Archive of Our Own ^beta

These days, pain is guaranteed. What is war if not an ominous, thick haze imbued with fear, agony and suffering? A soldier does not step into a kill zone expecting to return unharmed. At least not the ones that know better than to delude themselves with a fake sense of protection.

Liam knows better. Being a werewolf comes with non-negotiable risks. If you're subtle enough and master the ability of self-control, you can navigate through a peaceful life without anyone noticing your supernatural genes, and you will never have to know how the muzzle of a gun feels against your head. If you're in the McCall pack, however...

That's a different story. Subtlety is not compatible with the True Alpha's pack, not when each member is a picture attached with push pins to some hunter's cork board waiting for a big red X to be drawn over it. Monsters to kill and eradicate. Targets. You cannot belong in this pack and expect an unbothered life—Scott made that clear from the very first moment. Honest and purposeful his voice was, so Liam believed him.

He underestimated the danger, though. The night he was bitten was the last piece of normalcy he could taste, whatever normalcy meant for him back then. After that, he didn't quite know what to expect, but it definitely wasn't a bald man with no mouth trying to kill them all; or a beast coming back to life to take over his best friend's body; or an evil school guidance counselor turning an entire town against them, teaching teenagers how to point guns at them and shoot fearlessly. And the most surprising event of them all: a vicious chimera, victim of years of ruthless cruelty, who half succeeded in destroying their pack from the inside. Theo Raeken, a true former villain, now desperately but gently placing Liam on the steel table in the middle of the room after carrying him from his truck to the Animal Clinic.

"It's okay, it's okay, you'll be fine. Just hang on, Liam. Can you do that for me?" he keeps asking, and Liam does not have the strength to answer.

He closes his eyes, opens them again. Deaton is a blurred figure beside Theo, both of them towering Liam, who's on the verge of passing out. A burning sensation impossible to ignore in his shoulder. Maybe his leg too—it's difficult to tell right now. He wishes Scott were here. He'd know what to do. He would've protected him, taken those bullets for him. Liam tries to focus on the image his eyes are attempting to capture. Deaton says something about fire. Yes, fire. Burn the wounds. Makes sense. He looks to his right, finds a pair of green eyes staring back at him, eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. Theo's sitting on a stool next to him, both arms folded over the table, his chin resting on them. Liam sighs. The chimera would've taken those bullets for him as well. If only he hadn't been so far away.

"Don't close your eyes," Theo instructs. "I know it hurts, but Deaton will take those bullets out and treat the wounds, okay?"

Liam wheezes when he talks for the first time since they got out of the woods. "M—Mason."

"He's fine. Both of them," his fingers find Liam's bicep as the reassurance takes place. "I sent them home, told them I'd stay with you. Don't worry."

A weak nod, and Liam redirects his gaze to the ceiling, eyelashes fluttering as he fights the urge to shut his eyes. Panic doesn't rise even though there are at least two bullets embedded in his body. His thoughts don't follow a straight line anymore, hence he cannot decipher if the lack of dread has something to do with a calloused thumb drawing invisible circles on his bicep. If Theo said he'll be fine, then he'll be fine.

Deaton's words sound distant and confusing, his conversation with Theo incomprehensible. They shouldn’t have gone to the woods. To follow those hunters was a stupid idea. Theo had said so but none of them listened, and now he's facing the consequences. Cold, pointed object rummaging in his shoulder. Liam hears the scream that escapes his mouth as if he were standing outside his body. Cold object out of his wound, tinkling sound of a bloody bullet against a metal tray. Theo's hand gripping Liam's.

“Wait,” the chimera says, preventing Deaton from doing his job. “He's hurting too much. Let me take some of it.”

Liam may be slipping into unconsciousness, but the meaning behind those words feel like a rope around his body yanking him back into reality. He shakes his head, eyes filled with because everything hurts, and there is no way he'll let Theo experience even a quarter of the pain moving through his veins right now. He's had enough for a lifetime.

Theo's grip on his hand tightens. Liam tries to jerk it away but can't gather enough physical effort to succeed.

“Let me help you, dumbass,” Theo mutters just for him. “Stop being a stubborn bitch for one second.”

The chuckle Liam lets out feels more like a grimace. A heavy sigh comes out of the chimera's mouth. Perhaps he's thinking about how annoying Liam is even when he's only half-alive. But his job is basically to get on his nerves, and Liam likes that occupation too much to stop because of two little bullets poisoning his body.

Taking pain and having your pain drained are two different things.

The first one feels like no matter how much suffering is already inside your body, you need to make room for other people's agony because you care. Because they matter enough for you to intertwine your unbearable pain with theirs so they don't have to endure such affliction. You'd rather burn your insides with more pain than you can handle than watching them undergo a tortuous feeling.

The second one feels like you're slowly becoming lightweight. Suddenly nothing's there anymore: all the insufferable ache and misery being siphoned out of your body and into someone else's. For Liam, it feels too much like being cared for. Loved, sometimes. It depends on the person—Theo taking his pain right now doesn’t feel like when Scott does it. The alpha extracts it slowly and patiently, making sure he won't collapse from taking too much at once. But Theo is all desperation and impetuosity. He takes and takes and takes until his hand wrapped around Liam's shakes. If he suddenly feels lightheaded, he doesn't care. Liam takes a moment to be impressed by the amount of pain inside his body; the draining seems to last forever.

“It's enough, Theo. Even for you,” Deaton's voice says. “I need you to hold him so I can burn the wounds.”

“Right, yes. Sorry.”

Darkness unfolds before Liam. He doesn't remember closing his eyes. None of his senses are working correctly. Words are being pronounced around him but he can't recognize them. Someone puts two hands on his shoulders, pinning him down hard. The surface is cool against the bare skin of his back, the shirt he'd been wearing lost somewhere around the room. When the flames lick his wound, a savage roar is torn from the depths of his body. He feels pain, anger, desperation. A dangerous mix of ingredients boiling inside him threatening to wake up a ravenous beast Liam’s been successfully taming for months. The heat melts his shoulder for a few moments, then moves to his leg, right below his knee. Liam releases a painful cry.

“Hey, don’t,” says Theo’s soft voice against his ear. “Don’t make that sound, it drives me insane. I got you, don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”

Deaton continues to burn the poison but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Liam can’t be sure—the world blurred at the edges doesn’t help—but he could swear Theo’s grip on his shoulder loosens as if he were suddenly in pain.

—

A week later, those bullets might as well have been a fever dream. Deaton treated the injuries and his werewolf healing did the rest, so it was a quick recovery. He stayed at the clinic until the dizziness disappeared completely, then Theo took him home and Liam had to pretend he hadn't noticed how the chimera kept glancing worriedly at him during the whole drive, continuingly asking if he was okay, which felt like a question Liam should be asking, considering the insane amount of pain Theo took from him.

He thought about it. A lot. Lying in bed, eating breakfast, and even while pretending to do his homework. A faint memory of Theo's hand squeezing his own, drawing out every drop of his suffering to bear the pain for him. At that moment, with wolfsbane poisoning him slowly, Liam couldn't think about the implications of the action. But now, the event is a movie in his head replaying over and over. It didn't even occur to him that Theo could care about him enough to take his pain. Liam had deemed himself insignificant in the chimera's life, now he’s not so sure. But again, Theo also took Gabe's pain that day at the hospital, and Liam’s one hundred percent certain that asshole wasn't important.

To summarize: he's completely, entirely, and hopelessly confused. It was the first time Theo soothed his pain. That has to mean something, right? You don't do that for just anyone, right? Maybe the Gabe situation was more about Theo's inner turmoil of feelings than it was about the boy, right?

With a shake of his head, Liam clears his mind. He can’t go down that rabbit hole now; a more important task awaits.

When Theo suggested they should keep an eye on the hunters, Liam laughed and asked if he had hit his head. Frowning, the chimera stayed silent, meaning he was serious about his stupid plan. That exactly was the concerning part: Theo does not have stupid plans. He may reluctantly agree to Liam's stupid plans, but he never proposes one himself. Theo's plans are methodical and meticulous. He has the precision of a surgeon for these things, and watching hunters from behind some trees doesn't sound very smart or thought out. But if the chimera can put up with his senseless schemes, Liam can return the favor.

Going into the depths of the woods, uneasiness creeps up Liam’s body. His footsteps are careful and silent, the lack of sound making it seem like he’s a ghost floating around the trees. He pauses consciously, and thinks: I was standing here when they shot me. Letting his gaze wander, hands deep in his pockets, Liam spots a stationary truck. And crouched down beside one of the tires, a somber, shadowy figure.

Theo’s been there for forty minutes. He offered Liam a ride because it would be more logical and safer if they went hunter watching together, but the boy turned him down while saying something about a lacrosse reunion with Finstock and that he’ll meet him there. Theo had to refrain from disclosing that the actual reason he’d been insisting so much was a deep, raw fear of losing him. Last week’s ambush was a close call, and he could barely pull himself together after he dropped Liam home, the adrenaline still pushing through his veins, the worry more poisonous than wolfsbane. Still struggling with the fact that he cares enough to be afraid at the thought of a life without him, Theo wouldn’t like to test it out.

