Chapter Text
This is a story about werewolves.
Mainly. I mean, it’s a story about me and I’m kind of a werewolf so I guess by association that makes the story about werewolves too, right? Nevermind, let’s start again.
This is a story about me.
I am a werewolf.
How did this happen, you might ask. Are you sure you’re not insane, you might wonder. Maybe I should quit listening to this guy now, you may think. In response to your questions I give you this brief introduction to the healthy process of becoming a werewolf:
- Do your research. Sounds boring? Dull? Like a total waste of your time? It probably is to be honest, most of that stuff online is total crap and only worth reading if you want to make yourself cry. But seriously, if you know how to research this stuff then do that because you do really kinda very much need to know what you’re actually getting yourself into. I seriously cannot stress this enough. If you don’t look this stuff up beforehand then it is most certainly going to come back to bite you on the ass and bite you hard, my friend.
- Make sure this is what you want. Go talk to an Alpha werewolf about the lifestyle, the pros and cons, the potholes and loopholes and the general rules and shit. If you want to walk like them, then you need to open up an honest line of communication with someone who knows the know. Don’t think you could manage getting furry once a month and hunting bambi? Don’t go and get yourself turned into a freaking werewolf. It’s really quite simple.
- Contacts. Get yourself some contacts. Find an expert or two. Make nice with the locals and politely ask if it’s okay for you to join the Pack. Don’t just demand to be bitten. Don’t invoke some ancient, dodgy-as-fuck ritual because you think that’s the way to go. Believe me, there are better ways to do these things. Go through the proper channels and if you want to back out then tell them you’re backing out. Don’t feel pressured because you’re likely not going to be.
- And then, once you’ve gained your tail and teeth make sure you stay close by with others of your kind. You’ll need the support. Supernatural aftercare is essential post-turn because that’s when you’re most susceptible to supernatural influence. (i.e. going rabid and letting the animal side take over indefinitely as you go on a crazy murderous rampage through the city. Not good. It’s shit like that that you really wanna avoid, okay?)
That’s how you should go about this.
That’s how you stay safe out there in the big wide world of the big bad wolf.
Take it from me, kids; if you fuck this up and do it wrong, you’ll regret it instantly.
This right here is very much a case of do as I say, not as I do, because it really really sucks if you don’t know what’s happening before it’s too late.
Now I guess I should just get on with it, huh? Tell you my tale of woe? Okay.
Before we get started, you should know that it was never my intention to get bitten. Hell, up until five years ago I didn’t even know werewolves actually existed. I just thought of them as an overused plot device. Like. They had been around in stories and films since forever. When you think werewolf you think of the movies you watched as a kid like Teen Wolf or An American Werewolf in London. Maybe Resident Evil will come to mind. That’s where you see the Hollywolf, so to speak. The overly-dramatic transformations into some grotesque hybrid of man and wolf that looked damn painful and damn ugly. (Seriously. They’re making us look bad.)
You’d think that if there was something out there that looked and acted like a freaking rabid wolfman with a crazy strong bloodlust, that people would’ve heard about it by now. Right?
Wrong. Oh so wrong.
There was something out there. Several somethings, in fact, and I was unlucky enough to get bitten by the insane one. Literally. Like, all the other werewolves I’ve come across in all the years since that fateful (and, quite frankly, excruciatingly painful) night have had perfect control even on the night of the full moon. All smiles and warm embraces and understanding. Not any of that glowing-red-eyes-over-wide-gaping-maw business. Turns out I had had one of the shittiest introductions to the wonderful world of lycanthropy you could possibly imagine. Go figure.
So no; I hadn’t wanted the bite, I hadn’t even known that “the bite” was a thing that could actually happen in our reality, and I most certainly did not deal well with receiving said bite against my own will.
And that was all five years ago. Jesus. Five years. Time sure does fly when you’re stuck having a supernaturally-powered existential teenaged crisis on your own.
Now I’m nineteen, I’m all grown up and to prove it I’m about to start my first semester at university. I thought I should mark this occasion down or something because I sure as hell did not expect to ever make it this far. But hey, I figure if I managed to face down an Alpha werewolf and win then I can definitely manage getting a degree, right? Right.
I open the truck door and get out.
The parking lot isn’t half full. It’s still a day or two before term starts so not everyone has rolled in just yet. I got here early so I could get settled in relative peace and scope out the place, get a feel for things before I start to get to know people and get dragged into college life.
I head toward the reception of the building and sign in, pick up my room key, pick up a site map so I can figure out where the hell my room is and then head back to my truck. I’m not gonna lie, it does kinda stand out like the piece of trash it is, but it’s tougher than it looks and when you have super human strength and have to drive out into the middle of open country every once a month, a truck is pretty much ideal.
