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It’s Friday after midnight when Liam finds Theo in his backyard, crouched down and picking up another rock.
It’s not that Theo Raeken is a complete, total, utter mystery, but to Liam Dunbar, he eventually learns that the boy is much like a walking bag of surprises.
He doesn’t really sense Theo at first; he’d been asleep, a light one at that, and woken up by the sound of tiny clicks against his window. When he looks over his shoulder, begrudgingly lifting his head from the pillow, he sees another tiny object being flung towards the glass.
With a cloudy mind from a disrupted slumber, he forces himself to trudge over the windowsill and catches Theo in a swinging stance, clearly about to throw another rock. He freezes at the sight of Liam.
When Liam drops his hand from rubbing his eyes and slumps his shoulders, Theo grins.
“It’s one in the morning,” Liam says, and knows a normal tone is enough for their supernatural abilities to make their conversation work at a two-story distance.
“Is it?” Theo feigns wonder. He tosses the rock away. “Wanna hang out?”
This time, it’s Liam who freezes. Sometimes, Theo Raeken is a sauntering giant fucking brick wall who seems to have mastered the dialect of sarcasm. Other times, he gets to be blunt and honest and so out of the blue that it tends to catch Liam off guard—like tonight.
But Liam knows exactly how it takes a whole lot of willpower for Theo Raeken to execute that kind of honesty; to come here like a rebellious friend picking up his partner-in-crime for some mysterious midnight hang out. Liam likes the thought of it.
It’s how he ends up changing out of his pajamas and into a chill-fighting bundle of sweatshirt and jeans, and sitting in the passenger seat of Theo’s truck.
“You have a working mobile phone, you know,” Liam says as he clips on his seatbelt.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to throw rocks at someone’s window before,” Theo admits, although carefully carried in a monotone to dress it up as a nonchalant humor. But Liam understands the meaning of it, briefly remembers the time he told Theo a story; a nice recollection of throwing rocks at Mason’s window in the middle of the night back when they were in middle school, because Liam wanted to be the first in line for a comic book they’d been waiting to be released for ages. Sneaking out is our only way, Liam said to him, proud and beaming, like it hadn’t been a stupid decision to stroll the streets at night as ten-year-olds.
But, yeah , Liam had stupid moments when he was ten. Theo didn’t.
So Liam says with a teasing grin, to show he’s a hundred percent in on whatever this is, “Sounds like you have quite a number of odd things in your bucketlist.”
“You think that’s odd?” Theo’s mouth quirks up. “Wait ‘til you see the rest of the night.”
“You’re not actually taking me to help you commit a felony, are you?” Liam jokes, absently staring straight ahead as Theo speeds up into the empty road.
“No promises,” Theo says, too softly, and when Liam turns to him, there’s an innocent, wide, beaming grin on his face that makes his cheeks pop almost like a bubble fish, and there’s a familiar crinkle in the corner of his eyes, and his hair is sprawled from the careless brush of his fingers, and under the faint glimmer of moonlight Theo looks pale and soft and free , and all of it are enough to send a flip in Liam’s stomach.
Liam looks away.
He also rolls his eyes—a poor attempt to obscure the curl of fondness that he fears might reflect on his expression, because he feels Theo glancing—although he’s fighting off a smile.
*
“Vanilla, seriously?” Liam scoffs as he and Theo stand in an empty 7-Eleven aisle, hovering over an ice cream freezer. Liam takes the Ben & Jerry’s tub from Theo’s hands—much to the chimera’s gaping—and replaces it with another. “How boring could you be? We’re taking mint cookies and cream.”
“I think I’d like my preferred flavor, Liam,” Theo retorts and picks back the vanilla tub. “If you want cookies and cream, have one for yourself.”
“Hey, you brought me here, so now I get to decide.” Liam snatches the tub again. “You at least have to try this in my presence.”
“No.”
It takes them a minute-long round of yanking poor tubs of ice cream from each other’s grip until the staff from behind the counter finally approaches and clears their throat, and only then Liam allows Theo to take his desired boring flavor while Liam takes his own, their hands numb and cold and slightly wet from the recent grapple.
It’s Theo who pays; Liam unwittingly oversees Theo pulling out crumpled bills from the thick wad of cash in his wallet garnered from his long-hours weekday shifts at a local bookstore, and Liam remembers Theo doesn’t have a bank account to put all his savings in. If Liam had known they’d end up in a 7-Eleven in the middle of the night, he might have bothered to bring his own wallet.
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” Liam says, already uncapping his own tub as Theo claims his change. He says it even if he knows the answer; out of habit.
“Nah,” Theo says as predicted, cradling his tub and sliding his wallet into the back of his jean pocket. Now that Liam realizes, it forms an obnoxious square lump in his ass. “No need.”
Liam squints his eyes, trying, but when Theo raises his brows that says give it up , Liam shrugs and shoves a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Though, he makes a mental note to slip a bill somewhere in Theo’s truck the next time they see each other, like what he always does when Theo stubbornly pays for everything.
When they head for the door—where only one person can fit at a time—it’s Liam who’s heading out first, so just because he can , he pushes Theo out of the way with his hip, and Theo teeters away with widened eyes. Liam grins, but it falters when he feels a force shoving him from behind—Theo’s large palm pushing his back—and he stumbles out into the door with tangled feet. If it weren’t for his werewolf reflexes, he would have been face flat on the gravel path.
Theo cackles behind him.
“Fuck you,” Liam huffs with no real heat.
“Quite a poor sport, aren’t we?”
Liam responds with a middle finger.
Theo bumps his shoulder, then walks past, nudging the cap of his own ice cream tub.
“Come on. Let’s finish this first.”
