When the bell above the restaurant door chimed, Ivan heard Rohan let out a sigh. He glanced up with no surprise as he watched Leo and his friend group enter the room. They were currently at a restaurant that had been a popular hangout spot among both werewolves and humans for decades. There were often jokes that the diner was older than the town itself, that all infrastructure had simply been built around it.

  Cal pursed his lips at the group, staring at them contemptuously, before turning back to his order of a burger and fries. “What we get for picking a restaurant right in the middle of town." He muttered sulkily.

  Rohan was watching their retreating figure, a grave look on his face. “My dad said that things are getting really bad in the pack. There’re rumours that a huge pack from Canada wants to take over ours. And that they're planning to join up with the Moons.”

  The tension in both packs had increased significantly, and everyone could feel it. Stronger measures were being put up, inter-pack relations were slowly being fizzled out, and the germinating hostility was a fully grown tree now. Ivan didn't know how he and Leo would keep meeting up if they were just putting their lives in danger. In any case, they never actually could; Leo just had no sense of self-preservation.

  “And my dad gave me this. He said it's supposed to kill witches or something.” The object that Rohan pulled out afterwards was not what Ivan had expected. It was a small, silky white satchel with white drawstrings towards the top. It was small. It just barely filled the space in Rohan's palm, and it had no labels on the outside.

  Ivan drummed his hands on the edge of the table. He couldn't tell what was in the bottle, but it had to be some sort of poison dust or object. But why was it so small? Did that mean it was potent enough for a little to go a long way? Was it only for one person?

  Cal snorted at the object, eyes filling with amusement “So you're gonna kill them with fairy dust?”

  “It's not fairy dust.” Rohan huffed.

  “So what is it?” Ivan stretched out a hand, and Rohan placed the container in his palm. He tilted the satchel around, passing it from hand to hand while he pretended to inspect the outside. Cal's guess at fairy dust seemed to be the most accurate. He could hear something sandy swishing inside. He couldn't feel any magic-dampening properties coming from the satchel, and as far as he could tell, there was no magical signature on it. He handed it back to Rohan.

  Rohan glanced at the tiny container like it was a random object he had picked up from the floor and shrugged in response. “No idea, dude.”

  Cal laughed. “That's fucking stupid. If I see a witch or wizard, I'll just…” He grabbed the butter knife next to his plate and stabbed it aggressively into his fries. Drops of the tomato sauce drizzled on them splashed onto the table.

  It reminded Ivan of how easy it was to forget that there were secrets he had to keep. When he was eight, he had refused to believe that anyone would hate him if he was the same person they had always known… just a little different. And then he grew up. Milena used to joke that he lived in a utopia of ignorance.

  But even now, sometimes—for a split second—he would forget that he was a wizard and always would be, then they would say things like this, and he was forcefully dragged back to the reality of the situation. That his friends didn't even know it yet, but they hated him.

  “What if they do that mind control stuff on you and make you stab yourself or something?” Rohan suggested in an ominous whisper, leaning closer to the table.

  Cal rolled his eyes. “I'm not letting any of those witches anywhere close enough to me to be able to control my mind.”

  Rohan nodded his head in agreement. “I won't even need this.”

  Ivan watched them silently, keeping his face neutral to hide the discomfort swirling within him. Across the restaurant, Ivan watched Leo manoeuvre through a maze of tables, heading in the direction of the bathroom. Suddenly, he could feel a familiar headache throbbing behind his eyes. How long ago had they last been together?

  “I need to use the bathroom. Be right back.” Ivan got up and walked in the direction of the bathroom, hoping that no one else was inside. When he entered, Leo was at the basin washing his hands in the small room, which was quiet save for the sound of the flowing water.

  “I know you have my book,” Ivan said confrontationally. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a wall near the door.

  Ivan had realised the book was missing almost as soon as he had gotten home. He had turned to put a glass of water down and knew something was missing on his side table.

