Air was now a cage and breath a thing therein. These minds, these bodies, were only vessels of pain. Like a child lost in the woods, endless woods, ever lost, the heart would always wander, and wonder… did true freedom ever exist in the first place if pain was always a promise? 

  

A heart cut out of one’s chest, while awake, while still breathing, surely that was what this was? And to survive it, to continue living instead of dying… surely that was worse? 

  

Cold coldness. It lived inside of Hinata now, it had bitten into his empty chest and infected him and spread throughout his body. Hinata was made of ice. He would snap, break. Firstly his fingers, then his hands, then his arms, and it would continue until nothing of him was left. Just the pain of memory. 

  

Hinata had woke that morning to find the fire dying and Oikawa not beside him. 

He had sprung up with Oikawa on his mind, sure to go after him if he had gone to look for food and then -

The curtains of Grandma’s bed posts were drawn. Light spilled in through the nearest window. Her figure was still there on the bed. And draped over her legs, was Oikawa.

‘G-Grandma?? Oi- Oikawa?’

His heart had began to brace itself and to sink, slowly, like a premonition, as he’d carefully stepped over the covers and towards his family -

‘Grandma? Oikawa?’

He reached the bed. Saw her lying there. White-blue. Open-mouthed. Strange.

‘G-G-Grandma????’

Oikawa raised his head, and with little strength, pushed himself back into the chair he’d brought by the bed. 

His eyes were bloodshot, bags heavy, and his face told all.

‘No.’ Hinata breathed, staring at Oikawa’s face. ‘Tell me no. No. Oikawa. No -’

  

In the crying and screams that followed, in the gutwrenching display of emotion, of Hinata climbing onto the bed like he was swimming desparate against a tide, holding onto a boat for dear life as he dug his nails into his dead grandmother’s shoulders and shook her, begging her to wake, and saying ‘No’ over and over again -

In the truth that tore through Oikawa’s heart, he had always known, deep down, it would end like this.

But that didn’t stop the feeling like his soul was being chipped at, chipped away, slowly, as Hinata wailed in anguish like a wounded animal. 

It started Oikawa off again, his sore eyes already red from so much crying but it looked like his heart was not yet done: more tears sprang forth, for Grandma, for Hinata, for himself. 

Oikawa forced himself to get up, to find clean handkerchiefs and return. Hinata was lying across the covers, over Grandma, hugging her body, crying into the blanket. Oikawa sat back on the chair beside the bed, handkerchiefs balled up in his fist, about as useful as a cup with a crack at the bottom.

How long did they stay like that for? Minutes? Hours? 

Oikawa sat with his eyes closed, his neck bent back off the top of the chair, and listened as Hinata’s sobs turned to shaky breaths turned to sniffs. 

But Oikawa was not prepared for what happened next - 

The bed creaked, the sound of a body shifting around, the sniffs got louder -

Suddenly a small hand was on Oikawa’s knee and Oikawa lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Hinata sat up on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, arms outstretched, his torso pulled taut as Hinata wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s shoulders, pressing his face into Oikawa’s chest -

Before Oikawa even knew what was happening, Hinata helped himself to Oikawa’s lap as a seat . The redhead released his arms and slung them around Oikawa’s neck instead, holding onto Oikawa, releasing soft breaths and steady tears.

Oikawa had completely frozen. 

This was like some kind of wonderful nightmarish dream -

The smell of young fresh sweet blood swirled in Oikawa’s nostrils making him salivate. His stomach growled beyond his control. Dead meat and fresh meat were both before him for the taking but also -

Pressed flush against Oikawa’s whole body now was Hinata’s. Hinata’s legs dangled off Oikawa’s lap, as he’d sat perpendicular, and didn’t touch the ground. Torso to torso but worse or better, now groin to ass - Hinata was sat right on top of Oikawa’s crotch, arms around Oikawa, skin against skin, body against body, touching him freely now -

How beautiful. How terrible.

Oikawa’s heart was like a baby growing rapidly in tiny clothes: it would stretch and break the threads in marvelous growth - 

Why, of all times, did it have to be now?

How long had Oikawa longed for this? How many nights had he fantasised? How many scenarios had played out in lustful daydreams of Hinata falling into his lap and them kissing; of being naked under the covers, of Hinata initiating something, anything; of cupid shooting Hinata with an arrow and thereafter every night in front of the fire they would explore each others’ bodies -

Everything Oikawa wanted just when something he didn’t want had happened.

Despite Oikawa’s grief-stricken sick heart, Oikawa’s mind fed him suggestions that made him shudder: throwing down Hinata on the bed and taking him for his own before eating him and then eating Grandma too -

A tear slid down Oikawa’s cheek. 

