Andrew stared at him with an unnerving silence as Julien put the rag down and reached for his forehead.

At least he doesn’t feel like he’ll explode anymore.

Julien leaned back.

“How do you feel?”

Andrew stared at his hand.

“Better.”

He shifted to stand up and Julien frowned, trying—and failing to keep him in bed.

“Stop moving, you were hurt only a week ago…”

Julien’s words slowly lost their power as Andrew tore off his bandages, revealing white scar tissue where several fresh wounds should have been.

He touched the marks on his skin with only a passing interest before stretching as if nothing was wrong. Meanwhile Julien was more than a little confused.

He shook his head.

“Wait, let me take that out at least.”

Julien put on a pair of gloves and grabbed Andrew’s hand. He needed to remove the IV catheter.

“Hold still.”

He gently peeled away the adhesive before withdrawing the needle and putting pressure on the opening. After two minutes, he went to put a bandage in its place—only to realize the hole was already gone.

He furrowed his brows before looking up at Andrew.

“...Have you—always been able to do that?”

Andrew tilted his head.

“Do what?”

Seriously?

“You just… how did you heal so quickly?”

Andrew stared at Julien for a good while, then he simply turned away and said,

“No sé.”

Julien watched as Andrew closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving him to stew in his own confusion.

—

Andrew got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, cringing at the chaffing sound it made when it came into contact with his skin. He looked at his injuries in the mirror, tracing the white marks with his fingertips.

That—is—strange.

But he didn’t think he was the cause of it.

“Arf!”

Andrew looked down, but quickly realized the sound was coming from outside the door.

“Perrita”

He opened the bathroom door, causing steam to rush out and mix with the cool bedroom interior. The beagle stared at him in awe, as if she wasn’t expecting the only thing blocking her from Andrew to be moved so quickly.

She barked again, a mixture of fear, affection, and confusion causing her to start on a low growl. It was like she both recognized him and didn’t recognize him at the same time.

And it was likely an issue with him. Andrew was sure there was something wrong with him.

For instance, it was irritatingly loud.

He could hear Julien shuffling around in the other room, only registering him as having gone to the kitchen when the sound of cereal hitting a bowl entered his ears. The pouring of the milk, the clink of the spoon as it was dropped in the bowl, the padding of footsteps as Julien made his way back to Andrew’s room.

*Tip, tap, tip, tap.*

Andrew could hear it all, and it was starting to give way into a severe migraine.

Andrew shut himself in the bathroom again, the click of the lock echoing loudly in his ears.

It wasn’t just his hearing that was weird.

Everything looked different as well—vaguely familiar yet somehow just slightly off, like the world had been replaced by an HD copy of itself.

It’s almost like I can see behind me.

It was hard to describe exactly, but his vision felt… sharper, wider, more disorienting.

Andrew closed his eyes and covered his ears, counting to ten before opening the door to greet Julien who had just entered the room. He didn’t seem to notice him at first, but when he did, he looked surprised. Then his eyes drifted downwards for half a second before shooting back up to meet Andrew’s gaze.

“I forgot to knock.”

Julien paused, briefly fiddling with his spoon before putting his cereal down and walking up to him. He scanned Andrew’s new scarring, his lips curling downwards.

Andrew’s nose twitched.

Smells like cedarwood.

There were other scents as well, but none quite as pervasive as the one in front of him.

Julien lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch him, but he lowered it and looked at his face instead.

“Are you really alright?”

Andrew continued to watch him, tilting his head and sniffing discreetly to pinpoint the scent's origins.

Is it cologne?

“I’m fine.”

Andrew paused.

“Are you wearing cologne?”

Julien’s brows furrowed.

“No?”

Andrew leaned down and took another sniff.

“New shampoo?”

Julien backed away and took a bundle of his rusty hair in hand, bringing it to his nose. Perks of having longer hair.

He made a puzzled face, raising a brow at Andrew’s dubious line of questioning.

“I don’t think I smell any different?”

He shook his head.

“More importantly, what attacked you?”

Andrew looked away.

Is it just in my head?

“A wolf.”

Andrew watched Julien go from a look of confused understanding to abject horror.

“How the hell’d you get attacked by a wolf?”

Andrew furrowed his brow. His memories of what happened immediately after he was attacked came back a little fuzzy.

“I was walking.”

He paused, mulling over his next words carefully.

“It might’ve been following me.”

Andrew licked his canines uncomfortably.

He flinched.

Sharp.

Pretending as though nothing was wrong, Andrew changed the subject.

“Did anything happen?”

Julien gave him a weird look.

“Outside of your fever? I don’t think so.”

