there is a sharp ringing sound that jerks him awake. it’s terribly close to his ear. a groan escapes him when he snaps his eyes open, squinting at the light shining on his wrist. why the fuck does he have an alarm clock set on his phone ? he never has alarms — oh. right. full moon. pack. meeting. “fuck me.” what escapes his lips is much less comprehensible to be honest, as he shakes his wrist and thinks about shutting the sound and making the artefact disappear. silence comes back. almost, silence. because there is someone else breathing right next to him. his nsoe comes to bury itself in the hair, arm coming back to hold him as it was initially doing. “s’rry,” he mumbles, pressing himself against the naked body, letting sam’s scent wash over him and filling his heart with something he can’t quite describe. finally, he slept. not enough, clearly, as he feels a tiredness behind his eyelids. he does not mind. he does not, because this lack of sleep means having sam again, and he would never be mad about that. his head hurt lightly. he hoped sam kept some hungover potion, else the meeting was going to be a nightmare.
he fought hard against the desire to go back to sleep. he just wanted to stay there, holding him. he did not wish to leave. he did not wish to tell him he had to go, either. dreaded it, even. his heart feels heavy at the thought. for a brief moment, he considers staying. if he explained, they would understand, right ? it was important. sam was important. he considers it. a small sigh escapes him. he knows he can’t do that. because if sam is important, the pack is family. and he can’t put them after anyone else — apart from his own brother. there is a small lump in his throat, when he slides his mouth next to sam’s ear. he places a few kisses there, buying himself some time. he does not want to tell him he will go. not when they just found each other again. but at least you’re telling him this time, and you are coming back. “got a pack meetin’ in half an hour,” he keeps his eyes close. he is a coward this morning. he does not wish to see the color of his hair. “full moon tonight. can’t missit.” there are a few heartbeats. “gotta go baby, s'rry.”
There is a sound coming from afar. He doesn’t perceive it at first, just a buzzing that slowly makes its way to his consciousness, a wave now pounding on his temples, regularly. There is something painful to it - how much did he actually drink last night - but it is not only that. It feels like his whole body awakens, aching, bruised, and yet it brings a slight smile to his dry lips, bitten to blood last night. Because there is a warmth all around him, a sensation so familiar it makes him melt instantaneously, brushing away all of the pain, everything. He is here. Flashes from the night come back to his mind, images of his face, of his body, sounds he made, so different from the growl and the excuse he mutters right now. Samran only moans as he slides back, to get even closer to him, to find a better position to get back to sleep. It felt so perfect. It felt so right. It felt like being whole again, being reunited with him. Ans yes maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe he should have given him hell but who cares when Kuma is back, when he spent the night over, when his body is marked by him again, when everything seems to be back to normal, when he can just enjoy this a little more. He has the day off - and he cannot think of a better way to start his birthday than laying in bed with him. They both need some well deserved rest and… and his partner doesn’t seem to agree with him, kissing his neck, his breath tingling his ear. A slight moan is heard, while he mumbles something resembling: « Aren’t you tired enough? » Because he certainly is. But then again if Kuma is persuasive enough, maybe he will find some strength to go at him once more. They both seem to have been craving each other so… And he is ready to turn and to kiss him when he is stopped by his words.
“got a pack meetin’ in half an hour,” There is something of a stiffness in the way is head finds the pillow again, before he can even comprehend fully what is going on. What…? “full moon tonight. can’t missit.” Is he…? “gotta go baby, s'rry.” « You serious? » His whole body tensed between his arms. Oh, his arms. Suddenly he cannot take them anymore. In a swift motion he escapes them, escapes him. The explanation doesn’t matter. Actually nothing matters at all but what he just said. He is leaving. Again. His eyes are open now and they just see the mess of clothes on the floor, some furniture they kicked as they entered his room. It is as if he could perceive the ghosts of what they were last night, as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hands come for his face as if to erase them, make them go away. « I’m a fucking fool… » Why Sammy? Why the surprise, why the hurt? Because if things that were said in the midst of it all, because of what he felt when they held each other, what he thought he saw in the actor’s gaze. « ... a fucking fool… » He repeats. He is not sad, no. Not this morning. He is angry. Finally. After all those days, all those weeks were he just was miserable, and blaming himself for having put his trust in someone hat just didn’t care, it finally explodes. « You just ran outta options ´cause you fucked all of Kanto? And it was my turn again? » He stands up. He cannot stay there, on those sheets they wrinkled, on his bed once again. Of course there were at Sam’s place. Because nothing has changed. Why would it have? « So that’s it uh? Or is it « only me » that can handle you on those nights? » The words that clung to his consciousness, that had him hoping, believing… « You’ll go, ghost me again and you come back in three weeks to get some? » He is angry and still he feels like crying. How stupid can he be? Letting him in again without an apology, without anything? « I’m not a boy toy, Kuma! » Insecurities that have been creeping for so long, under the ex-escort skin. That are bursting out again, as he stands naked, in front of the one he has such deep feelings for and who, once again, is walking all over them.