That and the trunk space comes in very handy when transporting half your earthly belongings 600 miles away from home.
Home. Something in my chest pinches as I think about it. Home is where my Pack is. I’m not going to be able to see them for months. It’s going to be pretty weird not having them around all the time, but I’m hoping the pull to run back to them won’t be too strong. Besides, I’ll be surrounded by total strangers all eager to make friends and form cliques, so it shouldn’t be too hard to fill that Pack-shaped void, right? Well I hope so, at any rate.
I lift a cardboard box of stuff out of the trunk bed and head round to the back of the dorms where the map promises me there’ll be a set of stairs. I’m up on the second floor. This place it set out so there’s five flats of five people on each floor, with four floors in total. Each flat has one kitchen and one bathroom but we all have ensuite shower room things so I’m not worried about that so much. My flat is right on the end which means a few lucky fuckers are getting a room with a view.
I climb up to the second floor and use my key to beep myself into the building. I’m room five. I can’t help but laugh when I realise room five is set against the outside wall. Guess I’m a lucky fucker, huh?
I open the door and the scents of ten different people hit me at once, all covered over with a haze of cleaning products and a fine film of dust.
Ah. Problem.
A wolf’s sense of smell is a lot stronger than that of a human’s. I’m talking like, can-smell-prey-from-a-mile-away strong here. As a werewolf, that means I’ve got a sense of smell a lot stronger than your average Joe’s, and right now is it a bit of a problem.
Werewolves hate sleeping in unfamiliar places. A new house, an hotel room, the back seat of your best friend’s car; it doesn’t matter where, just know that as long as it’s somewhere we haven’t been before, we won’t get to sleep much if at all. It’s all something to do with familiarity-equals-safety. We rely on our sense of smell an awful lot too, just like the wolf. When something smells like Pack, you know it’s safe. When you walk into a room and it reeks of twenty total strangers and you realise you have to sleep there for the next couple hundred nights… not safe.
Territorial instincts and all.
But this is where I’ll be sleeping for the next couple hundred nights so I can’t back out like a little bitch. If the smell is making me uncomfortable right now, the sooner I get my stuff unpacked and spread out – the sooner I start actually living within these four walls – the sooner that sense of discomfort will leave. I shove aside the warnings my wolf is throwing at me and I step into the room.
It takes me an hour to bring up all my boxes and get them unpacked. Well. When I say unpacked I really mean I upended said boxes onto the floor and haven’t actually bothered to put all my stuff away yet. (I got distracted when I found my DS, but I’ll get around to it eventually, okay?)
Ten minutes into a thrilling game of Pokémon I hear footsteps approaching and then a tentative knock on my door. I stiffen slightly as I stand up from where I’ve been slouched next to my pile of books, dvds, clothes and toiletries. Yea, I seriously need to sort that mess out.
I open the door and there’s this guy standing there with a hopeful smile on his face. Blonde hair, soft eyes, smells like oranges and mint and nervousness. I crack a smile back as he introduces himself, apprehension leaving me.
“I’m Armin.” He holds out a hand and I shake it. I'm careful not to put too much strength into it, but guessing by the way his eyebrow raises just a hint, it was too much all the same. “I’m your next door neighbour. We’re basically like the only people here yet. Want help unpacking?”
And that's that. I let him in. I let a total stranger into my room - my territory - and my wolf barely even grumbles at the prospect. He looks at the pile of stuff on the floor and glances at me over his shoulder, hands on hips, amusement dancing along his tone as he says;
“Guess I’ll be getting to know you a little better than you might like.” And then he bends down, picks up a pair of my underwear, throws them at my face. “Let’s get this done.”
I grin.
Armin Arlert is a godsend. Seriously. This guy knows how dorm storage works and despite me bringing way too many clothes (having the ability to turn into a huge wolf at will does have some downsides, after all) we get everything put away without too much hassle. I secure myself enough cupboard and refrigerator space in the unexpectedly large kitchen, and together Armin and I make an incredibly healthy lunch: noodles. I see I’m starting off my college life on the right footing.
We spend the afternoon in Armin’s room because he has an Xbox and I don’t and really you’d be a fool not to take advantage of a nearby games console when you have fuck all else to do.
Armin’s room is a lot like mine with the layout and the thickly layered scents and the white walls and pin board by the door. Only difference is his room is tidier than mine and he’s got a bunch of posters tacked up already. We’re sitting on his bed, although at some point I’ve managed to scoot right up to the edge and now I’m practically hanging off it as I jab at the controller and yell at the screen. Armin’s laughing at me as his avatar manages to kill mine in one hit and I let out a very unmanly squeak of indignation.
