Chapter Text
Even as a child, Nolan had trouble sleeping through the night. There was something about the way the shadows crawled up the walls of his bedroom that kept him awake for hours on end, his tiny heart pounding away in his chest. Despite his cries, his mom had taken away his night light when he turned three, and he’d been forced to lay awake for hours, keeping the jagged shapes and harsh lines at bay.
Now, as a teenager, Nolan still found his room suffocating with the oppressive shadows, and no matter how many times he buried his head under the covers and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, they never went away.
There had been a time when Nolan had tried to speak about them, but the last person he had opened up to had put a gun in his hand and fear in his head. Her silhouette appeared in the corner of his room almost every night, now, and phantom spots of blood soaked his hands.
He was fitful. When he flipped onto his other side for the fiftieth time that night, Nolan let out a frustrated groan before he quickly smothered it in his pillow. Then, he lamely slapped around his night-stand for his phone, blinking blearily when it revealed it was 2:37 A.M. With another blind slap, Nolan managed to turn his lamp on.
Sighing, Nolan threw the covers off of himself. He laid on his back like that for a few moments, staring at the illuminated ceiling, before he finally hauled himself out of bed. Shuffling across his bedroom quietly as to not disturb his mom, Nolan moved to his closet to tug out clothes more suitable for the fall weather as well as his Converse. There was no going to sleep for the rest of the night—Nolan had dealt with it all long enough to know when to give up trying.
With his keys and phone tucked safely in his pockets, Nolan crept out of his room and descended the stairs on his tiptoes. While it had usually been easy to sneak out of the house through the front door, his mom had grown paranoid after the events of the past month, citing the installation of new locks and alarms as ‘doing her best to combat to unnatural’. His mom’s adherence to Monroe’s guidance meant that Nolan now had to climb the counter top and slide out through the window behind the kitchen sink. He remembered to snag the sandwich he’d made the night before under the pretence of having it for lunch. He shoved it into his pocket. Then, Nolan gently slid the window closed behind him when his feet touched the grass outside.
Nolan didn’t know how to explain it, but the nights in Beacon Hills seemed quieter now. The preserve seemed even quieter. Bundled in clothes warm enough for the fall, but not overly suffocating, Nolan trundled along the familiar path. The walk through the preserve got easier every time Nolan disregarded the ‘No Entry After Dark’ sign. Physically, that is. He could move along the beaten paths and out into the clearing with his eyes closed. No, there were the emotional barriers that often had Nolan’s feet rooting themselves to the floor with a cold, guilty panic stuck deep in his chest.
The mechanical click of an arrow set into the nocking point crashed like a relentless wave in his ears.
Shaking his head as if the motion would have dislodged the thoughts, Nolan drowned out the roaring sounds in his head, and he pushed onwards. He knew there was no sleep for him now, and so Nolan continued forwards, reaching that familiar spot of land where the trees parted and the rest of the world seemed so far away.
There was a rock, about twenty yards or so from the path, that Nolan had claimed as his. It was big enough to shelter his body on the windier nights, but it was also smooth enough that it didn’t dig into his back every time Nolan leaned against it.
He settled into place, his head tipped back. Blue eyes reached the sky and trailed the white dots splotched across the dark ink, easily identifying the patterns and shapes. Nolan was seven when he first had an interest in astronomy. His neighbour at the time had been an elderly lady named Marjorie, who’d had a greenhouse that doubled as her observatory, and she had a really, really cool telescope. Marjorie had been Nolan’s unofficial babysitter —his mom was away with work a lot— and she’d been the one to teach him everything he knew about the stars and constellations. Orion’s belt twinkled brightly like it did almost every night, and Nolan smiled at the memory of spying it through the telescope for the first time.
She had been the reason he even begged his mom for a telescope his next birthday. Nolan’s mom hadn’t really cared about her son’s interests. She’d just thrown money at anything and hoped they would be satiated or dealt with in due course. Regardless of how he had received the telescope, Nolan cherished it dearly, and still used it even though better ones had eventually reached the market.
Rarely, if ever, did Nolan encounter another person along the paths he took in Beacon Hills Preserve during the day, let alone after dark. He found, then, that it meant that out in the woods, everything was one hundred times quieter, and a thousand times louder.
Including the snap of a dry branch somewhere not too far from him.