  It had been a week since the party, and they had gone from ignoring each other in school to fleeting looks of acknowledgement. Ivan didn't know how well he could sneak a “Give me back my book” between the bantering when they did talk. Cal would ask him way too many questions, and there would be no unsuspicious way to answer them.

  Leo looked up, and their eyes met in the mirror. He turned around and flung the water clinging to his hands onto the floor. “No, I don't.”

  Ivan rolled his eyes. “I want it back.”

  Leo wiped his hands on his sweatpants and walked closer to Ivan, stopping until they were only a few steps away. Ivan could feel his headache dampening, replaced by a welcomed cooling sensation.

  “Well then, guess you're going to have to find whoever does,” Leo said it jokingly, but his eyes held an unnerving air of seriousness. Ivan didn't actually know if he had it. He was speculating, and Leo had always been relatively easy to read.

  “You're such a child.” He could see Leo's jaw clench at his words. He was getting riled up.

  Leo smiled humorously. “Maybe. And maybe if you weren't a dick, you would have your book back.”

  He glanced at the door, his eyebrow scrunching slightly, before he glanced back at Ivan, glaring intensely at him. Leo was definitely not going to give up. Ivan knew he loved infuriating him, and giving up was unfortunately not a word he had ever been familiar with.

  But Ivan needed that book back. He didn't know why exactly. Milena had revealed that she had just picked a random book at the airport. He figured she was probably lying, but he could never tell with her. ‘I think you're overestimating how much I like you.’ She would say.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “It was my sister's.” Ivan could see the smirk on Leo's face fade slightly, his features settling into a look of contemplation. His jaw clenched, juggling the idea in his head, before he finally rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Fine.” He finally spat out through clenched teeth. He said nothing for a few minutes, then cleared his throat. “I don't know if you felt it. But it's starting again.”

  From outside, Ivan heard a pair of heavy footsteps shuffling closer to the door.

  When he said nothing in reply, Leo added, “The headaches, I mean.”

  Before he could respond, an older man walked into the bathroom. The man glanced over his glasses at Leo—who had walked a few steps to the nearest basin—then at Ivan, who was still leaning on a wall near the door.

  “I'll text you,” Ivan said, then left the bathroom.

  — — —

  Leo ended up texting him first.

  Ignore: Meet me at the clearing?

  5 min ago

  When he received the message, Ivan got up from his bed and quickly put his shoes on, grabbing his phone from his bed. Just as he was about to pull open the door, it opened towards him.

  Outside his room, his mom's eyes were open wide, and she was holding a hand to her chest as if consoling her racing heart. “I thought you were downstairs.”

  He gave her a straight smile. “Sorry.”

  She walked purposefully into the room, taking a cautious look around his perpetually clean room before sitting down on his unmade bed. When he walked towards his bed, she glanced down at his sneakers in confusion.

  “Where are you going so late at night?” She asked in Russian. It was only seven, but she always seemed weary whenever he left the house, even to go to school.

  He shoved his phone into his front pocket, then sat down on the bed next to her.

  “Out with Cal.” A waving from further outside his room caught his eye, and he turned to see Milena a few feet down the hall, leaning against her permanently locked bedroom door. She was rolling her two index fingers around each other, rolling up an invisible spool of thread, and her head was nodding desperately. Say more.

  Ivan turned to his mother. “He texted that he needed help with a history assignment, and it's due tomorrow. He's been panicking about it all week.” He couldn’t remember when lying to his mother had become this easy. Maybe it was when she had stopped prying. Maybe it always had been, because she never did.

  Her eyes quickly darted behind her to the hallway, and her mouth opened to say something, hanging open for a few seconds longer before she shut it again. She cleared her throat.

  “Uh,“ She reached out a hand to place it on top of his, but she paused halfway through and put it into her lap instead.

  When she stretched out her arm, Ivan could see that the skin on her forearms was covered in red streaks. She had been scratching at her arms when she got stressed since he was thirteen. Maybe two months ago he would have healed her before she broke skin. Now he couldn't take the risk.

