By the time water was provided, pillows readjusted, the coughing ceased and Grandma had eased back into sleep, Oikawa was sober and Hinata was worried. And when the duo finally got round to actually lying down beside the fire, Hinata seemed jittery, nervous, he couldn’t look Oikawa in the eye and - worse than that - uncomfortable.

Guilt ripped its way through Oikawa as he observed Hinata anxiously trying to settle into bed, turning his back to the wolf and facing the fire, obviously worried about Grandma and perhaps now with the added worry about Oikawa.

Oikawa wanted to punch himself in the face; he’d promised himself he would not do this to Shoyo. 

Getting under the blanket, Oikawa made sure, although it broke his heart, that he was physically further away from Hinata even though he longed to close the gap and slot himself behind that small, fragile frame. 

‘Hinata?’ 

Oikawa felt like he was calling across a gulf. 

The fire was bright turning Shoyo’s hair into flames. Hinata had curled into himself, facing the fire, away from Oikawa, more than an arm’s length away. 

‘Yes?’ Hinata mumbled to the fireplace. 

‘Please can you look at me? I would like to apologise to you.’

Slowly, reluctant, Hinata turned - 

Oikawa’s heart shattered.

There were silent tears leaking from those mesmerising eyes and Hinata roughly brushed them away, before tucking both hands under his left cheek, sandwiching them against the pillow, and looking at Oikawa.

‘I’m -’ Oikawa swallowed, ‘I’m so sorry, Hinata. Truly I am. If earlier on I made you feel uncomfortable -’

‘No -’ Hinata shook his head, ‘it’s not that -’ his voice cracked.

‘Then?’

Hinata sniffed. ‘I’m worried. About all of us. I’m worried about my father somewhere in the south, I’m worried about my ma and sister back in Bunbury, I’m worried for Grandma, for me and for you - I know you caught a deer and that’s amazing but I know that may not be the case in the future, and everything is so uncertain and - and -’ Hinata pursed his lips as if unsure if he should continue but then he blurted out, ‘and also sometimes when I’m around you I feel all sorts of things that I cannot understand and it confuses me and scares me a little and I’m worried about that too - there’s just so many things I don’t know -’

Hinata cried quietly, softly, as to not wake Grandma. 

And Oikawa fought, like a man against a lion, from hugging, touching or comforting Hinata in any physical way at all. 

How foolish, Oikawa thought of himself, how selfish. 

How Oikawa had marveled at Hinata’s positivity, his mental strength, his determination to make it through each and every day -

But he was only human. Just a boy. With fears and worries like the rest of us. 

‘Sometimes you shine so bright, I forget the amount of energy that must take,’ Oikawa whispered. ‘But you’re going to be OK, Hinata Shoyo. And it’s OK to be worried. But I will do everything that I can, everything in my power, to make sure you’re OK -’

And more than that, Oikawa in his semi-drunken state had pursued pushing himself to the edge of his restraints with no idea of how it was making Hinata feel…

‘And I won’t -’ Oikawa took a deep breath, ‘confuse you. Anymore. I’m sorry I took my teasing too far. I will never make you feel uncomfortable ever again and if I do, you must tell me, OK?’

Hinata wiped his tears away and nodded, wide-eyed, at Oikawa.

‘And if there ever comes a time, when you want me to leave -’

‘No,’ Hinata asserted, ‘I don’t want you to leave.’

This boy will be the death of me, Oikawa thought. ‘But, if ever you do, just say the word and you’ll never have to see me again.’

‘That will never happen. I don’t want you to leave.’ 

Oikawa gave a small smile. ‘OK. Then I’ll stay.’

Oikawa stared back, from pillow to pillow, from one side of the gulf to the other.

'I will make sure you're OK,' Oikawa whispered, 'and Grandma and then - if you want but only if you want - I will help you find the rest of your family or, at the very least, take you safely back to Bunbury, if that is where you wish to go. Now, sleep well, and rest that pretty head of yours. Tomorrow's worries will take care of themselves. But just remember you're not alone.'

With the strength of a giant, Oikawa forced himself to turn his back on the angel before him, and not reach out and touch Hinata, as he promised himself he would never make Shoyo feel uncomfortable ever again.

'Oikawa?'

Oikawa raised his head off the pillow and slightly turned, awkwardly glancing over his shoulder to show Shoyo that he was listening.

'I'm happy to have met you,' Hinata whispered and unbeknownst to him, these words were like sweet, addicting nectar flowing into Oikawa's soul.

