The song for this fic is RY X - Howling
Going into Senior year should've been a breeze. I should've been excited. But I wasn't.
School for me was a never-ending rerun of That 70's Show and I was Foreplay. Except I didn't get Donna or have Hyde as my best friend. Friends and I didn't really work. Not that I didn't try. People just thought I was weird.
Maybe I was, but turning into a Werewolf once a month was weird. I figured if I let them think that then there would be no one to get hurt.
So I walked through the double doors with my head hidden under my red hoodie, my headphones attempted to drown out the cacophony of the student body. The jocks, the geeks and nerds, the musicians, and the outcasts. I didn't even fit in with the outcasts. And a lot of them could be seen eating their boogers on rare occasions.
After grabbing a locker assignment I threw my books into it. I never read them anyway. All I needed was a small notebook and a pencil that I tucked behind my ear in time for the warning bell to ring for first period.
With my hands in my jacket pocket I headed to my first class in dread. I'd be glad when this high school thing was over. It was a bore. There were a billion things I could be doing with my time. Like getting away from the small town mindset of homophobia. If I could run away right now I'd go somewhere where no one knew me, somewhere I could get lost in a crowd. Maybe I'd go somewhere I could focus on my art. I had a fascination with one of the best blind artists, John Bramblitt. When I saw his stuff I was mesmerized and I wanted to make people feel that with my art.
I stopped at a water fountain, bent down to take a few sips, then rose with the cold water sliding down my thirsty veins. My eyes closed at the delicious feeling. I wondered if I could somehow capture that feeling in my art.
With my eyes open I headed to class, my hand pushed my hoodie back and ran through my dark locks that were in desperate need of a haircut. It was getting floppily long that it fell into my eyes often until I messed with it so it was back. Scott told me I looked like a young Leo, but I didn't see it.
When I looked straight ahead I hadn't expected to be staring into a pair of grayish blue eyes. No one really looked at me. I liked it that way.
Those eyes belonged to a guy, a hot guy. From the distance, I could tell he stood a full three inches taller than me, at least. His cropped hair was shaved on the sides, much like the other fuck boys in our generation. You could tell he was a fuck boy from the way he looked. His black t-shirt was loose and tight enough to show off what he had. It was hard to miss, he was a big guy. Wide frame, thick arms, even thicker legs in dark jeans. His jaw was squared but covered in a light beard.
His eyes scanned me up and down.
Frankly, I freaked out and veered off to the side for class with a less than stellar exit.
Of course, that's what I did. A hot guy looking at me hardly ever happened. This town was on a shortage of hot guys, let alone hot gay guys. If that guy was gay, I didn't know, but he had checked me out, which could've been in a completely heterosexual way.
In class, I hoped I wouldn't have to run into him again. Hot guys were a distraction from the goal. Get out of this town with nothing holding me back. Being on my own, it made it kind of easy to have that mindset.
On my way to a seat in the back, a paper ball flew past me and I let it even though I could see the act itself happen in slow motion. People thinking I'm weird and a freak would be too much.
"Dunbar, get any ass this summer?" Jackson, a Lacrosse Jock teased. "Give any?"
A few kids laughed, but I ignored them as I slid into my seat. Their homophobia did little to hurt me. In fact, I was used to it. Not many people here felt that way, but enough that it was prevalent, and enough that I wanted to escape it.
I pulled the drawing pen from my ear and went to work on a smaller version of what I would expand on at lunch in my sketchbook that sat in my locker.
"Hey, Liam," Another boy asked across the class. "What does dick taste like?"
The entire class erupted into laughter.
I only turned up the volume on my phone, the music did little to drown them out.
"Anyone sitting here?" A deep voice asked.
My eyes slid up the same body I scoped out a minute ago in the hall.
He stood by my desk.
"Hnh?" I asked nervously.
He pointed to the empty seat next to me. "The seat, is it for someone else?" He offered a slight grin.
My head shook.
He sat down as the teacher appeared.
I took out my headphones but continued to draw in my tiny notebook. I supposed I liked the size of it because it was a big fuck you to the educational system. Look how important your selective information was, I can fit it all in this pocket-sized journal. There was hardly anything worth learning in high school, but I still came as a promise I made long ago.
Every so often I'd look up to find the hallway guy staring at me or my art. I tried not to show how uncomfortable it made me, but if his slight grin was any indication, he could tell.
Luckily, class went by without another hitch.
