one day and a friend provided me with some information. Mostly the ‘eating nightmares’ part, although they didn’t really give me any specifics into how that actually works.” Finally moving into the kitchen, Zane took a seat opposite Chris, the domesticity of the situation making him feel warm in the same way the hoodie did before he derailed himself quickly from that train of thought. “He’s not dangerous or anything, just… feeds on nightmares, I guess. So if you had a good sleep, you probably have him to thank.” Zane paused, smiling once again as he looked down to see the baku still furiously investigating Chris now that he felt comfortable. 

“I can’t really tell you much else, don’t really sleep so no nightmares to even get eaten. Oh! Coffee.” Chair scraping the floor as he pushed back, Zane busied himself with making coffee, realizing as he started that he didn’t even know if Chris drank coffee. Well, at least it gave him something to do other than push away uninvited thoughts that seemed stronger than ever now that neither of them were bleeding or in mortal danger. 

—

As far as Chris knew, animals didn’t like him. He wasn’t allowed to have any pets growing up and when he tried to get one as an adult, that failed spectacularly. Reactions to him varied - some ran in an attempt to put as much distance between them as possible while others tried to bite him. He did his best not to think about how people liked to say that animals could tell if a person was “bad” or “evil” in some way, but it was difficult. 

This guy, though, didn’t seem to mind him. In fact, despite its initial wariness, it seemed curious for the stranger. The sniffling at his feet made Chris smile. The tidbit about “eating nightmares” sounded a little fake, in his opinion, but there was a lot in Wicked’s Rest that he couldn’t exactly explain - and he did have a decent night’s rest, definitely nightmare free, but that didn’t mean the baku did it. Right? Maybe he just felt comfortable there. 

Chris reached down and offered Buddy one of his hands as sacrifice to its trunk-like nose. Every bout of snuffling sent a tickle through him. “I did get a good sleep, actually… For once,” he finished with a breath of a chuckle. “I’m glad he likes me. I don’t have this kind of luck with animals.” Not up close, anyway. He could take hours of photos of animals from afar, but up close? He tended to be an interesting catalyst. “How long have you had him for?” He asked after a beat.

Hypocritically, he was about to tell Zane that sleep was important and he should probably start doing that, having completely forgotten about the whole “vampire” bit, until he had jumped up with the mention of coffee. In truth, Chris didn’t really drink coffee. He did like it, especially sweet, but it had a tendency to not agree with him and so he did his best to stay away from it. But if Zane was going to make him some, he couldn’t say no. Not after the way the other man hurried up from his seat to make him something warm to drink.

Even though it was moot at this point, he did hear himself say that he didn’t have to make him anything, but the thank you that followed up was said in earnest and with appreciation. His fingers found the top of Buddy’s head and gave the skin there a gentle scratch. The smell of the coffee was comforting as it brewed and between the attention from Buddy and the calmness that settled in the kitchen sent a beat of warmth through him. This was really nice.

—

Zane couldn’t help the regular glances over his shoulder as the water came to a boil, catching glimpses of Chris smiling down at his strange animal. Maybe it should have been obvious that an actual werewolf wouldn’t be too put off by a weird, little creature like Buddy but then again, Chris wasn’t exactly all chill when it came to the supernatural. Which just made this actually normal morning, sans the nightmare eating pet, even nicer. “That’s good. And by the way, no way you’re sleeping on a couch next time. I mean, if you want to crash here again sometime, obviously. There’s plenty of spare bedrooms.”

Chuckling at the bit of bonding happening behind his back, Zane shrugged. “I’ve had him for a few months now, actually. And he’s not too hard to win over. Some petting and, in your case, a meal, is all it takes. And he can probably tell that you’re nice.” Where other animals wouldn’t - although Zane refused to believe it was because they didn’t trust Chris. As someone who had looked directly into the eyes of whatever Chris shared his consciousness with, Zane knew they were two different entities entirely. So if animals didn’t like the man calmly eating cereal and patting the baku, that was through no fault of Chris’s. 

Chris wouldn’t remember a moment but the fleeting and flashing of horrific images that would plague his dreams. Those would all come later. For now, he had a different problem: where was he and what happened to his clothes? Again? [ Yo..u. . kn..ow. . ] — a whisper, and then it was gone. Waking up in whatever godforsaken shit he’d managed to wrap himself up in was always followed by the worst body aches imaginable. It felt as if he’d been hit by a truck, ripped apart, and then hastily put back together again. The headaches were blinding.

