They soon fell into routine.

Every morning, Hinata and Oikawa would rise early and go to hunt. On the days they could not find a catch, they waded through the forest instead in search of berries, herbs or anything edible. Grandma was not lying when she said she would put the boys to good use: she had Oikawa fix a gap in the roof, made Hinata clean the entire interior while she cleaned clothes in a bucket outside. She had also found some old clothes of her husband’s, and her own, which she gave to Oikawa and Hinata respectively. And while Oikawa was concerned of their sentimental value, Grandma insisted their use was for the living not the dead. 

Oikawa could not help be curious every time he saw parchment, a book, ink and quill emerge at Grandma’s writing table at the end of her bed by the window. Several times she shooed him away as she was writing in her diary but one day she offered to teach him how to write, if he was so inclined. The offer, to Oikawa, may as well have been a tonic to cure him of his wolfish ways: no one had ever taken the time or had the patience to teach or help Oikawa with anything. He had managed to catch his face before the first tear spilled and uttered that he would like that very much. 

Night was still Oikawa’s favourite part of the day. His heart would fill with butterflies and his stomach would turn into the wings of a thousand doves. Oikawa could not, out of respect and gratitude (and fear) and did not, want to do a single thing that crossed an invisible line they had. But he could not help but move close to it. He would clench his fists, he would restrain himself; even during the day, he had to stop himself from watching Hinata’s fairy-like elegance the way the redhead moved, the way those eyes shone, the way that mind found beauty in the most mundane things and suddenly Oikawa could see beauty too. Beauty was in fact everywhere, it was just that Oikawa had never noticed it before. And another thing he did not notice was that his prolonged gazes were being noted by somebody else…

But what else could Oikawa possibly notice, when every step of Hinata’s left a glow of dazzling gold? What else was more soothing to his ears than hopeful joyous laughter? What else could warm Oikawa’s soul more than the endless polite, giving, caring gestures of Hinata Shoyo that never ceased? 

Hunger was replaced with another hunger altogether and this hunger could not be satisfied. In dreams, in his mind, Oikawa fought with wild imaginings that the more he tried not to think, the more he thought. Why did purity give rise in him to something so wicked? And yet, regardless of this war, Oikawa found peace in the faith of his self-control.

Even amidst the famine, there were even more pressing matters at hand. Grandma woke in a coughing fit every night, a fit that Hinata had slept through the first few nights but that Oikawa had woken and listened to. When Hinata had finally been woken from the sound, Oikawa felt the small being roll onto his front, could feel the ginger worrying, peering over at the closed-curtained bed of his Grandma. 

And then, three days in a row, Hinata and Oikawa came back from the hunt empty. They had even laid traps near the stream but had caught nothing. Grandma’s reserves were dipped into again: dried salted meat, jarred preserves and jams. Every time she cracked a jar open Oikawa felt another crack break into his heart. And when Grandma dished out the portions, ‘too much’ were always the words that came to Oikawa’s mind every single day as he stared at the amount of food on his plate.

But Oikawa determined that there would not be a fourth day of nothing. 

He woke before sunrise and slipped out. He couldn’t write to leave a note, so he deliberately left his grey cloak behind instead so that both Grandma and Hinata knew that Oikawa would return.   

It was cold. Frosty. Almost to the temperature that Oikawa could see his breath. 

He conquered the forest gracefully, each step silent, wading his way to now where he knew the steam would be. 

It was a shot in the dark, a futile hope, to think that there could possibly be - 

Ba-dum.

A breath.

Oikawa was a statue as his heart raced. 

He had to be dreaming. 

Dipping down, the ground lowered to to the stream, and there, on the other side of the bank, lapping at the water - 

A deer.

A deer! A full-sized grown adult deer! 

Thump thump thump thump -

Oikawa’s heart was going mad in his chest. 

They could eat for days. They would feast like kings. They would - 

But the deer raised its head suddenly, alert.

Oikawa was hidden behind a cluster of tree branches, there was no way the deer had seen him and still - 

The deer slowly trotted away.

Their food.

Their feast.

There was no time -

In the cloak of trees, for the first time in weeks, in a delicate wisp of wind and soft gold sparks, Oikawa transformed. 

Huge, looming with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes, the wolf surged forward - 

Now, in this form, Oikawa heard exactly where the soft canter of hooves were and rushed -

Hinata glanced, for the fiftieth time, out of the window.

‘My dear boy,’ Grandma stopped sweeping and placed her hands on her hips, ‘either go out there or put yourself to good use in here but don’t just stand there and do nothing -’

THUMP THUMP THUMP.