As soon as the bell rung for second period I pushed my headphones back in and headed for the hall before any more jokes could be thrown my way. I slid the pencil back behind my ear and pulled my hoodie back down, some of my hair fell from under it into my face.
Someone pulled it down.
I turned, prepared to give whoever it was the finger, but stopped myself when I saw it was the hot hallway guy. I took out my headphones in curiosity.
"Are you lost?"
He offered a boyish grin that shouldn't have looked boyish on him considering he looked like a man. "A little. Could you help me out?"
With a quick debate in my head about why I shouldn't, I preceded to ask, "What are you looking for?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
A little shocked at his response I cracked a grin with a laugh. "Yeah, been there." I took his schedule from his hands and read over it. "Theo Raeken," The top of his paper said. "Nice name." My eyes glanced at him.
"Thanks,"
I leaned a little closer and pointed to the second class. "That's upstairs. I'll take you there."
When he took back his schedule his hand brushed mine and our eyes met.
I instantly averted my gaze with what I knew was a fierce blush.
We walked down the hallway in awkward silence.
"I saw you drawing in class, is that something you like to do often?" He asked.
"There's not much else to do around here," I couldn't keep the sardonic tone out of my voice. "Besides party with the Lacrosse team if you're into that."
"You're not into that?"
I looked at him with a raised brow. "Why would I be?" I didn't mean for it to come across as arrogant, but I thought it did.
His eyes ran over my face. "So what are you into?" He snaked the notebook out of my hand while I was distracted by his eyes. He flipped through the pages in interest. "These are good."
"You're about the only one that thinks that," I waved off even though I was beyond nervous he had a reflection of my most inner thoughts.
His brow quirked up. "Those kids from class, they make fun of you."
My hand ran through my hair nervously. "Just when you think everyone accepted gay people there's a bigot waiting to smack you down."
He laughed. "It didn't seem like it phased you though,"
My eyes met his. "That's because it doesn't. As soon as I have that diploma I'm out of here."
We walked up the stairs.
"Let me guess," He followed a step behind. "Some place that you can work on your art, maybe blend into the crowd until you become a nobody?"
I almost missed a step because my eyes flashed to his and I hadn't been paying attention. "Yeah..." I agreed, trying to figure out how he knew that. Maybe I wasn't as deep as I thought I was.
"You have that look in your eyes." He joked with a smile, his eyes on mine as we turned the corner and headed up more steps. "Like you don't want to have your feet planted too firmly in one place for too long."
I played along. "How would you know that?"
"With eyes that blue, it's easy to see everything." He handed over the book, intentionally brushed his fingers against mine this time. "And your art speaks for itself."
Trying to figure him out, I watched him.
"Something I said?" He asked with a half grin.
My head shook, then it nodded in reconsideration. "Everything you said," I stepped around a couple making out. "I don't really talk to people, they don't really talk to me." Interest rang in my eyes.
His grayish blue eyes scrub her up in amusement. "You don't like that I'm talking to you?"
"No, I like it a lot," I rushed to reassure him, then felt embarrassed by my eagerness. "I mean, it's nice."
He nodded with a teasing grin. "As long as it's nice."
My eyes went to the passing doors just to not have to stare at him. Ever since he opened his mouth it felt like I was under the heaviest microscope.
"Where are you thinking of going when you graduate?" He asked.
I blew out a heavy breath. It had been so long since someone had asked me such probing questions that I didn't know the answers to them.
"Anywhere other than here," I glanced at him. "What about you?" I opened the door for asking questions about him. We had a limited amount of time until we had to go our separate ways before the bell rang.
Saying he didn't seem real felt stupid but he didn't seem real. Why was he talking to me? A guy that looked like him didn't talk to guys that acted like me. To even be having this conversation was an anomaly.
Maybe I was being dramatic, but this was the reality of it.
"What are you even doing here anyway? A guy like you in a small town sticks out like a sore thumb."
His forehead crinkled, his mouth held a questioning pout. "I came looking for something, I guess. Maybe the same thing you want to find when you leave."
My brow arched. "And what is that?" I tried to give off a carelessness attitude.
"A purpose."
I stared at him. He had me by the balls, metaphorically speaking. Anyone could tell that I lacked a purpose just by looking at me, sure, but Theo could tell just by talking to me for five minutes. What did that say about me?
My eyes went to the classroom he was about to disappear into and cleared my throat.
