Boyf Riends being gay (boyf riends oneshots)

Who's a good dog? Really I dunno, who?

·Lycanthropy·

/lʌɪˈkanθrəpi/

Noun

The mythical transformation of a person into a wolf.

Origen of the name:

From modern Latin lycanthropia, from Greek lukanthrōpia, from lukos 'wolf' + anthrōpos 'man'.

It's unclear exactly when and where the werewolf legend originated. Werewolves have appeared along history more than once, in the Greek mythology, the Nordic folklore and several ordinary tales of the Middle Ages.

All these chronicles so separated in time and place had always a fact that linked them all together. This creatures were dangerous. Were beastly. Were threatening. Was needed to be afraid of them. And that how it has to be. It is?

No, there was a way to prove that it wasn't always that way.

And the proofs name was Micheal Mell.

•••

·Jeremy POV·

I am not the hero type. Never have been and never will. But no one can call me chicken. No one can dare to shame the name Heere. I mean, the name Heere kinda shames itself, because it's an adverb and I don't know who thought was a good idea put an adverb as a surname but their name surely was not Pitagoras. But they surely had a great sense of humor that I DON'T share.

Retuning to the main subject, no one calls me chicken. I was gonna be the boy that would prove that you can spend the night into the Crooked Dammed Woods and return to tell the story. So there I was, walking through them the like a reckless, naive and idle teen, just because I was dared too. It didn't help the popular legend of the kid that apparently everyone knew except me, that in freshman year stepped in the woods and never retuned. It didn't help it was the last thing I was told before the rest of the group dared me to pass the night in the Crooked Dammed Woods. For heavens sake, just read the name of the freaking forest! Anyone slightly sane would turn around.

Yet, the bone dry branches and sticks under my feet made me realize that no, that my sanity wasn't one of my strengths, as I wasn't stepping out of the woods, rather stepping deeper every step. I was soaking wet and my heart was screaming louder every time a stick cracked under my old and worn-out shoes. I tried to calm myself with anything that I could find, even if was talking to one of my biggest foes, myself:

"Well at the very last, I wont starve, there's plenty of berries here. I'm gonna take some for later" I started filling my cardigan pockets with the green berries in a near hedge.

"I, I also heard that someone saw a unicorn here. Maybe I get the chance to meet one."

Yeah, but do you know what unicorns do eat?

"Uh, flowers?"

Yeah, but, what if unicorns like their flowers watered by the blood of pure virgins?

"Brain, just shut the fuck up"

Jeremy, the only thing you can do right now is pray that your body is sweaty enough to gross the creatures that live in here. In the very first time you put a feet inside this woods you turned into a dea-

A growl. A howl. A pair of bright eyes in the darkness. I didn't need anything else to run.

What I didn't take into account is that my wireframe legs were not made to run, so I tripped. And the trip turned into falling. And the falling turned into rolling. Then the rolling stoped. Now there was dirt and mud all over my face and body and sticks, leaves and little stones in my curly thin hair. I stood up to look around when I bumped into a boy around my same age.