‘It’s him! He’s back!’ Hinata leapt up and rushed to the door throwing it wide open before falling back in a scream -

Grandma stared.

Hinata cowered on the floor, staring up at the figure at the door.

‘Oi-Oi-Oikawa…?’

Blood dripped at the tips of boots. Oikawa stood, a human, covered in blood on his clothes and face, with an adult deer, draped across his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry to frighten you Shoyo,’ he whispered, his voice strangely calm, and Hinata saw it again, that kind but dead look in Oikawa’s eyes.

‘W-W-What - what happened?!’

Oikawa looked at Grandma. She did not share the same fear as Shoyo. Oikawa saw what he knew he would: hope in her eyes.

‘I killed a deer,’ Oikawa smiled at Grandma and she nodded in admiration and approval, ‘that’s what happened.’

Oikawa felt like he managed to get away with it - just about. He sensed no suspicion from the story he conjured: leaving before sunrise, gathering sharp stones, setting traps by the stream with leaves favourable to deer, hiding in a tree - 

He acted just as astounded as Hinata at his luck in their being a deer, while Grandma skinned, washed and chopped the body of the deer outside on a large makeshift table before them (again Oikawa was amazed at Hinata’s lack of queasiness at this process although he did notice Hinata look away when Grandma chopped its head off) and then the timing of Oikawa throwing a stone to distract the deer before Oikawa jumped on it from above -

Oikawa could not help but add some dramatic embellishments about his struggle with the deer, trying to strangle it and break its legs and clobbering it with sharp stones repeatedly in the head. If anything, it was good because Grandma could not hide her doubtfulness but Oikawa was too caught up in the agape mouth and wide shining eyes of Hinata, all of the redhead’s attention just on his storytelling abilities. 

‘You’re really amazing Oikawa!!’ Hinata could not help but gush and Oikawa too sheepishly smiled and looked away unable to stop a blush.

And as Oikawa had dreamed - they feasted like kings. Fresh, spitfire, roasted meat was insanely delicious. Today, Oikawa drank the wine Grandma opened as did she, and the day ended with clapping, singing and dancing a bumpy jig in the tiny living space, Hinata laughing so much he cried, watching Grandma teaching Oikawa how to hook arms and swing her round.

And while Grandma conked out, snoring loudly in bed, Oikawa had bold alcohol in his veins, and a nervous fire in place, and nothing else different to every night that he lay down next to Hinata. 

Except this time, while their beds were ready and they were about to lie down, Oikawa grabbed Hinata’s wrist. 

‘Do I smell?’

Hinata was alarmed, his cheeks red and he felt hot from all the laughter and joviality of the evening.

‘Of blood? Or of sweat? Or bad? I am aware that we sleep next to each other, and I do not want it to be unpleasant for you,’ Oikawa murmured.

Hinata’s heart raced. 

Oikawa suddenly let go and knelt down before Hinata with his arms stretched out in surrender. 

‘Smell me. I won’t move. Can you just make sure it isn’t bothersome for you?’

Hinata was not sure why he had the feeling, the thrill, nervousness and excitement, like the first time he’d aimed a bow and arrow.

‘B-B-But you are wearing clean clothes. And you washed. I am sure you smell fine.’

‘Can you come closer and check?’

The fire crackled. Hinata’s blood thudded against his ears. He took a step closer towards Oikawa, who’s head was at chest-level to Hinata now that Oikawa was kneeling. Hinata gingerly placed a small hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, his thumb coming into contact with the warm skin above Oikawa’s collarbone. Hinata could feel Oikawa’s eyes boring into him and he could not, he just couldn’t, look at Oikawa - his heart was beating too wildly like a trapped bird, the closeness to Oikawa a strange, exhilarating yet wanted sensation - 

Hinata leaned forward, nearer to Oikawa’s hair, face and neck, staring pointedly at the floor behind Oikawa, and sniffed. 

Hinata had the sudden scandalous urge to wrap his arms around Oikawa and bury his head into Oikawa’s shoulder. 

‘You smell fine! I smell nothing!’ Hinata jumped back like one burnt.

Chest heaving, Hinata stared in a state of aroused alarm at the wolfish glint in Oikawa’s eyes. A mischievous grin spread across the older boy’s face.

‘Are you sure,’ Oikawa whispered, ‘you smelled me properly?’

Hinata thought he would faint from the heat from the fire, the heat inside his body, the heat in Oikawa’s eyes, the strange mixture of inexplicable desires bubbling inside of him -

But a heaving, spluttering coughing fit from the bed made both boys run to Grandma’s side.