#craigbert

He’d fought so hard to bring his life under control and now... that was about to taken away from him again. Only for a night, admittedly, but he still felt on the edge. Thank god Sam was away. Had his friend seen him like this, he’d definitely notice something was wrong.

But then, it didn’t take years of living together in the small confines of a college dorm and a lifelong pact of friendship written in ravioli sauce to see that.

Had the context been a different one, watching Robert leave his house, get into his truck and drive the few metres over to his house would have been funny. But right now, it only brought dread. Robert didn’t bother getting out of his car, simply rolled down the window and leant out. “You look like death warmed over, kid.”

Robert’s dry tone of voice made Craig huff out a laugh. He shouldered his bag and rounded the car. Robert waited until Craig was seated and buckled up, then made the engine roar back to life. For the first ten minutes of the drive, the engine was the only sound that could be heard, but this time, the silence wasn’t comforting; it was loaded, like the calm before the storm.

Craig squirmed in his seat and shoved his hands in his lap. A few seconds later, he changed positions again. The third time, Robert looked over at him and glared. “I swear, if you don’t stop squirming, I’ll let you walk up the hill.”

The growly, dark undertone sent a shiver down Craig’s spine. He immediately sat still and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Robert nodded and turned his attention back to the road. Thankfully, the overlook wasn’t that far away from the cul-de-sac. Five more minutes in the truck and Craig would have choked on the tension in the air. He all but jumped out of the car and waited for Robert to get out too. The older man got out a large bag from the back and kicked the door shut. “Let’s go.”

Craig had always prided himself on his sense of orientation and how he could find back home, the dorm or the way to the nearest metro station. But soon after they went off the hiking tail and into the heart of the forest, he had no idea where he was anymore. He probably could have asked, but Robert was silent and gave off a vibe that said don’t talk to me, so Craig didn’t. Robert seemed to know where they were going anyway. About half an hour later, Robert suddenly stopped and put down his bag. “We’ll set up camp here. You got the tent?” Craig nodded, surprised by the sudden end to their silence. Robert grunted. “Toss it over.”

Robert set everything up himself, delegating Craig to simple tasks such as holding the tent stakes while Robert hammered them into the ground. The canopy of trees above their heads swallowed most of the sunlight, but a few rays went through, just enough to see. Robert threw a blanket on the ground and sat on it. When Craig hesitated for a few seconds, Robert glared and pulled up his upper lip in a snarl. “Get your ass down, kid,” he said, and Craig did.

He had no idea what time it was, but it must be hours until full moon, more than half a day. There was no way he could spend all that time just sitting there. His muscles barely did more than twitch as he intended to stand up before Robert already pushed him back down. “Bro, let me get up.”

“No.”

“Bro,” Craig complained. “I’m—“

“Anxious. Jumpy. Close to snapping. Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean I’ll let you start exercising or some shit, or I will snap.” Robert fixed him with a glare, but it lacked the heat of the previous ones. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. I was scared shitless the first time it happened, too. But I was alone, then, and you’re not. I won’t let anything happen to you or anyone else who might waltz in, against all the fucking odds and I calculated them, they’re close to zero. You’re going to shift. It’ll fucking hurt. You won’t be in control of yourself. The worst thing that can happen is you trying to fuck with me and me ripping your fucking ear off, but that will grow back.”

Despite the anxiety in his chest, Craig couldn’t help but chuckle. “Who says it won’t be me ripping your ear off?”

Robert snorted. “First of all, I said fucking ear. Secondly, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Craigory, but not only am I older than you, both in actual years and in terms of werewolf experience, and thus in full control of my furred self, but I’m stronger than you, too.” At Craig’s amused and disbelieving look from his own to Robert’s body, Robert shoved him hard enough to send Craig toppling over. Craig sat up again and pouted. Something inside of him wanted to shove back and play and he found that disconcerting. “Want to doubt me again?”

“Nope, I’m good, bro.” Craig rubbed his arm where Robert hit him. “If you’ve always been so strong, why did you never help carry stuff around for the barbecues?”

“Because I’m lazy, I’d never move a fucking finger to help Joseph and,” Robert smirked, “not helping meant getting to see you do it and man, do your muscles bulge when you lift heavy shit.”

Craig blushed and ducked his head. “Um, thanks bro?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t get told at least four times a day. You’ve got your own fan club.”

“You mean the softball moms?” Craig shuddered. “If you ever have the displeasure of making their acquaintance, run. It’s… tiring.”