Instead of heading for the driver’s seat, Theo hops on the open bed of his truck. Liam wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He’s been wanting to ask many things since the beginning of the night—maybe since months before—but Liam chooses silence, following along Theo’s path of mysteriousness, because he thinks he knows the answer anyway. All of it, whatever this is, leads to a single conclusion. Theo adjusting, Theo trying.
Liam sits beside Theo, a few inches of space in between, their legs dangling over the edge. The back of the truck is facing a huge section of trees that leads deeper into the woods, behind them the brightly lit 7-Eleven and a deserted gas station. There’s no one else but them, and the weary staff behind the cashier at 7-Eleven, and the insects and animals hiding among the trees.
They eat their ice cream in silence, until Liam tilts his head up to face the sky and sighs.
“I think we deserve this,” Liam says.
Theo hums in wonder. The breeze and the frosty treat sends a chill down Liam’s spine.
“After, you know—” Liam shrugs, scooping more ice cream into his plastic spoon, absentminded, and when he crosses his legs his knee presses against the side of Theo’s thigh, “—I’m just glad Monroe’s caught. Feels like we can breathe again, you know. Do normal shit like this. I hope she’s the last in a while … everything’s just—been exhausting.” And because he doesn’t want to coat the perfect night with a heavy tinge, he says as casually as he can like they’re to discuss a mundane topic, “How long do you think she’ll be locked up for?”
Theo doesn’t say anything for a moment that Liam has to turn his gaze towards him, to check if he’d ever answer, and when he does he notices the far-off look on Theo’s face.
“Hopefully long enough,” Theo says, “to convince her to take the reform road.”
Like what you did , Liam thinks, like what we did to you.
Liam swallows the lump in his throat and drops his gaze back down on his melting ice cream.
“Yeah,” Liam lets out a throaty, hollow laugh, licking his lips to search for the sugary taste because all of a sudden it’s gone. “Hopefully.”
“You know what,” Theo says, and Liam can’t help but snap his head back towards him, watches Theo straighten his back and look down on the tub between Liam’s hands. “I might be ready to taste that flavor now.”
Liam blinks, mind working. He appreciates Theo’s effort, and the smile on his face is more appreciative than bemused.
“You won’t be disappointed,” Liam boasts.
“And if I am?” Theo raises a brow.
“I’ll pay your lo mein for a week!”
For a brief second, Liam thinks he sees an emotion cross Theo’s face, but it’s quickly wiped and gone as Theo reaches over for Liam’s tub and replaces it with his own, placing it down on Liam’s lap.
“Deal,” Theo says, and shoves the spoon in his mouth.
Liam’s spoon, to be exact, which makes Liam’s shoulders go rigid in surprise. He doesn’t mind, but it’s Theo’s disregard that sends him gaping.
Theo doesn’t seem to notice, looking thoughtful as his jaw clenches from working his tongue on the ice cream, tasting, lips shiny and moist. Liam gulps.
“So—” Liam stutters “—how was it?”
Theo clearly, exaggeratedly, fakes a frown. “Disgusting.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Liam laughs, shoving Theo’s shoulder with his fist. “It’s good, isn’t it? I can literally smell delight radiating off of you. Now you get to pay for my lo mein. Free for a week!”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Theo takes another spoonful, “you said you will if I didn’t like it.”
Liam points a finger and flashes Theo a shit-eating grin. “So you do like it.”
Theo looks at him, eyes a little droopy. “I do.”
All of a sudden, Liam’s throat dries, and there’s a surge of heat crawling up his neck. He’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to do something , because something about ungodly hours of the night makes you brave, and braver, like when Liam threw rocks at Mason’s window when he was ten, or when he slammed his palms on the elevator doors at the hospital months and months ago, begging for it to open even if he’s afraid to see there might be nothing waiting for him on the other side—he stepped out anyway.
Liam doesn’t step out tonight.
Instead, he drops his head to look at Theo’s vanilla tub in his lap.
“Well,” he says, a bit shaky, and scoops some. “Just to be fair.”
When the spoon—Theo’s spoon—lands inside his mouth, the sweet vanilla is there, but he’s not entirely sure if it’s the taste he’s looking for. He lets it linger in his tongue the same way Theo did, and his smacked lips make a sound.
“Well?” Theo says expectantly, though the grin on his face tells Liam it’s a mock.
Liam rolls his eyes. “I’ve tasted vanilla ice cream before, Theo. It’s how I know it’s boring .”
Theo snorts, like he’s expecting the exact response. “So condescending,” he scoffs, though laced with warmth, then hands Liam his tub back, but Liam doesn’t take it.
He stares at the tub. “I thought you liked it?”
“Am I supposed to finish it?”
Liam shrugs. He licks the back of—Theo’s—spoon, gathering up remnants of vanilla. “Why not? We’ve officially exchanged.”
“But you hate vanilla.”
“I don’t hate it. Hate is a strong word.”
Theo flashes him a blank look.
Liam can’t help but laugh, then he bumps Theo’s forearm with his own, pushing the tub back to him. “Just finish it, christ . This is your chance to savor a treat that isn’t this white bo—”
“—boring, I get it.” Theo rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Liam.”
Liam catches Theo’s lips curling up though, which he tries to hide by shoving the ice-cream-filled spoon in his mouth. Liam still sees.
Theo tips his head back, eyes on the sky, throat bared and bobbing as he swallows. Liam follows his move, and in his mind he tries to count the stars. He stops at eleven and focuses instead on the steady breathing of the boy by his side.
When Liam uncrosses his legs and lets it dangle back down over the edge of the truck, his thigh is pressed against Theo’s, and shoulders, and forearms, the space in between finally filled.
*
Liam taught Theo how to hide a book.