In his semi consciousness, Chris could feel the grass and leaves beneath him and the cool breeze over his exposed back; he was definitely alone, that much he could tell from the sudden onslaught of crickets that started to sing. And he was definitely outside. The best case scenario would be for him to be in the belly of the woods, somewhere no one could find him.

Worst case scenario seemed to have already happened.

Chris could hear the tell-tale of footsteps against leaves; he tried desperately to open his eyes, top move, to do anything, but it seemed hopeless. He was a sitting duck.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was a nice change of pace, being constantly surrounded by people but after so many years of learning how to be on his own, Zane constantly found himself overwhelmed back at the house. Once his thoughts started running until they were almost silent, whole body buzzing with pent up energy, he knew it was time for a break. The surrounding forests were a blessing when it came to getting some quiet time - even on the odd chance that someone else fancied a night time walk in the woods, they were big enough to avoid any run-ins. This wasn’t a headphones-in sort of walk he’d decided, brain shutting off almost completely as he walked. 

It hadn’t been a conscious decision, following the faint scent of blood out of pure instinct, but when it got stronger the smell permeated through his foggy mind and dragged him sharply back to the present. Of course blood in the woods wasn’t too uncommon, all sorts of animals creeped around here, but from what little he’d learned about the smell of animal blood, this scent felt different. Hastening his pace, now purposefully tracking down the smell, he wondered if someone was hurt out here. Thankfully, his last feed had been less than an hour ago so there was no need to backtrack in fear of going crazy on some poor, unsuspecting hiker. 

Except this wasn’t a hiker. It was a person, for sure, but not many people hiked… Zane came to a halt a safe distance away. Was this guy full on naked? The blood covering parts of his body should have been more jarring than the lack of clothing but it wasn’t. So night vision was clearly a blessing and a curse. The stranger looked to be around Zane’s age but made somehow younger and more vulnerable in his current situation. What in the world had happened? He wasn’t dead, that much was sure from the way he was stirring now but if all that blood was coming from his body… No, it looked dry and as his eyes scanned the body further (phantom heat rising in his cheeks because this definitely felt like a violation) he didn’t notice any visible wounds. 

“Hey there,” Zane started carefully, keeping his distance at a few feet away and not just because gorgeous, naked strangers terrified him even in this, the weirdest of scenarios. Man, he really needed help, probably professional help but now was not the time for these awkward, gay ass thoughts. He was shrugging off his sweater amidst the flurry of thoughts, hoping maybe some cover up would help this situation while blaming the whole thing on the smell of blood throwing him off like this. The sweater was held out between them now, almost like a preventative peace offering. 

____________________________________________________________________________

How far was he from the path? Not far enough, apparently, judging by the sound of those footsteps. They seemed to only grow louder faster than Chris would have wanted; he thought he had enough time to collect himself and run, to at least put some distance between whatever made him look guilty. Guilty of what, he couldn’t say — he caught the tell tale sign of a wooded area in between his flights of consciousness, but there was no body, human or otherwise, to make out from his limited vision. Maybe that was a good thing.

Chris moved an arm which elicited a whimper from him; he felt as a toy would, with his arms and legs having been popped out and popped back into their sockets haphazardly and aggressively. Sore was an understatement.

The pain and disorientation was enough of a distraction that he hadn’t realized just how close the footsteps had gotten. The voice startled him — them — and just like that, his attention was fixed wholeheartedly on the sudden intruder. Though he was still on the ground and dizzy to boot, Chris curled and turned himself into a more defensive position so his back wasn’t to this trespasser. The immediate use of energy deflated what tension he held in his body; oh, he was so tired. But he held his gaze onto the blurry figure before him.

Details were dismissed in the haze, but Chris’ instinct was on fire. He followed the shape of what looked like a jacket or blanket that was held out at an arm’s length. A growl bubbled up inside his chest and into his throat, but it didn’t fall from his mouth. The other’s movements were slow, non-threatening, but he knew better. They knew better.

____________________________________________________________________________

The curled up position, almost animalistic in nature and defense, made Zane’s stomach lurch. Any apprehension about approaching he might have had (which hadn’t been much to begin with) vanished at the sight. This wasn’t someone dangerous, it was someone used to being in danger and Zane was now part of a long line of things to fear. The guy was barely conscious and it took every bit of focus not to spiral into just what had happened to him. It got too dark too quick and the dark storm those thoughts incited wasn’t helpful in the current situation. 