It echoed, and it sent a few nocturnal birds squawking in every direction of the night. Nolan’s head shot back down, the stars forgotten, and his wide eyes scoured the silhouettes that surrounded him. He swallowed as shadows filled his vision. Something shifted up ahead, but Nolan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see her. Not again. Counting to twenty in his head, Nolan then slowly peeled his eyes back open.
Nothing but trees and flora. It wasn’t like it was the first time Nolan had heard noises in the woods. It was woodland. Of course there were noises. Even though it always caused a spike in Nolan’s anxiety, he brushed it off. He had come out here to get away from it all, and so he focused back on searching for every constellation that he could find.
The wolf, naturally, noticed him first; with a thick, deep-black pelt and calculating predatory eyes that surveyed the preserve, the wolf that emerged from the undergrowth moved with precision. As his eyes eventually fell on the low, shifting form, Nolan’s gulp was definitely audible, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his ribcage.
It was large. Bigger than ones Nolan had seen on the internet, and bigger than the one that had appeared on the lacrosse pitch, dripping blood. The observation made Nolan’s heart stutter in his chest, and the soft whimper that escaped his throat was uncontainable.
The noise must have alerted the wolf to the fact that Nolan knew it was there. Slowing to a stop, deft paws held the wolf upright and proud. Piercing blue eyes stared straight through Nolan. He felt sick.
A shrill ring filled Nolan’s head. One of warning, one that had his body on overdrive. It was a desire to run, to hide, to cower… And Nolan ignored it.
Swallowing down a lump that formed in his throat, Nolan murmured gently, “Hello.”
There was no reaction from the wolf. It stared, silent, as Nolan wet his lips. The creature cocked its head minutely, and Nolan took another steadying breath. He held his hands up, meaning no harm, and the boy let a shaky smile cross his face.
“I, uh, it’s just me.” Nolan laughed awkwardly, his voice soft. Then, he pursed his lips and almost cringed on himself. “Not that—that’s probably any reassurance to you. I’m sure your wolf buddies have told you all about me, huh?”
He didn’t know why he did it. Nolan took a breath and rocked up on to his feet, his body hunched low and his hands outstretched slightly. It was a wolf, and Nolan was going in for a closer look? How was that a good idea? If he had been a poet, there might have been an expression of the symbolism between the thing he had feared being this close and within his reach, both of them bared out there and alone, and here he was reaching towards it. But Nolan wasn’t a poet. He had barely even been a hunter.
What was he doing?
The teen couldn’t answer it, even as he shuffled forwardly carefully, his battered shoes scuffed up against the pine needles and dirt on the floor. After a few beats, where Nolan had shuffled forward from the rock, the wolf registered Nolan’s movements and its lips curled into a snarl (albeit the noise was less aggressive than Nolan had originally expected).
“...Okay. No moving closer. Got it.” Nolan spoke aloud, his crouched walk halted as he noted the way the wolf’s hackles rose. He held his hands up again, splayed and palms facing the creature, as he showed he was empty-handed and weaponless. “Don’t worry, I don’t—I don’t have anything.” He swallowed, half-debating with himself as he mulled over his next sentence. He figured since literally the only thing that would hear it was a wolf, Nolan didn’t see an issue with mumbling out, “Besides, my mom locked away the knives.”
The teen ducked his head as he laughed, so he didn’t see the way the wolf’s head cocked to the side once more; it was like the beast was eyeing Nolan up, like it knew something the teen didn’t. When the moment had passed, Nolan lifted his head again and looked at the wolf with his own calculating stare. Then, he sighed. “That was a joke. Mostly.” The boy wet his lips. “Well… No, yeah. A joke.” Scrubbing a hand across his face, Nolan groaned in annoyance. “She thinks I still… you know. Want to do things.”
The wolf seemed still, then. It’s stare was locked on Nolan, and it very much seemed to pay attention to what Nolan had to say. He wanted to laugh at that—a wolf doing a better job of being his councillor than the one Beacon Hills High had? Cosmic karma, or whatever it was Nolan might have believed in.
“I haven’t wanted to in a while,” admitted Nolan softly. His voice had lowered to vulnerable and open, and even though it was a wolf sat in front of him, Nolan felt too exposed as he spoke; he turned his head to gaze off into the pitch black woods around them. For a moment, he noted how the wolf’s fur blended right in, and there was a flickering thought of just how long had the wolf been following him for?