Robert nodded knowingly. “I can imagine. Must be hell, having half of Maple Bay’s single-mom population lust after you.” Craig shoved him, but Robert had the advantage of a better sitting position, so he only managed to move him a few centimetres to the side.

“Most of them aren’t even single, bro. A lot are married.”

“Their husbands never around to see them fawn over you?”

Craig shook his head. “I would be so lucky, huh? Besides, nothing ever happens.”

Both of them fell silent after that. After some time, Robert reached into his bag and pulled out two bottles of beer, one of which he handed to Craig. Wordlessly, they drank and once those bottles were empty, drank some more. “Shouldn’t we be sober for this?” Craig asked before taking another swig.

“Don’t tell me Kegstand Craig’s already tipsy after a bottle of beer and some.”

The bottle came to a standstill and hovered inches away from Craig’s face. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Robert with a suspicious expression. “Who told you that nickname?”

“Take an educated guess, kale.” Robert’s grin was wolfish. “Dear Sammy can’t hold his liquor. Gets very talkative when he’s drunk. Had to get blackmail material from somewhere. You could have told me you were a fucking party animal back in college.” His grin widened. “Aw, look at that, he’s blushing.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t see why I should. Here I’ve always only known Mister Health and Responsibility and then I learn he earned himself a nickname like that. What was your record? 100 seconds?”

Craig groaned and drank another sip of beer. “115.”

Robert whistled. “Not bad. Wouldn’t have guessed that from how you are today. You sure you’re Craig Cahn and not an alien doppelganger?”

“I’m sure.” Craig looked to the side, letting out a long breath. “Can we not talk about this, bro? I’m anxious enough as it is.”

“Sure, kid.” Robert reached over and clasped Craig’s shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Might even do you good, letting lose for a few hours.”

“That all was an elaborate plan to get me relaxed, wasn’t it? The werewolf attack, that was all Sam’s masterplan. Should have known it.” Craig offered Robert his bottle. “It’s always the unassuming ones you have to look out for.”

The older man snorted and clinked his beer against Craig’s. “You caught me. I’m but a minion, obeying my master’s command. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

---------

“It hurts,” Craig gasped, arching his back as another wave of fiery pain shot through his veins. He had long lost his jacket and was clawing at his shirt, torn between tearing it off or keeping it on, as his temperature seemed to fluctuate between the pits of hell and the Antarctic. “Fuck, it hurts-“

“Breathe through it, kid. In and out. Use one of those fancy breathing techniques you know.” Robert moved away from where Craig was crouched on the forest floor. A second later something wet and cold was pressed to his neck, which brought instant relief. Craig groaned and forced his eyes open again.

It started three hour ago, around five pm. As the sun gradually set and the forest grew darker, the itching under Craig’s skin that had been there the last few days worsened, until it turned into a burning sensation. According to Robert, that was normal, but knowing that didn’t make it any better. It felt like he was being incinerated from within. And every now and then, growing closer and closer in time like contractions did during labour, his limbs twitched against his will. His muscles tensed and relaxed outside of any discernible rhythm. But worst of all was the pain.

“Craig, listen to me-“ He looked up and somehow managed to figure out which blurry, colourful blob was Robert. “Craig, can you hear me? Do you understand? Good. That’s good. Just listen to me. It’s almost time. I know it hurts, kid, I know, but you have to relax. You can’t fight it. If you do, it’ll take longer and it’ll hurt a lot more. Okay? Nod if you understood.” Craig nodded, but the movement ended in a jerk as another wave of pain coursed through him. “Good. I need you to trust me. I’m going to strip you naked or the clothes’ll rip and annoy you during the shift. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A fresh breeze on his heated skin was the only thing Craig noticed. He curled in on himself, but Robert pried him apart again, held him down as Craig began to trash and tremble, like he was having a seizure.

An ugly, loud crack broke through the feverish haze of his mind. The pain only registered seconds later. Someone, or something, screamed, but Craig was too far gone to notice it was himself.

“Kid-“

“Craig– don– the–“

He’s being ripped into pieces. Limb for limb, digit for digit, bone for bone, everything pulled apart like the individual pieces of a construction kit—

“Craig—“

A symphony of breaking bones and snapping muscles—

“Don’t fight—“

Bones were rearranging themselves. Fur broke through his skin and sprouted, his teeth became fangs, shattered his jaw, which popped out and grew longer only to resettle. His fingers turned into claws—

“—won’t let anything happen—“

His scream turned into a howl.

