/TW: thoughts of self-harm, very vague mentions of domestic abuse\
Mostly this is dialogue-heavy haha

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The last thing that pushes Melon to act is a text from an unknown number – it's signed, though, and his heart freezes for a second. Grace. He skims over the message once, only to realize none of the words have imprinted into his brain. It turned out he has slept a grand amount of three hours the night before, the nausea hasn't quite relented yet either, and no matter how many times he blinks, his vision stays blurred. By now, the afternoon is at his dying breath, the ragged buildings of the Back-Alley Market had just impaled the sun and its blood runs down the streets.

(His grip has tightened around the phone until his fingers hurt.)

"Do you feel safe, back in what you call a mansion? Do you think the lions will protect you? They aren't of your kind. No one is. No one would put themselves in danger for someone like you."

Melon keeps the text, just in case he could trace back her number. He guesses she wanted him to feel more isolated – that she rejoices in the thought of her prey scared and beleaguered. What she doesn't know, is that it helps negate his assumption that Agata was working for the Chimera Hunters. Why would she push him to doubt his subordinates if that was the case? Even as reverse psychology, it wouldn't make sense.

As he thought, he finds Agata in the deserted common room, sitting alone at one end of the large couch. He's looking at his phone, a slight frown scrunching his nose up. Outside, only the sounds of the wind echo in the night. Melon opens his mouth, hesitates on what to say, and finally settles on clearing his throat.

The young lion startles, nearly dropping his phone. He raises his head, eyes catching the warm tones from ceiling light tones instead of the blueish tint of the screen, his face lightning up- and falling just as quickly.

"Oh, hey Boss."

Somehow, the hybrid isn't as satisfied to hear that word as he expected. What, isn't that what he wanted? The power imbalance; the safety of looking down at the Congo lion as one of his subordinates. One of the kitties. (Except, that's maybe exactly where the problem lies: no matter how Agata calls him, Melon can't look at him in the same way as before. And the nickname has morphed into something else entirely, no longer derogatory but instead... He doesn't want to think about it.)

"I was… looking for you," he says because it might as well be the conversation opener, as empty as it is.

"Do you want my report tonight? You asked for it tomorrow, but I'm free now anyway, so it's entirely your call."

He delivered it without an ounce of emotion. His pupils look pitch-black in the low light. Melon thinks back to these big round eyes, almost glowing in the soft morning rays, to a voice still rough from sleep and a warm body and lips that- The contrast is so stark that it's disturbing, his mind can't bring the two images together.

"It's not about the report."

"Ah."

Fuck this. Might as well get it over quickly.

"I'm sorry about what I said at the terrasse."

Agata's mask finally cracks, impassibility giving way to surprise and a fair share of hurt. He inhales deeply, breathes out, and maybe his shoulders shake a bit at the exhale.

"… Okay."

"I didn't mean to say that. It just felt natural – no, that's not the right word – it was… out of habit, I guess."

The young lion slowly gets up, though he stays where he was, a few good meters away from the hybrid.

"I couldn't stand the way you were looking at me, so I lashed out," Melon adds, and Agata steps forward, starting to say that he's "sorr-" "Plus, I had a rather unpleasant encounter at the school. That didn't help."

Agata stops. Cocks his head to the side, clearly uncertain.

"Yes, you did mention it when we met… I was going to ask again about it later, if…"

If I hadn't been such an "asshole", hum?

"And so?" the young lion prompts him to continue. "Who were they, what did they want?"

"She was a bloodhound. Albino. And… well, there are people who are very determined to kill me. I guess it's obvious given the past few days, but… it's not a rival gang, it's not anyone who knows me personally. She- they-" Melon stumbles – when he tries to think about them, to imagine what could be hiding behind that faceless "we" Grace used, he can only manifest her bone-white face and crimson eyes. "They are pureblood supremacists. Their goal is to get rid of hybrids completely. Especially herbivore-carnivore mixes like me."

"Oh, shit, that- that…" Agata searches for something to say, his eyes wide and concerned, but Melon interrupts him again:

"I would like your help, kitty."

"Sure, I-" He was already walking closer, but he stops. Freezes. Right in the middle of the room. The ceiling light shines just above him, lightning a crown over his dark mane but leaving his face in the shadows. "You…"

"What?"

Agata smiles – but it's not a smile, no, and the hybrid had never seen such an expression on his youthful face before.

"I knew you weren't the kind to apologize."

That leaves him speechless for a few good seconds before he manages to utters a second, shocked "What?". This time, it's him who steps further into the room – and the lion backs way, maintaining the distance between them. The light now hits directly the bare wooden floor and their figures stand just shy of the darkness it can't reach.

"I mean, isn't it obvious?" Agata speaks next – almost baring his teeth as he does. "I might be stupid and naïve, but I refuse to fall into the same trap twice. What, you admitted you were manipulating me, then you come back around not a day after, apologize, and immediately think it's okay to ask for my help? Just how lowly do you think of me, hum?"

"Agat-"

"I expected a more elaborate strategy" he spits out, "coming from you, at least. But maybe you aren't that bright, once we look past the shock factor, you know?"