“I’m sorry, it’s okay,” was all he thought to say, voice as soft as it had ever been. Softer even than the tone saved for scared children at the ER. They were scared of the unknown. This man seemed to be scared of something known and really, really shitty. Crouching down slowly, still keeping an arm’s length between them, Zane lowered the sweater as slow as he (in)humanly could. Then he backed up a pace, remembering run ins with feral dogs way back when in Nevada and how his father had dealt with them. It felt wrong to think about this poor guy like a wild animal but the situations were eerily similar. “If you want. You must be cold.”

The thought occurred to call for help but something told him to get permission first. A whining ambulance suddenly appearing could have consequences that would only make the situation worse. Gaze ran over the man once more, hair wild and matted with blood, lips dry and splattered with crusted over blood, eyes shining with unfiltered panic and defense. “Are you hurt anywhere? Bleeding?” he asked calmly, nodding at the man in the hopes of conveying that they were on the same team. “I can call someone for help if you want.”

____________________________________________________________________________

Trust. Chris wanted so desperately to trust someone. He wanted to make connections with people. He wanted friends — he wanted a relationship, for fuck’s sake. Every time he thought that he could get it, that he was close to making a connection with someone, it was ripped from him. Sometimes, quite literally. He didn’t know how many times it had happened, or how, or why, he just knew that he couldn’t do it. And anyone who found him in the act? Chris learned that even honey laced words held malice. They didn’t want to help him — they only saw him as a monster that needed to be locked up. Or worse.

Largely, Chris’ human side wanted nothing more than to believe this man. His voice was soft, low, but ultimately sincere and he genuinely seemed like he wanted to help. [ L. .ie. . ] The other side didn’t want to hear it. If family could hurt, then anyone could hurt, what difference did this man make? Just because he used pretty words and cloth didn’t mean he was a friend. There were others just like him, who had tried to help — they got teeth and claws instead.

But Chris wanted out; he was cold and he wanted to stop hiding, if only for this moment. He could feel the uneasiness bloom the more the man spoke and even felt his hair stand on end, but he wanted to go home. He didn’t care at this point; if this meeting ended the same as all the others, then so be it, but that sweater was much too enticing to try to run. At the mention of calling someone else for help, Chris shook his head. “N-no,” he shivered out, “no.. more people.. Please.” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes; his head felt as if it had been ripped open. Despite the pounding headache, Chris tried his best to sit up a little, at least so he could see the impromptu visitor better. A few leaves fell from his chest, as he had been lying there for some time, but most stuck to the dried blood and sweat on his skin. “I..” he swallowed again before he resolved to shake his head. “I’m not.. Hurt.” Not physically, anyway.

—-----

Hearing the other man speak, coherently even, was a relief. The fact that Zane wasn’t allowed to call anyone for help, less so. There was honestly no telling what this guy had been through in the last few hours, or longer judging by the completely unhinged state of him, and Zane had no idea if he was equipped to help. Even so, it seemed that his help was being accepted, at least in some form as there was less cowering away and the gesture of the sweater seemed to have been accepted. As the man shifted, Zane found himself averting his gaze in a faint attempt at privacy and because what kind of person stumbled onto a scene like this and couldn’t keep such very inappropriate thoughts at bay. He was still blaming it on the overpowering scent of blood frazzling his senses, mixing with the smell of nature, sweat and still, the faint smell of something animal. 

“I won’t call anyone else. Promise.” It was earnest, almost desperately so in response to the pleading tone that had begged for no more people. The least he could do was respect that, even though Zane’s current options involved praying that this man was capable of walking (it didn’t seem very likely seeing the effort it took for him to sit up) or carrying him somewhere safer and warmer than the woods fireman style. The latter was definitely more appealing speed wise and Zane was already thinking about how close he was to home, and the empty garage no one ever went to, when the thought occurred that this terrified stranger probably wouldn’t like being carried off someplace strange. 

“Something tells me no hospital, either but lucky for you,” shit choice of words, “I work in healthcare so… how can I help?” Zane crouched back down, the sweater giving him some refuge from his misbehaving mind, aching to reach out and check on the man properly but not wanting to spook him. “I don’t live far off, we could get you some clothes, call for cab from there.” Check that you’re not dying, get you some hot tea, find out what in the world just happened here. “Or whatever.”