Three weeks after the war at the hospital, Liam found Theo in a used book bookstore by the edge of town, to which Liam had to travel to when a fellow member from an online literature forum had told him reselling bookstores might just have the old biography he’d been looking for; regular bookstores didn’t sell them anymore, and online sources had done nothing but make him watch an ad and sign-up for a fake website without actually giving out the PDF copy.
Chapters For Less was the last bookstore he’d come to check, but he didn’t expect for Theo Raeken to be the one standing behind the cashier.
“Well, hello there, Dunbar,” Theo smirked, “how may I help you?”
The biography wasn’t there either, but Liam kept returning.
Nearly every day after school, he spent every few of his allowance on bus fares and cheap books—some of them he actually found interesting, others he never got to finish halfway, left in a pile under his bed.
Eventually, he ran out of excuses—and money —so he’d hidden a random comic book in the shelves of beginner cookbooks.
“What are you doing?” Theo asked, looking up from where he’s seated behind the cashier, a classic novel sprawled open in his hands.
“Look after this for me,” Liam said. “Don’t let anyone buy it—I’ll get it once I save enough money. I mean it, I’ll come back regularly to check if it’s still here.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, uncaring. “Sure.”
The next time Liam came back, the comic book was sitting on the cashier table, Theo in his usual seat reading a zine magazine.
“What’s that doing there?” Liam asked.
“It’s bought,” Theo said without looking up.
Liam let out a horrified gasp. “You betrayed me—!”
“It’s on the house.” Theo flipped on the next page.
“What is this, a restaurant?” Liam took the comic book in his hands and caressed the front cover, his bottom lip jutted out a little. Frankly, the comic book had been his tool to keep returning, and Liam could certainly find another. His mind began to formulate another excuse when he froze on the spot, snapped his head up to Theo. “Wait, what do you mean?”
This time, Theo looked at him. “It’s yours, dumbass.” And then he flicked his eyes back down on the magazine in his hands.
Liam slowly grinned.
Eventually, Liam began to save up money again when he’d stopped spending fare on the way home, because Theo started to offer to drop him off. Only condition was Liam had to stay until eight in the evening, the bookstore’s closing time, and Liam was more than willing. Late afternoon and night were the usual empty hours, so both Liam and Theo would pass time reading random books off the shelves, or Liam asking Theo’s help for a biology homework, or stuffing their faces with stir fried tofu or lo mein from a Chinese bistro down the block.
In one of his visits, Theo was too engrossed in another classic novel that Liam’s toe-nudging on Theo’s hip had been ineffective. Theo would just absently swat his foot away, absently say, go back to your homework, Liam, and Theo would go back to highlighting phrases on the page. (Liam taught him that, too: “It helps me remember important details.” )
But Liam had had enough of numbers and elements for the day, so he dropped his feet off Theo’s lap and scooted his stool closer to Theo’s, leaning over to read what Theo’s highlighting out of bored curiosity.
How guilt refined the methods of self-torture, threading the beads of detail into an eternal loop, a rosary to be fingered for a lifetime.
Theo shut the book with a loud thump. Liam flinched and slowly leaned away, smiling apologetically at Theo’s glare.
“I said go back to your homework, Liam.”
When it’d be time to go home, Liam would sit in the extra stool—that has been officially his unspoken—and watch Theo count cash and list down reports by the cashier table, eventually disappearing into a backroom to deposit the money in a safe. Sometimes, Liam would help. But more often than not, he’d be slumped over the cashier table right beside the piles of cash and papers, adjacent to Theo, and he’d fall asleep at the soft sound of fluttering money and Theo’s tiny mumbles as he counts, too exhausted from lacrosse and the long hours at school.
Theo would wake him up with a soft tap on his back.
Outside, Liam would stand behind Theo and watch him pull down the roller shutter over the store’s front, the sound of steel rolling and padlock clicking echoing in the dark of the night.
Liam would wait patiently, fists on the straps of his backpack, heart beating and alive, chest warm and full—contented.
*
They’re standing in front of the bookstore now, bellies sated with ice cream, and Liam feels absolutely baffled as Theo crouches down by the closed roller shutter and starts fiddling with the padlock.
“I was kidding when I asked about the felony thing, Theo,” Liam says, tone laced with faint panic.
“We’re not breaking in, Dunbar.” Theo stands upright and holds up his set of keys by Liam’s face, the padlock in his other hand. “I have a key.”
“Which you shouldn’t be using at two in the morning, without your boss’ knowledge, who trusted you as his righteous staff to keep the store safe,” and as Liam says this he’s helping Theo pull up the roller shutter anyway. “Don’t they have like CCTV cameras or something?”
“If they have ,” Theo grunts, his arms tensed up above his head as he slots the roller shutter into the ceiling with a solid click, “my boss would be mortified when he sees the amount of tofu you can manage to gobble down in minutes.”
Liam’s world stops for a second when he sees Theo’s rigid shoulders and hardened forceps, so when he says, “Fuck you, I’m a werewolf,” it comes out airily.
Theo drops his arms with a sigh and brushes off his hands, head craned towards Liam, and Liam realizes his own arms are still stretched above him, his fingers barely brushing the ceiling.
Theo eyes Liam’s hands, and then back at Liam’s face, and sniggers. “It’s slotted in.”
“Right.” Liam drops his hands back to his sides, and because he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore, he fixes the hem of his shirt down and wipes his palms at the back of his jeans, because for some reason they’ve gone sweaty. He reflexively steps aside when Theo reaches for the chains tied around the door handle.
Theo pulls out another key from his set to unlock the chain padlock, untangles the chains and throws it over his shoulder, and they’re in.
