Jean hadn't left Fred because of his contest’s deadline. Not really.

It had more to do with the annoyed look that passed over the werewolf's face when Jean was about to ask another question.

He didn't talk to people much, barely at all, as regular people did scare him a great deal—and they didn't seem to like him—so meeting Fred had gotten him too excited and he had talked more than he probably even talked to his own parents in all his nineteen years of living.

And as much as he wanted to hang with Fred a bit more, get some questions answered, he didn't want to be viewed as annoying or a pest again so he left and found himself in one of the town's popular cafés, Killer Beans.

Why am I here? I don't want to be here.

He sighed as he tried to forget about the outside world, continuing his quick sketch of Fred as a werewolf, trying to remember what he saw through the haze of panic, fear and his asthma attack.

“Wow.”

He tilted his head up, a waitress in a blue shirt and black slacks uniform looking at his drawing with an unreadable expression. Jean couldn't tell if she was awed or creeped out or a mix of both.

“You're really good,” she said, moving strands of her curly brown hair away from her freckled face.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands that had begun to sweat.

Don't think about it. She's…She's a zombie and you're in a graveyard full of other zombies. You're not with humans. You're with zombies. Relax.

“You an art student?” the waitress went on, putting her pencil behind her ear as she learned down to get a better look at it.

Jean shook his head, feeling a bit nauseous, his forehead getting damp with sweat as well.

Why doesn't she look like a zombie? Why does she look human? Why can't I think straight? I should go! I should go! I should go!

He didn't feel like talking anymore. He was scared he would say the wrong thing or be viewed as annoying, or worse, reveal his building panic.

“Looks like some mutated bear…Nah, fluffy tail. Wolf?” she asked, turning her head to look at him, a pleasant smile on her young face and her light brown eyes looking warm.

It all made Jean feel a bit worse. Like he had to talk then since she was being so friendly.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded, hoping the whole interaction would come to an end soon.

“Cool. Cool...So what will you be having? My name is Noelle and I'll be your waitress this fine afternoon,” she said politely, straightening up her back as her smile got wider.

How can people smile so much?

“Black coffee and two sugar coated ring doughnuts, please,” he said, hands moving to his lap as he began to wring his fingers together. He wanted her to go before his heartbeat got worse which would have been followed with him crying like newborn.

Noelle wrote the order down, promised it'd be over quickly and turned away, her hair bouncing with each step she took.

Jean let out a breath of relief when she left, elbows going on the small black table as he rested his forehead against the palms of his hands. He took deep, slow breaths, trying to calm the rapid beating in his chest and the panic that had been building up the longer he stayed in such a large crowd of people.

“Shit,” he mumbled, closing his journal shut and stuffing his things back into his messenger bag.

He put about ten dollars on the table before standing up and getting out of the little establishment, the bell at the top of the door seeming louder than it really was.

Outside with not that many people on the streets, Jean felt like he could breathe better but it still wasn't good enough, so he began to head for the one place he felt safe in. The one place he was able to hide and breathe better, no mum or dad, no people, barely even animals. Just trees and dirt and wind and tombstones, and even with what Jean knew could be lurking in there now, it still felt like the only place he could just be and relax.

He went back to the forest, his goal being to lose himself in his writing and the peace.



“Maybe a creature long forgotten by the old texts. Could that be its backstory? I love Frankenstein but not a sci-fi fan so can't go there,” Jean mumbled, looking down at the character sheet he had made for the new monster he planned on creating.

He doodled a light bulb on the side of the page as he tried to think of his new monster’s physical features, his back against a tree as his body faced the abandoned graveyard.

“Fangs as long as this pencil,” he said in a quiet voice.

The image of a tall creature’s glowing fangs flashed in his mind.

“Eyes…like blood. Or fire?”

The creature’s glowing red eyes pinned on him, those teeth bared.

“Claws,” he said, imagining it right in front of him. “Long black claws. Capable of slicing metal like it were butter.”