  “I don't know if your father told you about it or not, but tension is high in the pack right now. Talking to anyone from other packs is a bad idea. We've completely stopped all communication with them.”

  Ivan stared at her in slight surprise. Did she somehow know something, or was this just a general warning? There was no way she would know.

  “I figure your father didn't tell you yet?” The question seemed so genuine that Ivan could have laughed at the very idea. He was lucky if his father said more than five words to him unless it was about his training.

  “Well now I know.”

  — — —

  When Ivan got to the clearing in his pack, the sun was at the very last stages of setting, silhouetting the almost naked tree branches against a dark orange and blue backdrop.

  Leo was turned away from him, and his arms were clasped behind him, humming a song that Ivan didn't recognise. He was wearing red plaid pyjama pants, a light grey sweatshirt and a black jacket over it. When he saw Ivan approach, he moved his hands from behind his back and offered the book to Ivan, a look of feigned innocence on his face. Of course he had taken the book.

  Ivan took the book from his outstretched hand, surprised that there was no further resistance. “We can't keep meeting out here. They increased security, masking your scent won't work anymore, and if anyone finds you…”

  Leo rolled his eyes. “Seriously, will you relax for two seconds?”

  Ivan shrugged. “Fine.” Leo could be as reckless as he wanted to be. Whatever happened to him was not going to be Ivan's responsibility.

  “You're welcome, by the way.”

  Ivan rolled his eyes and gave the other boy a look of disbelief. “You want me to thank you for giving me back my book?” Leo was so infuriating it made Ivan want to strangle him.

  “I could have said I didn't have it.” Leo started simply. “But out of the goodness of my heart— shut up, I'm not done—I walked here in the ass crack of night to give this dumb book back to you.”

  Ivan scoffed. “You could have also not stolen it, but I guess even you aren't exempt from paying for the consequences of your actions.”

  “You could have also not left it in the bathroom so…..” Leo added with a condescending smirk. Ivan felt his jaw clench, Leo's smile triggering a rare bout of anger reserved only for the dark-haired boy.

  Leo waved a hand at him dismissively, and his smile faltered. “My pack’s also a no-go.”

  Ivan wrapped his arms around his bare arms. He hadn't taken a jacket, and it was freezing tonight. He lifted his head in thought. “I guess we can just stay here for today. We'll figure something out for the next time.”

  Leo nodded slowly, then turned on his heels. It looked like he was about to leave, but his steps faltered, and he came to a complete standstill. He turned around and rubbed a hand over his mouth, walking purposefully to stand right in front of Ivan. “Hey—why didn't you grab my hand in the bathroom?”

  Ivan's eyes were dragged down to the way he was anxiously pulling at the seam of his jacket. He glanced back up at the other boy and raised a questioning eyebrow at him. That party was a week ago. “Have you seriously been thinking about that all week?”

  Leo scoffed. “So?” He shoved his fidgeting hands back into his pocket. “I want to know. You don't trust me?”

  Ivan turned to him, staring straight into his eyes. “Would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “Trust yourself? Do you even trust me?” He crossed his arms, wrapping his hands around as much of his bumpy arms as possible, then inhaled a breath. “Where have you been for sixteen years? We treat each other like shit.”

  “I— Well, yeah, but—”

  Ivan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what the other boy was thinking. They had hated each other for so long. Of course it was different. Being mates wouldn't just erase the years of torment. The years of anger ... the resentment. Ivan still couldn't stand him and his childish personality, and he knew that Leo felt the same.

  “Let's just let this go.” Ivan finally said.

  Leo haphazardly removed his jacket, compressed it into a ball and threw it carelessly in Ivan's direction. Ivan caught it wordlessly. “Here, genius. It's stupid to come out here without a jacket.”

  The dark-haired boy shrugged and turned in the direction of the thicker trees in front of them. “Or freeze to death, I don't care.”

  As Ivan held the back garment, wordlessly watching as Leo transformed into his wolf and ran into the darkness, he realised that the other boy’s head was probably still feeling just as bad as his was beginning to.