“Another game?” he asks, his tone teasing. I side-eye him and nod seriously. Another game. The glee that rolls off him is nearly overpowering. I wonder how long he’s been here.
“Just two days,” he tells me when I ask. The screen’s loading and it gives me a chance to look at him properly. I set the controller down and turn to him.
“So how come you rocked up so early?” I ask. If he’s been here two days already and it’s still a few days til the beginning of fresher’s week, then he turned up way before he had to.
He shrugs. “I couldn’t wait to get away from home, you know?”
I hum in agreement but in all honesty I don’t. Home is Pack and Pack is family and I’m missing them already. Being part of the unconventional world of the supernatural means that I don’t have experience with a lot of normal crap like family drama and commitments and a steady home life. Even before the bite I still didn’t have much of that. I try to think what it would be like growing up as a normal kid and I can’t come up with much.
“Tough parents?” I guess. He laughs and it doesn’t sound faked but he doesn’t look particularly happy.
“They’re going through a divorce.” He explains it like he’s done this a thousand times. His voice is clinical and detached but as I scent the air I pick up on his hurt and his anger and something sharper beneath it all. Loneliness. My wolf whines at the back of my mind and I have to say I empathise. Armin’s eyes are far too soft and kind to be hiding all that pain inside.
“They keep buying me all of this stuff, you know. An Xbox, a laptop, a new camera… It’s like they’re trying to apologise for ruining my life or something by giving me things to distract myself with.” He sighs then and smiles up at me. “It’s not really working but at least I’ve got something to waste my time on at university.”
I laugh. I have to. He’s being brave and I know it because I know what he’s really feeling. It’s coiling around him like a cloud and I want nothing more than to flap my arms and chase it away, but you can’t chase away emotions like that.
I try my own hand at distracting him and hope I have better luck than his parents.
“You said they got you a new camera?” I prompt. Like the sun coming out his whole disposition changes, and suddenly he’s all smiles and bubbles and eagerness. I inwardly pat myself on the back as he dives across the room, game screen loaded up now but entirely forgotten. He fetches his camera and I note that it’s a big, professional-looking thing that must have cost a fortune.
“I’m studying photography,” he explains when he sees the face I’m pulling. “I do a lot of nature shots. I could show you some if you’d like?” He sounds uncertain, but hopeful, and I don’t waste time in assuring him that yes I would definitely like. My wolf is practically wagging its tail at the warm emotions coming off this guy. I’ve only known him a day but I can already tell I’m going to get along with him just fine – both sides of me are, in fact, which is a small miracle and definitely not something I shall ever take for granted.
We eventually do get around to playing another game, but by then it’s getting dark outside and I’m starting to get peckish (i.e. my stomach is putting forth a symphony performance of growls and rumbles and Armin laughs at every single one of them). Being a werewolf means I eat a lot. And I mean a lot. Seriously. I used to pass it off as a “growing teenager” thing when I first turned, but since then I’ve had to come to terms with the monumentous food bill I manage to rack up each month.
Armin suggests we order pizza, and if I had a tail it would be wagging. We end up back in my room once it arrives, camped out on my freshly made bed and surfing Netflix. Armin puts on Grimm and we make it halfway through the first season before we realise what the time is and he sheepishly apologises for taking up so much of my time when it’s my first night here. I get the feeling he’s used to apologising a lot at home for all the wrong reasons. I decide I don’t like that.
Armin leaves and I take a shower before collapsing on my bed, the towel not doing much to save the sheets. I close my eyes and let it all sink in, let my wolf filter through to the forefront of my mind as he listens to the world around him and takes in all the different scents of the room, now smelling more strongly of myself, Armin and the pizza we polished off at record speeds. My sheets smell of home and I bury my face in them, trying not to let it get to me that much, now that I’m alone, that I truly am alone.
No Pack.
No home.
Just me in this place I have yet to get used to.
I’m glad it’s just me and Armin at the moment. I’m relieved that I’m not surrounded by a load of strangers all trying too hard to make friends. I can hear Armin in his room clearly, getting ready for bed. I listen to him brush his teeth and pull back the sheets and then the tap of fingertips against a phone screen. I wonder what it would be like listening to four other people all living so close to one another – living so close to me – and not being aware that I can hear their every move. I know my wolf will hate it. He’s already starting to get antsy.
I roll out of bed and hunt for my ipod, pull the blanket that smells like Pack around my shoulders, and let the music in my ears block out the sound of everything else as I try to fall asleep in a strange room.
It works. I slip into unconsciousness and that night I dream of running through the woods with my left-behind Pack, a new face among them; Armin’s face.