Melon is breathing heavily now, air hissing in between his fangs, his hands clenched into fists – knuckles turning white – and the only thing he can think about is how it would feel if he closed those hands around Agata's neck and squeezed. See how he would talk, then.

"Kitty, you shou-"

"If you call me kitty one more time," Agata cuts him off, deaf to the icy threat behind his tone, "I will have to prove to you that even kittens have claws."

You can try, snarls the predator inside, elated at the promise of violence, and let's see whose blood is the brightest, shall we?

Melon can already picture it, only regrets that he doesn't have a knife on him – his nails aren't sharp enough to pierce through skin, but they would work in slimy, fragile eyes. He can imagine how h-

Realization dawns on him.

He is not hurting Agata. Never before his flashes of bloodlust has caught him this off-guard – never before has he been that horrified by what goes through his messed-up head. He stumbles backward until he hits the wall, the impact breaching through the madness.

"I'm- I'm not manipulating you, Agata. I swear."

"Then, what are you doing?!"

It was nearly a shout. Melon takes it in, staring at the floor between his feet, unable to look up and meet the young lion's gaze.

"I- I just wanted to… I thought I owed you an apology, and… Sure, that would be a perk if you accepted it and helped me, you know, not get killed, and all the other things y- ahem. I guess, I… What I wanted to say…"

He is not used to stammering like this and it's infuriating – at the same time, he has never watched with such carefulness the words that come out of his mouth. He has been in countless situations where his life depended on what he said – on how with a few words he could make the animal in front of him hesitate long enough, drop his guard for just a split second so he could deliver a fatal blow, but… Right now, it feels like it's more important somehow. Melon doesn't value his life very much but that, that weird thing between them he can't quite put a name on, and Agata himself, he does care about it – him – more than he would be willing to say out loud.

"I just don't like the idea that I hurt you," he does say, "not again, not this time. So, I wanted to make it right. Try, at least. But-"

"Oh, there is a 'but'."

"Yeah, it's… it's for my own peace of mind, because I- yeah, so it's still selfish, I guess."

Agata stares at him for an uncomfortable time, then the tight line of his shoulders relaxes and he runs a hand over his face.

"Melon, for Rex's sake, you have the social skills of a damn rock."

"Eh, that's not nice…"

"But very true," the lion stays sternly. He steps forward and now they are so close that Melon has to crane his neck up to look at his face. "I don't want a fricking lecture on whether animal motivations are fundamentally egotistical, or if true altruism does exist in this world, just… I want to know if you meant it, what you said at the terrasse. That you used me. And if it's true, then you can keep your apology to yourself, I don't want it. If not…"

He trails off, and there is a pleading look in his eyes that makes the hybrid uncomfortable. Melon isn't used to people wanting to rely on him – not when they know him for who he really is, anyway – and, to be frank, he doesn't want that. He can't give the young lion what he wants, doesn't even quite grasp what it is, to begin with. He knows fear and anger and selfish desires, knows their clues and how to bend them, use them to his advantage, however now… it's something else, something he does not understand – something he should never be on the receiving end of, his mind tells him, he's not the right person, not someone you can care for, not someone you can love.

He is… well, scared. Scared that one day he's going to see those beautiful eyes and would only be able to think about how it will look if he gouged them out.

Scared that he will break this too.

"… okay." The lion's voice snaps him out of his thoughts – there is something cold in it, cold and hard; bricks being put back up in between them. "See you tomorrow, Boss."

"Agata, wait!"

He has reached out without even meaning out – stopping mid-motion, not knowing why or what. His heart is racing in his chest. It isn't from fear, not really, or at least it's a different kind of fear, one he doesn't recognize, and it's dizzying and painful – he just wants it to stop and for Agata to not leave, please, don't leave me-

"Yes?"

"Pleas-" The words get caught up in his throat; he can't say it. Can't look at Agata. Slowly, his arm falls back to his sides. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Try the truth?"

There is something lighter, hopeful, in the way his voice rose at the end. Melon feels his eyes starting to water, closes them, hard, forcing the tears back. His nails dig into his palm.

"I can't promise I won't hurt you, even if I don't want to", he says – quickly, the words tumbling out before they could get stuck again. "I can't promise that I won't ever try to trick you again, just to ensure you do what I want, because I- I do know that I want you to stay. You… you make me feel safe. And alive. You're the first. And I don't want it to end."

He hears Agata stepping closer, can make out the outline of his large figure in his head, but he still refuses to open his eyes. His tail flicks nervously behind him. It feels like his heart has tried to follow his words but couldn't get past his throat, so now it's trapped there, fluttering just below his skin.

The hybrid startles when something flicks the tip of his ear gently, looking up on instinct.

"I have never seen you with your ears folded back like this before. It does not suit you."

The lion is smiling slightly – and now, it truly looks genuine, albeit a bit uncertain. Suddenly self-conscious, Melon reaches up to touch his ears, forcing them to relax back into place. He thought he had taught his body not to betray his emotions like that, but everything is new when it comes to Agata.