There is an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the woods—because why not—and the hunters have been using the place as their personal lair, guarding the place day and night. An impenetrable fortress hiding God knows how many illegalities. Not that Theo is the most adequate person to talk about obedience to the law, but he allows himself some hypocrisy every now and then. Men and women wearing bulletproof vests and carrying big weapons pace around the perimeter without really being vigilant. For a split second, it occurs to Theo that any of these people could be the one who shot Liam, and wants to run the distance between them and slit their throats open.

The thought is quickly discarded, though, because someone touches his shoulder. Clenched fist, he smashes it against a nose.

“Fuck. Fucking hell! Fuck you, dude.”

The chimera stands still, bloody fist hanging loosely. His mouth parts as he watches Liam bend over in pain, a hand covering his injured nose, overgrown hair dangling graciously. He’s been so focused on a murderous fantasy he didn’t even hear Liam approaching him. Careless behaviour—he cannot let it happen again, not with hunters in the immediate vicinity. His senses need to be sharper than this.

“Jesus,” he says, debating whether or not to touch Liam. “You came out of nowhere. Why would you do that?”

Liam raises his head and reveals a bloody nose. Disbelief floods his face. “What? I didn't do shit, Theo. You punched me!” He emphasizes this by throwing his arms in the air, then wincing immediately. “Fuck, I can’t feel my nose.”

The chimera feels one corner of his lip moving upward involuntarily. Crossing his arms and with a smug expression he says, “Stop saying bad words or I’ll tell Jenna.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, it's not that bad. Shut up or they'll come and kill us.”

It's hard to ignore Liam's continuously whining and complaining. Sure, he possesses enhanced hearing, but if the hunters are alert enough, they'll be able to hear it too, and putting Liam at risk again after he almost dies a week ago is not an option, even if it's the result of his own stupidity. Theo grabs his arm and yanks him down until they're sitting on the ground, backs against the side of the truck, thighs pressing against each other.

“That's easy to say when you're not the one with a broken nose that hurts like hell,” Liam spits through a whisper.

“I thought you couldn't feel it,” the chimera replies, amused.

“Theo,” the boy whines.

“Alright, lemme see.” Before the beta can protest, Theo wraps his fingers around Liam's wrist, bringing it to his lap. Slowly, the boy's faint pain colors his veins black. Eyes focused on the transfusion, he doesn't dare look at Liam. Instead, he smiles slightly, because the beta is definitely exaggerating how much his nose hurts. Theo didn't even flinch. “It's not that bad, you're being such a baby.”

Liam jerks his hand away, looks down, refuses to meet Theo's gaze. “Stop stealing my pain. It's mine.”

“I was tasting it,” Theo teases.

The smallest hint of a smile. “Go taste someone else's.”

“Yours is the sweetest.”

Liam's head jolts upward. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, opens it again. “Oh my god,” he mouths, a burst of laughter coming out intermittently. His eyes are glistening with amusement when he looks at Theo. “Oh my god, that was terrible.”

Theo can't help but smile at him as his heart clenches. He chuckles and blames it on the boy; his laugh is contagious. “Yeah, I know,” he admits. “Feel better?”

He rolls his gorgeous blue eyes, then answers reluctantly, “Yes. But fuck you anyway.”

Theo gives a bark of laughter. “Okay, that's fair.”

A blanket made of silence covers them gently. The only audible noise being the murmurs of conversation between hunters, leaves rustling in the breeze, and Theo’s steady heart next to him, Liam relaxes against the vehicle. He shifts closer to the chimera trying to obtain a better view of the people who shot him. Unperturbed laughter comes from their surveillance spots, not a hint of regret in the way they casually talk, no remorse for having almost killed a teenager. They don’t care one bit.

Liam slumps back on the ground, feels his nose healing unhurriedly. Beside him, Theo keeps glancing at the hunters with his brow furrowed, jaw completely locked, invested in this boring plan which consists in sitting back and stare. Liam lets his head fall backwards until it hits the truck door.

Looking to his left, he says, “Don’t you think bringing your gigantic truck was a bad idea?”

A fair question, Liam thinks. This thing is like a transformer. If the hunters haven’t already realized they’re spying on them, they’re idiots. Theo’s eyes fall on him, warm and gentle. He purses his lips to fight a smile.

“Yes,” he agrees.

Liam does not repress his grin. “Full of bad ideas lately, huh?”

Chewing his lips nervously, Theo throws a side-glance at him before returning his eyes to the hunters. “You have no idea.”

—

Lacrosse matches are stupid, boring, tedious, uninteresting and excessively loud. The crowd gathers in the stands, cheerfully yelling and screaming for boys he doesn’t know. They wave at the players, sing poorly written songs, curse a little when the referee does his job badly, and Theo has to endure all of it. He is clueless as to why he keeps putting himself through all this torture.

On the field, a group of boys wearing maroon jerseys embrace each other. Next to him, Mason and Corey pronounce words of encouragement and compliments while clapping and occasionally whistling. Out of his dissociation, Theo realizes everyone around him is cheering as well. Eyes back on the game, a boy he knows like the palm of his hand is looking up, helmet hanging from two fingers, his hair impossibly messy. Liam just scored a goal, and is grinning at him breathlessly.

Perhaps he knows why he keeps coming back every week to these nonsensical games.

Mason elbows him, a silent order to clap. Normally Theo wouldn't do it; that would make him exactly like every other person in this place he took the time to criticize exhaustively. He refuses to be on the same level as the stupid girl next to him sighing dreamily and jumping every time the guy playing for Beacon Hills High School with a nine printed on the back of his jersey looks in her direction. His direction, thank you very much. But Liam rumples his hair before putting the helmet back on, and Theo's chest feels too small to contain his sister's heart. The boy gives a thumbs up, and the girl squeals. It wasn't for her, of course, but Theo won't be the one to destroy her fantasies. If he were a little more evil, maybe. But his reluctance to socialize prevails over his desire to let her know that Liam doesn't register her existence, so he shuts up.

On the other hand, Mason always has something to say, and happily hands over his comments, unprompted.

“Poor girl. She wants him but can't have him. You have him and don't do shit,” he laments.

“I don't have anything,” Theo mumbles as he starts to applaud Liam's apparently amazing goal.

“You do, man. Watching you two is exhausting.”

“I agree,” Corey chimes in, hand deep in a bag of potato chips.

“I don't like this conversation,” the chimera voices, crossing his arms over his chest and following Liam's smooth movements with his eyes.

“Maybe I can convince Liam to date this girl instead. I'm a very good matchmaker,” Mason ponders out loud, a finger to his chin and all.

“Please don't,” says Theo's mocking voice. “She's annoying and I'd hate to have her around.”

“No other reason?”

He'd like to erase Mason's smug smile with a punch, but he made a promise to the guy on the field. It was one day in the months that followed the war against Monroe: Theo’d been at Liam’s house after admitting to himself that the boy’s company was not so bad. “If we’re gonna be friends,” Liam had said, and Theo had gone stiff at the choice of words, “you need to stop being such a bitch to Mason and Corey.” Theo hadn't been interested in his friendship, but, for some reason—definitely not the shiny ocean eyes—he said yes.

With the promise still valid, all he replies instead is, “No.”

Mason seems discontented with his answer, but thankfully shuts up and does not push the subject. Whatever nameless feelings are making his stomach turn at the sight of Liam are not worth thinking right now—that's reserved for sleepless nights, Theo lost in the dark vault that's his mind.

Liam sweeps a hand through his damp hair once the referee declares the end of the game with a loud whistle. Strands of dark, wet locks fall over his face, the situation getting messier when he shakes his head in a way that reminds Theo of a puppy. Liam's chest rises and falls as his breathing normalizes, jersey tight against the skin. He begins to walk out of the field while maintaining a conversation with one of his teammates, eyes darting up to where his friends are, lips curving upward in a smile reserved for Theo only. Sweet but self-satisfied: he is aware of the chimera's hatred for the sport, yet he knows Theo will be there week after week, occupying the same spot on the stands, awkwardly smiling back at him. Theo hates lacrosse but attends every game religiously—God knows what conclusions Liam draws in his mind and what those results do to his ego. If he suspects Theo is hopelessly in love with him, he's got the decency not to mention it.

Both teams out of the field and the crowd starts to disperse. Their routine comes naturally at this point: the three boys sit on the stands so they don't bother the people heading out while they wait for Liam to change his clothes. Mason's voice is rushed and low as he grabs his boyfriend's arm and points to a group of girls walking towards the parking lot. Theo recognizes Liam's admirer.

“Ooh, she's kinda cute. Right, Theo?” Corey asks, eyelashes fluttering when he glances at him mockingly.

Theo's face contorts into disgust. “I wouldn't know. I’m gay,” he replies, tone dry, eyelids dropped in boredom.

Corey rolls his eyes. “You're gay, not blind.”

The glint of mischief in Mason's gaze gives away his evil intentions even before he opens his mouth. “He's got eyes for just one person, Corey!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Theo hissed. Easily annoyed, the chimera lets his eyes scan the few people left as the boys beside him laugh at his expense. In retrospection, he shouldn’t have made that promise; he'd like to be a little mean right now.

