He’s a damn coward.
The wolf sits on the top of the roof of the post office hidden behind one of the old chimneys that never saw any use. His hat is plastered over his face and blocks the setting sun as he curls around himself shaking with frustration.
Why did he do that?
He pictures her eyes. The shock. The lovely flush of pink and the bright ocean blues that just seemed to freeze over in confusion. He had felt his heart still and his legs move before he could think and he’d just kind of... bolted.
He hadn't heard the fallout with the blood thundering in his ears.
“You coward,” he hisses to himself.
Really, his family would shame him for that.
“Caelus.”
He yelps. The voice cuts in, the voice like a heaven’s sword, weighted and breathless. The wolf turns to see the familiar round rimmed glasses, hooked nose and the sharp amber eyes that cut into his soul standing right over him.
“M-Mrs. Grimble!” he winces at the sight of his boss. “Ah! Um S-sor-”
“Abel took over your afternoon deliveries,” she interrupts. “He’s getting your pay.”
His ears droop.
“U-Understood.”
Agatha Grimble had been the branch manager of the Maple Lakes Post Office for the last two decades. She was strict but fair and had known him since he and Abel had been delivering papers. If there was something he’d learned over the years, it was that she was not one to be trifled with.
“Caelus Aster.”
He avoids her gaze as the owl drawls his name like a judge and he feels his tail tuck between his legs and ears pull back. Ah. He was in trouble then.
“This is not like you,” she says at last. “You are brash, brazen and run head first into everything like a moron.” Caelus winces.
“So why are you running from potential happiness?”
His ears perk up and turns to see the owl’s face crinkled in a mild concern.
“Potential happiness?” he asks.
“Yes,” she says, running her fingers through the feathers on her head. “Why are you on the Post Office roof when you could be talking your feelings out with Ms Messis? Off work-time mind you. If possible.”
“I’m…” Caelus starts, the line of tension in his shoulders easing. “I’m surprised you’re encouraging this,”
She scoffs.
“I worked with my wife for three decades. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t.” He glances to the ring on her hand that catches the setting sun. “I don’t care if you get into a relationship Ms Messis as long as it doesn’t affect your work too much.”
Luna.
He shrinks a little into himself just thinking about her face again.
“B-But,” he mumbles. “What if she doesn’t want to be?”
“Then she doesn’t.” The truth cuts him deep. “But you don’t know she won’t yet. There’s hope.”
Mrs. Grimble sits beside him on the roof, dusting stray leaves with a quick brush of her wings. He watches her take her time to settle beside him with the grace of someone odler and wiser.
She takes a deep breath and sighs.
“My wife used to say, ‘You can only control yourself’” she says and he catches the softest of smile on her face. “You don’t know what anyone will say or what they’ll do. You can plan, you can prepare, but the future is written by all people at once. So, the only factor you can truly control, is you.”
Caelus hugs his knees a little tighter.
“Your wife sounds really cool,” he says.
“She was a brat,” the older woman says. “But she was mine and I was happy to have been able to be by her side for as many decades as I was allowed.”
“Oh.”
That was right.
Mrs. Grimble's wife had passed.
“See you later, Luna!”
Cookie’s voice draws their attention. Luna has her bicycle and her helmet and her warm grey cardigan on as she waves goodbye and starts heading down the hill and back home.
Watching her leave makes him panic.
"Oh, would you look at that?” Mrs Grimble smirks. “Miss Messis appears to be done for the day and by memory…”
Their eyes catch.
“You finished up about an hour ago. Better get moving.”
He stands up a little straighter.
“Thanks for talking to me Mrs. Grimble,” he smiles, all teeth.
The owl looks at him with a mild trace of disgust.
“Shut up, and just leave al-.”
But the wolf is already jumping off the roof and giving chase.
The older woman sighs, in the silence and watches the wolf run with all his might. The feathers fluff around her collar and she thinks of a smaller lady with dark brown hair and a shrill laugh that could wake the dead.
“Aggie~ I burned dinner!”
“Aggie, I crashed into a tree again! Get the ointment.”
“Agatha...it doesn’t matter if they don’t approve of us. Because we can only control ourselves.”
Agatha fiddles with the ring on her hand and feels her heart grow sore with nostalgia.
Why did she always have such a soft spot for idiots?
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