"If you truly didn't give a shit about my feelings," the lion adds, "and since you seem to want me to stay, would you have said that?" He waits for an answer but none comes. "Look, Melon. I do not ask of you to know what's going on b- between us… heck, I certainly don't either. Nor do I ask you to promise anything. I'm just… I'm a bit scared, because I've grown to…. care for you, and you're… well…"

"A freak?"

"What? No!" He pauses. "I was going to say a serial killer and, you know, my boss. Also, you did stab my hand with a fork once."

Melon laughs meekly.

"Even I can see why that would be an issue."

"Yeah." Agata shrugs. "Anyway. I care, I believe you care too, and it's complicated and weird, but we can figure this out, okay?"

"Hm…"

He doesn't dare to confirm it out loud. The tension is now leaving his body, reminding him suddenly that his body really needs sleep after the previous night. The pain from his old injuries is starting to stir up too. He steps away until he can feel the couch against his calf, letting himself flop down onto it. It tugs a bit at his slowly-healing ribs, but also, everything does. His head falls back on the top of the backrest, his neck cracking loudly, and he sighs. The discolorations on the plastered ceiling look back at him.

"… Are you okay?"

Melon groans.

"You and that fucking question." He lifts his head to glance at Agata, then goes back to staring at the blank ceiling. "… No. No, I'm not."

From the corner of his eye, he can see the lion take a step forward, reach for him, and stop.

"What are you doing, Agata?"

"I… I don't know what to say, so I would like to touch you. Take your hand or something. Is that okay?"

Another sigh, and the hybrid pats the spot next to him on the couch.

"Sit."

He feels the couch sink under the lion's weight, and maybe this one is all in his head, but he could swear he already feels his body warmth too. Large fingers search for his valid hand and he let them do, only squeezing back when they have found their place in between his. Both of their hands rest on his thigh now, his slender one on top. Melon looks at it for a long time, at the contrast between their fur – dark chocolate brown, pale sandy one –, and sinks a bit lower on the couch. Around the Congo lion, he finds that he can relax. He exhales slowly and moves to rest his head on Agata's shoulder, angling it so his horns don't get in the way. It crosses his mind that if the left one was still intact, he probably couldn't do that – and he bites back a bitter huff of laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"And so, about that hound you were talking ab-"

"No," he interrupts firmly. "That can wait."

"… Okay."

Agata's thumb begins to trace circles on the back of his hand and the hybrid closes his eyes, focusing on the sensation. He can feel his breath coming in and out, reverberating around his chest… The body next to his shakes slightly and it takes him a few seconds to piece out that it was a laugh. He raises his head, searching the lion's face for a clue, puzzled.

"I promise I'm not laughing at you," Agata jokes, smiling – the shine in his eyes is mesmerizing. "But you were purring."

"What?" That is enough to get him to straighten up again, turning to get a better look at the lion, to know if he's kidding or- "I can do that?"

Agata blinks at him. Several times.

"… yes? I mean, you have a leop- feline neck, and voice also. It's not that bizarre."

"I never did before." A stray thought hits him and he feels panic starting to seep in. His free hand balls into a fist – and too bad if it hurts with the broken bone. "Is it…?" he mumbles, more for himself than for Agata, but it picks the lion's interest all the same:

"What did you say?"

"S-some hybrids go through a second puberty, usually in their twenties," he reluctantly explains – saying it out loud, it makes it worse, more real, and- Melon absent-mindedly rubs at his neck, feeling the outline of the prominent carnivore trachea, and his nails start to dig into his skin. He didn't even realize he has taken his hand back from Agata's. "It's been a few years already since I have noticed leopard spots starting to appear on my body. That's… that's why I got my tattoos; so I don't have to look at them. If other parts of me start to change, I…"

His throat closes up, trapping his words in, and his breath alongside them. To be fair, he had no idea what he was going to say. What could he do if… if more spots appeared, too many to be covered, (carve them out), if his tails changed, (cut it off), if his whole body turned into his mother's-

(Kill it.)

He feels like he's going to throw up again.

Agata's arms wrap around him and he has half a mind to push him away – instead, for some reason, he gives in – and before he knows it, the wave of nausea has retreated and air travels again to and from his lungs. Slowly, he reaches up to lay his hand over one of the lion's forearms. He fears Agata will say something then, try some meaningless platitude, but he stays silent, and Melon is grateful for that. He likes the way their breathings have synced up together, the feeling of his chest pressed against his back. He doesn't want that to change – unless-

He twists around, and the young lion begins to loosen his embrace, the very beginning of a sound – an apology? – forming on his tongue, but before he could complete either the hybrid presses his lips against his, hesitant yet determined at the same time. He could swear he felt the young lion's heart skip a beat. He grins into the kiss – until Agata kisses him back and then, that's all he can think about. The world around doesn't matter, nor the way one of his legs is bent awkwardly against the couch, nor the dark thoughts of changing and killing and not being adequate enough…

Nor the two lions that are now standing in the doorway – nor the sound of a glass loudly shattering on the ground.

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Does that count as a cliffhanger? lol