He took a tentative step forward. "Sorry if I overstepped, but you remind me of someone." He gave a shy laugh that didn't seem like it would fit on a person like him. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."
"First day jitters," I assigned the blame.
"No," He shook his head a little, his eyes met mine.
I looked around the halls for some indication that other people could see him. Maybe I was losing my mind.
As if he could tell my thought process he laughed. "Thank you for helping me out." He pointed to class with the hand that held his backpack over one shoulder.
"It was fun," I said sheepishly.
He grinned knowingly. "That's one word for it." He glanced at the classroom. "Guess I better go, it was nice meeting you, Liam." He held out a veiny, beefy hand that I already knew would swallow mine up.
Still, I shook to make sure. My eyes focused on our hands together, a feeling of warmth crept up my arm and spread over my skin. My nose caught a scent that it failed to detect before. His scent. It was similar to mine.
He was like me. A Werewolf.
Since I've been here there had only been two. Scott and me. That's how it's been since he bit me three years ago and we moved here. There were three of us now, I couldn't believe it. I was about to question how he knew my name, but roll call would be the most obvious choice.
He pulled his hand away as he backed away, the heat his fingers trailed along mine was like a match to a spark. His now even more intriguing grayish blue eyes tore from mine, he turned his back and strolled into the classroom.
The bell rung, which let me know that I was late. Not that I cared. I walked to my next class through what felt like cement. A nagging pit in my stomach rose and I didn't understand what for until the next day passed and there was no sign of him. A week went by with no appearance of Theo Raeken and again I had to imagine if I only conjured him up in my mind. A month later I still couldn't shake the memory of him, not because he was someone that showed interest in me, but because he was like me. The only other person I've met like me was Scott, which didn't count because he was the one that gave me The Bite.
When he asked me repeatedly why I was so distracted all of a sudden I only answered that I was trying to find a new medium in my art, that it needed lots of thought and clarity to manifest. It sounded artsy, so he went with it. Scott and art weren't two things that were usually synonymous. He was all about soccer.
As the months dragged out I felt the burden of this town lessen on my shoulders. My once neutral colored wardrobe brightened up. Not by that much. Or maybe not at all. I threw out all my hoodies after I found the medium I was looking for; charcoaling and sculpting. It was dirtier, grittier. Once I was done with a piece I felt like it was in me, on me, and out of me. The black grit and gray clay evidence all over my hands.
I stopped blasting music into my eardrums every time there was an opening just to push everyone away. The more time that ticked by the less I cared about what they had to say when I could hear it clear as day. Before, I supposed I had a Donnie Darko vibe. Now it was more a Donatello with emo vibes. But I wasn't emo. I was just me.
The day of Graduation we packed the truck with everything we wanted to take. With the last box in the bed, I jumped to the ground. My long hair flew into my face so I pulled it back in a bun low at my neck. I closed the trunk door, then hopped into the passenger seat. With a look around, we were Arizona bound.
I twirled my thumb ring around in thought. Beacon Hills felt like a prison for so long that I felt like a prisoner. Now things looked up for us. Not to sound too optimistic but anything was possible.
Blue skies all around, the radio filled the empty space in the truck. Scott and I weren't talkers. Sure, we talked. We were all we had. Apparently, I was the little brother he never had. When I asked him years ago why he turned me he said he was lonely. A family of Hunters killed his family. My family was a different story, one that I usually blocked out with my art or my earbuds.
Which I later slid into place to get a nap in as I leaned my head against the door frame, hoping I'd wake up and we'd be in Arizona. It was about a fifteen-hour drive that we'd switch off on in a few hours.
We came to a halt that shook the truck a bit from the gravel.
I looked around to find us at a rest stop, the sky had darkened to a navy denim. Night time always made me feel at ease.
I sat up and looked at Scott.
He jumped out the truck. "I'm going to go pee."
"Don't get kidnapped in there. It looks kind of rapey." I eyed the place with a huge level of distrust.
He cracked a tired grin. "We'll see." He disappeared into the doors.
I headed around for a vending machine to get a sugar boost to wake up the rest of the way from the nap. I put in the perfect amount of quarters in my pants pocket for a honey bun. My hands rubbed together as the machine did its thing. This wasn't just a honey bun, it was a frosted honey bun. My mouth salivated at the sight.
I bent down to retrieve it and felt a sharpness pierce my thigh. One of my hands reached around to check it out while the other was preoccupied with getting the honey bun. When I stood and felt what had to be a dart I faltered. A wave of dizziness crashed over me.