____________________________________________________________________________

This really was a shitty situation. He could count on one hand how many times someone stumbled upon him unconscious. A lot of the time, Chris could get away before anyone spotted him, but the other times? Those stayed with him in his dreams — what he could remember of them. There was a long time where he thought that maybe he was seeing things, or sleepwalking — maybe he was just having really bad nightmares or had a vivid imagination. 

He knew now what it was and still he didn’t want to believe it — no matter how many times he woke up naked and covered in someone else’s blood.

The generosity was overwhelming, and Chris wanted so desperately to say yes to everything that was offered, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know this man. He didn’t know what his motives were, if he knew who Chris was or what he’s been suspected of doing. There were too many unknowns and open-ended questions, questions that would only get answered if he went with this stranger — but he didn’t like that idea, not with his history. He’d been burned too many times to trust anyone so openly.

“I’ll be fine.” His words came out a bit more coherently as he roused more from his brief mental hiatus. There’s no memory of being there, in limbo or whatever it was. A quick pass of his tongue over his dry bottom lip confirmed the presence of blood around his mouth. What did he do? He prayed that whatever it was, it wasn't human. Chris felt a lump in his throat. “I just need to go.. home..” He felt confident in his ability to get there even though he didn’t know where exactly he was; it wouldn’t be that difficult. 

“Just.. pretend you didn’t see me. Please..” Chris couldn’t help but to look apologetic. “Please, just leave me here.. I can manage on my own..” Pitiful. There was no way he was going to be left alone, not after what this complete stranger was willing to give in order to help him. Not many people would do that, or even to that extent. But Chris wanted this interaction to end well, with both parties still breathing; he didn’t want any more blood spilled.

—---------

Zane was running out of options and ideas on how to help. Aside from dragging the man kicking and screaming to the hospital, there didn’t seem to be much left to offer. Just leaving him here, though, despite the pleading… It didn’t feel like a viable option. It was obvious that he needed help but for reasons that Zane didn’t want to begin to imagine, he was vehemently refusing it. Strangers were scary, he totally got that, but someone had clearly fanned the flames of this man’s distrust until it had consumed him. The thought made Zane nauseous, jaw twitching with anger and no one to direct it at. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” was all he managed to reply, voice low and desperate in the same vein the stranger’s was. “At least… at least let me walk you to the edge of the woods. Wouldn’t want a bear or something smelling… all that.” If Zane had been able to track the scent of the dried blood with his very limited knowledge, a different predator definitely would. “Then I’ll leave you be. Promise.” A promise was a promise, even though Zane would be tempted to keep an eye on the man until he saw him disappear into a building, he wouldn’t. It did sound like the man had done this before, gotten himself home from a situation like this, which wasn’t comforting but did provide some reassurance that he’d still be alive once the night was over. 

Pushing himself back to his feet, Zane offered his hand to the wary stranger, hoping he would accept it and let himself be pulled to his feet. At the very least, that way he’d know that the guy could stand. He’d considered running back to the house for some more clothes but something told him he’d come back to find the indent in the leaves and grass bloodied and empty once he returned. Offering his own pants had also occurred but that was definitely weird and the broken husk in front of him didn’t look like it could handle any weird. So he settled for simply offering a hand, gaze open and honest, face hoping to portray anything that his words clearly couldn’t. 

—---

It really was commendable how adamant this guy was in trying to get Chris some help. He seemed so earnest, believable; if Chris were anyone else he would have readily gone with him already, but it wasn’t that easy for him. He never had the choice. It upset him deeply that he couldn’t go with this stranger who seemed nothing but kind and willing. He literally took the clothing off of his back for him - what other type of person would do that?

The least Chris could do, if this was truly genuine, was to agree to the compromise. He had a feeling ‘no’ wouldn’t be taken for an answer, anyway, so taking the compromise was probably the safest bet - until shit hit the fan, which it tended to do. Chris would be ready. He didn’t want to be, but again, he never had the choice.

Just walk him to the forest edge and that was it? He didn’t need to go with him to some godforsaken cabin in the woods or call any backup and potentially get himself injured (or worse) because of some miscommunication? This seemed too easy, but Chris didn’t want to have to fight anyone right then. He didn’t want to hurt them. Not really. The other side bled in too much sometimes; the line between them blurred and Chris could be heavily influenced, but now was not the time. He wanted to go home, not get himself into further trouble.