The scent of musk and attic is stronger at this hour, when the doors were closed and left the compacted bookstore with no other passageway for ventilation. Liam flashes his golden eyes to see through the dark, although he doesn’t really need to; he’s already memorized every inch and corner of the space from the many times he’d been here, can saunter around blindly if he wanted to.
While Theo heads for the backroom to open up the lights, Liam stops by a row of shelves. He gently thumbs through the books until he reaches the thick, familiar spine hidden behind the stack of law books.
He balances the book on his forearm, its corner digging against his sternum. This, Liam genuinely likes, but can’t actually buy yet —even as a used book it’s still pretty pricey, appearing new and unused with its hardback covers protected by a plastic. There’s no severe foxing on the pages yet, only a few brown specks here and there, and it’s one of the secret reasons why Liam finds it fascinating. It’d be another addition to his collection of historical books, no surprise, but it’s its state that makes Liam wonder; the previous owner was obvious enough to be a lover of books with the way the book had been wrapped and taken care of—no creases on the page either. Liam wonders why the owner gave it away. Maybe they didn’t like it. Maybe they had no space on their shelves anymore. Liam’s imagination leads him as far as into thinking maybe the owner passed away, and a family member took care of their things.
Liam slots the book back to its hidden place just as the lights come on all at once, and Theo’s exiting from the backroom. Liam blinks away the sudden glare.
“That the book you’ve been saving up for?” Theo asks as he heads straight for the counter.
“Yep,” Liam says, and starts absently eyeing the books from the other shelves. He wants to ask Theo what they’re doing here, but he doesn’t. “I take it maybe like one more week of allowance and I’ll be able to buy it. Miss Wilson thinks all her students are so damn rich with all the art stuff she’s asking us to do. I mean, seriously, we’re an economics class, I don’t know why the fuck we have to create posters and shit for the presentation.”
“Bring it here,” Theo says.
“And I can’t keep asking—oh, what?” Liam halts his blabbering and snaps his head to Theo, who’s busy fiddling with the cash register.
“Bring the book here,” Theo repeats without looking up, but he raises a hand and curls a finger in a come-here motion.
Liam frowns. “Why?”
“Just bring it here, Liam.”
Liam doesn’t move. Instead, he eyes the cash register Theo keeps fumbling with, and Theo’s wallet laid by the side.
“No,” Liam snaps. “I’m saving up for it.”
“Liam—”
“Theo,” Liam hisses with indignation, “you have got to stop doing this. Quit throwing your money around when you’re the one who has rent and apartment bills to pay.”
“I’m not just throwing money around, Liam, and I’ve saved more than enough to—”
“So did I. I’m saving up, which means I’m buying it for myself.”
“I’ve never given a gift before.”
Liam reels back. He wants to be mad, because Theo can’t possibly use that . But, also, Theo genuinely wants to give him a gift. A gift! And he doesn’t know what exact flare of emotion he should equip for that.
They hold a heated eye contact for a while.
Eventually, Liam places the book down the counter.
“What will your boss say?” Liam asks, gnawing the insides of his cheek and buying time, because he has to practice in his mind how to say thank you without sounding too—mushy.
“I’ve got it,” Theo says as they both watch the register slowly spill out the receipt.
“Won’t he find it suspicious? A transaction at this hour?” Wouldn’t you get fired?
“Liam, relax,” Theo laughs and pulls out the receipt. “My boss is suspicious enough, which is why he has a suspicious staff despite the absence of appropriate documents. Why do you think he barely comes here? I doubt he gives a fuck about this store. He’s probably got tons of other resources outside of Beacon Hills. At least I get paid for just standing around here.”
Liam’s mouth drops. “Oh, shit, we’ve been hanging around in a drug dealer’s den—!”
“Not here, you idiot,” Theo cackles. He folds the receipt into three and slips it inside his pocket. “It’s just a plain old bookstore, a pretty smart front to keep up with his goody two-shoes image.”
Liam tilts his head. “Did you see it?”
“I don’t have to.” Theo slides the book across the counter towards Liam. “Now come on, we’ve got more places to be.”
“So you brought me here just to get me this?” Liam asks, the book already clutched against his chest, and his gaze follows Theo as Theo circles around the counter to head to the backroom. Liam thinks he might have failed to hide the amusement in his tone. “Couldn’t have waited to give it in a decent hour? You know, with a gift wrap and all.”
Liam knows he sounds like looking for a gift horse, but he also knows Theo recognizes the jest in his tone. Liam ignores another fleeting expression that crosses Theo’s face.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Theo grins, then turns, picking up the padlock chains and slinging it over his shoulder.
Liam’s mouth curls up, studying the book in his hands, and says, “Thanks, by the way,” and clears his throat, shifting his foot awkwardly.
Theo looks at him over his shoulder. Instead of saying a you’re welcome or no problem , he twists around so he’s facing Liam. Then, he drops the chains.
“You know what,” Theo says, looking around the room, gaze far-off, and releases a puff of breath. “Maybe we can stay here for a while.”
They stay for an hour or so when Theo encourages Liam to talk about the book he bought. They sit on their usual spots—Theo in a monobloc and Liam in a stool, so he uses the edge of the cashier table as a backrest—where Theo’s feet is propped up on the cashier table and Liam’s is on Theo’s slightly elevated lap, the two of them facing adjacent to each other, and Liam tells Theo of his theory about the history book.
To his surprise, Theo gives a theory of his own. Maybe a retired history teacher who actually hates history , he says. Or a gift for his historian girlfriend and then he got dumped.
Or the owner got murdered and in order to hide evidence— Liam stops him there.
“It’s in one of the shelves,” Theo says, sounding quite proud, when Liam asks him what his favorite book was.