Confusion.

Disorientation.

Dizziness.

Pain.

Sore.

Hunger.

Thousands of smells – moss and grass and wood and prey.

Noises.

Crickets.

Wind, rustling leaves.

No foil.

Not alone.

Bared teeth, growling, snapping, brown eyes, human fingers not claws, reaching out, growling, snapping, words, distance—

Running.

Running.

Wind in his fur. Dirt under his paws.

Running. Running. Scent. Rabbit. Running. It’s running he’s leaping it’s—

Other wolf. Dark fur. Lined with grey. Shaggy. Growling, bared teeth, circling, the wolf stands calm, brown eyes, dark fur lined with grey, growling, it’s snapping at him—

He leaps. Dirt, tussling, teeth at his neck, a growl, he’s on his back, the wolf above him, it’s growling—

Something inside uncoils. He bares his neck, submitting—

The wolf releases him, licks over his head— Barks—Leads the way leads the hunt—

Running running running the wolf is at his side running rabbit running—

Blood meat prey hunt scent hunt running—

Running.

Running.

He throws back his head and howls.

The wolf answers—

Sunlight.

Burning. Fire pain fire hurts the wolf licking hurts—

No more fur, but skin, no more fangs but teeth, claws turned nails, there’s no other wolf anymore, human, brown eyes, greying hair, they’re naked, they’re—

It’s all teeth and snarls and skin on skin and—

Craig came to only slowly. His head was pounding, as bad as it used to be whenever he and Sam went to three parties in a row and overdid it with the alcohol, but miraculously didn’t die from alcohol poisoning. Speaking of, he turned to the side and coughed, curled in on himself with a groan. The memories of last night weren’t all there. Preventing him from fully accessing them was a wall, made of mist or fever he wasn’t sure, it wouldn’t let him through. All he had were fragments.

None of them explained why his arse was sore, too.

Craig turned on his back and opened his eyes. The sunlight blended him, but after a few seconds, his eyes adjusted and he could look around. The tent wasn’t there anymore. Their bags were packed and ready; someone had put out his clothes. He only now realised he was naked and reached for the boxershorts.

All his muscles were aching, like he had pulled something. He slowly got dressed and then stood up. There was no sight of Robert. “Bro?” He called out into the forest, but besides the indignant screeching of some birds as he startled them, there was no reply. “Robert?” Still nothing. Confused, Craig bent down and went through his bag in search of his phone. The movement hurt. Hissing through gritted teeth, Craig stood up and spun around. No reception. “Robert?!”

To his left there was the rustle of leaves. A moment later, before Craig could start to worry, Robert emerged. “Robert—“

“Get your bag. We’re leaving.” Robert barely looked at him as he brushed past and got his own bag. He didn’t even wait to see whether Craig was following him, leaving Craig to scramble after the older man. The pace Robert set was brutal. Had it taken them twenty minutes the day before, today they made it in half that time. Robert threw his bag in the trunk bed and closed the car door with enough strength to make the vehicle quake. Craig got in faster than he should have, considering his sore muscles, but he couldn’t be sure Robert wouldn’t just drive away without him, if he kept him waiting for too long.

With screeching tires, Robert pulled away from the lookout and brought them back on the road.

“Is something wrong?” Craig asked and threw a look over his shoulder, but nothing was following them. “Why are we—“ One glare from the other shut him up in an instance. Last time he’d seen Robert look so pissed and hostile had been when Joseph called him Rob in front of everyone, the first barbeque Sam attended after moving here. It was the kind of look that made clear Robert was absolutely not in the mood for talking. Wisely, Craig stayed silent for the remainder of the drive.

The cul-de-sac looked just like it had when they left, yet where he had found comfort in the drowsiness of the neighbourhood, it now appeared foreboding. Robert braked hard and brought the truck to a stop in front of Craig’s house, still not saying a single word. Slowly, Craig climbed out of the truck and shouldered his bag. “Robert-“

Robert reached over and closed the door. He didn’t even spare Craig a look before he drove off and left Craig standing. Frozen in shock, Craig watched as Robert drove past his house and left the neighbourhood the opposite way they’d arrived.

“What the fuck.”

