The Wolf And The Fox

Chapter 4: Threads Of The Story

The next morning, Wolf awoke with a start, realizing he had overslept. Sunlight was already streaming through the thin curtains in his room, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. He groaned, rubbing his face, and stumbled out of bed. Grabbing the first clean clothes he could find—his usual combination of a hoodie and jeans—he did the quick sniff test to make sure they weren't too far gone. Satisfied, he pulled them on and headed into the living room, his hair still mussed from sleep.

The rich, welcoming aroma of coffee greeted him as he shuffled into the small kitchen. Wolf blinked in surprise to see Fox already awake, standing at the counter with a mug in hand, pouring himself a second cup. He looked remarkably fresh for someone who had stayed up late the previous night.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Fox said with a grin, his voice light and teasing. "Hope you don't mind, but I made us some coffee. Figured you could use it."

Wolf rubbed the sleep from his eyes and returned the smile, feeling a wave of gratitude at the sight of the steaming mug waiting for him. "No complaints here. Thanks, man. I really need this." He lit a cigarette, took a sip of his coffee and sighed in relief as the caffeine hit his system. It was exactly what he needed.

Fox leaned back against the counter, watching Wolf with an easy-going demeanor that made Wolf relax despite the rush of the morning. "No problem," Fox replied, still smiling. "It's the least I could do after crashing here."

Wolf couldn't help but feel a growing sense of warmth toward Fox, something comfortable and yet exciting, as though they'd known each other far longer than a day. But with being late and all, there was no moment to dwell on it. He hurriedly gathered his things, tugging his boots on as Fox waited patiently by the door, the same casual confidence about him.

"Guess we're skipping breakfast," Wolf muttered, eyeing the time.

Fox chuckled. "I'd say coffee and cigarettes counts. They call it a Parisian Breakfast."

Fox walked alongside him, chatting animatedly as they made their way through the city streets. The morning was crisp, and the early sunlight filtered down between the buildings, casting golden hues on the cobblestones beneath their feet. Fox's enthusiasm helped push Wolf's lingering fatigue away, but as they neared the bookstore, Wolf's thoughts turned back to the strangeness of the notebooks and the purple stains that had appeared on their fingers.

"Aren't you late for work, too?" Wolf asked anxiously, not wanting to get Fox into trouble. "No, not really. To be honest, I am kind of in between jobs right now. I worked at a small shop that offered tech-support and repairs. Computers, phones, that sort of thing. But business was slow the past few months, so the boss had to let me go." Fox looked a bit embarassed, as he explained. Wolf noticed and with a smile on his face, he added: "Well, lucky me. You could come to the bookstore with me, using your new found contact to score some fresh coffee."

Fox's eyes lit up and he couldn't help but smile. "I would like that, Wolf."

When they arrived at Maeve's Booknook, Maeve was already there, moving through the shelves with her usual frazzled efficiency. She glanced up at them, her sharp eyes locking onto Wolf and Fox with a knowing smile.

"Well, well," Maeve began, her voice warm with a teasing lilt, "look who decided to show up. I had a feeling you two would be a little late. But don't worry. It was important that you met yesterday."

Wolf blinked, glancing at Fox, who raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? How did you know we'd—"

Maeve waved a hand dismissively. "There are things I know that neither of you can even begin to imagine. And if I'm being honest, this was always meant to happen. Now, come in, Fox." She gave him a wink, much to his surprise. "I've got coffee brewing, and we need to have a little chat."