The creature’s claws twitched, raising high as it got closer to his face.

The crunch of leaves and branches made Jean jump and turn left then right, his pen and journal falling oh the ground. He felt sweat on his forehead and he was gasping for breath, chest aching.

He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to forget how scared he was when he had seen Fred's supernatural form. He didn't know why he was still feeling scared. He of all people knew one should never judge from the outside.

Besides, Jean thought as he picked up his things and tried to get back to work, he wasn't exactly like the movies. The one in the movies would've ripped me to shreds before I even knew it was coming.

He sighed, wishing he had brought his flashlight as he noticed the sun was setting. Jean smiled lightly, finding it funny that he hadn't even written anything and hours had passed by.

“Didn't expect to see you here.”

Jean let out a cry of shock, tilting his head up to see Fred in a squat and looking at him with an amused smile.

“Don't do that!” Jean yelled, eyes wide and hand over his chest.

“But I love making your heart skip a beat for me,” Fred said, pouting, and Jean pretended he didn't hear that.

“What are you doing here?” Jean asked, going through his bag for something that could help calm him down.

He paused at the sight of the anti-depressants he was supposed to take last night but shook his head and moved them out of the way, grabbing a water bottle instead.

“I come here after a full moon,” Fred said,moving to sit beside Jean.

After taking a few gulps of water and wiping his mouth, Jean said, “I've never seen you.”

Fred nodded. “I've never come to this part. Graveyards freak me out, but I caught your scent and now I'm here.”

Jean's eyebrows rose high out of shock, not expecting that at all from a werewolf.

“Graveyards…freak you out.”

Fred looked at him and laughed, turning back to look at the crumbling graveyard.

“Just because I'm a lycan don't mean I can't think this stuffy is fucking creepy. I mean spiders are fucking terrifying, no lie, and I still can't handle being in the dark when I'm alone.”

There was just something about the way he said that and actual look of terror that appeared on his masculine face that made Jean enter a fit of laughter.

He laughed so hard that his stomach ached and tears came out of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Big bad wolf is scared of the dark and spiders.” His grumbling words sobered Jean up slightly, laughter turning to quiet giggles.

“No no. That's not it,” Jean said in between chuckles, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Ah really? What is it then?” Fred asked, rolling his own eyes but there was still a smile on his face. Jean was beginning to think he was born with a smile on his face.

Letting out a whoosh of air, he tilted his head back and said with a smile of his own, “You're not what I would have expected you to be.”

“From what I've seen in your bedroom, thank fuck for that.”

Jean coughed at that, slightly embarrassed, then took another gulp of water before speaking again.

“So would you have preferred a crazed werewolf close to losing his sanity, or a loveable guy like me that's afraid of the dark and spiders?” Fred asked, looking proud of himself.

“I mean…It would've been interesting,” Jean said without thinking, pressing his lips shut as he thought that might have been the wrong thing to say.

Fred, instead of stomping off and never speaking to Jean again like Jean expected him to, barked out a laugh of his own, bumping Jean's shoulder lightly.

“Ah boy,” Fred said through his laughter. “You really are a weird one.”

Jean scowled, not sure if it was meant as an insult. When people called him that, it was usually an insult. Some jokingly, he guessed, but he couldn't really tell. People lied.

“So I guess me being me was a bit of a disappointment, huh?” Fred asked after letting out an exaggerated sigh, looking at Jean with an overdone pout.

Jean rose an eyebrow and faces forward, thinking it through.

“Ah if you have to think that hard abo-”

“No. Not a disappointment.” Jean cut him off, voice getting quieter as he picked up his journal and things and put them back in his bag.

“Oh?”

“No,” Jean said again. “Just not what I would have expected. But still…pretty good. I can actually talk to you.”

Jean knew Fred had no idea what he meant by that, but that didn't really matter. All that mattered right then was him in his safe place, watching the sunset and imagining what it'd be like to travel on a werewolf.