-----------------

<Hey Robert, what’s wrong, man? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because it sure as hell didn’t look like that>

-----------------

<Did I do something during full moon? I can’t remember, everything’s in bits and pieces, but if I did, I’m sorry, bro, but you gotta talk to me>

<Please, bro, don’t just ignore me>

-----------------

<Either you left your truck somewhere else and walked or you haven’t been back for a week>

<Please, Robert, talk to me>

-----------------

<Robert?>

<This isn’t funny bro>

-----------------

The truck came back two weeks after the last full moon. Craig walked up to Robert’s house the morning after. As far as he could tell, no one was home, but his instincts told him that Robert was there. So he knocked. And knocked again. He knocked until his hand started to hurt and then switched to the other.

"Robert!” He yelled. “I know you're home! You can’t just keep on ignoring me! That’s not cool, bro. I don’t even know what I did!"

Next door, Joseph’s eldest, Chris, left the house. Craig felt his cold and unmoving gaze on him as the kid continued on his way. It wouldn’t have surprised him had the child’s head turned 180° to keep on staring even as he walked the other direction, but nothing of that sort happened. He toned it down after that, though, since he didn’t want the whole neighbourhood to hear.

“Robert, please. I thought we’d become bros, over the last month, and now you’re just cutting me off out of the blue.” Craig’s hand unclutched and he rested it on the wooden frame with his palm. “Please, bro, I…”

The words lay on his tongue, but he couldn’t make himself say them out loud. Defeated, he dropped his arm and turned his back to the door. The way back to his own house felt longer than it was in reality.

-----------------

<Please>

-----------------

He told himself he’d got over the whole Robert situation, but that was a lie, and he damn-well knew it. As cheesy as it sounded, Robert’s sudden absence left a hole in his life, one he, when it had still been filled, hadn’t noticed but now, that it was empty, felt all the more. And god, did thinking about it hurt. Last time he’d felt like this had been when Smashley sat him down and said, “We need to talk”. It very much felt like a divorce, too.

He dove back into work to distract himself, but no matter how much overtime he did, no matter how often he went to the gym, he couldn’t forget. Robert had said all wounds would heal, but this one just didn’t.

The girls had noticed, but he managed to assure them everything was fine. Sam tried to make him relax, but the moment Craig stood still, the pain came flooding back, so he kept on moving. Most of the time, that was a figure of speech, but sometimes, as was the case now, it was literally.

River had become cranky during the last ten minutes of his run, not used to the longer laps just yet, so he’d cut through some backyards in order to get home faster. Right afterwards, he’d put River to bed, expecting her to sleep for the next three to five hours, but only half an hour later, she began to cry.

“What is it, sweetpea?” He opened the door to her nursery and walked up to her crib. “Hey, River baby, what’s got you so…” The crib was empty, besides her. “Oh no, where’s Arnold? Didn’t you have him when I put you to bed?” Hearing the name just made River cry harder. He picked her up and bounced her on his arm, but that didn’t calm her down at all. “Did you drop him, sweetpea?”

One search through the house later, Craig realised they must have lost the capybara outside. Quickly throwing together a small bag pack with baby essentials, he jogged over to Sam. His bro opened the door looking like he’d just woken up from a nap, but straightened up immediately upon seeing them. “Bro! What’s wrong?”

“We lost Arnold,” he gasped out between breaths. “I took a long route today, don’t want to carry River all the way and back. Could you watch her while I’m gone? I know it’s your free day but-“

Sam put a hand on Craig’s arm. “Bro, of course I can. Come here, motek, come to Uncle Sam. Your Daddy’s going to find Arnold and bring him back, you don’t have to worry.” He kept up the stream of nonsensical babbling and reassurances even as Craig mouthed his thanks and walked away.

It wasn’t in any of the backyards he’d crossed, nor in the park. He searched behind every stick and stone, every tree and bush, but still came up empty-handed. His muscles burned because of the extortion, but he didn’t falter. In all his brooding, he hadn’t even noticed he lost his baby’s favourite plushie. What kind of father was he? A shitty one.

As his last resort, he began knocking on doors. Mat hadn’t seen a rodent native to South America, nor had Brian and Daisy (and they assured him Maxwell hadn’t shredded one either). Joseph’s twins just stared creepily, so he left quickly and just hoped they hadn’t found it. For a moment, he considered knocking on Robert’s door, but abandoned that trail of thought immediately. He dropped by Sam’s house to pick up River again and dejectedly walked home.

He was so busy trying to calm River down, he didn’t notice someone was standing in front of his door until the person cleared their throat. Craig’s head snapped up. “Robert?” He blurted out.