Andrew shook his head.

“In the woods.”

He was a bit out of it when Julien found him, but thinking about it again, he hadn’t been attacked that long before Julien showed up and took him away. The wolf may’ve still been in the area, meaning he had inadvertently put Julien in harm's way.

Another failure.

Andrew made a note to himself to never let the two of them be separated while outside again.

Julien ran a hand through his hair.

“Not that I can think of…”

So there was something else.

Andrew scanned him from head to toe, looking for any sign of injury that Julien may’ve been hiding, but he found nothing. At least, nothing noticeable at first glance.

Julien took a step away from him, choosing to pick up his long forgotten cereal and take a bite. 

Andrew’s brow twitched.

The soggy cereal entering Julien’s mouth made a sickening squelching noise as he bit apart the disintegrated pieces, and the milk being displaced as the spoon scooped up one spoonful after the other was somehow even worse.

He frowned.

It was like he’d picked up a severe case of misophonia, and it was scratching his brain in all the wrong ways.

Julien shifted uncomfortably, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away.

“Are you hungry?”

Andrew continued to stare at the spoon, only just barely registering the question.

What’s wrong with me?

“I am.”

He wasn’t, but he needed to eat something anyway.

Julien’s eyes trailed down his body before shooting away again, he started towards the door.

“Then put something on. We ran out of food a few days ago.”

Andrew looked down.

He forgot he wasn’t wearing anything.

“Alright.”

Julien shut the door behind him.

—

Julien watched Andrew inhale plate after plate, slowly at first, then faster and faster as if he hadn’t realized just how hungry he actually was. He was down for a week after all, so it made sense.

Julien picked at his own food.

The fork felt heavy with his hesitation.

He flexed his fingers once and adjusted his grip, annoyed with himself. He hadn’t skipped meals. He wasn’t tired.

Still, his hand wouldn’t quite settle.

Julien looked at his restless companion.

Andrew seemed to furrow his brow every time a firework went off outside, and his right index finger went haywire whenever the group of people in the booth behind them got especially rowdy.

A fork scraped against a plate somewhere behind him and he watched as Andrew’s grip on his fork intensified enough to bend the metal.

He seems extra sensitive today.

Julien wondered if that was a remnant from being attacked so abruptly, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that would even correlate to being so jittery in the city.

Though describing him as jittery wasn’t quite right either.

Julien continued to stare at him.

Andrew’s bite seemed a bit off.

“Did you lose a tooth?”

Andrew tilted his head.

“No.”

Julien squinted at him.

It was hard to notice because Andrew hardly opened his mouth, both when speaking and even while eating, but his canines looked… longer almost.

Julien had half a mind to grab his face and take a peek inside.

What the hell is going on?

He rubbed the area between his brows.

“You wanna just take this to go?”

Andrew paused, staring at Julien with a newfound intensity.

“Yes.”

Julien wasn’t expecting him to be so definite with his answer, but he wasn’t going to pry either.

He must not like the New Year crowd.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to be on the way back to his apartment. They’d walked because the van still looked like a slaughterhouse, but Julien didn’t mind. The fresh air was better for his nerves anyway and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a little awkward.

They’d had an argument just last week, well, less of an argument and more Julien projecting his anger onto him, yet the man seemed unaffected. Andrew was even concerned about his well-being, as though he weren’t the one down for the count until now.

“You can yell at me too, you know.”

Andrew looked down at him, tilting his head to the side.

“...Why would I do that?”

Julien slid his hands into his pockets.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Andrew shook his head.

Julien glanced at him before turning his attention back to the ground, slowing as they approached the park surrounding the apartment complex. Andrew slowed as well.

Julien watched people pass them by one after another.

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. My fault, not yours.”

He looked into Andrew’s murky eyes.

“Is there anything you would like to know?”

That you don’t already.

Julien shooed the thought away.

Andrew scanned Julien’s face.

“...How should I treat you?”

Julien gave him a small smile.

“Just don’t treat me like a patient.”

He reached out his hand for Andrew to shake, and Andrew took it—his grip firm.

“I’ll try not to be difficult.”

—

A lone wolf stood at the edge of a glade, inspecting several dried blood stains and pressing its nose into torn pieces of fabric. That wolf slowly shifted, its bones creaking and snapping, its flesh squirming and squelching, until the wolf stood on two feet.

Nay—It was no mere wolf.

A man with smooth skin of warm sienna, defined curls as soft as wool and grey like raw nickel, and striking golden eyes that reflected the night back at him took the place of the wolf. He bent down and picked up a piece of the torn cloth, clicking his tongue.

“Shit.”

He had royally fucked up.