of course it goes badly. he hopes for it not to. he hopes, and it’s no use. “you serious?” yes, he is. he terribly is, because the pack is something he does not joke about. because leaving him is not something he jokes about. he pinches his lips and keeps it in. he is no right to snap. not when sam is so clearly hurt, not when he is not in his arms, not when he laments himself this way. “i’m a fucking fool…” kuma is the fool. the fool for leaving him, for daring to compare him to the one he had before. but how does he explain ? how does he tell him, that he felt so good he was terrified he would be another monster ? how does he tell such a perfect man, the beast he can be is scared of him, of who he might make him become ? he gets up in a sitting position, and looks at him, looks at his back and his hand itches to get to him. it almost does. “you just ran outta options ´cause you fucked all of kanto? and it was my turn again?” it stops. he stands up. kuma almost growls. “don’t you fucking say that.” don’t compare yourself. they don’t matter. can’t he see ? isn’t he obvious enough ? kuma feels like it’s written all over his features. “so that’s it uh? or is it « only me » that can handle you on those nights?” to get his own words back at him hurts more than he can say. especially when they are true. yes it’s only him that can handle him those nights. he is the one that he wants. the one that feels so right during such moments. “you’ll go, ghost me again and you come back in three weeks to get some?” how it hurts. the wolf whines within, so awake and so here, so eager to come out — because it knows it’s soon. kuma flinches and backs away a little. he should have never done that. but sam is raising his voice. sam is raising his voice and he can’t let him, he can’t. “i’m not a boy toy, kuma!” he speaks without thinking. he snaps and half growls, grits his teeth. “no ya’re not a fuckin’ boy toy sam, ya’re the man i want !” there is a flash. there is a flash of someone else, but he keeps it quiet. now is about them. now is not the time to tell him he is not the only one he wants this way. “i fuckin’ want ya, ok ? yeah i desire people all the fuckin’ time and when i do, i get them and i fuck them and i fo’get about them. i don’t fuckin’ fo’get about ya.” his eyes burn of some kind of revolt. he can’t let him think that. he has reasons to. so many. it feels so wrong. “i wanna fuck ya and kiss ya and hold ya and spend the fuckin’ mo’nin’ chillin’ in bed with ya, ok ? i want ya.” he can’t put more feelings in the words. he can’t put more of himself in it. “an’ last time i did it fuckin’ broke me.” he is saying too much. there is so much in his voice, so much in his eyes, it hurts in his chest. it’s anger and despair talking, it’s the wolf desperate to keep him, to know he will be able to come back after the moon. to come and rest in his arms and feel protected and cared for. “that’s why i ran. i ran ‘cause i got scared like a lil boy, it’s that what ya wanna hear ?” he won’t be ashamed of that. he will be of leaving him, but not of trying to protect himself. “so yeah, i’m gonna go. i’ll go ‘cause it’s the pack and it’s family and i don’t have a fuckin’ choice. but then i’ll come back. for ya.”