“Why?” Liam snorts. “It’s yours . I told you that you only hide it when you want to buy it but can’t right away.”
“Who said it was mine?”
Liam gapes, and lightly kicks Theo’s stomach. “But you always highlight the things you read!”
Theo’s fingers close around Liam’s ankle, like he’s anticipating Liam to kick him again except his hands are there to prevent the force.
“People will just think it’s from the previous owner.”
Liam does as anticipated, and he feels Theo’s grip tighten around his ankle.
“Some people hate writing anything on their books, you know,” Liam retorts.
“They shouldn’t buy used books then,” Theo drawls, his back slumped against the back of his chair. He seems to be engaging in the argument just because he can, but his eyes are half-lidded and absently focused on Liam’s feet on his lap, where his fingers are picking on the loose fabric of Liam’s socks.
“Why don’t you just buy them, anyway?” Liam yawns, putting the back of his hand by his mouth as he does so. “I mean, if you’re willing to buy mine…”
“That’s different,” Theo says. “You collect your books. I don’t.”
“Dude, you have like a massive space in your apartment.” Liam spreads his arms wide for emphasis. “You could buy whole ass shelves if you wanted to.”
“Eh.” Theo shrugs. “Not sure I’ll be able to … take care of them.”
Liam grins. “You’re literally looking after an entire bookstore.”
Theo lets out a weak laugh, although he doesn’t tear off his gaze from his lap. He’s not pulling on Liam’s socks anymore, but his fingers are still pressed on Liam’s ankle, and his thumb is gently stroking the bone there. Theo himself doesn’t seem to notice. Liam does.
For the third time that night, Liam sees an emotion cross Theo’s face. His smile falters.
Liam wants to ask, but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t know why he feels a little afraid.
They both stay a little longer, and Theo doesn’t take his hand off Liam’s ankle until they both decide it’s time to go.
*
Back in Theo’s truck, Liam connects his own phone to the stereo and shuffles the playlist of Theo’s favorite songs. Theo hums along like Liam expected him to.
When Liam lets out another yawn, Theo looks over at him.
“You sleepy?” Theo asks, calculating. “Do you want to go home?”
“No,” Liam quickly says, shifting in his seat, because he really doesn’t want to. “I’m good. I mean if you have more plans,” he adds, and then a little braver, “I want to come with.”
Theo smiles. “Okay.”
With the empty road of the night, it doesn’t take long before they’re pulling over by the edge of the preserve. When Theo parks, he doesn’t shut off the engine.
“You can stay here first.”
Liam jerks forward, alert. “What do you mean?”
“I just have some stuff to collect,” Theo says, unclipping his seatbelt, “and then I’ll come back.”
“I can’t come?”
“You can, but,” Theo purses his lips and stares ahead, thinking, “I just…”
Liam blinks. “If you don’t want me to come, it’s all—”
“No, no.” Theo shakes his head, eyes briefly shut. “It’s—I don’t want you to—” he inhales, then exhales “—I’m going down to the Dread Doctors’ old theater, Liam.”
“Oh.”
Theo flashes him a look that says, yeah, oh . Liam stares at the empty, daunting road ahead of them. He’s silent for a moment, and then: “What for?”
“Monroe may be locked up but she’s still got her troops scattered around,” Theo says with little vexation. “Many of the Doctors’ instruments are a menace to the supernatural. If the hunters find them, it’s not unlikely they’ll eventually learn how to work their way around it.”
Liam clicks his tongue, considering. He feels Theo’s weighing eyes on him.
He unclips his seatbelt. “Let’s go, then.”
Theo sighs, and it takes a few beats before he pulls the key off the ignition.
“Okay.”
Theo leads Liam deeper into the preserve, and all the while there’s a voice at the back of his head that sounds like Mason, or Scott, or Stiles, screaming abort! . It’s not Liam’s subconscious—it’s just how he knows exactly how they’d react if he starts the story by saying Theo led me to the preserve ; if he’d ever tell—because at the deepest valves of his insides, he trusts Theo.
He wants this.
They stop on a small clearing, where Theo one-handedly pulls a square patch of grass on the ground that reveals a chipping basement door. It makes a loud creak when Theo pulls it open, and a bird flies out of a tree when Theo lets it land on the ground with a loud thump.
Liam stares at the dark square hole.
“Use your eyes,” Theo says—and Liam knows what eyes he means—and begins to climb down.
Liam follows, and shortly after he hears Theo’s feet landing on the ground below him, Liam does the same.
A long, narrow infinite tunnel awaits for them in the cold. Liam flares his eyes.
For a while, it’s just the two of them, but the deeper they trudge, the stronger it latches at the back of Liam’s neck—haunted memories accompany them at every wet splotch of their feet above the damp sewer floors, the smell of skunk and gas seeping on their skins. Liam remembers running in a place like this, remembers when he reached the surface of the ground and was too late. He remembers two corpses.
Liam can’t imagine what it’s like for Theo.
They reach two diverging passageways, and Theo goes to the left. At the end of the passage, a dull, metal door stands in solitary against a grimy wall. Somewhere around the tunnel, a water drop echoes.
Even with werewolf strength, it takes Theo extra effort to turn the knob handle. Liam has to help pushing it open, their shoulder and arm pressed against the metal, and with throaty grunts they manage to nudge it past the roughened frame.
Theo pushes it wide open.
Dust and mold eat away all that’s left of the operating theater—surgical chair, near-empty shelves, metal table with a few scattered medical instruments atop (Liam swallows a bile when he swears he saw dried, turning-brown blood), and a drawn curtain. Liam refuses to stare at the room from the other side of the curtain where detached pumps and an empty body-sized tube lie.