The older man shifted weight from one foot to the other. In lieu of a greeting, he lifted…

“Arnold!” River immediately stopped crying and reached for her toy. Thankfully, Robert stepped within reach, because Craig couldn’t move. After weeks of not seeing him, for Robert to just show up, with Arnold of all things… He was confused, hurt, hopeful, angry, all at the same time, and, caught in that emotional whirlwind, only managed a, “Where?”

Robert shrugged. “Lay in my backyard. Found him and remembered it’s hers, so I came to bring him back.”

“T-thank you, man.”

Robert waved his hand dismissively, then dropped his arm back to his side. Shifted weight again. Craig cleared his throat. And River, oblivious to the awkward tension between the two men, cooed and gurgled, happy to have Arnold back.

“Robert—“

“I better go—“

Both of them fell silent again. Craig tried catching Robert’s eyes, but the other man was averting his gaze, his own eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Now that Craig had got over his shock, he noticed just how bad Robert looked. His beard was long and unclean, his hair an unkempt, greasy mess. The shirt he was wearing looked like it had already been worn for weeks, if not more, and there were dark rings under his eyes.

Brown eyes.

A shiver ran down Craig’s spine. Robert seemed to notice; his brows furrowed and a dark shadow fell over his face. Without a word, he turned to leave. Craig didn’t think, he just reached out. Robert tried to pull his arm free, but Craig tightened his grip, hard enough to leave bruises. “We,” he said firmly, “need to talk.”

Robert scowled. “I swear to all the gods of religions young and old, if you don’t let me go this second, I’ll—“

“You practically threw me out of your car and drove away. I didn’t see you for two and a half weeks. You cut off all communication, after the most confusing night of my life, a night I can barely remember. You, Robert Small, do not get to make threats.” He tightened his grip and jerked his head towards his front door. “You’re going to follow me inside and wait while I put River to bed. And then you’re going to explain yourself because I damn well deserve an explanation.”

“Kid—“

“No. You don’t have a choice.”

He knew that if Robert really refused, he’d have no way of forcing him through the door, not with River balanced on his free arm. But Robert didn’t look like he’d bolt the second Craig let go of him. And he didn’t. With an air of defeat about him, Robert followed Craig into the living room and sat down on the couch while Craig put River back to bed. Somehow, he got the distinct impression that she was smug about something, but couldn’t figure out what that could be.

Robert was still there when he came back. Craig leant against the wall in front of him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Talk.”

“Craig…”

“No, I said talk, you talk. You avoided me for two and a half weeks, Robert. People don’t do that without a good reason. The evening before the full moon, everything was fine, so it must have been something that happened in the night, and I don’t remember what happened. Not all of it, that is.”

“That’s normal. You weren’t yourself.” Something about Robert’s intonation set off the alarm bells in Craig’s head.

“But you remember, right? You retain all of your consciousness while shifted. Tell me.”

Robert sighed. “You shifted. I tried to calm you down, but you growled and ran away. I shifted too, ran after you. We grabbled and I pinned you on the ground and kept you there until you submitted to me. Then we hunted.”

“That’s it? Then why—“

“No, that’s not it. For fuck’s sake, Craig, why can’t you just accept things as they are? Why are you so fucking bothered by me disappearing?”

“Because you’re my friend, Robert!” Craig pushed off the wall and pointed at the other man. “Because I thought we’d grown close that last month and then you suddenly cut me off. Because—“

“Because you have feelings for me, is that it?” Craig stared at him in disbelief, his anger gone in a flash. Robert, on the other hand, got on his feet and began pacing like a caged animal. “When will it get into your goddamn head that I’m not a good person? I stayed away from you for two fucking weeks to make you realise that and yet you still come crawling! I’m a bad man, Craig, I’m a depressed alcoholic with mood swings and so much self-hatred even you couldn’t lift the weight of it! I’m not good as a friend, I’m not good for your kids and your health, and I certainly should not be the person you get a fucking gay crush on! I’m the fucking reason you were turned! It’s my fault!”

At Craig’s stunned silence, Robert snarled and whipped around. “You want to know what happened? When you shifted back, your mind wasn’t still quite there. I knew that. Yet when you kissed me, when you threw yourself at me, I didn’t push you off and stop, I kissed you back and we had sex!”