His heart is gonna explode. Everything feels so wrong and he wants to rip his skin off, want to erase all the marks he can feel, that blossomed during the night. He wanted them so bad. To remind him… remind him what? How stupid he is. How broken his heart still is, still will be. Fuck, why? He ignored his growl. Why wouldn’t he say this? What is different from last time, different from the heat they shared, that he mistook for something more where there was absolutely nothing? If he… if he felt just half what ran through him right now, he would have never treated him that way. “no ya’re not a fuckin’ boy toy sam, ya’re the man i want !” “Shut up.” This is such a low sound that maybe he hasn’t even been heard. The actor needs to stop saying that. Gosh he wants to smash his own skull against the wall. “i fuckin’ want ya, ok ? yeah i desire people all the fuckin’ time and when i do, i get them and i fuck them and i fo’get about them. i don’t fuckin’ fo’get about ya.” Liar, his eyes say as they lay upon him. Liar, his clenched fists scream. He saw him. He saw him forgetting about him in that club, his hands all over him, whoever he was. How can his words be truthful? He couldn’t even look at another one. “i wanna fuck ya and kiss ya and hold ya and spend the fuckin’ mo’nin’ chillin’ in bed with ya, ok ? i want ya.” This makes his breath shorten and he closes his eyes. No, Sam, no... But his heart beats so loud as the words sink in, and echo in his brain. But that’s it. Just words. Just fucking words. “an’ last time i did it fuckin’ broke me.” “So breaking me was better?” He cannot prevent himself from speaking. It is unfair, it’s so unfair. He didn’t run away because of his ghosts - and boy how he could have. No he doesn’t know a thing about what Kuma is talking about. But that doesn’t really matter right now.
“that’s why i ran. i ran ‘cause i got scared like a lil boy, it’s that what ya wanna hear ?” ”No.” That’s not what he wants to hear. But he should have asked for it before giving in to this desire, to this madness. Now… now it’s too late. “so yeah, i’m gonna go. i’ll go ‘cause it’s the pack and it’s family and i don’t have a fuckin’ choice. but then i’ll come back. for ya.” “Yeah. Like you did last time.” His voice broke. His voice broke and his eyes watered and he is looking away, butchering his lower lips with his teeth. “You… you can’t do this to me.” And yet he is. And yet he will. “D’you just imagine what that’s been like for me? Just… just for a fucking second?” His gaze comes back to him and he feels it. He feels the color of his hair changing, matching his aching heart that just had enough. “You just… you made me feel like I was special. When I offered you not to bother you, to get the fuck home ‘cause I knew we weren’t there yet.” He swallows his saliva, swallows more words and mumbles: ”Or there at all… whatever.” His hands go to his skull and his fingers grab some indigo strands, as if to anchor himself in the present. “You… fuck, you fucking disappeared on me.” A chuckle. “Well not exactly. You fucking the world was like, everywhere.” And it hurt him so bad. “And last night you come, not an explanation, not a ‘sorry’, nothing and… and now you fucked me, you tell me you go ‘cause there’s more important than me...” He laughs. “Well who am I kidding everything is more important than me uh?” He doesn’t know where all of this comes from. He doesn’t know how he is there, standing in front of him, and telling him off. Maybe because he has had enough. Maybe because… “I don’t believe you.” He lets go of his hair and his head goes from left to right: “How can I? Last time you said goodbye… No actually, you didn’t even say goodbye.” It’s all so confusing. It’s all so painful. And he is so hangovered. “So yeah. Go. Whatever.” His knees bend and he grabs the man’s shirt to throw it to him. “But don’t expect me to trust anything you say right now.” ’Cause you didn’t apologize. ’Cause you are not sorry. ‘Cause you were just horny ‘cause it was the fucking full moon coming. And right now, Sam doesn’t know who he hates the most: the man in his bed, or himself.