“But I guess when she heard about the hospital, and… and Gabe…” Nolan trailed off to try and dislodge the dry spell that appeared in his mouth. “She’s trying, you know? In her own way.” It was followed by a wet laugh, one that echoed loudly despite its quiet nature. “Still. I wish she’d just talk to me about it, instead of sweeping it all under the rug. I think that’s why it got so bad the first time, ‘cause she refused to listen.”
He pressed his lips together in a firm line, and slowly got himself to look back at the wolf. “Sometimes I wonder if she believes me. I got the whole ‘it’s all in your head’ talk back when I first tried to open up, but then again I did interrupt Mom while she was preparing to leave for one of her business trips. That was on me.
“Sorry. I’m… I’m rambling. I’ve not really had anyone to talk to, and I know you’re literally a wolf, but you’re still just sat here, and I guess it’s nice to be able to have someone listen, even if they can’t respond.” Nolan blabbed out. He laughed to himself at the end of it all, and then he shook his head. “If anyone from school could see me now, they’d laugh.” Nolan’s eyes wandered over the form of the wolf, and a pang of guilt ebbed its way into his chest, and gripped tight. “I did terrible things. I’ve hurt people, and I have no idea how to make any of it better.
“Liam’s way too forgiving,” continued Nolan, having let himself think about the words he’d spoken. “Way too good. He wants to co-captain with me, for some reason. I’m not even good at lacrosse. I only play it because my mom was her team captain in high school.”
Nolan scrunched his nose up and began to fiddle with the sleeves of his hoodie. “He says we’re friends now. Part of me wants to believe him, but… How can he be serious?” Pursing his lips, Nolan mulled over his own question while the wolf continued to sit there, patient. “I think he’s, for the most part, just keeping an eye on me. For what, I’m not sure. Maybe he’s waiting until he can kill me and then he, Mason, and Corey can bury my body out here. It’d be the least I deserve.”
There was a short, sharp noise that escaped the wolf’s throat. Was that… protest? Disbelief? Amusement? Nolan blinked and thought the sleep deprivation was getting to him. Giving the creature a crooked smile, he rocked back on to his heels and hummed contemplatively. “Alright. Not a fan of my murder jokes, either. Noted.”
This was a peculiar wolf, Nolan thought to himself. It didn’t come across as bothered by his presence, instead more content to sit there while the teen just babbled whatever thoughts came into his head. It was kind of… nice. Really nice, actually. There was something about talking to a creature that couldn’t interpret what he said, couldn’t look at him with the pity and the disgust that Nolan had grown accustomed to. It let him breathe, even if for just a moment.
“If not my own impending doom, what else can I joke about?” Nolan said to break the silence he had been trying to avoid with himself. The sun was slowly creeping through the tips of the trees, and the cold air of a dewy morning was beginning to make itself known. “I’ve got an arsenal of bad TV references and a couple of dad jokes if that’s more your thing.” Nolan felt a smile that crossed his face. “But I don’t know how wasted they’d be on a wolf. I don’t know. Maybe you’d be more likely to appreciate them.”
Another puff of air huffed out of the wolf’s nostrils, and Nolan felt himself smile slightly despite himself. His eyes roamed the creature again, taking in its entire appearance, its body language, the way it held itself… All Nolan could think was that the wolf looked hungry, and the Saran wrapped sandwich in his pocket wasn’t going to get eaten.
Unsurprisingly, the wolf was hesitant at Nolan’s next attempt at an approach, no matter how slow he was taking it. The boy hesitated himself; what was he doing? The canine tensed as Nolan’s hand dived into his pocket, but he moved quickly in an attempt to reassure the creature. He held his hands up in a placating manner, before he moved to carefully unwrap his ham sandwich. Pausing, Nolan halved his attention between the wolf and the sandwich as he carefully pulled it apart, removing the ham from between the bread slices. The teen sensed that the wolf wasn’t going to move any closer, and he couldn’t really blame it. Adjusting his crouch, Nolan aimed and tossed the ham slices as close as he could.
“Sorry,” He found himself apologising as the wolf nosed at the scrawny, insatiable slices. “Wolves can’t eat bread.” Nolan had read that online, somewhere between his hours of research and sleepless nights. “Dogs, apparently, have the genes to break down carbohydrates, but wolves don’t.”
If Nolan didn’t know any better, if he didn't think he was slowly losing it, he would have thought that the wolf’s huff was actually a laugh. Slowly, the wolf approached the offering and then gulped it down in one. Despite himself, Nolan smiled again, something small but genuine, and he felt his limbs relax minutely. He let himself sit back, leaning against the rock as he blinked in disbelief.