There’s a set of stairs leading somewhere. Liam ignores the large blotch of stain on the steps—it’s graying, there for too long, but there’s no mistaking to Liam that it’d been blood.
Theo’s eyes are hazy, locked on the surgical chair. Liam gently places a hand on his shoulder, and Theo flinches. Liam tightens his grip.
“Let’s get this over with,” Liam whispers and locks his gaze on Theo, reassuring.
Their lungs are thickly filled with the sharp scent of distress, but neither of them talk about it.
Quietly, Liam holds up a plastic bag Theo garnered from one of the shelves—Liam doesn’t ask but he thinks it’s what the Doctors (Theo) used when they’d run out of body bags—while Theo throws in whatever content he’d manage to find around. Half-empty vials, liquid-filled jars, to which all smelled unfamiliar and none of the wolfsbane-kind that Liam has encountered, and tiny medical equipment. Many medical equipment—a lot for surgical operations.
“The hunters have weapons,” Liam comments as Theo throws one last scalpel into the plastic bag. “You think they’d make use of medical equipment?”
“Trust me,” Theo says, and there’s a heavy dark cloud in his eyes as he takes the bag away from him, “they might find a way.”
It doesn’t take them long to get back out in the preserve. Liam thinks they’re both subconsciously in a rush, desperate to flee from the latching past. He confirms it when they simultaneously inhale the fresh scent of cold air and pine, although there’s still a faint whiff of something bitter stuck in his throat.
“Let me guess,” Liam says as he continues to trudge behind Theo; an offer to lighten the mood. “Our next destination is a dumpster.”
Theo takes it, grinning at Liam with glint in his eyes. “How could you ever guess?”
But Theo stops in the middle of the clearing half the size of the lacrosse field, the trees around them meters far, and sets the bag down with a loud clank.
“It’s good enough here.”
“First,” Liam says, lips curled up in mirth, while Theo dumps down the contents of the bag, “we break into a bookstore in which the owner turns out to be an actual drug dealer. And now we’re just about seconds away from committing arson.”
Theo rolls his eyes, though he says quite fondly, “I said no promises, didn’t I, Dunbar?”
“Whatever, Theo.”
“Here.” Theo pulls something from his pocket and hands Liam a lighter. “Do the honors?”
With a raised brow, Liam takes the lighter. He turns it back and forth in his hand, absently inspecting the dragon logo on the case.
Liam purses his lips. “It’s not just the hunters, isn’t it?” he says, still eyeing the lighter. He hears Theo’s heartbeat stutter. “You’re not just burning them because of the hunters.”
Theo’s silent, but Liam waits.
“Maybe,” says Theo eventually. A small smile tugs on his lips. “Whatever, Liam.”
Liam hands the lighter back. “I think you should do it.”
Minutes later, Liam stands by Theo’s side, shoulders brushing. They watch the fire grow and swirl with the wind, burning away remnants of a haunted past.
A scalpel pokes out beneath the fiery pile, still discernible but with edges charred.
Liam turns to Theo and sees the flame dancing in his eyes.
Theo looks back.
“Good?” Liam asks, tone careful.
Theo nods, and turns back to the fire.
“Good.”
*
They return the same way they started the night: on the bed of Theo’s truck, except they’re lying on their backs, the few inches of space between them unfilled once more.
They still reek of carbon and burnt hair, though it’s growing fainter out of their nostrils if not from their clothes. The dissipating smoke has been carried far by the wind shortly after the fire died out.
“You’re falling asleep,” he hears Theo say.
Liam snaps his eyes wide open. “I’m not. I swear.”
Theo snorts at his obvious lie. “Thought I heard you snoring just then.”
“Shut up,” and then Liam throws a weak punch on Theo’s shoulder.
“Look,” says Theo after beats of silence ensued. “There’s one more thing, though you have to promise not to punch me in the nose.”
One more thing, Liam notes. Like this night has really been Theo showing things. Revealing.
Liam rolls his head to face Theo and nearly wishes he didn’t, because Theo’s throat is bared as Theo watches the sky, long neck exposed and pale with faint lines of pulsing veins. Liam was sleepy, but he’s slowly waking up.
He darts his tongue to lick his bottom lip. “Are we going to be official felons?” he jokes, and then he switches his gaze on Theo’s eyes, where his lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones.
Theo turns to him. Liam rolls his head back in quick speed so he’s the one looking at the sky now, although he manages to catch Theo’s glare. He feels heat on his cheeks when he realizes Theo caught him staring.
“I’m not turning you into a criminal, Liam,” Theo scoffs.
“Then what is it?” Liam lifts his torso up, using his elbows to carry his weight. This way, he won’t get the urge to look at Theo when Theo’s not looking.
But Theo sits up, too, hunching a little and resting his arms on his bended knees, which gives Liam the perfect, excruciating view of Theo’s back and side profile.
He sees Theo’s jaw tick in hesitation. A whiff of anxiousness is caught in the air.
“Hey,” Liam calls softly, bumping his knee once against Theo’s thigh. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Theo rasps. “Not really. A little surprising, maybe.”
Liam huffs out a quiet laugh. “I think I’ve had many of that tonight. I can handle one more.”
Theo cranes his neck and shoots Liam a challenging grin. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Liam nods, much like a resolute, “I’m sure.”
The truck wobbles a little as Theo makes a move to hop out.
“Just—Just don’t look,” Theo says once he lands on his feet, and proceeds to go around the truck.
“Okay…” Liam frowns. He keeps his head still with eyes locked ahead, but he keeps his hearing sharp as he hears one of the truck’s door opening.
Liam’s lips part when the sound is followed by the shuffling of clothes, and then a zipper , and Liam’s sure now even Theo can hear his pounding chest. He sits up, cross-legged, and in a wavering tone, he asks, “What are you doing?”