“so breaking me was better?” he can’t understand. how could he, when kuma never spoke of it ? when it was not even something he could have found if he had decided to do a bit of online stalking. and it hurts him, to see sam thinking this way. there is a very selfish part of him that wants to get angry, to tell him how he is being unfair right now, that he can’t tell him this. he shuts it down. sam has every right to think this way. and kuma never wanted to hurt him. to break him ? it’s his own heart that breaks at the thought. “yeah. like you did last time.” but it wasn’t like last time. he did not tell him he would come back, last time. can’t he see the difference ? can’t he see him opening up as much as he can, trying to make it right this time ? he has to. he has to understand, for kuma needs to have him back, he needs to fix this — it did not matter how. “you… you can’t do this to me.” do what ? tell him he wants him, that he won’t make a mistake this time ? “d’you just imagine what that’s been like for me? just… just for a fucking second?” he did and he did not. he refused to think about it at the beginning, for he knew it would break his resolve. then he did. then he did and stopped, for it hurt way, way too much. but now he thinks he is ready for it. to see it with his own eyes. the indigo pierces through his heart like a dagger. “you just… you made me feel like i was special. when i offered you not to bother you, to get the fuck home ‘cause i knew we weren’t there yet.” but you told me you loved me that night. how did you think that made me feel ? “or there at all… whatever.” no, no he was right, they were not there yet. maybe he should not have done it. but how would it have looked, then ? wouldn’t it have been worse ? how long would they gone for, pretending it meant nothing, pretending they were not dating when they did every inch of it except using the word ? “you… fuck, you fucking disappeared on me.” another jab to the heart. “well not exactly. you fucking the world was like, everywhere.” he never hated being famous more. he never hated having this fucking stupid reactions more. “and last night you come, not an explanation, not a ‘sorry’, nothing and… and now you fucked me, you tell me you go ‘cause there’s more important than me…” fuck. he hadn’t apologize. he thought he had, somehow, he thought sam could feel it through his words, through the way he held him last night, how he could not stop stealing his breath away. “well who am i kidding everything is more important than me uh?” “no,” a voice hoarse even of this own ears, but he can’t let him say that. “i don’t believe you.” once more, there is some anger that wants to come out. he had never been so sincere with someone before. and he did not believe him ? what did he need, him crawling on his knees to beg forgiveness ? he wouldn’t do that. not even for him. “how can i? last time you said goodbye… no actually, you didn’t even say goodbye.” see ! see, it’s different ! “so yeah. go. whatever.” the fabric hits his chest without him making one move to grab it. “but don’t expect me to trust anything you say right now.” he looks at him. he looks at him, and it builds up in him. and then he is moving.
he moves and comes in front of him. he moves and his hand finds the fucking blue hair, tugging at them so the other man is looking at him. the actor’s eyes burn of that kasai fire, of the energy that makes the tip of his fingers shake. “fuckin’ listen to me,” it’s more frustration than anything else. he needs him to listen, to understand. to believe him, at least a little. he opens his mouth to speak again. but then, he is at a loss of words. what is he supposed to say ? what would make him believable ? he does not have enough time to go to the beginning of it all — he is in no state to, and he is certain sam isn’t ready to hear all of it. he wants to apologize. he wants to tell him how he feels. he wants to tell him how terrible it was without him, how he could not sleep, how he has not seen his own bed since sam left it. he wants to tell him he actually got hit a couple of times by his fuck for the night because he moaned the wrong name. he wants to tell him he does not dare asking for hugs and cuddles and every sweet things he likes, but that he feels like he can with him. he wants to tell him he is ready to make his alphas angry at him again, just for a couple more minutes with him. look at you, already bending the rules. shut up. the fingers in sam’s hair get looser. it slips from the strands, slips to his face. feather-like touch from the shaky fingers. the fire in his eyes turns to ember, and it’s his whole face that softens. why would he even fight this ? why would he even fight sam ? “m’so sorry,” it’s soft and broken and everything he is not supposed to be right now. it seems that even the wolf has quieted down. “i should’ve never treated ya this way,” not when he deserved the world, not when he wanted to buy the moon for him, “m’goin’ to make up for it. when all that shit’s over. i’ll come for ya.” the resolve makes the fire light up again, makes the wolf stand up again. “i’ll fuckin’ show ya that i want ya and that i wanna be with ya and that for once in my fuckin’ life m’serious about somethin’.” his hand finds his throat, caresses the marks he left there. “m’goin’, but i’ll come back. i fuckin’ promise baby, ok ? i promise ya.”
