Chapter Text
Jawn lies on his bedroom floor on his back, forearm pressed over his eyes. He could turn his bedroom light off to stop the burning, but he knows from experience that it won’t help. Plus, he’s scared of the dark, which is not something he will admit within earshot of Awsten. Jawn is a grown ass man, who spent too much of his life alone in pitch black forests to not be afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows. He’s safe here, of course, but the thought never escapes the back of his mind.
What if there is something in his closet? Something even more monstrous than him. Something that wants to eat him alive.
He tries easing his eyes open, but the burning immediately returns and he groans. It’s not his overhead light, he turned that fucker off hours ago. Just the little lamp on his desk, the orange glow casting long black shadows along the ceiling. The burn in his eyes is nothing compared to the ache in his every joint, but that’s why he’s lying on the ground. Somehow, being on a hard flat surface makes his whole body hurt less. He has never understood that, or tried to. It isn’t his business why, as long as it works.
Burning eyes are new. It seems every year that passes, he gets a fun new symptom of his lycanthropy. Last year it was vomiting the day after the full moon. That never stopped, and it’s just another bullshit thing on the long list of bullshit things he has to deal with thanks to this disorder. You would think after nineteen years of dealing with it every month, he would be used to it, but he isn’t. It’s hard to get used to something that keeps getting worse.
The door to his bedroom creaks open, but Jawn doesn’t look up. He can guess who it will be, and if it isn’t one of the two people who would bother him during a full moon, then hopefully it’s a stranger breaking in to put him out of his misery. Anything to not feel like this anymore.
Honestly, Jawn expects it to be Travis. He’s the one who tries to feed him Wolfsbane and keep him comfortable in the hours and days before the full moon. Sometimes Jawn wants to scream at him to just fuck off, to let him suffer in peace, but he doesn’t. Travis means well, and there was a time when Jawn had no one at all looking out for him at all.
Rarely, Otto will come and sit with Jawn, pet his hair and sing to him softly. Under normal circumstances, Jawn would object to being babied like that, but it does feel nice when he’s aching. He supposes Otto remembers the terrified kid he found dying in the woods and feels the need to comfort him. Jawn doesn’t remember much about that time at all, although he thinks that’s for the best.
“Jawn.” A hushed voice comes from the doorway. It’s neither Travis nor Otto, and that causes Jawn to slowly open his eyes. “Hey. Are you alright? I can hear you groaning from my room.”
“Sorry.” Jawn mumbles.
He didn’t mean to disturb anyone. That’s the last thing he wants to do during his full moons. His vision blurs with unshed tears as he stares at Lucas. He doesn’t want to cry, or feel the need to, but his body produces them anyway. It’s impossible to focus on Lucas, so he becomes a mess of dark clothes and long blond hair.
Some well-repressed voice in the back of Jawn’s mind whispers pretty. For once, Jawn lets it say that. Yeah, fuck it, Lucas is pretty. He’s also not interested in Jawn in the slightest, so whatever. It doesn’t even matter.
“S’alright.” Lucas shuts the door and crouches down beside Jawn. The heat from Lucas’ body radiates against Jawn’s arm. He is like a walking radiator. “Is this a moon thing?”
“Mhm.” Jawn has to close his eyes again when the burning gets too much. “Hurts.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Lucas whispers. Jawn’s face heats up at the pet name, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Would you be more comfortable on the bed?”
“Nuh-uh.” Jawn tries to shake his head, but it makes his brain hurt so he stops. “Ugh.”
“Right. Hm.” Lucas moves away for a moment.
Jawn can’t see where he has gone, and he knows by the sounds that it isn’t far. He misses Lucas immediately, the lack of heat from his body leaving him cold on the hardwood floor. The whine that leaves his throat is involuntary, and he hopes Lucas takes it as one of pain rather than one of loneliness. It’s embarrassing how easily Jawn gets attached to people.
“I know.” Lucas whispers. “I know, hold on.”
He slips his hand under Jawn’s head and lifts it carefully. Jawn’s neck aches with it, but he does his best not to complain. Lucas slides a pillow under him, then slowly lowers him back down again. It feels soft beneath him, but doesn’t agitate any of the aches in the rest of his body.