The wolf, having gulped down the slices of ham, sat and stared, and Nolan found himself staring back. The canine hadn’t moved, or even made a noise; Nolan wasn’t sure if that should make him feel unsettled. Wolves travelled in packs, something Nolan knew even before Monroe, but this wolf seemed to be here alone.
Glancing towards the sky, Nolan felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. He wet his lips with a light noise and murmured, “No full moon tonight.” He looked back to the wolf with a contemplative expression. “Do you guys only howl on full moons?” The boy paused like he was waiting for the wolf to answer. Huffing to himself, Nolan shook his head. “You can see Cassiopeia, though.”
The wolf’s head cocked again, and for a brief moment, Nolan was almost, almost, convinced the wolf was listening to him. Wanting to just be able to talk to anything, Nolan raised his hand to point upwards.
“It’s always visible,” said Nolan as he tipped his head back to the stars. “During the night, I mean. It’s, um, it’s that one there—the one shaped like a ‘W’.” The boy allowed a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, scan, and settle on the familiar shape glowing brightly amongst the rest. A soft hum left him, and he let the statement linger for a while.
“She was Queen of Ethiopia.” He continued eventually, voice as soft as it had been before. “She had a daughter called Andromeda.” For the first time that night, as Nolan spoke quietly to the patient creature before him, he felt calm. “But she was arrogant. Some say Cassiopeia boasted her daughter was more beautiful than all the daughters of the sea god Nereus, others say she spoke of herself.” A wry smile crossed Nolan’s face. “And we all know how stupid it is to insult the gods like that.
“In retribution for her comment, Cassiopeia’s husband, King Cepheus, was given the choice of sacrificing his daughter or having the entire kingdom laid to waste.” He looked back to the wolf, his knees drawn to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Nolan sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the kindred dread the story forged in his stomach. Flashes of guns interspersed with meetings, mob anger, and electricity flooded his mind, and Nolan dug his nails into his palms. “They, of course, chose the safety of their people.”
The wolf chuffed, still staring at the boy as Nolan sat across from it. “Andromeda was chained, forced to appease the sea monster that Poseidon had sent. She was saved by Perseus, Poseidon’s son.” Jerking his head to the constellation, Nolan finished the story. “Poseidon thought Cassiopeia should not escape punishment, so he placed her in the heavens, chained to a throne, positioned in a way that mimicked Andromeda's ordeal.”
The wolf’s tail swished minutely, sweeping the leaves that scattered the floor of the preserve, and Nolan was entranced by its movement. “In some ways, it was more than deserved. How could someone do that?” The crack in Nolan’s voice gave way to something more than Greek mythology. The wolf tilted its head, its calculating stare still fixated on Nolan.
Nolan hadn’t realised he’d been consumed by his thoughts once more until they were eventually shattered by the ping! of his phone. Jolting, Nolan let out a soft noise of surprise before cold fingers struggled to find a grip on the device in his pocket. Once it was finally dislodged from the fabric, Nolan was able to swipe it open to see the time—just gone 6 A.M.—and a notification from the groupchat with Liam, Mason, Corey, and Theo that he had somehow managed to find his way into (Mason had added him at the time of the chat’s creation for reasons Nolan wasn’t sure he knew, and he barely spoke in there anyway, but there was a huge part of him that coveted the fact he’d been included).
Sat there, in all caps and misspelled in all ways, was a panicked message from Liam who had forgotten there was an algebra packet due later that day. Nolan, ever the people pleaser, offered the other teen the opportunity to copy his.
(re: He did anything and everything people needed; Nolan needed to make amends, and that was always a good place to start).
(re re: It wasn’t).
Quickly, Nolan and the groupchat received subsequent text trains, all expressing Liam’s thanks and how Nolan was a ‘lifesaver’ (the boy snorted at that. Really?). He was glad, though, there was no comment about why Nolan was awake at 6 A.M., but considering Liam was awake too, Nolan assumed it would be easy to pass off as something normal.
Pocketing the device, Nolan finally looked up, only to be greeted with desolate woodlands and the quiet chirp of the morning birds and crickets. A sheer mist slowly crossed its way over the path as the early morning began to turn to morning, and Nolan was left all alone.
The wolf was gone.