'Likewise. I feel exactly the same way. Goodnight.'

Oikawa laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He did not hear Hinata turn back towards the fire which meant that the boy could still stare at Oikawa's head if inclined. But Oikawa refused to entertain such fancies; tomorrow he would help, and help as much as he could, to survive the winter. 

But the clouds turned darker, murkier and brewed, they merged and conspired and blotted out the sun. Along with the clouds, the wind whipped up a spin, lashed and howled through the trees like a banshee. The air became sharp, pointed, like the tip of an icicle, and trees shed their leaves like weeping women who have shaved their heads. 

The cold crept, like the beginnings of a plague, and in the days that followed, Hinata felt the change, the chill, in his bones. 

His concern for Grandma, his worry for his family, his cauldron of inexplicable feelings whenever he saw Oikawa - these would all have to wait. 

Food and food alone, was his priority.

The portions in the cottage became smaller, Grandma coughed more, and although she kept up her fighting sunny spirit, Hinata could sense the cracks. 

They had started to hunt separately. It was wiser and more effective, they agreed, if they planned which areas of the forest to tackle. And so, each morning the duo would enter the forest and then split, Oikawa taking the left side of the forest and Hinata taking the right. 

One morning, when the air was biting, and the leaves were now brittle, and the sun a dim figure behind the cage of clouds, Hinata wandered further to the right of the forest than he had done before. Through thickset trees and brambles, thorns snagging at his red cloak, Hinata heard a rustle. A rustle of something large. Up ahead. Behind a tree.

THWICK! -

Bow. Arrow. Poised. Ready.

Hinata, with eyes like a hawk, watched the tree. 

And then - 

Footsteps.

Moving away.

Footsteps?

As stealthy as a fox, Hinata inched forward, careful, delicate, through the tips of sharp brambles and branches, silently, to curve around the side of the tree - 

A man. 

A man in a small clearing. 

With a scythe. 

He was hacking at the root of a tree across the small clearing from Hinata, as if he knew that gold was buried there. Should Hinata say anything? Then again, he wouldn't want to be accidentally mistaken as a rabbit from a man with a scythe - 

'H-hello?'

The man wheeled around, eyes wide, large, black. He had on a brown cloak, and shabby beige clothes, like a farmer. Black beard, black hair, his black eyes relaxed when he assessed Hinata, and he stood up straight, staking the blunt end of the scythe in the ground and relaxing on it.

'What you doin in this ere part of the woods, boy? Where's your father?'

'Nearby,' Hinata said, relaxing his arrow and bow but still holding both tightly, just in case. 'Good day to you, sir. I will be on my way -'

'You wanna be careful. A small thing like you. Especially from the apparent sightings. It's youngins like you that he's after so you better watch yourself! My daugher's at home and under no circumstance is she allowed to leave. Rightly so! If I see your father, I will have a word with -'

'What sightings?'

The man stared at Hinata like Hinata was a ghost. 

'What sightings!? Does your father not know? Everyone in Cistren is talking about it!!' 

Hinata stared back blankly at the man. The man flapped an arm in desperation - 

'The Wolf of the West!'

'The Wolf of the West,' Hinata repeated, casting his mind around. 'What - the wolf who eats young boys and girls?'

'Precisely him!!!! A great wolf was spotted in the North! Several times! The famine must've brought him here. And he travels through forests! A young lad like you shouldn't be out and about in a forest like this!'

Hinata's head turned to the left.

Oikawa.

Oikawa was all alone.

What if Oikawa encountered the wolf?!!? 

Hinata ran. 

'That's right, my boy!' Hinata heard the man call out to him. 'Get out of here and stay at home!!' 

Snag after snag on his cloak but it did not matter - 

Hinata ran and kept running -

He had a bow, and arrow, and was quick with great reflexes - 

Oikawa had only left the house with a knife. 

Sure he was strong, but what was strength against the Wolf of the West?

Hinata ran -

‘Oikawa!!’

Was this futile? He had no idea where Oikawa was now and this forest was huge yet still he ran and yelled -

‘OIKAWA!’

He was breathless and just when he thought he’d have to give up -

‘Hinata!’

Somewhere. To his left -

‘Oi - Oi - Oikawa!’

How was it possible? Had fate brought them together? This forest was insanely huge -

‘Hinata! I’m coming -!’

Suddenly Oikawa burst through bushes and shrubbery - 

Covered in blood.