The small, spontaneous post-game gatherings—which normally consists of fathers discussing the tactics of a high school lacrosse team—begin to disintegrate. The encounters are broken by impatient little kids begging to go home, the adults express their desire to organize a dinner that's never going to take place because they don't like each other that much, and eventually the families go their way, their sons meeting them after a quick shower ready to accept their compliments. You did so good, baby! But Theo's pretty sure that boy did not touch the ball the entire game.

The boy who actually did fucking amazing, as always, is refusing to come out, apparently. Theo watches his surroundings as the place empties, spots the guy Liam was talking to on their way out of the field, but the werewolf is nowhere to be seen. Numbers on his lockscreen show the time: too late. Liam's never late—he doesn't like to keep them waiting.

“Everybody left,” Theo says, not a hint of worry in his voice even though it's all he can feel. “I should go check on him. You guys can go find the truck.” He stands up and throws his keys at Mason, whose eyebrows are knitted in confusion. “I'll meet you there once I find Liam. Is that okay?”

“Uh, sure,” Mason replies doubtfully, casting a weird glance in Corey's direction, but his boyfriend just shrugs. A second later, they're both standing up. “Call us if you need anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

The boys get off the stands, leaving him alone as the reflectors die and the field is dimly illuminated by the moon only. Despite the sudden darkness, Theo descends from the top row until the ground is firm beneath his feet. Feeling uneasy, he enters the school building with a strange sensation he can’t seem to shake off. A succession of lockers and doors is left behind him as he walks and walks and walks. The locker room never felt further away, the tiled hallways miles long. Theo continues to repeat himself that everything is more than okay, that Liam’s delay is probably due to exhaustion, that he’s still in the showers trying to recover from his astonishing performance.

But Liam is a werewolf, the annoying voice in the back of Theo’s mind reminds him. He doesn’t get that exhausted, and if he does, the recuperation is far quicker than the rest of his teammates. Also, Theo can’t help but notice the deserted school. Every room is empty, all the lights are off. Day’s over, Liam’s still here, and he’s not okay. He can feel it in his bones, an emergency alarm blaring a warning inside him. A shattering sound.

Theo floats more than he walks, steps getting faster as he approaches the locker room, the thought of Liam in danger clouding any coherent thought he attempts to conceive.

He smells the blood before he sees it, among other unpleasant scents in a men’s changing room. Blood and fear and anger, all coming out of Liam’s stomach in a current of red, thick, deadly water. He’s sitting on the floor, a bench supporting his body, head tilted back against the surface of it. Next to him, a lacrosse stick with the end cap missing. Instead, there is a sharp knife covered in blood. The entire scene induces a wave of nauseating horror in Theo, resurging a murderous rage that threatens to consume him. Maybe he gasped or something, because Liam opens his eyes and raises his head to look at him.

“Oh, hey. I knew you’d come,” the boy talks laboriously, the words coming out in heavy breaths. “C’mere, I’m okay. There’s no poison or anything, so I’m just waiting for it to heal.”

Theo’s on his knees beside him before Liam finishes his sentence. Hands shaking and reaching for something, possible placements unclear. Blood dampens his pants, the puddle expanding extremely slowly. But Theo doesn’t have time to worry about his bloody knees when Liam is bloody everywhere.

Removing Liam’s hand from his stomach to analyze the injury, Theo needs to ask, “Who did this to you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Liam has the audacity to reply. Theo glares at him furiously.

“It matters, Liam, because someone has to do something about it. If you don’t tell me, I swear to god I’ll kidnap Finstock until he gives me the full list of names of both teams. Then, I’ll knock on each of those assholes’ doors and—”

“Theo,” Liam interrupts his rambling. His lips are parted in disbelief, although his eyes are shining with pleasure. Theo’s still holding his weak hand, but the other one travels shakily to rest on his cheek, leaving a trace of blood on the chimera’s skin. “Just keep me company. I’ll tell you later,” he lies, and Theo does not call him out on that.

He swallows his latent fury, nods, and whispers, “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Warmth leaves Theo's cheek when Liam withdraws his hand and lets it fall graciously on his injured stomach. Stabbed stomach. With a fucking lacrosse stick. At least there's no bullet to remove, which makes this assault better than the previous one.

Tilting his head to one side, Liam's eyes sweep Theo's face asking for something. Company, probably. He said it a moment ago: he wants the chimera's company. Not someone else's. But that's because Theo's the only person there—at least that's what he tells himself as he shifts his body to sit beside Liam, their bodies pressed from shoulder to thigh, a fire constantly burning where their clothes touch.

Theo's words cut through the silence, “Does it hurt?”

Liam snorts. “Like hell.” The chimera puts on a pained expression, as if carrying memories produces physical damage. The bleeding boy shrugs awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Don't be,” Theo brushes off his comment, smiling lightly to accentuate the dismissal, even bumping his shoulder against Liam's. “Can I do something to help you with that?” His eyes flicker to the injury.

Liam glances playfully at him. “Yes. Shut up.”

A grin on Theo's face. He'd give him everything. “Not really my style,” he says.

Yes, Liam knows. It’s been an arduous journey cracking Theo open: months of just amiable companionship, witty remarks, broken noses over stupid arguments, distrust, and an armor built of fictitious arrogance. Theo would be there all the time, hanging out with him and the boys, seemingly pleased with the entertainment they provided for him—video games nights and bad jokes—but he wasn’t the same Theo who’s sitting next to him right now. No, post-war Theo had been extremely reticent and constrained, silent unless addressed directly. Getting him to open up was all Liam’s hard work, it took him exactly three months, seventeen days and a summer night sitting on the roof. Today Theo is still a constant presence, only armorless and unprotected around him. He’s more communicative with Mason and Corey too—that was a tougher goal to achieve—but this version of him, whimsical and amusing, smart-mouthed but harmless, occasionally touchy and softhearted—that’s reserved for Liam only.

“You’ve had a rough couple weeks, huh?” Theo says now, low and soft. Liam chuckles and shakes his head because yes.

“I don’t know why they don’t stab you for once,” he jokes. “They need to give me a break.”

“I’d prefer that too, honestly,” the confession slips out of his mouth hesitantly. Rare moments like this where Theo expresses his concerns about him are meant to be handled cautiously.

A deep breath, then Liam deliberately avoids the chimera’s eyes as he asks jokingly, “You want to be stabbed?”

“If that means you’re safe, then yes.”

Liam embraces the silence that follows. Something so fragile shall not be shattered with words. Every bit of vulnerability Liam receives he treasures dearly. That's why, when Theo reaches for his hand and orders Liam's pain to leave his body, he doesn't protest verbally, just rolls his eyes fondly and lets his lips curve upwards.

After Theo's done and his veins return to their natural color, he says, “You seriously need to stop doing that. You're hurting now.”

Theo does not let go of his hand, his thumb casually drawing circles on Liam's palm. “But you're not,” he simply replies.

A second passes. “Is that worth the pain?”

The chimera seems to be secretive about his answer, pressing his lips tightly together and glancing in every direction except next to him. But he's been getting worse at keeping secrets from Liam lately.

“Yeah, it is.”

Liam sighs heavily, the words making his throat tighten with an indecipherable feeling. “Asshole,” he mutters through a smile.

Theo laughs, confused. “What?”

By now, his cheeks must be the deepest shade of red. “You know what.”

“Hey, look. Blood's no longer coming out of your body,” Theo's voice is too sing-songy for this to be just a comment on his health. “It's all on your cheeks now,” he finishes arrogantly, poking the skin of his face with one finger.

“Stupid fucking idiot shut up,” Liam says in one rapid breath, a quick sucession of words filled with embarrasment. He presses his nose against Theo's shoulder and closes his eyes, still smiling against the fabric of his shirt.

“That's cute,” the chimera mocks him, gaining a punch on his side.

Liam's body shakes with silent laughter. Minutes pass with his face buried in the crook of the chimera's neck, the scent of the boy overwhelming and familiar, filling his nostrils with a pleasant smell. It'd be too easy to place a kiss on his neck right now. He just needs to lean in a little closer until his lips touch skin, and then he applies pressure. Too easy. That's why he pulls back.

“I think I'm better now,” he says, shifting to sit in a more upright position.

Theo hums dubiously, taking a moment to inspect his injury. There's still blood all over his stomach, but the skin there is soft and plain now. “Okay. Let's go then.”

Swiftly, the chimera stands up and offers his hand to help. Liam feels good as new, which means he can get up himself with no problem whatsoever.

He accepts Theo's hand.

Letting his fingers linger over the chimera's palm for a second, he inspects the messy, bloody floor. “Should we… clean this?”

“Uh… maybe?” Theo says, both hands on his hips, lips pursed in examination. “The last thing we need is for you to be involved in an attempted murder case.”

“I don't think he wanted to murder me,” Liam emphasizes, “just scare me.”

A frown appears in Theo's face, as if the mere idea were ridiculous. “You've seen worse, a little stab wasn't gonna scare you.”

