Middle of the day, gold liquid filters through the skeletons of trees and splattered the dirt and grass with its luminosity. I look up, through translucent viridian wings basking in the brilliant sunlight. The sky hovers past the canopy, cerulean and magnanimous, withholding the tempest of its judgement. Every leaf and blade of grass fidgets. No mouse ventures here.
I drive my hands into the hole once again, wriggling my fingers its warm dampness. They wrap around hearty, meaty tissue and I tug it free. I pointedly avoid Liam's direction as I grind the liver in my razored teeth. I would like to say otherwise, but fact remains - it's the most delicious part. Anytime circumstances come to this, I always tell myself, "Next time I won't eat the intestines." After the rave of supernatural hunger subsides, the taste of shit will never be pleasing. I've never been able to keep that promise. This time, I'm in control. I'm not blinded by the excruciating pain of hunger, as if my insides sought to digest itself. I could stop at any moment. I didn't have to consume everything, strip every bone dry.
Technically, I did, or something very close to it. But I could choose not to. That's all the power I really need.
"You don't have to watch me do this." I grumble, feeling self-conscious of my more infernal habits. I wipe blood running down my chin with a clean patch of skin on my forearm and catch his wide, electric gaze before quickly averting.
"We can't afford anyone walking in on this," he says, running his hand through his wildly soft spiky hair as he quickly turns and checks the surroundings.
"So yeah, I kinda have to."
There's fear trembling in his voice, and he gags almost inaudibly. He's right. As a werewolf, he could hear and smell any intruder before I could. Only another supernatural would be able to come remotely close, and even then, they'd have to deal with Liam.
Worse comes to worse, I'd have to help.
I dig through the carcass again, ripping open the chest cavity. Liam's tension and apprehension is impossibly tangible as the body squelches and moans under my rummaging. My fingers clasp around the thick organ, leathery and tender. With little effort, I rip the heart out, veins and arteries snapping minutely. Liam cringes, being able to hear it all clearly.
"That would be so badass… if it weren't so…" he trails as my teeth slice through the organ easily, tearing off chunks for me to chew and swallow.
I look up from over the body and I catch Liam gazing at me with a tortured expression, the glint in his eyes unmistakable. I flash him a toothy grin and his eyes flare golden - only for an instant. Between the blood flowing down my jaw and the crimson gloves adorning my forearms, Liam found this unnatural display attractive.
That doesn't mean he's okay with this.
"Fuck."
What comes later is what I hate most about this - the tentative touches, unsure and unfamiliar, as if we were strangers. Barely acquainted. Having to build trust, his and mine, I want to prove that I am more than a monster. It's honestly silly of me to think anything would change. We didn't have much else in the way of options.
Liam dug an impressive pit underneath an old oak tree, and I dumped the stripped bones and intestines unceremoniously. We exchanged glances and broke into smiles, relieved. He places a firm, comforting hand on my shoulder, beaming with those vivid cerulean orbs.
"I'd hug you and I'd kiss you so hard right now."
"Really?" and I honestly don't know why I keep finding his acceptance so surprising.
He nods, slipping his fingers underneath the hem of my shirt, "Let's get you cleaned up." He peels the bloody fabric off my skin and unzips his hoodie as I wipe the excess liquid off my arms, hands, and chin. Liam hands me the multicolored jacket and zips it up, halfway up my chest after I put it on. Another one of my plain white T-shirts gets burned.
"You said we were an accident," they sing obnoxiously loud and impossibly discordant. I smile, watching Liam and Mason bounce off the walls.
"With accidents you'll never know," Mason leads,
"What could. Have. Been," Liam follows.
"SO WE WERE AN ACCIDENT," they harmonize this time, sounding somewhat pleasant despite their boisterous energy. Their dancing required no ceremony, and their entertainment left no room for shame to settle in. I could soak in the warm smirk Liam sends my way.
"You'll always be my favorite one."
My skin prickles with frission as I relish the moment of intimacy. Its fleeting, so subtle and smooth, the coy flick in his neon eyes amid the fast-paced, high-energy song. I catch it in my memory and replay it, even after they laid the karaoke to rest .
There's an unspoken agreement between Liam and I. During our hangouts with Mason, we tend to withhold on all the touching. It'd be disrespectful to have him over only to pay him no attention. Besides, Mason and Liam are always fun to watch feed off each other's energy.
Movie time, with cheese pizza and tortilla chips, is different however. We don't cuddle per se, but he sits noticeably close - enough where I can sling an arm around his shoulders, and the grease and toasted crust of his pizza scents strongly in my nose. I sip on my intensely sour brew of lemons and orange juice before shoveling a handful of chips into my shirt in my lap.
"I still don't know how your mouth hasn't shriveled and turned inside out yet," Mason gawks as I take a gulp.
I'm still not sure if it has to do with me being a wendigo and wendigo just like lemons, or if it's a personal, 100% Sean Walcott phenomenon and I just really like lemons. And sourness. Either way, I enjoy lemons and all the sourness they provide.
I nudged Liam and smirked, my lips barely parting. He turned and saw my smile, and instantly huffed his own.
"What?"
Liam bent over, head between his knees snickering.
"Hey, no. That's not fair. I want to be in on the joke too."
Liam shakes his head and sits up, face flushed from laughter. We locked eyes a moment, and he turns to Mason and shrugs.
"He just really likes sour things."
"Dammit Sean," he chuckled into my shoulder. My smile widens, satisfied that he got it.
"I need a boyfriend," Mason sighs as Flubber starts up, sounding sarcastic and vaguely Disney princess-esque. Liam doesn't miss a beat and has his ear pressed to a ringing phone, Mason mouthing, "What are you doing?"
"Hey Brett? Mason, Sean and I are having sort of a guy's night. Want to come over?"
"No!"
"Alright!"
Mason and Liam exclaim in unison. Liam sat with a triumphant smile, ending the spontaneous call.
"What was that, why'd you invite him over?"
"I'm delivering him to you." Liam pats Mason's cheek, then says, "He's willing to suffer a night with me. At my house. Think about it." He snaps and points, winking encouragingly. Mason chews on the idea for a bit, then replies, shoving Liam's shoulder,
"You're such a little shit, you know that?"
They just smile like dorks.
That night was just a small reprieve from the hell of our day jobs. None of our problems, supernatural or otherwise existed in the small frame of a midnight overture of games and movies and pointless conversations. One single night of normal humanity before we had to deal with the insanity that was the true nature of our lives.
Beacon Hills' protection is not a legacy easily shunted, but man did they leave a big one.