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Sweat and rain drip from Kiba’s hair as his legs threaten to give out. He stumbles into an alleyway, clutching his side. There’s an open dumpster that he quickly tucks himself behind.
Heavy footsteps pass his hiding spot, the sound of water splashing making it difficult to pinpoint exactly how many there are, or which way they’re going. The rain is light but ever-present. A gift really. The rain dampens the noses of Lucky Clover's trackers. He'd have been found days ago if not for the miserable weather. But it hurts as much as it helps. His hands are numb with cold and his clothes are heavy with water as they cling to his skin.
“Excuse me…”
Kiba jolts, shrinking into the harsh metal of the dumpster as he endeavors to make himself smaller.
“Sorry,” the man above him is tall and thin, his shaggy hair wrapped in a white head towel. There’s a large black bag dangling from his hand as he scoots around Kiba. “Didn’t mean to startle you, but you’re in the way.”
It takes a moment for the words to connect. The bag in the man’s hand, it’s a trash bag. Kiba’s in between the man and the dumpster.
“No, I’m sorry,” Kiba says. He looks at the entrance of the alleyway nervously. “I didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“Clovers are out tonight,” the man says quietly, “It’s not safe out here.”
Kiba knows that. He knows far more intimately than this stranger could ever guess. The dogs are out because of him. They’ve been chasing him for months but he always manages to stay ahead of them.
But he doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this. He sags against the wall as the stranger tosses the trash in the dumpster and closes the lid. He turns back towards Kiba, a dark frown etched in his forehead. He steps forward, trapping Kiba against the wall with his body. Leaning in close, he takes a deep breath in, right at the crook of his neck. Kiba stays perfectly still as the man backs away.
"Not many of us left in this city," he says, “You need a ride?”
Us.
Kiba's shoulders sag and he let out a deep sigh of relief. Days of running with no hope but finally, finally, he's gotten a break. Another Orphnoch. He thought they'd all been chased out of this city months ago.
Finally, a spot of hope, but maybe not enough. The stranger offered him a ride, but to where? He has nowhere to go. He doesn’t know where the others are if they’re even alive. Kaido's a cockroach, he can survive anything, but the last raid… there were so many of them and so few…
The door next to the dumpster swings open. Kiba jumps, covering his face as another man peaks out.
“Get back in, Takkun!”
The taller man, Takkun, looks at Kiba again, lips pressed together.
“Who’s this?” The other man asks. “You can come in too if you like. We’ll keep you safe through the night.”
“What?” Takkun grimaces. “You can’t bring in every stray. It’s dangerous.”
“He needs help,” the man answers firmly, “Just like you did.”
"I already offered him a ride."
"There are checkpoints everywhere, you won't make it out."
Takkun’s expression doesn’t change, but he sighs defeatedly and turns to Kiba, lowering his voice. “Come in if you like, but don’t admit to anything. Not everyone in this place can be trusted.”
Kiba nods and shuffles towards the door. As he enters the building, the friendly man pulls out a towel for him. “I’m Keitaro,” he explains, “and this is my business. We clean whatever you need.”
“Another one?” A woman’s voice comes from the other room. “We don’t have enough beds.”
Keitaro glares in the direction of the voice. Leaning close to Kiba, he whispers “That’s Mari. Don’t worry, she nice to everyone ‘cept me.”
The woman leans in the doorway and Kiba notes that she’s barely a woman. A teenager, her ill-fitting clothes spotless and her long hair done up in a complex braid. She smiles at him. “Don’t listen to him. You’re free to stay the night, but I’m sorry to say we don’t have money for another employee.”
“We could find-“
“No, we can’t,” Takkun and Mari say in unison.
The three start squabbling and Kiba feels a smile come over his face. It’s been a while since he’s had this. Even watching strangers bicker warms him, the memory of how it was before…
Takkun looks over at him, trailing off mid-sentence as he does. The other two quiet and follow his gaze. Kiba covers his face with the towel, and Takkun chuckles.
“You hungry?” he asks. Except it’s barely an ask. It’s a statement. An accurate one. Kiba’s hands shake from hunger and he needs to lean on the walls to get into the kitchen.