“There we go. Is that better?” Lucas keeps shuffling around the room.
“Mm.” Jawn agrees.
He doesn’t care much what Lucas is doing. He isn’t one of those people who is bothered about people snooping around in his room. There’s nothing to hide, at least not where anyone would know to look. Living in a group home made him good at being sneaky. When he moved in here and found out there was a loose floorboard under his bed, he was ecstatic. The perfect place to hide his diary and his weed and the good snacks that he only shares with Lucas.
Eventually Lucas comes back to him, throwing a blanket over Jawn. He sets another pillow beside him and lays down too. This closeness isn’t uncommon for them, although they usually sit on the couch watching a film or lie on Lucas’ bed playing video games. They don’t hang out like this, in a silent room, with nothing between them but the warm air.
“Here. Can I read to you until you fall asleep? Or will it be too much noise?” Lucas asks softly.
“Can’t promise I’ll fall asleep for a while.” Jawn mumbles.
He doesn’t sleep much during the full moon, especially during the night. It’s his body preparing to be nocturnal, or something like that. Jawn isn’t one to read into his condition and why it’s doing what it does. His body is turning into a wolf’s once a month, what more is there to know than that? He has lived with it his whole life, he understands enough about it to know it isn’t a moral failing, and that’s good enough for him.
“That’s alright. I’ll keep reading ‘til you do.” Lucas shuffles so his shoulder is pressed comfortingly against Jawn’s, then cracks open his book. “Once upon a time, there were four little rabbits- ”
“Seriously?” Jawn does his best not to laugh, because it will hurt. “Peter fuckin’ Rabbit?”
“You love Peter Rabbit.” Lucas insists. “Why else would you still have this tattered old book?”
Jawn tries to shrug, but it sends a shooting pain through his entire left arm. “Because my- agh, because my mom used to read it to me when I was little.”
“Does it make you feel better to hear about the woes of Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail and Peter?”
“A little.” Jawn concedes. He has always found comfort in the plight of fictional characters. “I think I’d eat them in wolf form, though.”
“Well, fortunately for our little rabbit protagonists, you are very much human tonight. And you’re here with me. I wouldn’t let you eat a rabbit.”
“You ate rabbit the other week.”
“That was in a restaurant, and Travis was paying, so it’s different.” Lucas leans his head slightly so his temple rests against the top of Jawn’s head. The contact is soft and doesn’t hurt. “I can get a different book.”
“No, it’s okay. S’like being back home.” Jawn mumbles.
“You don’t talk about that much.” Lucas notes. “Your home, I mean.”
“Neither do you.”
“My parents want me dead.”
“My parents are dead.”
“Oh.”
There’s a long moment of uncomfortable silence between them. Jawn knows what happened with Lucas’ parents, the violent homophobia that ended with Lucas getting thrown out onto the street. But Jawn never got to find out how his parents would react to him being gay. He knew them for such a short time that he can’t even imagine it. He wasn’t old enough while they were alive to know their opinions on such things.
Good or bad, he just wants to know what they would think of him now. How he lives his life, the men he dates, the friends he’s made. Would they like his pack? Would they like Otto and Awsten and Travis? What would they think of Lucas? Jawn has no idea.
Jawn and Lucas both try to apologise at once, stumbling over each other’s words.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you-”
“I’m sorry, that was a weird thing to-”
“Stop.” Lucas puts the book down and turns on his side to face Jawn. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.”
“I don’t really know anything else.” Jawn admits. He stares up at the ceiling, because if he manages to get Lucas in focus he will get distracted by how handsome he is. “They died when I was a kid - I was seven, I think. Car accident or something, they didn’t really tell me. All I remember is a social worker giving me a trash bag and telling me to pack whatever I needed.”
“So you brought your favourite book.” Lucas says.
“Nope. I left it behind. I thought I could come back for it, but I never did. No one explained anything to me.” Jawn sighs. He doesn’t like to think about that time of his life, so he shifts the subject. “I told Otto about it once and he found me a copy in a thrift store.”