The idea of biting the hand being offered and sinking his teeth into it flashed fleetingly in Chris’ mind. It was a stupid idea, one he wouldn’t go through with as that would only get him into trouble. Instead he ignored it and decided that taking the hand would be best, even if it was as briefly as he did; the contact was enough to get Chris onto his feet. He was shaky and exhausted, but that was expected. The sweater was used around his waist to give himself some modesty, but it wasn’t enough, and so his entire back remained open to the elements. He didn’t complain, though — most nights or early mornings he’d have to flee completely in the nude. It just felt like he was wearing an apron.

Standing was a little bit of a chore, but Chris couldn’t let this guy see that. He didn’t want any more help to be offered. He was touched by it, of course, but it was easier on both of their parts if this interaction was kept as short as possible. He didn’t know what he was capable of, even in the sorry state that was in. 

“Lead the way.”

—--

A win. A tiny sliver of a win. At least this way, Zane could make sure that the guy wouldn’t collapse after two steps and freeze to death or get mauled. It had even been a genuine surprise that he’d accepted the offered hand to get to his feet - the scenario of the man fumbling around to get himself standing for the better part of a minute had been so vivid in Zane’s head that the warm hand in his was even more of a shock. Warm. Good. 

As soon as he’d been allowed to offer a metaphorical finger, Zane fought with the need to follow with his whole arm. The man was standing, barely, and trying so hard to conceal it that pointing it out felt about as helpful as slapping him in the face. Yes, Zane wanted to drag the shivering arm over his shoulder and practically carry the poor guy all the way to his doorstep but it wasn’t his choice to make. So he pressed his lips shut with the effort of not commenting on the man’s unsteady footing, settling for staying close instead, just in case he tripped. A highly likely possibility and one that Zane was praying against. Not just because he didn’t want the man to trip but because he knew his instincts wouldn’t allow the other to fall and with the way the sweaty hand had been yanked from Zane’s as soon as feet stood on solid ground… 

So they walked slowly, leaves crunching underway as Zane stayed half a step ahead, trying to find the smoothest yet quickest root back to the streets. Trying not to think about how badly the man’s feet would hurt in the morning. Even though scratched up feet didn’t seem to be his biggest of issues. It was eerily quiet, only broken by their shuffling steps and the other man’s labored breathing. He’d never been good with silence. “I’m Zane,” he offered, voice quiet as if scared to disturb the darkness around them. “And I’m not going to ask any questions but… if you need help, I can… or I mean, I might be able to help. Whatever’s going on, there are people who can help. Who you can trust. Specialists or… something.” He drew in a deep breath to stop the flow of words, risking a glance back at the shuffling form behind him before forcing his eyes away. 

___

Chris hated this. He hated every second of this. It felt degrading to be found the way he had and to top it all off, he had a babysitter. He didn’t want to wake up in the woods without memory of the night’s events, but he’d rather that than have to deal with another person finding him ever again. It was bad enough with the mystery dinners. Hoping and praying that this was the last to catch him in his birthday suit, Chris went along and followed his guide at a safe distance. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he was a little more coherent and physically able to make the trek back to his motel room. He’d need it in order to avert strange gazes. 

For now, this supposed knight in shining armor was the only one — Chris won’t hold his breath. He liked to mess up a lot; being good-natured and honest would do that, at least in his case. He had a strong inkling to use his middle name instead of his first, or to just not say anything at all, but a good part of himself felt like Zane, as it were, was being genuine. The idea of being even the smallest bit open with this guy tied his stomach in knots but he could always do what he did best, right? No one would know the wiser — sure, he’d have to move again but he was used to that.

That inkling was ignored. “Chris.” The reply was curt and held back, as if he didn’t want Zane to hear it. It was a stupid thing to do, but if they both lived in Wicked’s Rest, they were sure to bump into each other at some point. Murphy’s Law would have pissed in his Cheerios at some point, why not get it over with? At the mention of a ‘specialist’, Chris couldn’t suppress the slightly sardonic scoff that escaped him. “Nobody can help.” He couldn’t trust anyone — they either didn’t believe him or they thought he was a killer. There was no in between even though that’s exactly where Chris felt like he was stuck and pulled and twisted apart.

“They all get hurt.. Or they lie and then they get hurt.”

