Black Flies

VIII. You Were The Ocean, When I Was Just A Stone

As the days fell like leaves from the trees in late October, Friday hit quicker than expected. Between rehearsing for his set, looking at flats in the city, and dealing with the seemingly never-ending drama surrounding the death of his friend, Davie was so between the floorboards with his life he barely had the chance to press an eye at the calendar. But sure enough, he walked past it on his way to the bathroom with a toothbrush in his jaws, almost spitting out the foamy liquid as he saw the small red writing pasted underneath the date: Gig @ The Social. 9 pm.

"Tell me this isn't Friday," The beta insists as he runs into Ben exiting the shower, his pale body wrapped around a towel and eyeing his friend as his lips are surrounded in white toothpaste.

"'Tis Friday," The raven-haired boy shrugs a bare shoulder, still shiny from the water. He brings a few hands to dry his dark locks away from his face. "Got somewhere to be so early? It's barely evening, mate."

"I have a thing tonight..." Andrew curses, taking a swig of water and rinsing his mouth to reveal shiny white teeth, canines much too sharp to be mistaken for a dental implant. "A music thing. I'm playing at the Social and I cannot, I swear to you, Lovett, I cannot be late."

Benjamin seems pleased with the response, golden eyes shining as they share the washroom together to prepare for the day. "Really? That's wonderful! I've heard you play before, I didn't know you were good enough to get a gig, though. Would you mind if I came and watched?"

No, no, no, you can't come, the brunette thinks, mentally punching his brain until it breaks off of the stem and falls to the bottom of his skull. He imagines the crowd suddenly filled with thousands of werewolves, smirking with their sharp teeth, yellow eyes and evil glares, ruling every word and phrase that escaped his lips. The last thing he needs is a reminder of what he is while he's trying to be something else. A room full of blood-thirsty, judgemental were-creatures? Not in a million full moons. A room full of smiling, slightly retarded humans? He could deal with that.

"I... uh, I would like if you came, but I don't think you would enjoy yourself." He says in fake confidence, though knowing inside-and-out his friend was a music lover just as he and would indeed have a great time drinking and watching tonight's acts. "I've heard the crowd isn't supposed to be much. I'm just playing in-between acts, it's nothing special."

"You just told me you're worried about being late, and it's bloody six P.M.! You don't want me to come, do you, Drew?" His face plasters a comical grin, combing back his hair in the dirty mirror.

Davie lets out a sigh and leans against the doorframe. "It's not that I don't want you to come, it's just... it's my first show. Ever. I want it to be me and only me. If my friends came, I would freak out and I wouldn't want to disappoint and it would be a whole ass mess-"

"It's fine, I get it," Ben smiles halfheartedly, clapping him in the shoulder. He winks, sending a wave of relief down the musician's spine. Luckily, he wouldn't be seeing any friendly packmates at the gig tonight. "Have a nice time, and enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Ben."

"No worries," He says warmly, pointy ear twitching underneath his hair. A small rumble of paws is approaching in the distance, announcing the arrival of the hunting collective. "Sounds like they're back. Your girl may have caught something, I would check if I were you."

At that moment, he's down the staircase in a flurry, racing out to the front porch to see a small flock of wolves returning from their afternoon hunt, towing a deer carcass between teeth of two omegas. He squints his eyes looking for Ginger, pride soaring in his heart already knowing his girlfriend was a part of taking down such a delicious creature.