You weren’t yourself. The words echoed in Craig’s brain. He took a step forward and reached out, but Robert pushed his hand away. “Robert—“

“I fucked a guy who wasn’t in full control of himself!”

“Robert, I’m not—“

“And you know what? If that’s still not enough to make you realise what a shitty person I am, guess what!” Robert threw his arms up. His eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "My wife didn't die in a car accident. She was in a car alright, but it wasn’t another driver who fucking killed her, that was me!"

Craig’s blood ran cold. “What? But I thought it was a drunk driver.”

“It wasn’t,” Robert snarled. “It was full moon. My third. My wife followed me as I ran into the forest, she was in her car, calling for me. I wasn’t thinking straight, I ran on the road and she didn’t have the time to brake. She jerked the wheel, the car swerved, she lost control and hit… She hit… I ran away but when I came to… I stumbled through the forest, on the road, and there she was, she was…”

Whatever he wanted to say was lost in heart-wrenching sobbing. Craig barely made it in time to catch him as Robert’s legs gave in. “Ssh, it’s okay, Robert, it’s okay…” It wasn’t, they both knew that. But Craig didn’t know what else to say. All he could do was rub Robert’s back and hold him as sobs wrecked through the older man’s body. This close, he smelled the alcohol on Robert’s breath.

Craig didn’t know how long they sat there, but his butt and knees were slowly starting to hurt, and he couldn’t imagine it was comfortable for Robert either. “Robert, bro, let’s get up on the couch. Yeah, that’s it, just lean on me, I’ve got you.” He gently guided Robert’s head to rest on his shoulder and pulled him into his lap, holding him close. After some time, the sobs quieted, even as the tears continued to leave a damp spot on his shoulder that was beginning to get cold. “Bro, you’re not a bad person. You’re a troubled man carrying more weight than fucking Atlas. None of this is your fault. You told me, you’re not in control of yourself the first shifts. You weren’t in control. You didn’t kill your wife, because you’re not the reason she crashed. It was an accident.”

“It wasn’t—“

“It was. I know me saying that won’t change anything, but bro, it was an accident. As was me being turned. That wasn’t your fault either. You’re only human… well… you’re just one person. How are you supposed to protect the whole of Maple Bay and the surrounding forests and mountains, all by yourself? And…”

Robert looked up and sniffled. Craig couldn’t help himself, he reached out and wiped his tears away. His hands stayed where they were, cupping Robert’s face. He looked so vulnerable, so damn tired, it made Craig’s heart break in half. “I’m… I’m almost thankful. Because—“

“If you say because we would never have started talking and texting, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Craig laughed. “Bro, I’m trying my hand at emotional comfort. Don’t make fun of me.” He shook his head. “As for… the sex.” He blushed, the bits he did remember flashing in his mind. “I… I might not have been in control but… bro, I’d lie if I said I didn’t think about jumping you before that. It’s not just a gay crush. You’re not the first dude I’ve ever shown interest in. But bro, if it’s up to me, you might as well be the last. I know you don’t see yourself in the best light, but bro, to me, you’re… You’re the funniest guy I’ve ever met. You’re mysterious and dark and broody and somehow I find that really sexy, but it’s not just a physical thing? Don’t get me wrong, I’m super pissed I can’t remember our first time, but I really hope- Shit, I never stopped to ask if you— Hmpf!”

He glared at Robert, but the hand stayed where it was, covering his mouth. “For the love of everything paranormal, please stop rambling.” He raised his eyebrows at Craig and after Craig nodded, dropped his hand. “You’re insane. Anyone ever tell you that? You could have everyone in this stupid town and yet you—“

“I don’t want anyone else, bro.”

Robert shook his head, but his lips were twitching and he’d finally stopped crying. Suddenly aware of their position, Craig tried scooting backwards, but Robert fisted his shirt and kept him in place with an annoyed expression. “And somehow, I believe you. Fuck, you’re so goddamn honest with everything but yourself, it’s- It’s so frustrating. You see the best in everyone and are optimistic, it shouldn’t be possible, no one’s so selfless but… But you make me want to better myself. You make me want to quit drinking and pick up the slack, just so I can be who you see. And for a month, before the full moon, I thought I was getting there, but then everything happened…” He looked away again and took a deep breath. “I’m not a good person, Craigory, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Maybe,” Craig conceded. Robert’s head snapped upward and he looked so afraid, as if he worried he had finally convinced Craig of his view. “But neither am I. We’re both self-destructive, aren’t we? But, Robert, I… I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is that these last two weeks I missed you. I didn’t know what I’d done and I wished you’d just tell me, so I could fix it.”

