#huiusmodi

Admittedly, the thought frightens Hugh; it terrifies him. It’s only the second full moon, and there are still a myriad of things that he still doesn’t understand. 

Hugh knows he should discuss it with Harper. Harper left that door open. He would understand better than anyone. He’s proven his trustworthiness and resourcefulness and compassion as a life-mate. Hugh shouldn’t try to fight this on his own--but shouldn’t Harper let Hugh figure things out on his own for once? 

It’s not that Hugh can’t trust Harper--he does, with his whole heart--it’s that Hugh can’t trust himself. This transformation, in every sense of the word, has left Hugh into feeling as if he can’t have faith in his own damn self--that he is forced to look to someone else for answers, that his own self-reliance has faded. 

Hugh doesn’t want to feel helpless anymore. He needs to prove that he is still in control. That is how he can combat his fear, by not allowing this weakness take over.

The thoughts had been turning over in his mind for the last several days; simmering and heated and ready to boil over--no, he needs a clear head to put his plan into action. If Hugh acts on impulse (he admits, this act by itself is impulsive enough) then he can expect a very upset and distraught Harper. Hugh doesn’t want to hurt him, that’s for certain. He has to at least let Harper know what he is doing, to let him know he will be okay, that everything will be okay. 

He hopes. 

Hugh tried a few times to say it to Harper, face to face, but couldn’t work up the courage--a disturbing realization that, he, Hugh, can’t bring himself to be his usual open and honest self--and over something so important. What is wrong with him?

In resignation, and a last-ditch effort now that the day is here, Hugh scrawls out a note to leave on the bedside for Harper when he awakens. 

Harper-- I’m okay. Going out for tonight. Somewhere secluded.  Don’t look for me. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in the morning.  I love you. --Hugh

Frowning, Hugh reads the note over. He had written it hastily and hopes that Harper can at least read it--does it come across as too curt? Hugh thinks about re-writing it, but Harper stirring in his sleep causes him to panic. He needs to leave and he needs to do it now before the opportunity escapes him. 

Folding the note and leaving it on the table, Hugh wastes no time in making his way out the door, out into the wilderness. As his feet sink into the snow, he is already riddled with regret. The fear clings to him more now that he’s alone, now that Harper is going to wake up confused and possibly hurt. He wants to turn back--he wants to return to Harper, right where he ought to be--he knows they can face this together. Hugh shivers. It’s only cold because Harper isn’t here--when did he become so  needy?

This is what Hugh wants. Isn’t it? It’s too late to turn back, he tells himself. He can’t will his feet to stop. Hugh keeps pushing himself forward until the trees tower overhead and the sounds of the city hang in the air far behind him. All that’s left for him to do is swallow his anxiety, swallow these weak emotions, and hide out until tomorrow. 

Finally, alone with his thoughts and the silence of snow fall as his company, he realizes what the note really should have said.