“Cute.” Lucas smiles. “You know Beatrix Potter wrote loads of these things.”
Jawn does know that. “I had the whole set. But Peter was my favourite because he was the first.”
“Hm. We’ll have to go through all the thrift stores in town until we collect them all.”
“You’d do that with me?”
Jawn has thought about giving it a go, but it seemed like such a daunting task to do alone. If he asked, Awsten might come with him, but he would probably get bored very quickly. Travis is always busy with work, and Otto can’t go outside at the times when thrift stores are open. It’s a good thing Jawn has Lucas, a truly human friend now, because trying to get anything done when everyone you live with has their own serious problems is impossible.
“Sure. We can look for pokemon cards at the same time.” Lucas puts his hand on Jawn’s face, the touch so light that he barely feels it. Importantly, it does not hurt. “When you’re feeling better, obviously.”
“Gimme a few days.” Jawn leans to the side ever so slightly until Lucas’s palm presses against his cheek. It’s warm and comforting, like summer sun.
“Of course. Don’t rush yourself through this. I know it- I mean, I don’t think I could ever imagine how much it hurts. But I know it hurts like hell.” Lucas whispers.
It’s so gentle, so understanding that Jawn wants to throw himself on top of Lucas and never let him leave. Under different circumstances, he might do it, but he can’t. Not only because his whole body hurts, but because he and Lucas aren’t like that.
They have something going on between them, but neither of them will talk about what it is. Skirting around it is easier, sharing drunk kisses that they don’t acknowledge in the morning. Lucas is drunk a lot of the time that he isn’t at work. Although he smells and sounds sober tonight, which is nice.
“It sure fucking hurts.” Jawn laughs, making his chest ache. “Ow, Christ.”
Lucas frowns. “Can I hold you? I get it if not, if it will hurt you. But I just… I don’t know how else to help.”
Jawn doesn’t think he could hurt any worse, and Lucas is always gentle, so he rolls onto his side and lets Lucas wrap his arms around him. They lay chest to chest, with Jawn’s head buried against Lucas’ shoulder. While it isn’t exactly comfortable for him - like any position would be - Jawn relishes in the comfort of having someone with him while he aches.
“There we go.” Lucas rubs his hand up and down Jawn’s spine soothingly. “There we go, honey, you’re alright.”
“I’m gonna be like this the rest of my life.” Jawn mumbles, suddenly distressed. He knew this before, but it has suddenly all hit him at once. “It’s never gonna stop. I have to live like this until I die.”
“Yeah.” Lucas kisses him on the forehead, a barely there brush that drives Jawn a little crazy. “That’s the reality of it, I guess. If I could tell you it will get better without lying, I would.”
“I’m gonna be like this until I die.” Jawn repeats miserably.
There’s no cure for lycanthropy. People have claimed they have made one, but that has always turned out to be borderline eugenics or a scam. Jawn has, in some ways, accepted that he is going to live with this forever. But it’s different when he is having a good day, at the point in a cycle where he doesn’t hurt so much. He can pretend that it’s fine, actually.
Then he has a day like today, and he thinks he won’t get better this time. That he will die hurting. One day it will get too much, and his body will finally give out on him.
“It’s worse than that.” Lucas says, causing Jawn to look up at him with confusion. How could it possibly be worse? “You’re also going to have to put up with me for the rest of your life. Now that’s a fate worse than death.”
“You won’t stick around forever.” Jawn chuckles. No one ever does with him.
“Watch me.” Lucas rubs Jawn’s back. “I’m like black mould.”
“Poisonous and bringing down the property value of the house?”
“Maybe not that first part. The second bit, I accept.” Lucas says, making Jawn giggle.
“Living in my walls?”
“More like, very hard to get rid of.” Lucas scoffs at Jawn’s refusal to take him seriously. He kisses Jawn on the forehead again, more committed this time. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“I’m alright with that.”
“Good. Because I- yeah. You’ve got me forever.”
Jawn nestles into Lucas, one hand resting on his side. Lying on the floor isn’t exactly the most comfortable way to sleep, but at least it’s better now Lucas is here. He could get used to this. He could live like this forever.