—--

Getting a reply had been unexpected and not really what Zane had been fishing for. It was nice to have a name but honestly, he’d only given his own out of a habit of introducing himself to injured people. It was a miracle that the phrase ‘I’ll be your nurse today, what seems to be the problem’ hadn’t followed. But Chris had replied. Maybe he too had done so on instinct but either way, Zane felt like he had been trusted with something special. No one would ever know about this encounter and definitely not about the name. There was a possibility that later tonight, Zane would give into his curiosity and see just how many Chris there were in town but nothing more. 

The scoff at Zane’s suggestion, not a very articulate one but still, was an even bigger surprise. It showed a glimpse of a different side of the man, something angry and bitter which contrasted greatly with the fear and panic from before. Zane knew about trauma, both the physical and mental kind - he had to for his job and knew that everyone reacted differently to their troubles. The first time a woman had suddenly lashed at him when he was patching up her wounds, he’d thought he’d done something wrong or that he’d missed where she’d been flagged for violence before. Neither was the case he’d found out during a briefing with a supervisor. Just remnants of the traumatic event that had brought her in to the ER. 

“I’m really sorry that’s been your experience,” was all Zane had to offer in return, starting to see the faint glow of streetlamps through the trees. They were nearing the street and it filled him with worry. “Can’t imagine what that’s like.” He slowed his pace as they came to the edge of the tree line, keeping the two of them still shrouded in shadow. Appraising Chris once more, trying to read anything coherent from the blue eyes, vibrant but still damped by something secret. “Leaving you be, then, as promised.” No way he could go back on his word now. 

“Just… if you need anything. Discreet medical care or… I don’t know. All I know is that I’m a shit liar and not easily hurt as of late so… only one Zane Rosario in town.” Shifting unsteadily on his feet, wondering if there was anything else to add that wasn’t just incredibly stupid, he finally settled on offering a hand out because all he wanted to do was give the poor guy a hug. “Really hope you get home safe.”

___

Chris was going to have to see this guy around town, wasn’t he? The thought of that sent his stomach into knots. While Zane had been helpful, albeit a little unsettling, this situation was nothing short of embarrassing. He knew there were so many questions as to why he was out at that hour by himself in the middle of the woods, or why he was buck naked, or why he was covered in blood and what looked to be tiny pieces of flesh. He didn’t have them; he didn’t think he ever would. He couldn’t satiate Zane’s curiosity even if he wanted to — which he didn’t. Chris wanted to put so much distance between them and this memory out of pure humiliation and fear for the unknown.

Zane was kind. He could see it in his eyes — but he’d been burned before. He didn’t want to risk it, and for what? A fleeting moment of hope? Chris thought the police would help him. He thought that his work supervisor would help him. He thought that his dad would help him. 

What difference did this stranger make? 

So far, he was letting Chris go. There were plans and other options and the almost desperate desire to give him more help, but he heeded when Chris clearly wasn’t ready. That — that was a good flag. He knew better than to throw all caution to the wind for something so easily doused in red, but this was a positive in his mind. He just hoped it wouldn’t be ruined.

Zane’s words were comforting, if cliche, but he didn’t think he’d have anything better to say if the roles were reversed. Chris would say the same things — that he couldn’t imagine what he was going through, that it was horrible, apologizing for what he wasn’t at fault for. They were typical societal niceties, a human script, but they were the best anyone could give, given the situation. Chris did appreciate that, he just didn’t know what to say in return. He felt those darker eyes on him, looking him over; a last look of care or predatory in nature? Only time would tell.

Chris swallowed. His hands went to the sweater around his waist; it felt snug. There were more offers — it seemed Zane was cut from a similar cloth. He, too, felt the need to help, in any way that he was physically or mentally capable of. If he didn’t know, he would try anyway. He felt the happiest when he could offer assistance. There were never any ulterior motives on Chris’ end, but he couldn’t strike that from Zane — not yet. He would have to keep an eye on this Zane Rosario.

A beat. Chris took Zane’s frigid hand again, this time for a moment longer. He glanced at their clasped hands before finally making eye contact. “Thank you… I.. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to show his thanks a bit better than that, but his head still reeled from earlier, so he hoped his appreciation was palpable through his tone. “I.. Thank you.” Chris allowed their hands to part as he stepped away. It felt odd to walk away, to just leave his supposed hero in the treeline and shrouded by the shadows. There was a blatant uneasiness in the way they parted, but Chris felt gracious regardless. “Goodnight…” he uttered softly before he disappeared from view.