“We don’t have much,” Mari says quietly, “It’s been a hard month.”
Kiba is grateful for anything. He thanks them sincerely as he digs into the soup they give him. It burns his tongue, but he’s too hungry to care. It’s everything he needs. Everything he’s needed.
As he finishes the first bowl, Takkun nudges his own bowl over. He doesn’t say anything, he barely looks at Kiba. But Kiba understands.
“Thank you,” Kiba whispers quiet enough that the others don’t hear. Even with less than an hour with the man, Kiba senses he doesn’t like attention and wouldn’t appreciate having a big deal made about his sacrifice.
Takkun makes a noise and turns away. Getting up, he goes into the other room to work while Kiba finishes the rest of the soup. He feels a twinge of guilt as he reaches the bottom of the second bowl. Letting another person go hungry just to satiate himself is something past him would have balked at. But past him didn’t know hunger, didn’t know the clawing aching pain that slowed his body and weakened his resolve until the dark thoughts swirled at the corner of his mind reminding him just how easy it would be to hunt and feast on the very creatures that hunted him.
A door slams and heavy footsteps approach the kitchen. Takkun is at Kiba’s side, pulling him away, but it’s too late. A man, even taller than Takkun, strides into the kitchen. His wet black hair is slick against his forehead as he shrugs off a heavy raincoat. The same heavy raincoat that always drove Kiba’s flight or flight into overdrive. The large clover on the back is visible as the man hangs it up.
“You’re back early,” Mari tries to divert the man’s attention, but she’s also too late.
“Found another charity case?” The man laughs mockingly. He barely looks at Kiba as he walks over to the sink. He scrubs his hands vigorously as he talks over his shoulder, “Hope he ain’t one of the freaks I was supposed to find tonight.”
“He’s an old friend,” Takkun says, gripping Kiba’s arm tight.
The man’s eyes narrow. He picks up a towel, scrubbing his hands dry methodically before he walks over to the two of them, each footstep heavy and deliberate. “Friend? That’s what you’re calling it?”
Takkun chokes on his words. When Kiba turns, he sees anger in Takkun's eyes.
“I’ve gotta reputation to uphold. Part of the Clover elite and all that. Not sure I want it getting out that I’m living with faggots.”
Takkun flinches, but Kiba doesn't. Much worse things have been said to him.
“We’re just friends, Kusaka,” Takkun snaps, “And he’s just here for the night. He’s in the middle of a trip and needs a place to stay.”
“Trip? To where?” Kusaka asks.
Takkun hesitates.
“Europe,” Kiba lies easily. He’s used this one before. “My flight got canceled due to the weather.”
Kusaka relaxes. He turns away slowly. “It’s not due to the weather,” he says. Kiba can hear the smirk in the man’s tone. “We shut down every flight out of this city until we catch that damn monster.”
“Has there been another attack?” Mari asks.
“We aren’t waiting for an attack,” Kusaka’s voice jumps almost to a yell, “The leader of an extremist Orphnoch group is in this city right now. We can’t wait until after he’s killed people to catch him.”
Kiba bit the inside of his cheek. Bad. Very bad. He knew this would happen one day. The walls are quickly closing in on his sad, short life.
“Maybe you’ll have to stay longer after all,” Takkun punches Kiba’s shoulder lightly. He laughs, but it’s strained. “You must be exhausted. I’ll show you my-“
“He sleeps in my room,” Kusaka says.
Takkun freezes. His eyes bore into Kusaka’s back with barely restrained fury.
“I don’t want any of your fag shit happening in my house,” Kusaka says. He faces them, arms crossed over his chest. “He can stay. I don’t want him cluttering up the streets during an important raid, but he stays in my room.”
Takkun nods, and smiles in a way that looks far more like a dog baring its teeth than an expression of happiness. “I’ll get him clothes,” he says through gritted teeth, "He needs a shower."
Kusaka laughs. "He sure does. And make sure to clean up the mess he left by dripping all over the place."