A door closes shut.
Theo doesn’t respond. When Liam hears a crack and a squelch, like bones and muscles are being thoroughly crushed, he’s one second away from turning around when a canine head pops up from the edge of the truck bed. Its two front paws are propped on the edge so it can stand upright and peek at Liam like a puppy asking for its owner—except it’s a wolf with a black and shiny fur, ears pointed upwards, yellow eyes staring right at Liam.
“Theo,” Liam breathes.
Theo’s tongue lolls out.
“Oh my god,” Liam sounds a mixture of a choke and an astonished laugh. He shifts so he’s on his knees, slightly shaking the truck as he creeps over to Theo. He reaches out his hands, and Theo flinches back, quick and sudden that Liam thinks he might’ve missed it if he blinked. Liam lets his hands hang mid-air. “You’re—can I?”
Theo blinks once, peering up at Liam, and then slowly, he lowers his head some, like an offer. Liam lets out a throaty chuckle of relief. When his hand’s finally cupping the sides of Theo’s head, he sees Theo’s tail thumping once.
“Holy shit,” Liam beams, mouth split into a bewildered grin. He continues to ruffle the top of his head, behind his ears, then the sides of his muzzle. Theo cranes his head further forward, and his claws scratch against the surface of the truck bed as he tries to shift and keep his balance. “Oh,” Liam says, “can you—uh, can you lift yourself up?” But he helps anyway, hunching over so he can reach behind Theo’s forearms and near his belly to pull him up.
Theo manages to land half his body over the truck bed, and Liam laughs when Theo gets stuck a little, his hind legs flailing as he tries to prop it over the edge. Theo snarls with his sharp teeth and takes Liam’s wrist in between his jaws. Liam jolts, but in a beat he remembers it’s just Theo so he isn’t actually going to bite— unless . Liam yanks his wrist away until Theo lets it go, and he tugs Theo’s elbows until Theo finally carries his bottom into the truck bed.
“Good boy,” Liam teases, to which Theo responds with a growl. Liam crosses his legs to give more space for Theo, and he watches Theo circling around once, claws clicking against the surface, until he settles, sitting on his hind legs and facing Liam. Liam grins—he thinks he hasn’t stopped grinning—and reaches over again with one hand to cup the side of Theo’s muzzle, his thumb gently stroking above Theo’s left eye. Theo presses against his palm, head tilting. “Why would I ever punch— oh .”
Liam’s grip slackens a little and his grin goes loose, but it’s because of pure recognition, really. Theo thinks otherwise when Liam feels him go rigid under his touch. Liam reassures him by pressing his palm back harder against Theo’s muzzle, and uses his free hand to swipe once over Theo’s head and scratch the back of his ear. “You’re from the high school,” Liam says, smiling. “From before. You little sly.” Liam makes sure Theo hears the fondness in his tone.
Theo lets out a lupine whine.
“Come here,” Liam murmurs. He doesn’t let go of Theo’s muzzle, and he uses it to his advantage to urge Theo to come closer, and Theo does, lifting his bottom and pattering closer to Liam until his front paws are slotted under Liam’s crossed legs. And because Liam’s feeling a lot braver, he rests his forehead against the space between Theo’s ears, feels Theo’s fur tickling his skin, and closes his eyes. “I’m not afraid of you,” Liam mumbles. “Not anymore. You don’t have to be afraid of me, too.”
Theo huffs, then he moves even closer until the side of his muzzle is pressed against Liam’s cheek. Liam inhales the strong scent of pine and musk, hands moving down to scratch Theo’s sides and curl his fingers around his fur. Their position allows Liam to stare at the boundless view of the preserve; he remembers Theo implying this as one more thing, which technically translates to one last thing, and Liam hates the weight in his chest at the thought of ending the night.
So, he says, “Want to go for a run?”
Theo responds by clambering down the truck and surging towards the trees.
“Wait up!” Liam laughs as he jumps off the truck bed, and Theo stops midway in a path, twisting around to peek at Liam. When Liam starts dashing, Theo sticks his tongue out with a wide, lupine grin, and runs.
*
They run until Liam no longer feels the cold of the night but the heat of his adrenaline. They run until they reach the edge of a cliff, where Liam stands to catch his breath, hands on his hips, and waits for Theo to catch up. It doesn’t take long before Theo does, the leaves crackling under his paws as he slows down next to Liam.
On the Beacon Hills skyline, a tiny ring of orange glow peeks out.
Liam hears Theo shuffling beside him. When Liam looks down, Theo is sitting on his hind legs with his eyes locked on the horizon. Liam drops down beside him, sitting with his knees bent. Then he places a hand on Theo’s fur, right at the back of his head, and begins to lightly scratch.
They sit in silence until their heartbeats slow, until the sun rises right before their eyes, until the tiny ring spills its colors into the horizon, until the clouds slowly part, until Theo rises up, twisting around, and nudges at Liam’s hand with his wet, lupine nose.
“Wanna go now?” Liam asks quietly.
Theo only stares at him with his yellow eyes.
“Okay,” Liam says. He smiles and ruffles Theo’s fur once. “Let’s go.”
Liam doesn’t want to go.
*
Liam sits in the passenger seat while he waits for Theo—back in his human form—to get dressed somewhere behind a tree, and when Theo finally hops in, Liam says, “Okay, don’t punch me for this, but listen—my cousin is a part of this university org where they host this therapy thing by playing with dogs, and they’re open to volunteers who would bring their pets so I was thinking—”
“Don’t—” Theo says sternly, stopping halfway through clipping on his seatbelt just to glare at Liam, “—even think about it, Dunbar.”