‘Oikawa!!’ 

Hinata ran to him, hugged him, pulled at him, pulled him down to place his hands upon Toru’s face, to check, to see the flicker of those beautiful lashes before standing back to survey the carnage -

In each of Oikawa’s hands, at his sides - two hares, bloodied, limp, dead.

Hinata pulled at Oikawa’s clothes. ‘Are you alright?’

Was Oikawa alright? His heart was struggling against his ribcage like the hares he had just pounced on, the feel of small hands on his cheeks was something he thought he’d never ever get to feel -

After Oikawa’s promise to himself, after witnessing Hinata’s fragility, the last thing he thought he’d ever have with Hinata ever again was physical touch.

‘Oikawa?’

A hand grabbed Oikawa’s wrist. 

Maybe if he stayed here, like this, as still as a statue, unmoving, Hinata would just happen to touch him, more and more…

‘T-Toru???? Please say something!’ 

Hold my face in your palms again.

Hug me again.

Come closer again.

‘I’m - I’m fine. The blood… it’s not mine.’

Oikawa could see the relief that flooded the boy. Hinata suddenly hugged Oikawa again, around his waist, his arms wrapping around Toru’s body, under his grey cloak.

Oikawa froze. 

And then -

Thump. Thump.

Two dead hares fell to the cold ground as Oikawa wrapped his arms around Hinata. 

‘I met a man in the forest,’ Hinata muffled into Oikawa’s chest, ‘who said there had been sightings here of the Wolf of the West! He said he preys on young boys and girls like us and I - I got scared that you were alone!’

Oikawa could not help himself from squeezing Hinata that much tighter, from allowing himself to the smell the figure he slept close to every night, to just close his eyes and dwell in the moment. 

‘That is very kind and considerate of you,’ Oikawa murmured, and Hinata wasn’t sure why, but Oikawa’s voice and words, just made him feel things… feel differently to anyone else he’d ever been around, ‘but it would need to be more than a wolf, to keep me away from you.’

Oikawa opened his eyes.

Wait.

Did he just say that out loud?

‘I’m serious, Oikawa!’ - was Oikawa imagining it? Hinata seemed to be holding onto him just as tightly - ‘We shouldn’t hunt alone anymore! The wolf could attack at any moment!’

‘The wolf only attacks people at night, so as not to be seen. And he usually lures his victims into the forest or away from a crowd, as opposed to hunting in an actual forest -’

‘So you have heard of the wolf!’

‘Who hasn’t? But to be honest, I’m more concerned of this stranger you came across, which is why perhaps we should hunt together again.’

Finally, all too soon, Hinata let go and moved back, studying the blood-stained older boy before him. 

‘Are you sure,’ Hinata whispered worried, ‘you’re OK? You’re not hurt in any way?’

An arrow has been shot through my heart but I’m fine.

Oikawa smiled. ‘I’m not hurt. And look!’ Oikawa bent down and held up his kills. ‘We will feast tonight!’

Oikawa wasn’t wrong, although when he arrived in the state that he did, Grandma could not help but comment -

‘Goodness! Maybe you should be wearing Shoyo’s red cloak to save you from cleaning blood every time you come back home!’ 

It was a wonder how much a full stomach could induce a good mood. And for his sake, as for Shoyo’s, Oikawa steered clear of any wine offered by Grandma, even though she insisted it was the last of it, it was fire for the belly to keep them warm, Oikawa did not regret abstaining if it meant behaving himself, and for Hinata to feel comfortable around him. 

And stronger than the wine, or roasted meat or the smell of blood, more warming than Grandma’s songs, the fire and the blankets, were the jittery, excited, intoxicated feeling that now flooded Oikawa, every evening, every night, every time he lay his head down to sleep beside Hinata. He expected nothing, would be content with nothing but could not help but hope especially after so much sudden contact from Hinata in the forest that tonight maybe, just maybe, Hinata would reach out and hold him some more…

But Oikawa’s wishes were in vain.

Hinata fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. 

No matter.

Oikawa watched and listened to the stop-start breathing from the bed and from the floor, of these two strangers who felt the least like strangers to him out of everyone in the entire universe.

But in the following week, they weren’t so lucky. 