He's not proud of his reaction, but Liam jumps a little in excitement. “I tried telling him that!” he exclaims.

The smile sent in his direction comes fast and leaves even faster, the chimera's face returning to a calculating expression. “I'll go check the cleaning room and maybe get Mason and Corey,” he announces. “We could use some extra hands.”

Nodding, Liam replies, “Right. Okay.”

There's a moment of hesitation right before Theo leaves the locker room. He stands there, one foot ready to walk down the hallway, but his eyes are firm and fixed on Liam's stomach, on his ghostly injury. The way his jaw constraints is a transparent sign of annoyance, even anger. Liam's not used to seeing those negative emotions so clearly in Theo, which is why he couldn't place the piercing look that suddenly appeared on his face. Maybe he wasn't meant to notice it either, because the chimera clears his throat and blinks rapidly a few times, as if escaping his own mind. He meets Liam's gaze—his eyes softer now—nods one time, and then he's gone.

—

Theo is not the kind of person that accepts favors. They are not selfless actions impulsed by kindness, but a debt you can call in sometime in the future. And Derek Hale doesn't seem to be the kind of person who willingly helps someone without expecting something in return. But, somehow, Theo's been living in his abandoned loft for six months now, and the man hasn't said a word about it.

He spent the first four weeks thinking it wasn't going to last, that Derek would eventually show up at the front door to kick him out, that it was just a pause in his homelessness. But the days passed, the cold season morphed into something warmer, and the loft started to fill with belongings he didn't even know he had. It terrified him, at some point: it felt too much like settling down on a cliff that could crumble at any moment.

Then the funniest, scariest thing happened: no one told him he didn't belong there. When he picks up Liam and Alec from school, they say they should go back to his place. His place. When Liam's lying on his bed watching some crappy reality show, he usually comments on how his home is always at the right temperature. His home. Does Theo consider this abandoned—not so abandoned anymore—loft his home? He wouldn't say so. It is, however, a constant reminder that he's up here and not down there, that there's a place for him somewhere in this goddamn Earth. Until he finds it, this loft will do. Until the temporality mutates into permanence, this place is his.

Of course, he wouldn't want to test the limits of Derek's generosity. Multiple times he offered to pay rent now that he's got a stable job, but the man refused, saying something like that kid would absolutely slay my throat. Huh.

The nights aren't so bad at the loft either. A bed with an actual mattress is better than the backseat of his truck surrounded by the uncanny silence of a random parking lot. Police officers tapping his window, the blinding light of a flashlight bathing him, being on the receiving end of multiple pitiful looks—all of that was exhausting.

Here he exists, alone and undisturbed.

Mostly.

The unusualness of the banging on his door sends all the alarms in Theo's head blaring. Atypical events don't normally result in positive outcomes, at least not in this town. Whatever it is, Theo's ready. He was tamed and trained for years to be ready for the weirdest things. That doesn't mean his sister's heart is not threatening to fly out of his body.

He jumps out of bed, puts on his slippers. There goes a potential peaceful night binge-watching Bake Off so he can submit his comments to Liam later. Oh, well. Perhaps he'll get the boy to watch it with him once he deals with this emergency.

The banging lasted for approximately five seconds, then stopped completely. A thief wouldn't wait for him to open the door, Theo thinks. Or maybe yes. There is no way of knowing.

He makes sure his heart is steady and calm when he reaches for the handle and reveals the thief's identity: Liam Dunbar, completely beat up and bloody, his skin exposed where his clothes have been ripped, cuts and scratches decorating it. Hair rumpled, messy. Breathing heavy, laboured. Eyes hooded, searching. Theo feels a lump of panic rising up his throat, hands hovering over the boy but not touching him, uncertain as to where to put them.

“Uh, hi. I got into a fight,” Liam says, then collapses.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Theo mutters as the boy's body lies sprawled all over the floor, limbs unrecognizable under the blood. “Fuck,” he continues to swear as he kneels down next to him.

In an instant, the chimera's body goes on autopilot. He throws both of Liam's arms over his shoulders, grips his sides tightly and lifts him up, his hands moving to hold him by the thighs, supporting his weight more easily. Theo carries a languid Liam to his bed, mourning the white sheets as he delicately places him on the mattress.

“Liam, hey,” he says desperately, cradling the boy's face with his hands. One, two lazy blinks. He slaps his cheek gently. “Hi, Li. Everything's okay. You're not gonna die.”

Liam bends over and spits blood on the floor before speaking, “As if you would allow that.”

An attempt at smiling, obviously failed. Good, Theo thinks, at least he's conscious.

“Yes… right. I know my priorities” he replies, trying to hide the hint of worry tinting his voice. “Stay here, I'll get everything we need to get you cleaned up.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere!” Liam says loudly as the chimera sprints towards the bathroom.

Any coherent reason that could serve as an answer as to why Theo can't seem to act effectively every time Liam gets hurt does not cross his mind. Gripping both sides of the sink, Theo allows himself a shaky breath before regaining his composure again. He continues to breathe for a few more seconds, inhaling and exhaling slowly. He needs all his senses sharp as knives, and the sight of Liam covered in blood for the third (fourth?) time in a month does not contribute to his needs.

How does this keep happening? Liam is not safe anywhere, and it terrifies Theo. He tries to come up with a plan to make himself the target instead, a pathetic attempt that results in nothing because he doesn’t know why the hunters made him the target in the first place. Maybe it's because he's Scott's only bitten beta. If that’s the case, Theo cannot do anything to deflect their attention to himself—a lonely, miserable chimera does not have the same appeal as a True Alpha's beta.

Only one thought remains in his head as he begins to rummage through his first-aid kit: he must follow Liam everywhere from now on. That's his only chance to protect him and make sure this does not happen again.

It will not happen again.

A werewolf doesn't need a first-aid kit, but try telling that to Theo's racing brain. Liam's cuts and bruises are probably healed by now—all that's left to do is scrub those blood stains. He reaches for a cloth and throws it in the box with the rest of the useless stuff, then carries it to his bed.

Liam hasn't moved, still sitting on the mattress with his legs dangling in the air. There is something about this boy, a slightly different demeanour hard to notice unless your undivided attention is directed at him. A childish gesture on his face. He's pouting, his lower lip curved in affliction coming off him in waves. Strong scent. Liam knows how to hide his chemosignals, he mastered it a short time ago, but never does it around Theo.

He looks at the chimera with a worried frown and, through his pout, he cries, “I'm staining your sheets with blood! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have come.”

Theo regards him with a suspicious glance. Puzzled, even. The boy's words are slurred and squeaky, his complaints more bratty than usual. Genuine distress.

“No, no. It's okay, Liam. You did the right thing,” he reassures as he wets the clean cloth with some ethyl alcohol. “Are you… okay?”

The question is followed by silence. Theo bends down a little, places one hand on Liam's cheek, cleans some blood off his forehead with the other. Tries and fails not to think about the proximity. Liam's breath is warm against his lips with every puff of air he releases. Theo grabs his chin between two fingers to scrub a red stain on his jaw. Rapidly, a problem arises: Liam won't stop fucking moving. Swaying, wobbling, whatever. He's acting like a drunk person.

“Okay, this is not working, Liam. How is your skin perfectly healed and smooth but your brain isn't? I need you to stay still.”

Liam… giggles. Theo's stare is made of disbelief. Heavily he sighs once again, a habit around this one specific boy. A decision is made very fast: Theo sets the cloth aside, then proceeds to lift him up by the armpits until his back hits the wall, a stable surface steadying his body. The drag only got the sheets even more dirtier, but that's hardly important right now. A mystery in front of his eyes is begging to be solved. Theo positions himself right before Liam, separates his legs so he can kneel more comfortably in the space. Another sigh, and he seizes the cloth to continue his job.

“I'm sorry,” Liam mutters.

“Stop that, dumbass,” the reply is bereft of any real heat. He's finally stopped moving, and listen, Theo may be atheist, but he believes he should be thanking someone right now. Tilting Liam's head to the side, he works on the blood stains of his neck. A question occurs to him suddenly. “Where were you anyway? It's two in the morning.”

Liam shrugs. “A party?”

“A party,” Theo deadpans.

“A lacrosse party!” The exclamation startles the chimera a little, the word lacrosse too high-pitched for his supernatural ears’ liking. Lowering his voice again, he adds to himself, “Oh, damn. I didn't tell Mason and Corey I was leaving.”

Theo's head snaps up. “Mason and Corey were with you?”

A ringing phone cuts through the atmosphere, slicing Theo's increasing irritation. Glancing around, he realizes it's his own phone on the nightstand. Screen lit up, displaying a picture of Mason kissing Corey's cheek. In white letters, the name of the former. Perhaps Theo will have the chance to yell at them for leaving Liam alone after all.

He jumps out of bed, snatches the device and presses the green button before taking it to his ear. Harsh comments are already bubbling in his throat begging to be released, but Theo stamps them down. There is probably—hopefully—a reasonable explanation for this entire unfortunate situation.

A beat stretches until Mason's voice is heard over the unmistakable party sounds in the background. “Oh, hey, man. Listen. We were with Li—”

“He's here,” Theo cuts him off, maybe a little too unkind. “What the fuck happened?”