“You can’t fix me, Craig. You can’t expect me to—fuck, I might never get better. Or my version of better is still shitty compared to everyone else. I don’t want you to be disappointed. I’m not some charity case, I can’t be that—“

“Bro, I don’t want to fix you. I mean, I do, but it’s not the only reason.” Craig let out a frustrated huff and ran a hand through his hair. “I suck at communication, dude. Smashley always called me Communication Craig ironically, how do I word.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. Without the red eyes and tear tracks, he would almost look like he always did. “Pot meets fucking kettle.” Craig snorted. We’re both a fucking mess, one way or the other. “I still think you’re insane.”

“Says the guy who let the neighbourhood believe for half a year that his damn name is Daniel McSturgiss.”

“That wasn’t insane, it was genius.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Sure, bro.”

“If I may continue, bro.” Robert narrowed his eyes at him. “I still think you’re insane. But if you… if you give me a chance, if you… if you stand at my side, then I… I think I could become a better man. I think I could become a man worthy of your-“ He waved his hand about.

“Your…?”

“Don’t fucking make me say it, pup.” Robert growled. His eyes were sparkling again, but not, like before, because of tears, not only; there was a hopefulness to their glimmer now. He pressed closer, until they were chest-to-chest, not an inch between them, and leant down. Their noses were brushing now. It would take next to nothing to lean in… Craig saw Robert’s eyes flicker down to his lips, then back up again. “Can I kiss you, kid?”

“Please.”

And they did.

-----------------

He’s running.

The wind is brushing through his fur, like a gentle caress urging him forward and forward through the forest.

The plethora of scents in his nose are confusing, but two stand out, and he follows the strongest one, the one he is intimately familiar with.

He’s running, dirt under his paws, twigs in his fur, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

There is no prey he was hunting this time, no woodland creature running away from him, running from its doom. He breaks through the darkness of the forest, out into the cloudless night and the shine of the moon, and slows down as the overlook comes into view.

He puts his front paws on the wooden blockade and throws his head back, howling.

Immediately, there is an answer. Out of the bushes behind him comes a wolf, fur as dark as his own, but linked with streaks of grey. The other does not slow down, but tackles him, and they’re tussling, rolling around in the dirt.

He’s on his back and the other wolf above him, brown eyes staring unblinking into his own. Their tails are throwing the dust up in the air because of how hard they are wagging, thumping on the ground. He yips and leans up to lick over the other wolf’s snout, who huffs and playfully nips on his ear. He tries to wriggle free, but the greying wolf’s weight is unrelenting, keeping him in place.

Until it isn’t anymore. He jumps to his paws and yips again with his butt high up in the air. The other wolf regards him with a look that says really, but doesn’t stop him from pawing at him, from bumping their shoulders and sides together as he jumps around.

The other wolf pushes his nose down in the dirt and sniffs. Then he looks up, jerks his head back towards the forest and runs.

After a few moments, the other wolf howls.

 Robert likes the quiet of six am. Something about the hush of premorning before the sun has completely risen. Something about the buzz he can still feel in his fingertips from the alcohol.

Something about the fact that he can be alone and not have to explain himself.

Robert tips his head back and sighs.

Footsteps, quick-paced on the concrete. The even tread he has come to dread. The morning "Hey, bro" as Craig-up-before-the-god-damn-sun jogs past. All bushy-tailed and energy drunk. Robert bites his lip and adjusts his glasses to make sure he is well and truly unwelcoming.

The footsteps approach.

They slow.

Something, the air at the other end of the bench, shifts.

Robert cracks his eyes open. In the tinted monochrome of the glasses, Craig is an oil painting come to life. One foot balanced on the bench, leaning into the stretch as he fixes his iPod. Tinny music from the headphone he pops out of his ear when he realizes Robert is watching him. A grin. A goodmorning.

His cock in his shorts, framed by his thighs, by the way he has his legs split. Not even thinking about it, Robert is sure.

He stutters his own goodmorning back, dry mouthed. Thankful for the glasses and the way they hide his stare.

The lump of Craig's cock twitches as Craig leans into the stretch once more. A pop as he twists his back slightly. Another smile--for Robert's benefit, Robert is almost sure--as he adjusts himself.

"Well," Craig says, "see you around, bro."

And then he is off again.