Why was the mind so savage? Why was the body so selfish? Could he not even weep and grieve and support his family without perversion? Could he not finally be someone he himself liked being as a human, a person who felt deeply, without his bodily greed?

If he stayed this close, would he bite Hinata or touch Hinata, or do something regrettable?

The line was as thin as a strand of hair.

But - 

What does Hinata need right now? 

The answer came to Oikawa like an arrow: 

Comfort.

Through the tumbling mess of Oikawa’s mind, this one thing shone clear. So with shaking hands and a mountain of effort, hoping against hope, and believing with amassed faith in himself, Oikawa relaxed from his frozen state and wrapped his arms around Hinata, hugging him.

Hinata started sobbing once again, louder, harder but didn’t let go of Oikawa.

Hugging Hinata was like a balm itself. Even with the intoxicating mingle of Hinata’s unique scent and blood pushing at Oikawa’s restraint, the hug tore Oikawa’s mind off of his own introspection as much as it could and onto the matter at hand: Grandma. And Hinata. The present.

But that moment, that struggle, that comfort Oikawa felt in the hug, which he thought would last as long as they were seated, continued long after that day.

The cottage soon went from feeling like a home to feeling like an empty shell. Words failed them. Tears spilled often. They dug a grave at the side of the cottage in silence and buried her with words they could hardly say. They buried her with things they found in the cottage that they knew she loved: knitting needles and thread and relics from her marriage. They dragged their weak bodies into the forest, finding any wild flowers that had survived the cold - winter honeysuckle and pansies. 

Hinata could not speak at her graveside; the words he wanted to say died in his throat and he held onto Oikawa instead, weeping into him. 

Oikawa’s heart felt like it shattered into a million tiny pieces, and then reassembled itself, just to shatter again at the tiniest prod, and then reassemble, and to continue in this torturous process of breaking and healing yet always remaining in pieces, in a fractured state, never again to be singular, whole.

The most either of them could say was the most Oikawa could get out while Hinata was hugging him -

‘D-Dear Grandma, we - we will always - always be grateful -’

Before emotions would choke out his breath, and his heart was rendered to a million tiny pieces once more.

Even after the burial, Oikawa had known that more was still to come. Like a sunset, or an eclipse, yet far far worse than that, he knew what would arrive. An apocalypse. Over time, that crippling sadness, that hungry grief would steal all light, but more than that, the earth would burn, the planets dissolve, and the sun would turn in on itself. He watched hope waver, watched the light dim in Hinata’s eyes, saw the crushing of his spirit as Hinata now walked like one with the grim reaper’s blade etched into his back. It made Oikawa feel sick, made him feel like he was drowning seeing Hinata like that yet Oikawa knew, it was the space they needed to be in, to live in, for not too long but even just for now. To quench grief or try to, Oikawa feared, would have an inverse affect: suppressing something never seemed to lead to anything other than it multiplying. 

But even when things were overwhelmingly hard, Oikawa still found beauty. Unbeknownst to Hinata, Oikawa’s temptation seemed to plateau and this gave some relief to the wolf who was pleased with himself to find the battle for blood got easier.

However… 

Since that first time Hinata had sat in Oikawa’s lap, it was like Hinata had crossed an invisible line in search for comfort and had now found it in the body of Oikawa. This meant, that completely unprecedented and without warning, Hinata would suddenly hug Oikawa or cling to him, front to front, from behind, on the side. Hinata would climb into Oikawa’s lap if he was sitting, and Oikawa would let him. 

If this was all Oikawa could give, then he would give it.

No matter how conflicted it made him feel inside, no matter how much he had to stop himself and berate himself - Hinata was grieving. He was not in a normal state of mind. The ginger was not trying to entice Oikawa no matter how much Oikawa wanted to see it that way. 

 So if his fangs and body couldn’t drink, his heart could. Oikawa let himself drown in the scent of Shoyo, he let himself indulge in every hug, squeezing Shoyo tighter. It was not like Oikawa would take nothing in return… He kissed the top of Hinata’s sweaty, unwashed hair and still felt like he was kissing a bed of roses. He whispered encouragement in Hinata’s ear. Hinata’s hands and arms were now easily accessible for Oikawa to hold and touch so he did as much as he could again and again.

And then, one night, finally, they had the conversation Oikawa had been waiting for.

They were in their usual spots in front of the fire. Hinata now had shrank so much, his face far too angular, his body like brittle bones. They were down to scraps in the cottage, the grief a blow that had hacked away at their motivation to hunt.

Until now.

‘What,’ Hinata whispered, ‘do you think we should do?’

Hinata’s eyes were red from crying and like the shell of a home these four walls had become, Hinata had also become a shell of himself. But the question sparked hope in Oikawa; it meant that Hinata had not yet given up.