There is a shuffling sound on the other side of the line, hysteric complaints of drunk people, marching feet on the floor, a door clicking shut. Now, the party sounds are muffled and distant. Mason engages in quick conversation with Corey, their sentences unintelligible, even for a chimera. Desperate, urgent voices tend to exasperate Theo, and theirs aren't the exception.

“Hello?” he says, throwing his arm in the air. “You better start talking, Mason.”

“Shit, I forgot. Yes, sorry.”

The human boy embarks on a story, a poorly recollection of the previous events that led them here, with a rough-looking Liam falling asleep on his bed. Neither Mason nor Corey seem to be in their right mind, but Theo is not surprised: of course the people who are supposed to be his eyes at a party he didn't attend would be drunk. He has to trust the word of two wasted teenagers.

He's talking about the fight. Mentioning it, really. They didn't see anything, of fucking course.

“Liam went to the bathroom, and we went to get drinks. He insisted he was fine! He said, ‘Mase, I'll meet you in the backyard,’ and I said okay. Then I had one… two? Was it two, Corey? I don't think it was one but I'm not sure it was two.”

“Mason.”

“Yes, yes. Okay. So. We heard the fight, but when we got to the backyard it was already over. Some guy told us Liam was involved when we asked, said he left in a pretty rough shape. But we couldn't find him, we looked everywhere.”

Mason stops talking, apparently gets the phone away from him because Theo cannot hear what he says to Corey.

“You should've told me you were going to a party,” the chimera speaks carefully, the words slow and emphasized. He glances over at Liam, who's staring at his bloody knuckles in confusion.

“Well, you don't really like parties,” Corey chimes in.

Liam clenches his fists hard until they tremble, then lets them fall to his sides. Theo swallows strenuously. “But I could've been there to…” Protect him. He chokes on the unsaid words, the syllables refusing to leave his throat. He feels suddenly sick, wonders what kind of thoughts flood Liam's mind at the sight of his bloody hands. Wants to let him know he's not bad. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

A severe babbling of nonsense comes out of Liam's mouth. Something is definitely wrong with this boy. He mentions something about the full moon and Alec, but those are the only words Theo can make out—the rest is a mix of unfathomable phonemes and growly screeches.

“What did he drink?” Theo asks, stern gaze fixed on Liam.

“What? Nothing. He said he wasn't gonna drink,” Mason replies. “Listen, we were on our w—”

“Gotta go,” the chimera blurts out before hanging up.

He drops the phone on the nightstand and climbs to the bed again at the same time. His background music? Liam's nonstop jabber on the latest Bake Off episode. The one he was supposed to watch tonight. Spoiler after spoiler after spoiler. Theo can't find it in himself to care right now.

“Hey, Dunbar. Sorry, I was talking to Mason.”

Theo doesn't know much about intimacy, but the way Liam looks at him when he gently holds his hands to scrub the blood off his knuckles makes his insides squirm. Those eyes do the prettiest thing the moment they land on Theo: they glisten, pupils growing bigger with every second he stares. Wide blue sky contained in two irises.

The cloth is damp with alcohol and already dirty with blood, but not excessively. Theo holds Liam's fingers as he tenderly erases every single trace of blood. And because he cannot help himself, black veins are already transferring Liam's pain to his own body, as well as some unexpected dizziness.

“Did you drink anything?” he asks innocently.

The boy seems to think for a second, if the furrowed brow is anything to go by. “No, just some water a guy gave me.”

Closing his eyes, Theo repeats, “You drank the water that some random dude gave you.”

Weird behaviour, a merciless fight. Has Liam been drugged? It's no secret the hunters are after him, and who is on their side is uncertain. Last time, their own classmates were against them, aiming and shooting without flinching. Luring Liam into a party, waiting for him to be alone and drugging him to beat him up three minutes later sounds like a plan. For what purpose is unknown. Theo starts to think they don't actually want him dead. If they did, they would've put in a lot more effort.

“I was kinda thirsty, to be honest,” Liam says, then frowns. His lips are pressed in a line, gaze curious. “Hey, your eyes…”

“What about ‘em?” He glances around trying to see himself in a reflection, but Liam catches his face with both hands, forcing him to meet his deep blue eyes. Theo holds onto the cloth for dear life.

“They’re so pretty,” Liam says, a little too close to his face. “You are…”

“Liam.” A warning.

“...so beautiful.” His thumbs circle the skin of Theo's cheeks.

Too much to handle. This is too fucking much.

“Liam,” Theo pleads, his voice on edge, desperate. “Stop. Please.”

“And so nice to me,” the boy continues. “You're so nice to me, I don't deserve it, I'm just annoying you all the time, you were probably sleeping and I barged in and I'm so sorry, Theo.”

The chimera's name comes out muffled as Liam throws himself at him roughly, both arms around his neck, nose hidden behind his ear. Theo's balance is lost for a second, the inexpectancy catching him off guard. Once he steadies himself and sighs, he drops the cloth and places his arms around Liam's middle, patting his back sweetly.

He feels something, the incapacity of naming what it is driving him insane. Could this be love? It burns his organs pleasantly, a wildfire.

Getting words to come out of his mouth is the hardest task at the moment.

“I wasn't sleeping and you don't annoy me. Stop saying nonsense,” he whispers. Liam makes a plaintive sound against his neck, apparently in disagreement. “Why don't you tell me who you fought?”

“I… don't remember,” he mumbles, confusion crystal clear in his voice. His fingers have worked their way through Theo's hair, combing slowly. “That's weird. I don't… know.”

“It's okay. Don't worry.”

“I'm sorry I don't remember.”

“It wasn't your fault,” he says in a lower tone, holding tightly.

He's here, in his arms, and Theo suddenly feels he's been living his entire life sliced in two. In that moment, with Liam all over him, he feels complete for the first time.

“Theo,” Liam says suddenly, pulling back with panic in his eyes, both hands gripping the chimera's shoulders. His gaze softens after a second, scanning Theo's face in awe. “I got blood on your face,” his voice comes out gravelly, a sound that shrinks until it fits next to Theo’s heart. For Liam, the pair of lips in front of him, moist and pink, may be the most important thing in the world right now, deserving of all his attention. In amazement, he says, “Here, let me.” Bringing one thumb to his own lips, he licks it slowly, the movement being followed by Theo’s flustered gaze. Then, hesitantly, Liam caresses the chimera’s lower lip until the blood comes off. Hands on his sides hold him strongly in place as he admires his work. “That’s better,” he whispers, unable to deny himself such a gorgeous view. “Your lips are so soft.” He reaches for his lips again, fingertips barely touching them when Theo grabs his wrist.

“Please, don’t. You don’t know what you’re doing,” he supplicates, voice broken and barely a murmur. He might be dying. This feels too much like dying. Liam’s killing him, twisting the knife deep inside his chest.

“But I know, Theo. I—”

“Don’t say anything.” He is not strong enough. He was once, the strongest of them all. But that counterfeit strength had faded, the disguise had been dismantled, revealing a weak creature under it, powerless and lonely, stupidly vulnerable. “Go take a shower. You’re staying here tonight,” he orders, pointedly avoiding Liam’s hurt eyes.

Disentangling himself from Liam takes a lot more effort than he thought. Once he gets out of bed, dragging the boy to the bathroom is not so hard. He’s not showing any signs of resistance besides some groans and whines expressing disappointment.

“But—” Liam says when they get to the door and Theo pushes him inside.

“Get in there, yell if you need anything.”

Pressing his back against the closed door seems a bit too dramatic, but he does it anyway. His body needs that wooden surface to support it, otherwise he’d crumble down. Eyes closed, he concentrates and hears Liam starting the shower on the other side. A weary sigh escapes him.

Theo rubs his hands roughly over his face, then dashes away from the door.

Driven by the need for distraction, the chimera opens a drawer and seizes a clean set of sheets. Liam’s drugged. Someone drugged him. A checklist tries to materialize in his head, but the outline is blurred. Two items to start: find out who did this, research how to detoxify him. Maybe those priorities need to swap places. A new wave of rage burns under his skin when he snags the bloody sheets off the bed. Hey, your eyes. He shakes his head, throws the ruined fabric aside. They’re pretty. These sheets are nicer, soft blue. Reminds him of something. You are so beautiful.

Theo stops and presses his palms against his eyes until he sees little stars.

Absentmindedly, he runs a hand along his lower lip, the ghost of a finger sending a chill down his spine. Lingering.

He always lingers.

—

“I can handle it, I swear.”

Alec is walking in front of Liam as they approach the entrance of Theo's loft, because there are very—very—few things he'd like less than turn his back on Alec on a full moon night.

The kid's still having trouble—no. He's not having trouble, he's still learning as Scott once told Liam himself, and has some minor struggles that will probably be solved by the next full moon. The thing with Alec is that he gets carried away, loses focus and is prone to distraction when self-control in these nights is all about concentration. He's on the opposite end, but Liam will reach out and bring him to his side, helping him find his balance. His anchor.