"Scott," I muttered. I tried to run his way to warn him, but the next move I took was toward the ground. The very last thing I saw were a few men in black closing in on me.
Someone slapped my face until I gasped awake. I gulped in the air trying to get a sense of where I was, but the bright sunny day threw me off guard. From the chains on my arms, I remembered I'd been tranquilized and kidnapped. What about Scott? What about my honey bun?
"Hello?" I whipped my head around.
I sat in an empty white room with a view of a ginormous skyline with the sun rising, giving it the view a look of new beginnings. I'd never been anywhere to see something like that. There was beauty in it. You could almost smell the failed aspirations, the around the clockers, the runaways and homeless on the streets. You could smell the pee and trash on the streets, but most of all you could smell the freedom to be any of that.
"What do you guys want?" My gaze stuck on the art before me, I itched to draw it. "What do you guys want?" My voice held no amount of menace at this point.
Then I remembered Scott was in the restroom when I was taken. Was he taken too?
In case he was safe I didn't want to out him by bringing him up. After I figured out what I was doing here I'd do everything I could to find him. For three years we hadn't been separated, aside from his business trips that seemed really kind of boring so I never wanted to go, and a chunk of me didn't know what to do. That's when the real fear set in.
My heart pumped faster as the men behind the black clothing took form in my mind in various stages of fucked up. The chair I sat in was bolted to the floor. I struggled against the handcuffs, but it was no use. Whatever they had shot me with, albeit Wolfsbane, was still in my system so I was weak. That or these were made out of Vibranium and I was suddenly in the Marvel universe.
Waiting here wouldn't work. So I thought about the ways I'd seen this kind of escape done in the movies.
I put all my weight against chair only to have it stay put. A light sheen of sweat formed on my skin. "Fuck." I cursed under my breath.
Just then a solid metal window shut down over the skyline view and my chair started to turn me around. My head snapped to the sides, trying to get a view of who would be doing this, but I came up short.
With a deafening scream, I was clicked into place. Before me through what looked like another room similar to mine was a girl about my age, maybe older. She'd managed to get out of her chair, but there was a coyote inside that growled at her.
The girl backed away as calmly as she could muster but ended up running for the door.
The coyote followed with a spring back onto its haunches.
My hands yanked on the handcuffs chained to the chair in desperation, but nothing gave. I let out a frustrated groan.
The dark haired girl sensed the coyote's closeness and backhanded it into the air with great strength. It felt to the white tiled floor with a whimper.
My body rocked back and forth to get momentum, hoping a bolt or something would be loose. "Come on," I groaned.
When it gave a bit, I pressed against the back of the chair, my feet flat on the floor. I thought about the one person that could make it through anything, that would tell Scott and me not to worry right now. Their faith gave me strength that I needed until the chair snapped back.
I hit the floor with the wind knocked out of me.
By now the coyote was on its feet and charged the girl with snapping jaws.
The look of immense fear of her face enough to spring me into action.
Her screams carried as she ran for the only piece of protection in her room, a filing cabinet that stood tall enough for her to get on and momentarily be safe from the coyote. She leaped onto it with the coyote on her trail, getting the last of the girl's skirt into its mouth and ripping a piece off. The girl cowered in the corner while the coyote growled and glared at her.
I looked down at my hands that were stuck in the handcuffs. They were a bit loose. With the only idea that made sense at this point in my head, I pressed down onto each thumb until the crunch of the bone sounded and I could slide my hands through.
The girl still perched on the filing cabinet, but her door opened and a man dressed in black expertly held a gun in the air. A bullet flew into the coyote and it fell to the floor with a sad dying whimper. The girl screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Somebody help me!" She cried out.
The need to do my part in making sure she was okay drove me to pull the chair up until it snapped off its hinges. With my body braced I fell back from the act.
The girl was off the file cabinet now and on the floor, her hands in the air. "Please, don't kill me." She begged in tears.
I shot up with the chair in my hands to slam it against the two-way mirror, but it wasn't a mirror. It was plexiglass, so it only bounced back from my motions.
"I don't want to die," She fell to her knees in surrender.
"Just hang on," I muttered more to myself than her.
The chair slammed into the plexiglass repeatedly with the same outcome.
Another shot fired and stilled the air.
The girl laid on the floor, her white dress now stained with red while it pooled around her. The man in black walked away like none of that phased him. The girl's hand went to her stomach.
