Big Bad

Forgotten

Kit could have kicked himself in embarrassment as he walked home. Elijah was so cool, calm, and collected, and he descended into madness the second he was around him. At eighteen years old Kit could hardly believe that he'd run off from a crush There he was, eighteen years old, and being frightened off by a crush asking him to lunch.

Not a crush, he stopped himself, surprised at his own thoughts. Just a friend.

It wasn't even a romantic meal— Elijah's two friends were going to be there, and yet the idea of it still terrified him. How could he ever expect to start living if he was going to act so childishly about everything?

If he hadn't regretted it walking home, he certainly regretted it upon getting there. He'd fibbed when he'd said he was meeting Fr. Charles, because the man was actually at a meeting for the evening. Sr. Matilda was home, but she was strangely avoiding Kit since the last time they'd spoken, so he ate alone in the kitchen.

It was a sad meal of simple soup, but he ate it and stared wistfully out at the woods. It was a golden opportunity, and normally he would have jumped on it. Fr. Charles wasn't home, Sr. Matilda was distracted, it would be the perfect time to run out into the familiar hovels of the forest and catch up on his book.

No. He decided, I won't go.

He'd promised Fr. Charles and had every intention of staying true to that promise. Not to mention the fact that though he was nearly certain that the wolf had been completely imagined, he wanted nothing less than to run the risk of running into it again.

Kit fell asleep that night alone and was once again surprised that all he could dream about were amber eyes and dark brown hair.

....

Anna awoke to the sound of Daniel snoring softly on the floor next to the sofa and she was careful not to disturb the lump of black fur at her feet. Though wolves had better vision than humans in the dark she still required a few moments to allow her eyes to adjust, and she looked around blankly.

A chime from the clock in the hallway pierced through her ears causing her to wince in annoyance. Sounds were sensitive to wolves, especially early in the morning. She squinted to check her phone and saw through the blinding light that it wasn't nearly morning yet. Anna had never been a sound sleeper, but she'd been hoping a different environment would help her. The cramped loveseat had proved to do more harm to her sleep cycle than good.

The room was warm, too warm for a werewolf, and she was about to get up and open the window herself when a slight breeze let her know it was already open and just not helping very much. With her attention directed towards the windows she noticed the silhouette of a man sitting up on the bed and looking out the window. His hair, the slope of his nose, and the bump of his cheeks were visible outlined by the purple blue sky outside.

She instantly recognized it as Elijah; she always would. It was the image of a man she'd known all her life. A handsome man, and a man who had for a time owned her heart. He dominated her fantasies and ravaged her dreams. Seeing him like this was comfort, a reminder of how Elijah was before... before tragedy struck. When Elijah was little she used to see him staring like that whenever she would venture from her room at night, it was how they'd connected in the first place. She often wondered when he found time to sleep.

In the day Elijah was rough and callous, but at night--- as she'd known him--- he was gentle and calm. He became a much more docile version of himself under the forgiving light of the moon, almost like a reverse werewolf. It was this Elijah that Anna loved, this quiet secluded Elijah that she alone knew, and she wished him to be this and this alone.

He sensed her motion and lazily shifted to see her. In the dim of the light his glowing blue eyes were the only facial feature visible. He let his gaze fall back down and his eyes disappeared from her sight. He was sad, she could tell by the color of his eyes, and a wave of concern washed over her. Elijah would always try to hide his emotions, but for werewolves eyes betrayed everything. There was no lying in a werewolf's eyes.