Liam stops behind him when they get to the entrance, a black bag thrown over his shoulder, just some tools they might need to keep him in line. His eyes dart from Alec’s face to his hands, a snort ready to escape.

“No, you can’t. Put those claws away, sweetheart,” Liam says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Alec hates pet names, says he sounds like his mother when he uses them, which just increases the regularity with which Liam says them.

The younger boy frowns, puts his hands in front of his face, and groans, tilting his head back. “Fuck.”

A single knock on the door would let Theo know they’re outside. Stepping into the comfortable familiarity of the loft would mark the first hours of mindless carelessness since the last unfortunate event plotted by the hunters to make him miserable. Liam doesn’t trust anyone, not even himself, outside this loft. He’s come to doubt his own decisions—how could he have known that accepting a nice guy’s cup of water would lead to him being drugged and bloody outside Theo’s door? The lack of security fills him with dread and paranoia. He found out he can’t exist anywhere: not at home, not at school, definitely not at a party. No place could stop the worried glances over his shoulder, except this one: Theo’s loft. There are many things Liam is not sure about, but Theo’s constant presence is not one of them.

Untouchable is how he feels every time he steps into his place, entering the chimera’s field of vision. Protected is another word for it, yes.

Loved?

Liam shakes his head.

In summary, rough couple of weeks for him.

“Don’t you have a key?” Alec asks, patience running low when a whole minute passes and Theo doesn’t open.

Liam scrunches his nose. “To Theo’s loft?”

“Yeah,” the kid replies, as if it were logical.

“Why would I have a key to Theo’s loft? It is Theo’s.” Can the full moon make you an idiot? Maybe Alec is a unique case. But he’s an idiot on the regular, so.

He shrugs. “I dunno. I thought it would make sense since you two are kinda… y’know.” A vague gesture with his hands does nothing to provide the end of that sentence.

Liam feels a sudden need to defend himself. Harshly, he says, “We are kinda what.”

Alec definitely did not expect this reaction, and at least has the decency to look ashamed when he replies, his tone growing more doubtful as the words come out, “You know… like… dating or something.”

“What?!”

The door opens finally, revealing a fresh showered Theo, clean white shirt tight against his body, wet tousled hair covering his forehead and dripping. Liam’s face must be doing something terrifying, because Alec mutters a frightened, quick nothing and rushes past the chimera and into the place. Theo follows the kid’s rapid sprint, lips pursed in a silent question he may not even voice, too used to their shenanigans.

When he looks back at Liam, there is a witty remark definitely waiting to be voiced. He knows his stupid smirk all too well.

“Liam. Good to see you,” he says, all innocence and charm. But he cannot hide the evil twinkle in his eyes as he adds, “Not drugged.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” is the very smart answer he gives before walking past him as well, a triumphant feeling coming off of Theo in unbearable waves.

The sun is descending beyond the picture window, sitting on the horizon and promising to return tomorrow. It paints the sky a soft pink, a dark shade of orange. Perfect color palette. Liam drops the bag to his feet and admires the view for a few seconds as his muscles relax, the tension he’s been feeling for days leaving his body, defeated by the sense of safety Theo’s loft emanates. Untouchable.

Turning around, he finds Alec absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, a disgusted expression on his face. Theo’s sliding the door closed, biceps flexing with the movement, shirt tightening there. Liam has to look away for some reason, his cheeks feeling suddenly warm. The chimera is wearing slippers and loose grey leggings, a comfortable outfit for a very uncomfortable night. He casually approaches the boy in the center of the loft.

“How’s the full moon treating you, Alec?” he friendlily asks.

It’s hard to see it—it’s not even that obvious—but Theo is fond of the kid. How it happened is unclear, but Alec’s a charming kid, very lovable with that bubbly, intense and magnetic personality of his. Idiocy might prompt most of his acts, but there is something appealing in that. Theo folds his arms over his chest in that nonchalant way that characterizes him, meanwhile his eyes go all soft and interested in Alec’s reply.

“Great. I’m great,” he says, big smile lighting up his face, fangs on full display. Theo snorts, Liam rolls his eyes as his hands rummage through the bag.

“Yeah, sure,” he chimes in, watching as Alec stares at his reflection on the phone, excessively opening his mouth and touching his fangs. Liam walks up to him and holds a pair of handcuffs between them. “Hands.”

Theo intercepts a strangled noise before it has the chance to exit his throat. Alec eyes him suspiciously, smirk tugging at his lips. But Liam’s eyes are serious and penetrating, and Alec has no other choice than to hold his hands out, defeated. With the handcuffs secured, Liam glances over at Theo.

“Do you have the chains?”

“And ropes, yes. They’re upstairs. I’ll go get them.”

Liam watches as Theo climbs the steps and disappears in the upper story. With him out of earshot, he desperately turns to Alec and makes sure his voice is very low.

“You thought we were dating?!” he says through gritted teeth, face contorted in horror. Alec seems tired already.

“I mean, it’s hard to think you’re not,” he simply replies.

Liam massages his temple; the way Alec speaks, as if his implication weren’t crazy at all, is driving him insane. No evidence exists in this world that could possibly result in such a ridiculous conclusion. Dating! Theo and him! Dating. Jesus Christ. This kid might be affecting him more than the moon itself.

“You’re making zero sense, Alexander,” he tells him, a hand on his hip, the other pointing at the boy.

“I’m Alec,” there is a hint of annoyance in the teenager’s tone.

“It lacks strength,” Liam explains, exasperated. “The full moon is making you stupid.” He pauses for a second. “Stupider.”

Alec winces. “I don’t think that’s a word. And if the full moon makes me stupid, it makes you mean.” He stands there, proud of himself. Looks at the ceiling, pretends to think. Then, “Or maybe you’re hanging out with Theo too much.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

A sardonic smile resonates in the loft. “That you two are obviously, painfully obsessed with each other? That there is an underlying sexual tension between you two that’s begging to be satisfied? Oh, okay, maybe I’m imag—”

Liam punches him. Fast and hard, body on the ground. Fists clenched, he feels the way the moon intensifies the nonsensical current anger flowing through his veins. He aimed at the boy's nose, now bleeding. Strong kid, that is. Breaks the handcuffs easily, gets on his feet in the blink of an eye, returns the punch, his knuckles connecting with Liam's jaw. Liam stopped after the first punch, searching for Theo's heartbeat upstairs. Alec, on the other hand, is under the moon's influence: rage bubbling up, being released in the form of blows and slaps with no permanent landing spot. He tackles Liam with incommensurable force, knocks him down. Claws enter Liam's chest deeply, they drag themselves along the skin. Blood finds its way out.

They're wrestling on the floor, loud growls traveling through the walls until the noise alarms Theo, who rushes down the stairs with a tangled web of chains and ropes on his hands. He stops at the bottom step, carelessly drops the objects and stares at the two boys fighting, eyes half-closed in boredom.

Tiredly, he sighs, both hands resting on his hips. “You've got to be kidding me.”

With the pace of a person who doesn't have a care in the world, Theo approaches the fight. One swift movement and Alec is knocked out, limbs sprawled over the floor in what seems to be a very uncomfortable position. His eyes travel from Alec to Liam, gaze filled with disappointment.

“Well, how's the full moon treating you?” he asks.

Time to restore order: Theo sends Liam to the kitchen while he finishes tying Alec to a column. He secures the knots, makes sure they’re real tight, though it doesn’t seem like the boy will wake up any time soon. He contemplates him silently for a minute, then ambles toward the kitchen.

Liam’s leaning against the counter, lifting his shirt to assess the scratch on his chest. The claws went in deep, Theo can tell even as he positions himself in front of him. He also notices other things he’d like to keep in private. Liam lets go of his shirt when he sees him, the fabric covering his skin completely except for where it’s ripped. The chimera crosses his arms, tilts his head and stares, hoping that would be enough to obtain some answers—normally it works—but Liam just stares back, so he has to ask.

“Why did you freak out?”

“I didn’t freak out.”

Tough nut to crack. That’s Liam. Also a terrible liar. Theo tries lowering his voice, summoning every speck of patience left in his body. Turns out, for him, he has a lot.

“You were fighting with Alec,” he starts, matter-of-factly, “the kid we’re supposed to maintain calm. Is that your way of keeping him calm?”

Shoulders hunched and head down, Liam feels humiliated. That is not Theo’s intention, he knows that, but suddenly he’s fifteen and crumbling under his mother’s disconcerted gaze.

He swallows hard and says bitterly, “Okay, I get it. I’m terrible at this.”

“You’re not terrible,” Theo communicates with that tone that’s reserved only for him: gentle, purposeful, dulcet and honeyed. Alec calls it Liam’s voice. The chimera leans forward, fingers stretched and itching as if he were to touch him, but regrets the idea and lets his back hit the stove again. “You’re a werewolf existing during a full moon. It happens. It happened to you, and you controlled yourself. You did great.” The faintest ghost of a smile on his face. It fades as quickly as it came, replaced by a stern, serious, pointed look. “But I have to ask: do I need to worry about you tonight?”

Not as long as you’re around, Liam thinks.

“No, you don’t,” he says instead.