Takkun’s hand is vice-like as he pulls Kiba into the other room. There’s a closet full of clothes that Takkun drags them to.
“Don’t say anything to him,” Takkun growls under his breath. He shoots a look at the kitchen door and leans in. “As little as possible, understand? He may act stupid, but he’ll remember every tiny detail you give him, and he’ll use it against you.”
He shoves some folded clothes into Kiba’s hands. “The bathroom is on the left,” he says much louder. Grabbing a towel, he gives that to Kiba too. “Take a shower and give me your wet clothes when you’re done. We’ll clean them before you leave.”
“I don’t-“ Kiba starts.
“We’ll make you work off the debt,” Takkun interrupts him sharply, “You can’t leave until the airport’s running again anyways.”
Kiba nods.
Takkun glances at the kitchen and leans in close to whisper, "Under the sink, there's a green bottle. Use it. It'll cover your scent."
There’s a moment, a brief fleeting moment. Kiba grips the towel and Takkun’s fingers brush over his knuckles. The moment is quick, it’s subtle. Kiba almost feels he imagined it. The contact is so fast, so minimal, but it stabs into him leaving him wanting.
Starved for food, starved for warmth, and now starved for contact. Kiba feels hollow as he makes his way to the bathroom. As he strips and takes the first proper showers he’s had in months, he rubs those knuckles. He imitates the exact motion, the way Takkun’s thumb dragged across each finger. It makes him weak at the knees. A sign of kindness that’s been denied to him by humans ever since…
He looks under the sink and finds the bottle. It smells like human. It turns his stomach as he works it into his hair and lathers his sweaty aching muscles. The smell isn't unpleasant, but his memories related to it are. He thinks about Takkun to keep the memories at bay. Thinks about touching him again, talking to him, asking him why he's here in such a dangerous place. He thinks about taking Takkun with him when he leaves. His heart aches as he reminds himself that even if that were possible, he shouldn't. He can't drag someone else into his hell.
After the shower, he hands his filthy, damp clothes to Takkun. As he does, he mirrors the caress, memorizing the feeling of weathered skin under his fingers. Takkun smiles, looking down as he steps away.
“Sleep well,” he mumbles, “Sorry that it has to be next to him.”
I wish it was with you.
Kiba doesn’t say it. He doesn’t need to. Their interest is mutually understood as Kiba drags himself to the room he’ll be sleeping in.
Kusaka is still awake, chatting with Mari in the kitchen. There’s a futon laid out for him so Kiba crawls under the covers. He listens to the conversation, unable to sleep when there’s useful information he might miss.
He hears that Mari is Kusaka’s little sister. He hears that Kusaka is struggling for promotion and bagging this Orphnoch would be enough to get the attention of his superiors. He hears the way Kusaka talks, cold and cruel and dismissive of anyone different. They’re all out to get him, he says over and over again. The “they” changes but the sentiment is unchanging. Kiba’s seen it before, familiar and unnerving. The more he listens the less he wants to share a room with the man, but he doesn’t have a choice.
It’s not until late that Kusaka goes to bed. He's almost silent as he moves around his room. Clover training. Kiba breathes in and out slowly, pretending as hard as he can to be dead asleep. He tries to keep his rhythm steady as Kusaka approaches him, dropping onto one knee next to the futon. His heart races as the Clover bends down, nose inches from Kiba's neck. Kusaka inhales deeply, much like Takkun had earlier that night. It's different this time. Kiba knows the intent, knows that even the faintest hint of his real smell cutting through the human musk will out him.
Kusaka chuckles and backs away. It takes a concerted effort for Kiba not to sigh in relief as the man stands up and moves to his own bed. His heart continues to hammer as he listens to Kusaka's breathing, waiting for the telltale signs of sleep. The breathing slows and turns into soft snores. Still, Kiba struggles to fall asleep. Exhaustion pulls him down as anxiety keeps him alert. In this haven, he's closer to death than ever. He wants to bolt, screw safety, but there's a good chance the hunter will wake and take him down before he reaches the door. There's nothing to do but slowly give in and let himself fall asleep.