Forgetting the chair I pounded my fist into the barrier between us. "Hold on a little longer," I screamed as if she can hear me.
The wall cracked a tiny bit, so I hit that same spot with sweat dripping down my back until the whole thing began to crack, then fell apart.
What I now faced wasn't a dying girl and a dead animal on the floor. It was a black room.
Had it all been a lie? Did I imagine that? Was I really just dreaming?
My door opened. In walked the last person I expected.
"Dad?" I panted lightly.
He stood before me in a suit built for businessmen and my dad had been no businessmen when I had run away four years ago. He wasn't really my dad, might as well been since my biological one was a no show. But this one wasn't that great either. The man that stood before me didn't have the lingering of alcohol swimming in his eyes or the stench of weed on him.
I stepped forward cautiously. "What is this place?" I asked even though I knew I couldn't trust anything he said. "Why am I here?"
He gestured for me to follow him.
My head shook. "No, I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on? Was anyone else taken?" My loyalty to Scott made me ask even if I couldn't name names. If my dad was working for those Hunters that killed Scott's family then and this was their way of getting information out of me I'd have to take the bullet to plead the fifth.
"I know you must be starving, would you like some breakfast?"
Irritation filled me. "No, I don't want any fucking breakfast. I want an explanation!"
He stood with his hands in his pants pockets like none of this affected him. Did it?
"You can come in now," He spoke.
Someone rounded the corner into the room only it wasn't just someone.
It was Scott.
My body wanted to be relieved that he was okay but my brain took in all black clothing, much like the men that took me, and I knew that something wasn't right.
"Scott?"
He took a step forward.
I took one back. "What is this? Why are you dressed like them?"
He raised a hand that was meant to be calming but was anything but. "I'll explain everything, I promise."
My head shook. "Why would I believe anything you had to say?"
"Because I'm your friend, Liam. I'm your brother."
I shook my head some more with a wry laugh. "No, you're not. You lied to me for three years about whoever the hell it is you are. Why did I trust you, a guy I didn't even know to take care of me?"
He moved closer. "You trusted me because we're brothers."
"Stop saying that!" I yelled at him. I didn't want any ties to him, least of all a sense of fake brotherhood.
"Rafael McCall, sound familiar to you?"
A few of my defenses dropped. "That's my father, how do you know? Is he here?"
His head shook with a twinge of sadness in his eyes. "He was my father, too."
I felt planted into the floor.
"You trusted me all those years because you could. We share the same blood, Liam. You can still trust me."
It felt like my world was tilted on its head. I hoped and prayed this was all a dream, that I'd wake up from my nap in the truck with that frosted honey bun in my lap. The sad part was that that felt like a pipe dream.
"I don't know you, Scott. I never did." I motioned to all of the things surrounding us. "What is this place? That girl-"
"Is fine. That was a simulation for your trial." A look of pride shined in his once honest brown eyes. "You passed."
My head shook as I looked around. "I don't understand."
He stepped toward me. "You proved that you were ready for this, that you could be one of us."
"One of who?"
His brow rose in excitement. "Want to find out?" He moved to the side and gestured toward the door.
At this point, what choice did I have besides find out the truth, or their version of the truth? My life had been changed by Scott four years ago, presumably for this. Whatever it was it better be worth it.
I slowly made my way for the door only to come across another door. I looked at Scott in questioning.
He started for the door with hopeful eyes, a slight grin on his face. "I've waited a long time for this."
I followed behind and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at all curious as to what was behind that second door.
He opened it as I neared. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, metal clinking against metal, and distant guns firing surround me once I stepped outside into the vast room.
My eyes surveyed everything in bewilderment.
"Welcome to The Haven." He said, his voice filled with a relaxed confidence.
I took a deep breath in at the sight again and wondered what the hell was this place for the thousandth time and why was I so excited to be here.
A/N: Ever since I first started Thiam as a side ship in my Scalia fanfiction Whenever You're Ready I wanted to do a Thiam based fic because I feel like they're still so new and underrated. I haven't come across any longer Thiam fics, if anyone has let me know the name of it and who it's by so I can check it out! I would GREATLY appreciate it if some of yall left some feedback or just a review on how you felt about the first chapter. I will be updating this in between my newest Scalia/Stallison/Thiam fic Til Forever Runs Out. Thanks for reading, be patient with me on this one. :)