“I’ll do it anyway.” A real smile now. Small, lopsided, no teeth. Brief but loving. Theo moves towards a drawer, opens it and takes a white, clean cloth that is dampened and thrown into Liam’s hands. “Go clean yourself, you can borrow one of my t-shirts. I’ll make you some coffee.”

Pathetically, Liam stands there. Cloth turned into a ball in his hands, knees weakening and chest aching at the sight of Theo grabbing two mugs from a cupboard: a big blue one—his—and a medium sized one, Spiderman themed—Liam’s—. He starts the coffee maker humming along with the music coming out of the living room television, a peculiar fast-paced melody. His back is turned on Liam, broad and relaxed, analyzing whether he should go buy more sugar or if the amount he has will be enough. Liam likes it sweet, he knows that. When Liam thinks about it, Theo knows a lot about him, and vice versa. There is a list of facts about the chimera in his head, an imaginary piece of paper that changed as the months passed. Some things are crossed out and discarded—the first item, for example: he’s evil—, others erased and then re added—third item, now tenth: he smells good—but the list is still going. He hasn’t even scratched the surface of the enigma that is Theo Raeken, and despite that, no one knows the chimera like him.

The data collection is still a work in progress, and the existent items are the product of endless moments like this: Theo making coffee, Liam rambling about some hideous lacrosse practice next to him, blocking his way more often than not. Liam’s rant getting more heated, Theo struggling to suppress his smile as he hands him the steaming mug. Sunlight entering the kitchen in magical, golden rays through the window. Routine. Rinse and repeat.

Liam raises his hand until it touches his own chest, right over his heart. He feels overwhelmed, and it’s not just the full moon. Fleeing from the kitchen and going into Theo’s bedroom would help, he thinks. Scrub the blood off his skin and change into a clean shirt. That sounds like a good plan. Very solid. So he does it.

Theo’s bedroom is upstairs, so he has to walk by a still unconscious Alec to reach the stairs. Inside, the room is a little bare and sterile, yet comfortably spacious. Books carefully organized in piles on a desk. Notebooks and black pens on the nightstand. Liam doesn’t really go into Theo’s room, so he takes a moment to admire this remarkable place where the former evil chimera lets his guard down and sleeps. That ache in his chest seems unwilling to leave. His steps are silent as he walks the distance between himself and the closet. Flings the door open, a familiar smell hugging him like a blanket over his shoulders. Instantly he finds the t-shirt drawer and seizes a long-sleeved, grey one. It’s chilly tonight. He ambles back to the bed and sits, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. Takes the ruined shirt over his head, thanks the supernatural healing as he evaluates the smooth skin of his chest under the blood. The damp cloth makes those red stains disappear after a few scrubs, leaving the area a bit reddish. After he’s done, he throws on Theo’s t-shirt.

He’s not less overwhelmed than he was in the kitchen. The invisible hand that seems to be squeezing his heart does not have the intention to let it go. Coffee’s probably ready, two mugs on the counter, Theo’s elbows propped on the surface as he sips the hot, black liquid. The vital organ trapped inside his ribcage thunders. Is it the full moon? It can’t be. It hasn’t felt this bad in ages. He is anchored—Theo’s here. He’s in the kitchen, but he is also here. In those nerdly organized books, in the neatly made bed, in the words written inside those notebooks. In the t-shirt he’s wearing.

In Liam’s heart.

“Fuuuuck,” he mutters as he drops his head into his hands.

He’s in love with Theo.

Liam rewinds the tape. Kitchen: nervous feeling as he watched Theo making coffee for two. Bedroom: lack of breath as Theo’s familiar smell floats around him making his head dizzy. Rewinds it even further back. Theo back from hell proves himself useful. Ghost riders. Elevator doors closing. He’s probably dead. I shouldn’t have left him. This is my fault. A horse and a pretty boy in the distance. Hunters. Hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The sheriff station’s bathroom. Relief and annoyance mixing in one confusing feeling. Theo showing up whenever Liam needed assistance… or anchoring. The zoo. That goddamn truck. Theo probably carried him all the way to the vehicle, cleaned the blood off his knuckles. People only feel one emotion at a time, Liam. His own name coming out of Theo’s mouth had been a surprise. Not the act itself, but the tenderness that filled it. Found himself staring at him in awe. The war. Everything afterwards: Theo sticking around, not escaping from Beacon Hills. Late nights talking. Liam forcing Derek to lend him the loft. The habits: Theo picking Liam from school every day, full moons watching Alec, long reruns of random sitcoms, Theo taking his pain.

Everything was so clear, yet he was so blind. Well, not anymore.

Walking into the kitchen knowing what he knows now is definitely something. Theo’s watching some video on his phone but turns it off as soon as he sees him, screen facing down, his attention now Liam’s. He’s leaning against the counter, and Liam stands in front of him, back hitting the island. He accepts the mug of coffee.

“I heard what happened to Brandon,” he says, not tasting his coffee. He’s meant to talk about this all week.

Theo wears his most innocent expression. “Hm? Who’s Brandon?”

It’s so bad Liam has to restrain from laughing. “The guy that stabbed me.”

“Ah. What happened to him?”

“He had an accident because someone intentionally messed up his car,” he informs, coffee intact.

“No way! That’s too bad,” says Theo, hiding a smile behind his mug. He wants to kiss him. That’s new.

Liam chuckles. “I’m assuming you didn’t have anything to do with that, right?”

Shaking his head, he gasps. “I’m offended, Dunbar.”

A laugh. He couldn’t help himself. Theo may have been the greatest liar once, but he doesn’t deserve that title anymore. Liam observes the chimera carefully. He’s not searching for anything, just appreciating him under this new light.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says after a minute of silence.

“Do what?”

“Theo.”

Whatever playful glint was in his eyes is gone now. That serious expression takes over easily. “I’m not gonna talk about it.”

A snort. “Right. Shocking.”

Liam picks up a chemosignal. Annoyance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Theo inquires, jaw clenched.

Avoiding his eyes in embarrassment, he backtracks. “Nothing. Just… talk to me instead of going around trying to get people killed just because you don’t like them.”

The mug is placed on the counter with such force it echoes. “Hello? He stabbed you!” Theo’s watching him as if he’s grown a second head.

His response is surprisingly calm. “Yes, but I need you here trying to solve this problem, Theo. Not out there looking for revenge.”

“I am here.” A statement. A fact.

Calmness does not tend to last on full moons. “Are you?” Liam spits, and regrets it immediately. He can practically see the brick wall rising around Theo.

“Yes,” he responds through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here, Liam.”

The boy lets out the heaviest sigh. He runs a hand over his face, absolutely hating the way this conversation went down. His eyes are closed as he massages his temple.

“I know,” he softly replies, opening them again and meeting Theo’s hurt gaze. “I don’t know why I said that. You’ve been here and I appreciate it so much. Sorry?”

A peace offering in the form of a stretched hand. Seconds that feel like hours pass without its other half, Theo playing hard to get, arms crossed and childish frown. Liam tells himself he does not care if the chimera doesn’t shake his hand. Tries to fake some nonchalance by taking an abrupt mouthful of his extremely hot coffee. A sample his tongue does not appreciate, because it burns and aches and Liam spits the liquid immediately while Theo’s laugh annoys him and makes him happy at the same time. Liam’s got tears in his eyes when Theo takes his hand, still hanging between them, and shakes it. It doesn’t take long until Theo’s veins turn black. Liam does not withdraw his hand, though. The feeling is too pleasant. He just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“You don’t know when to stop, do you?” he says.

Theo laughs and holds his hand more tightly. “That one was just to annoy you.”

Liam bites his lower lip to prevent a smile from forming. “Asshole,” he mutters under his breath.

A minute passes, a silly conversation developing quickly, but their hands remain joined.

Full moon night unfolds, and it does not touch them.

—

It’s pouring. Not only rain, but bullets.

The final blow, the grand, epic ending to these boundless weeks of dread trepidation. Two possible outcomes: to live, or to die. The wish to say that there could be an ideal scenario for this fierce and decisive battle is strong, but in an ideal scenario, the battle wouldn’t be happening in the first place. But it is occurring, and the circumstances couldn’t be worse.

In the woods, they’re outnumbered. The hunters had the element of surprise and a larger army at their disposal, all ready to take lives. The pack does not have an actual alpha, but Liam is doing his best to fill the spot with dignity. The only backup they have is Argent and his men, and Derek Hale. It does not look so good during the first ten minutes. Liam runs aimlessly through the darkest night, moon hidden behind dense clouds, ghoulish black. They hovered over them for a while until rain came slowly, intermittent and gentle. A few more seconds, and that gentleness morphed. The rain is set in now: violent, torrential and persistent. It hits Liam's skin with brutal force, fogs his field of vision, hinders his senses. But if it's bad for him, it must be worse for the hunters, non-supernatural creatures. At least that's something.

Puddles of mud are disturbed as Liam sprints through them, his dirty shoes splashing water and soaking the hem of his pants, glassy surface trembling. He feels his hair heavy over his forehead, and can't spot a single one of his friends. For a moment, he might have seen Corey becoming invisible a few trees to his left. But worry can't take over now. Focus. He needs to focus.