He is determined. This doesn’t make things easier, believe him. ‘Cause the room smells of them, ‘cause they trashed it as they used to. ‘Cause from where he stands he can see his reflection in the mirror of his cupboard, and the marks that have blossomed everywhere on his skin. Never has he been more thankful to be able to hide them, to erase them. And there is this deep blue color that is growing brighter and brighter, moving from indigo to royal blue that can’t be mistaken for black nor purple. His eyes have left Kuma and if he isn’t moving in the next seconds, he will go for the door and open it for him. But the actor does get up. But not in the direction he expected. He is on him in an instant, hand in his hair. And the tugging, and the fire in his eyes, in his voice, makes him want to recoil, for an instant. “fuckin’ listen to me.” Why? The words die on his lips. He wants to disappear but still he is there, standing his ground, not giving in. And he’ll do so this time, without wavering, because it didn’t when Satsuya got rid of him. So he owes it to himself. And yet as the breaths passes, as they don’t speak, it seems as if the traits changed. As if progressively, he could picture the Kuma that took him home that night. No… He would moan. He would cry and tell him to stop, not to do that to him. But he doesn’t, for the fingers become tender. For they leave the scalp to find his face. Shiver under the soft touch. “m’so sorry.” There is something clicking in his chest, at the words, that come to find his broken organ, trying to put some kind of repairing balm on it. “i should’ve never treated ya this way.” It’s sincere. It must be, no one lies with such ease. No one is that cruel. Kuma is not cruel. Not like that anyway, he wouldn’t… His brain is trying to warn him, but he doesn’t want to listen to it. He wants ti listen to the man in front of him.
“m’goin’ to make up for it. when all that shit’s over. i’ll come for ya.” The heart starts beating again. “i’ll fuckin’ show ya that i want ya and that i wanna be with ya and that for once in my fuckin’ life m’serious about somethin’.” It’s powerful, what he says. It makes him shake, slightly, as the bruises are found, as he can feel his pulse racing. Can you tell what this does to me? “m’goin’, but i’ll come back. i fuckin’ promise baby, ok ? i promise ya.” There is so much in the gaze, in the touch, in the words, in everything that it makes his resolve disappear slowly. He wants to believe him. He desperately needs to, actually, for telling him to go has been so hard. For those weeks have been nightmarish, for even if he told Han that he could and would do without him - and that he felt like he truly could, kissing him… some part of him just broke at the idea. But there’s apprehension. There’s fear, there’s this certainty he will just look at his phone non stop and hope for a message - and he won’t be able to send one tonight, and that will still eat him up… Of the restlessness he will feel until he keeps his promise - if he keeps his promise. His tongue comes for his lips as a reflex and then he sighs. He is about to give in, to kiss him, to… ”Alright.” No, he shouldn’t. He can’t, not until he is sure, not until he actually comes back to him. Not until he writes, not until he doesn’t let him down. Because this was too painful, too awful. He cannot go through this a second time. And yet… ”You’ve three days.” Maybe having a deadline would make it more bearable. His arms crossed - he is cold, and even if the other man is right there, it feels like his heat cannot do anything for him right not. ”After that, you can lose my number.” And if the words are assured, if the tone is strict, the eyes he lifts to meet his tell a different story. There’s hope in there. Shyness. Clouded by a clear message: ’don’t do this to me again. Please…’
what is he expecting ? for him to fall back into his arms after only a few words, to trust him again completely so easily ? he does not know how any of this works. he only had one serious relationship in his whole life. it made him want to never have another one. it made him almost completely give up on the man in front of him. it made him hurt him, enough to make the hair turn blue and the eyes go so sad. he only had one previous experience, and he is not going to use it as a pillar for that one. he is not sure where he is going with all of that. what he is sure of, however, is that he will do whatever is needed to earn sam’s trust back. if what he says is not enough, he’ll do more. if what he says is enough, he’ll still do more. he deserves it. he has things to make up for. his heart beats too hard in his chest, and it has nothing to do with the usual moon energy. “alright.” there is an actual sigh of relief that escapes him, echoing to the one spreading in his chest. you don’t deserve him. “you’ve three days. after that, you can lose my number.” “i’ll be back tomorrow,” there is no need to think about it. as if he could stop thinking about him until then. as if he won’t run to him as soon as he could. he won’t leave him time to question his intentions, to believe his promise was empty. “it’s a promise baby.” he never does the ones that mean nothing. he never promises he’ll be on time, for he is always late. he never promises he will be good, for he does not know how to behave. he never promises to look or listen to something, for he always forgets. but this one, he means it. he looks at him some more before finally moving, getting his clothes back on him, truly not caring of the smell they carry — not like it would be the first time, and he is going to be on time anyway. he stops before leaving, though. he stops and goes to sam once more. his lips come to finds his cheek. he has probably never been more delicate with him. “thank you. i’ll see you tomorrow.” he means it.
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