Lycanthropy and Me: The First Semester(mlm)

Day 27, Saturday, Waning Gibbous

Hunter woke up the following morning, realizing he had fallen asleep right after Grayson left. True to form, the Bostonian had left his mark. On his desk there was a detailed note regarding Grayson’s departure,  instructions for proper self care, a six pack of nutrition shakes, a small tub of pain relief rub, and a fleece Redwood blanket.
This stuff must have cost a fortune. Hunter cringed. Anything with the school logo on it is at least fifty bucks. I’ll have to pay him back for this.

Hunter wiggled his toes and stretched his limbs before sliding out of bed. His legs were expectedly wobbly, and he held onto the bed for support as he made the short shuffle to the desk. He checked his phone, seeing 6 new messages. 

The first three were from his mother, inquiring about his first shift alone. He tried to assure her that he had shifted just fine, leaving out  Grayson and Tom’s involvement altogether. She probably texted because she doesn’t know if I can talk yet. The thought of his mother putting in the extra consideration made him weepy. He hoped that in time he would get better at shifting, so that he could at least put his mother at ease. 

The fourth message was an apology for Malcolm, apologizing as he had ventured off campus for the weekend. Hunter didn’t bother replying to that one, feeling a bit irritated with him. 

The fifth text was in no way welcome and it took a bit of self control not to chuck his phone out the window again.

When the moon came, I thought of you.
--Colton

“I bet you did, you dick.” Hunter growled. Wind whistled through the tape, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He deleted the message and moved on.

The sixth text was from Grayson, and only an hour old.
Do you want to have breakfast at Marconi? You don’t have to walk over, I’ve got a plan.

His mood brightened considerably. Normally post-shift mornings were spent with earphones jammed in, moving as little as possible. But that was back home, in the comfort in his pack. He knew those days were over.  
He replied quickly, ready to leave his room and his thoughts behind.

Grayson showed up at his door twenty minutes later.
“When I came back you were knocked out.” He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “How are you feeling?”
Hunter adjusted a grey beanie on his head and grabbed hold of his crutches. He looked at Grayson over his dark shades. “I'm...getting there. Give me... a f-few days.”
Grayson stared at Hunter’s beanie hat. Despite how often he saw the young werewolf, he always seemed to be sporting a different one. “How many hats do you have?”
“S-Six of these, and...a top hat. You know, for special occasions.”
“A top hat? Sounds fancy. Maybe we should go have dinner sometime so you can wear it.”
“I only wear that hat to the fanciest of restaurants.” Hunter sneered. “So there better be a McDonald’s nearby.”
Grayson laughed at that. Hunter seemed much better than the day before. “I’ll check. For now, your chariot awaits!”
“M-My whah?”

The chariot in question was a white golf cart, emblazoned with the school logo in bright red.
“How’d you get one of these?” Hunter asked.
“I happened to bump into a professor using one during my morning jog. He let me borrow it, but we have to be quick.” Grayson explained.
Hunter climbed aboard, Grayson took the wheel and they were off.
“Woah...Why does riding in this thing make me feel so damn important?”
“I know how you feel.” Grayson looked forward. “Don’t they still ride these on movie sets?”
“Maybe that’s it. You might have to keep the key. I don’t think I can go back to walking.”
Grayson flashed him a small smile, which he couldn’t help but return.

Shift aside, the last 24 hours seemed unreal. Not only did Grayson know about his illness, he didn’t seem to care at all. For all he knew it was a fever dream. The cart hit a bump and one of the crutches banged into his knee, letting him know it wasn’t.