He encounters a hunter and knocks him out easily. A thing he noticed: these younger boys were handed guns with very little training. They're fumbling, they're sloppy and careless, their hands cannot find the necessary steadiness to aim and shoot. A few bullets fly towards Liam, but none of them are a real threat as they land on trees next to him. Ultimately, it's the enemy's inexperience that ignites the pack's hope. And in the end, the good prevails.

It's so silent when it finishes, Liam thinks his ears just stopped working. Ridiculous concern, that is, but the eerie and sudden quiet makes him freeze. He's hiding behind a car, still as a statue, fearing that, if he moves, he might trigger another attack. But the seconds stretch, and the silence deepens. Frantically, he scans his surroundings through the curtain of rain. A sign of life somewhere on his left, but he does not see it, he hears it. A groan.

He's crawling through the mud immediately, heart racing. Everything before him is unclear, blurred at the edges, until Alec's yellow eyes serve as a lighthouse in the middle of the dark.

“Alec. Alec!” Liam approaches him with desperation, both hands flying to the boy's shoulders, shaking. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Still panting, the boy manages to give a response, “Yeah. Yes. I'm okay. Nothing that won't heal. What about you?”

Liam smiles. “Never been better.” He waits a beat until Alec's breathing stabilizes, then formulates the question stuck on his throat. “Have you seen Theo?”

Continuous nodding. “Over there,” he points. The boy sees the hesitation in Liam's eyes and adds, “Go. I'll be fine.”

Looking for Theo is easier. His senses are sharper, his gaze more alert. Still crawling—he's convinced that, if he stands up, a hunter will shoot and disturb the calm—he follows Alec's direction a few feet down, where the hazy outline of a person is distinguishable. Sitting against a tree, Theo's head is tilted backwards, his left hand clutching his right shoulder, chest rising and falling rapidly. Alive. They'd been together when the first hunter appeared out of nowhere, and the last thing he saw was Theo's concerned eyes as he followed another hunter, leaving Liam by himself knowing he would be fine. And he is.

Liam is next to Theo in record time, hovering nervously. The chimera moves his head slowly, takes one quick look at him, eyebrows scrunched.

“Is it over?” he laboriously asks, voice hoarse and raspy. Must be difficult to talk.

Liam smiles brilliantly, his own tears blurring his vision this time, not the rain. With a shaky breath, he whispers, “Yeah, I think so.”

A faint nod, and Theo's eyes close in slow motion, his head going back to rest against the solid trunk of the tree. An opportunity for Liam to assess the damage without Theo's annoying voice telling him he's okay when clearly that's not true. The clouds break a little, moonlight highlighting the pale skin of his muddy, bloody face. His t-shirt is soaked and ripped, one of the sleeves completely gone. Besides the dirt and the blood, no major injuries are spotted, except for that shoulder he's holding onto for dear life. Liam's eyes widen with horror.

“You got shot,” he says, reaching for the wounded shoulder, but Theo pulls away from him. Stubborn as fuck.

“It's a regular bullet. Don't worry, I won't die.” With his free hand, he holds Liam's wrist in place so it doesn’t get near the wound.

“We still need to get it out,” he insists, but Theo lets out a dismissive noise.

“Already did that.”

Liam, one knee slotted between Theo's legs as he gets ready to assist with the extraction, stops and stares. Blinks once, twice, processes the words. Maybe if he repeats them out loud they'll begin to make sense. “You took the bullet from your shoulder… with your bare hands?”

Theo gathers enough energy to snort. “It's not like I have latex gloves on hand.”

Holding his breath for a second, he releases it with a puff, then bows his head in disbelief, shaking it slowly from side to side. “Idiot,” he says through a smile. A beam of light breaking the darkness.

The chimera’s laugh is more like a chortle. “That’s my brand, apparently.”

Rain mitigates sluggishly, going from liquid knives to benignant showers. Droplets run down Theo’s nose, land on his lips. His tongue collects them, and Liam tracks the movement, awestruck. Both hands on his own knees ache with the inconsolable urge to touch him. He’s lucky his claws aren’t out, because he would’ve hurt himself from the way his fingers are digging the skin of his thighs. Restraining themselves. Theo keeps his eyes closed, and for a minute Liam thinks he might have fallen asleep, but the grip on the injury tightens as if unbearable. Enhancing his sense of smell, Liam picks up on the chimera’s chemosignals: relief, tension, nervousness, and, above all of that, pain.

Liam experiences a twinge in his chest at the idea—the sight—of Theo hurting. That boy’s life has been filled with nothing but fear, misery and suffering, he shouldn’t be reliving the agony, not under Liam’s watch. He’s responsible for the pack’s wellbeing, especially for Theo’s.

“It hurts,” he says. Not a question but an affirmation. He gives the words a severe tone, prohibiting the chimera from lying to him.

Naturally, Theo remains silent, like every time Liam sees right through him. It’s no use trying to build a façade to deceive him; he’d break it down anyway. The chimera opens his eyes, beautifully crystalline under the silver light. Liam feels breathless. The moment Theo decides against lying is clear: he purses his lips, then relaxes them in defeat. “Not so m—”

The phonemes get lost in Liam’s mouth, and they’ll never see the world with the way the boy is pressing himself against him, like there should never be an inch of space between their lips ever again. Theo’s eyes fall shut involuntarily, strange feeling making his chest swell. Is he dying? This feels like the kind of artifice the devil would pull to lure him back to hell. Liam kissing him. It can’t be real. Makes no sense. The hand that was so dutifully pressing on his injury finds another perfect spot to rest as the other raises as well, both moving in one direction: Liam’s waist. He holds him carefully, fear punctuating every movement. When he’s sure Liam won’t disappear under his palms, his fingers grip his sides and guide Liam’s body until he’s sitting on his lap.

Theo’s cheeks become warm under Liam’s hands. He leans in to deepen the kiss, pushing Theo impossibly closer to the tree behind him. Pain is everywhere, all the time. He’s seen enough of the world to know that it is an inescapable force, ready to nest in your chest until there is a black hole instead of a heart. He cannot avoid it, no matter how much he wants it. Desires don’t often mirror reality, and it would be foolish to believe otherwise. But when did that stop him from finding solutions? He’s not able to annihilate pain, but he can make it tolerable.

The chimera’s arms are wrapped around him, pulling him close. He’s kissing him back and, honestly, Liam would fight the hunters over and over if that means he gets this ending every time. Now, though, is not the moment to enjoy the way Theo’s tongue feels inside his mouth. No, he has a mission. Gradually, he takes. Pain travels all the way from Theo’s shoulder to his face, jumping from his lips to Liam’s, deserting the chimera completely. It’s a sharp pain, and Liam bites Theo’s lower lip by accident, which only draws out a low growl from Theo. He’s trembling, could be for numerous reasons: cool rain sending shivers down his spine, the unexpected force of the pain, gentle fingers sliding under his shirt, silken lips against his own. Maybe it’s all of it at the same time. How could he be sure? It’s sort of hard to reason right now.

As they pull away from each other just enough to breathe, Theo is tentatively searching for signs of regret in Liam’s face. He can’t help but voice his own confusion.

“What,” he stupidly says.

Liam averts his eyes, both hands still on his cheeks. “Shut up. You’re a mess.”

Desperate for a distraction that prevents him from thinking about his own cheekbones turning pink, Liam clumsily brushes Theo’s hair away from his forehead, then brushes dirt off his face. Meanwhile, the chimera’s hands explore Liam’s skin under his shirt, moving up and down along his sides.

“You like me,” he says mockingly.

“No I don’t,” is Liam’s incredibly quick response.

“You do like me. That’s embarrassing.”

His smile grows bigger as Liam gets more flustered, struggling to choose the right words to communicate after the kiss.

“Theo, I swear to god—”

Liam is kissed this time. It was only fair, Theo thinks: the boy interrupted him mid-sentence once, he might as well return the very impolite action. He feels Liam relax against him, hands moving to his wet hair.

“You like me,” Liam teases against his lips.

“Wow. Shocking news,” Theo replies before asking for permission to enter Liam’s mouth, which is not granted. Instead, Liam pulls back and stares at him, gaze incredibly soft, eyes glassy and irresistible.

“You like me,” he repeats, lower this time, like he can’t quite believe it.

“Of course I like you. How could I not?”

Liam presses his lips against Theo’s forehead, takes more pain until he’s absolutely one hundred percent certain that there isn’t a drop left. Uncontrollable is Theo’s heart at this point, hammering inside his chest as if it wants to go out and into Liam’s hands. He’d give it to him, honestly. He feels that same pleasant ache again, that wildfire burning his insides, but now he knows: that’s love. He loves Liam.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he says softly.

“I know.”

Beaming up at him, Theo takes Liam’s face between his hands. “I’m tired. I wanna go home.”

A question materializes in the boy’s frown. “To the loft?”

He thinks about it for a second. Not quite that. He pauses, drawing circles on Liam’s jaw as he struggles to push the words out of his mouth.

“Wherever you go. Wherever you go is fine.”