“Okay,” Liam laughs, raising his palms up. “I tried.”
“And besides,” Theo clips on his seatbelt and shifts gear, “I’ll just end up scaring them off. Not exactly a helpful therapy, is it?”
“They probably won’t recognize if I put a collar on you,” Liam presses his argument.
“I’m not letting you put a collar on me.”
“Why not?” Liam whines in faux just to keep the senseless argument going. When he sees his phone is dead, he tucks it back in his pocket and just turns the radio on.
“Because I’m not a dog?” Theo scoffs, although Liam recognizes his tone and the amused curl of his mouth. Sometimes, Liam says the most absurd, crazy things, and more often than not he does them on purpose just to see what Theo will have to say. Liam have long since noticed that Theo indulges the conversation every time anyway.
“You could pretend to be like a guard dog. Let’s prank Mason and the others, tell them the Sheriff decided to get a K9 and I’m in charge of taking care of it for a while. And dude, you could do like the smartest tricks without them knowing it’s from an actual human brain, like Corey telling you his favorite show and you’d be able to put it in on the TV. Can your paws press tiny buttons on the remote?”
Theo snorts, “Doesn’t matter, because I’m a hundred percent certain they’d know who I am right away.”
“Well,” Liam shrugs, slumping down on the seat to find his comfortable spot as he feels lethargy starting to take over, and rests the side of his head against the window, “we’ll never know unless we try.”
Liam doesn’t get to sleep, because eventually he hears Theo silently humming along the song on the radio.
He snaps his eyes open. “You know Backstreet Boys?”
Theo raises a brow, turning on the blinker. “I’m not a total hermit, Liam.”
“Can you blame me? You were humming to Westlife before and you didn’t know who they were.”
“Well, surprise,” Theo deadpans, “I know Backstreet Boys.”
Something lights up in Liam’s head, and he slowly grins. “Sing along, then.”
“What?” Theo snaps his head towards him, laughing incredulously.
“What do you mean what ? You just keep humming to songs, but this song isn’t supposed to be hummed, Theo. It’s supposed to be sang .”
“I’m not going to fucking sing, Liam.”
This time, Liam’s fully awake. “Don’t tell me you’ve never sang this out loud before? Never ever?”
Theo rolls his eyes. “I’m not exactly crowding with the theater kids when I was with the Doctors.”
“Oh my god,” Liam exclaims. “Even Dad sings this when it comes on! Everybody does.”
Theo plasters on a sarcastic smile. “I thought it has already been established that I’m literally not like everybody?”
“All the more that you have to sing,” Liam pushes. He’d stop if he didn’t sense the amusement radiating off of Theo. “Come on, Raeken.”
“No.”
“Sing it, sing it,” Liam begins to chant, and he chants louder when he sees Theo’s jaw clenching, clearly fighting off a smile.
When the chorus comes on, Liam sings.
“Come on, Theo, tell me why —”
Theo sighs, “Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache…”
Liam throws his head back, cackling, and forces out another tell me why .
“Ain’t nothin’ but a mistake,” Theo drawls, forcing his voice to sound bored and monotone, but the corner of his mouth keeps twitching.
“Tell me why,” Liam sings, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand.
“I never wanna hear you say—”
“I want it that way,” they both sing, and this time, Theo’s laughing, too, with crinkling eyes and little snickers. “Fuck you,” he laughs, “not a word, Dunbar. This is the first and last.”
“Is it?” Liam teases. “We have to finish the song then.”
“Whatever, Liam.”
But Theo’s grinning, and so is Liam, and Liam makes a mental note to add a song to his Theo-playlist.
He slumps back against the seat, heart beating and alive, chest warm and full—contented.
*
He’s not sure why the contentment fades when Theo pulls to a stop in front of his house.
It’s weird seeing Theo now under the bright sky with the sun fully up. The Theo throwing rocks at his window under the moonlight already feels like a memory from yesterday when it’d only been hours before. His Mom is still asleep when he stretches his hearing, but he knows she’ll be up soon, and his stepdad will be returning home from his night shift at the hospital.
Liam twists so he can grab his newly-bought history book from the backseat, and when he slumps back, Theo’s looking at him with a certain weight in his eyes, although his mouth is a little curled up.
“So,” Theo sighs, one hand gripping on the steering wheel, his other arm resting on the console. He glances at Liam’s house then back to him. “I’ll see you around, Dunbar.”
“See you on Monday,” Liam says, unclipping his seatbelt. From his peripheral, he thinks he sees Theo’s grin fade, but he doesn’t want to think too much of it. When his seatbelt’s undone, he lifts his book and wiggles it. “Thanks again for this, and for … you know.”
Theo salutes him with two fingers. “No problem, Dunbar.”
“All right,” Liam says, fingers curling on the door’s handle. “I’ll see you Monday,” he repeats. He doesn’t know why he repeats it. His heart is also pounding.
“Thanks, too, by the way,” Theo says, almost like a rush. “For you know.”
Liam understands. “No problem.”
He tries to find his bravery now, when Theo’s staring and he’s staring and they’re both quiet, waiting, for what? But the sun is up and they’re no longer in the dark, and Liam’s bravery is crawling back into its hiding space.
Liam steps out of the truck.
Before he closes the door, he spares a quick few second to look at Theo. His ruffled hair and fluffy sweater. Green eyes a bit droopy, pale cheeks. That little mole. In those few seconds, he manages to take it in.
He doesn’t know why he takes it in.
He finds out why, when he doesn’t see him on Monday. Or the day after that. Or the following more.
If people ask when is the last he’s seen of Theo Raeken, he might say this: Friday, a little after midnight, throwing rocks from his backyard.
The rest of it, a secret.