Coldness was the norm, and Grandma had Oikawa working harder to chop trees for firewood. But regardless of the flames, their main concern was food. Hinata and Oikawa hunted for longer, waited for longer, listened for longer - to Hinata it felt like they covered every inch of the forest again and again and again. They had picked the last berries, they had plucked the last herbs, had every animal been eaten? Twice they crossed paths with merchants and men who had suspiciously looked at them, whose eyes had roved quickly over the boys to see if they had any food or animal on them. Oikawa could sense that if they had made a catch, there would’ve been a fight to keep it.

And just as concerning with the growing scarcity of food, was Grandma’s cough. 

She batted it away, made nothing of it, shooed any question or query from Hinata about her well-being, not looking the boy in the eye and busying herself with something ‘useful’ but it pulled at Oikawa’s heart strings to see the worry and care in Hinata. 

Oikawa insisted they hunt separately again. It took some convincing, Hinata now being concerned about the Wolf of the West, and funnily, specifically Oikawa coming face-to-face with said wolf: but Oikawa argued that two covering the forest in two separate areas was better than two in one area, and given what he knew about the wolf, they had nothing to be concerned about. When Hinata conceded, Oikawa, when alone, hunting, transformed - but regardless, as wolf or human, there was no prey in sight.

And so the rationing began.

Oikawa said nothing as he watched their portions get smaller and smaller, as Grandma acted like it was still a feast, as he heard his own belly, and the bellies of his companions rumble, as his nostrils tempted him with the smell of young and old blood, these two massive meals before him every day.  Oikawa could sense the mounting unease building in the little ball of sunshine, this parade that would soon fade and end, any moment now; Oikawa knew that Hinata was not the type for charades and pretense; he knew that all this acting, all this unspoken tension, this whole facade of everything being fine would soon break.

And he was right.

It was one evening, one more evening of coming back without a catch, one more evening of silent worry and despair, of Grandma’s chirpy forced positive comments, when she’d laid out dinner of a few spoonfuls of jarred compote giving, as usual, Hinata and Oikawa bigger, equal portions, compared to her plate of tiny dollops that Hinata snapped -

‘You’re not eating enough.’

And Oikawa, held his breath. They were sat around the table, fireplace blazing, with plates before them, and compote that only took up a tenth of the plate. Oikawa sat between Hinata and Grandma, the two family members facing each other across the table.

‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’m not hung -’

Grandma’s stomach growled.

She patted it away. ‘My stomach hasn’t been feeling well recently -’

‘That’s because you’re hungry and you’ve given me too much -’

‘Nonsense, I -’

‘Please,’ Oikawa interjected, offering his plate, ‘take some of my -’

‘No.’ Sharper now, Grandma flashed a look at Oikawa that said: keep out of this.

‘Well I’m not hungry!’ Hinata’s nostrils flared. ‘So you might as well take some of mine -’ Hinata too extended his plate -

‘I am not taking any of your food, Shoyo - you both have been out hunting all day you need the sustenance more than -’

A coughing fit, not unusual now, overcame Grandma, and she turned her head away as she coughed into a handkerchief. 

‘I-Is - is the medicine not helping?!’ Hinata asked. ‘Are you not feeling better at all? Why is your cough getting worse?’ 

Grandma wiped her mouth on the cloth. ‘I’m fine, Shoyo -’

‘You’re not fine!!!! Stop saying you’re fine! You’re clearly hungry, you’re clearly unwell, and even after all the medicine you’ve taken -’

Hinata faltered, frozen. Eyes wide, a thought, like a shot of lightning, struck his mind.

‘Where is the medicine?’

Grandma seemed to be taking way too long to fold her handkerchief and put it back in her pocket.

Hinata stood up. ‘Have you been taking the medicine I brought?’

‘Shoyo,’ Grandma looked up and in those eyes, Oikawa saw it all.

‘WHERE IS THE MEDICINE?!??’

Like a whirlwind, that tiny force of nature stormed through the cupboards, the storage, searching every pot, pan and crevice he could find - pushing aside empty jars, taking everything out, Oikawa had stood up - 

‘Hinata -’

And Grandma was about to too until -

Hinata stopped, frozen. 

From the back of the cupboard, he pulled forth a cloth pouch, tied at the top, sealed, bulging, bursting, unused, unopened. Oikawa recognised it: it was the pouch Hinata had handed her when he’d first arrived, all those weeks ago, happily handing over the medicinal herbs for her cough. 

Slowly Hinata turned, palm flat, pouch in hand, to face his Grandma with an expression of mounting red thunderous rage on that soft pixie-like face.

And Oikawa knew, that all hell was about to break loose.