Upside Down (COMPLETE) Inside Out, Book 2 [BoyxBoy]

Keith

Keith ducked down and threw his right foot up the air, slamming the other man's stomach to his left. Two of them had been in the fighting ring for almost an hour now. In a flash, the man's fist attempted a hit right on his face, but Keith successfully blocked it with his hands, twisting and yanking it aside, just like how the man had taught him before.

Three years of training and he had never thought he would dread for leaving these lessons.

"Enough," the other man panted. "You're doing well now."

Keith reached out to take the man's hand, pulling him off the ground. Then, Keith tried to breathe evenly again, his lungs suddenly begging for more oxygen. "C'mon, Wren. It's my last day. Give me a harder hit—try me."

When Wren had a hold on the ground again, he walked to pat Keith on his back, an odd smile plastered across his face.

"You've showed it all—I've given all that I have to you already. You need a lot of energy to travel tomorrow, Keith," Wren said to him, for maybe the umpteenth time. He was such a dad to Keith for so many years. It was pretty obvious that he himself couldn't help his emotions turning gloomy for this day—neither of them was prepared for goodbyes.

Keith let out a heavy sigh. Everything felt too fast for him—three years went by like the wind. Three years ago, Keith wasn't fond of these lessons; he had locked himself up in his bedroom so his mother couldn't force him into attending Wren's classes. Now, the idea itself seemed absurd; in fact he felt an urge to go deeper into learning more self-defense game. He found it fascinating how one could be in a battle with using just their existing limbs instead of weapons.

Mom had warned him before—there should be only one purpose in studying martial arts: to defend yourself from danger. According to her, werewolves who did not live in a communal pack would be more exposed to threats especially when they were surrounded by human beings. However, Keith didn't really see the point in his mother's words; for thirteen years he had never found anything menacing being around full humans.

But of course, he knew that being a creature that could turn into an animal had its risks. And he was one.

Wren had not deepened his knowledge about the art; he, too, only studied it as a self-defense skill. He had told Keith there would be unpleasant consequences to the ones who got carried away with this form of art.

Keith didn't see the harm of being a shape-shifting creature around the humans since he was in his human shape most of the time—shape-shifting to his wolf form hadn't always been necessary. He'd barely applied his self-defense knowledge to anyone—there was a memorable one before he and Mom moved from Austin to Los Angeles when he punched a senior who had called him a faggot. It became an issue, though—creatures like Keith weren't supposed to simply attack mortals because their strength was different. But after Keith and his mother moved to LA, everything was fine again—the school was even gay-friendly, and he had normal friends who made him feel human again.

Now his mother was marrying another guy—a mate, she had told Keith—and he would be living in a community of werewolves soon.

Wren pulled Keith to sit down beside him on a long wooden bench at the corner of the room. Drawn about ten feet away from them were the three red circles of the training ring—Keith had been beaten down and bled for three years in it. The pain had shaped him to a new person, even if he didn't occasionally beat people around.

Wren's arm slid around Keith's back, and slowly Keith put his head on Wren's shoulder, appreciating their last moments here together.

"I admire you, kid," Wren said, "you've been a great student. Never thought I could teach before ... then you came."