‘I am sure the forest is out of food by now. But I want you,’ Hinata stretched out a hand and placed it on Oikawa’s chest, ‘to survive.’

‘No.’ Oikawa stretched out his hand and cupped one side of Hinata’s cheek. ‘You must survive.’

Even in a starving state, how freeing it is, Oikawa thought, to be able to touch him like this.

‘I feel so weak, Toru,’ Hinata whispered, tears sprouting in his eyes once more. ‘I don’t even know, after all of this… if I have the strength to hunt.’

‘Please don’t worry,’ Oikawa murmured. ‘Let us rest and sleep well. Tomorrow morning we can lay down a plan.’

‘A part of me still cannot help but wonder… the Wolf of the West… if he has not been captured yet, if he has not survived … he could be in the forest. But I know that is but a dream I have dreamt for too many nights and it brought me great comfort. Now Toru… you’re my only comfort.’

Hinata closed the gap between them and meshed his body against Oikawa’s, wrapping his leg over Oikawa’s legs. 

‘You are right. Let us rest. Tomorrow we will decide what to do.’ Hinata moved his head back away from Oikawa’s body, and looked up at those brown eyes.

Hinata smiled. The first smile in days. He reached out a hand and cupped the side of Oikawa’s cheek just like what Oikawa had done to him.

‘I’m so grateful,’ Hinata’s eyes watered afresh, ‘to have found you in the forest. You were a dream come true that I never knew I had.’ 

Oikawa could not help himself.

He dived down and planted a kiss on that forehead, on those eyelids, cheeks, nose and finally - a peck, a brush, against those lips. 

Oikawa waited for a reaction. He saw a beautiful red blush and even more beautiful eyes that were not afraid but once again filled with hope.

‘You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,’ Oikawa said. ‘I will always be grateful to you and Grandma. I am grateful that I am no longer alone.’

Hinata nuzzled into Oikawa, hiding his face, clutching onto the older boy. He would fall asleep, sound, to the familiar crackling fire and the now familiar, comforting warmth and body of his best friend. 

  

But unbeknownst to Hinata, a fire, bigger than the one he slept next to, burned inside of Oikawa.

Those words of hope, sincere, lit a bonfire in Oikawa that had been waiting to come alight. 

Because Oikawa was not like Hinata.

Oikawa was a wolf.

No moon. No light. Not a sound or living creature in sight. Save one.

Bigger than any other animal, with fangs protruding from jaws, and large padded feet, an abnormally large wolf crept through trees and shrubbery in the dead of night, towards the kingdom of Cistren.

That king, with his larder and castle and food for his men… who knew if he still wasn’t sharing it with his own people. 

Oikawa had been reckless that time but not now…

A sack of potatoes. A bag of vegetables. Anything anything he could find. 

For Hinata.

As for Oikawa…

The world was still his enemy. There were only two people - now one - who weren’t. 

Quieter than the trees, the wolf lurked its way to the other end of the forest, approaching the edge that would break out into a clearing, before descending down to -

BANG! 

  

‘HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

A burning, piercing pain wrecked itself through Oikawa’s side - 

Not again -

Eyes reflected in the darkness, the glint of arrows, the clang of swords withdrawing, the burning of flames - 

Oikawa leapt out of the way as he heard a barrage of arrows pierce the ground. He snarled, and saw terror in their eyes -

A camp.

There was a camp of soldiers before him, hidden by the dip of the hill.

It was as if -

As if -

‘GET THE NET!!!!!’

They’ve been waiting for me.

Fiery arrows shot across the sky and Oikawa rushed forward toward the fray - 

A young, shaking, boy at the end, holding a bow without an arrow -

BITE!!!! 

A scream tore through the air as Oikawa had bitten off a leg clean - the boy collapsed to the floor as in a blind bloody rage the jaws of the wolf snapped at any arm or limb weaponless - 

‘DON’T JUST STAND THERE SHOOT IT DOWN!’ 

There were already some men running back towards the kingdom - 

SLASH!

A howl reached the sky as metal sliced across an already injured side, and suddenly another sharp jagged pain hit Oikawa’s back of what could only be an arrow -

More glints on metal. How many pairs of eyes. How many more guards would come if those men who ran called for backup? His side was bleeding once again, a lodged pain in his back -

Oikawa ran, zigzag, back towards the trees, the cries fading of those whose body parts he’d eaten, hearing the near misses of arrows, as pain tore into his side worse than the first time, an arrow stuck and lodged sharp in his lower back digging at him with every bounding leap, the incredible taste of blood and flesh on his tongue but two dreaded words rose to the sky - 

‘AFTER IT!!!!’