Chapter Text
The rooftop felt colder than usual tonight, the kind of chill that sneaks in when you're not paying attention, just enough to make the air feel cutting against your skin. Wolf had a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes sharp as they scanned the chaos unfolding below. A familiar face, a flash of messy black hair- Sam. A stupid smile tugged at Wolf's lips. Wasn't it just like Sam to run his mouth in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Sam was trying to talk his way out of it, backpedaling, that cocky grin plastered on his face like always. But the words were getting him nowhere. Wolf’s gaze never wavered, his posture relaxed against the concrete, chin resting on his palm as if it were some kind of spectator sport.
“You talk too much, pretty boy,” one of the guys snarled, stepping forward.
The moment Sam’s grin faltered, Wolf's shoulders stiffened. Wolf would also be lying if he said the comment didn’t make his eye twitch. Sam was too used to talking his way out of things, but this time… he was in over his head.
He lifted his head from his palm, straightening his back and narrowing his eyes, relaxing his clenched teeth.
Wolf could see it now- the uncertainty creeping into Sam’s stance. He didn’t flinch, but there was a moment where the act cracked, and Sam’s eyes darted between his attackers. He was still trying to pull the same trick. That lighthearted tone that only pissed them off more. Sam had grown, sure, but was he really ever gonna learn?
Wolf smirks, seeing Sam take a punch and keep talking. Smug little shit, he thought. But the guy can really hold his own a little better, huh? Sam knocks one of the guys out cold, and Wolf can’t help but let his mouth twitch at that, but it’s nothing. It’s not like he cares or anything. Hm… this wasn’t the Sam that Wolf remembered- the boy who stumbled and fell under pressure.
But no matter how hard he fought, it wasn’t enough. Two guys grabbed him, holding him down as his punches turned to flailing, body fighting exhaustion. His words can’t trick anymore. He’s trapped.
Wolf feels his body move, turning his back on the scene as he starts to walk away. It’s no longer entertaining him, he can’t even play his little game. Boring.
“Heh, didn’t think you had it anyways,” Wolf muttered under his breath. “What a waste.”
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Grape's vision blurred as his body slumped to the ground. His head throbbed and his ears rung. The blood was pounding in his skull, and the last thing he could focus on was the ghost of footsteps approaching. He tried his best to fight the darkness pulling him down, but it was a losing battle. His world tilted, and sleep called him closer. But then, the sound of panicked voices cut through the air…
"What the… Shit! That red blazer! Man, get up!"
"Fuck, dude- huh? Who is it?"
"Are you dumb!? Look! Don't you recognise the purple hair!?"
Grape forced his eyes open, blinking furiously, but his vision was smeared, like a painting left to drip in the rain. Everything blurred into a haze of red and purple. His breath froze at the sound of bodies hitting the floor. And then...
…a figure, close. Sneakers- familiar.
He felt his head being gently lifted. A hand, soft but firm, tilted his head back with casual ease.
"Huh?" That voice- cold.
“Hehe, this motherfucker’s awake..." It sliced like a knife through the fog in his brain. His eyelids grew heavier, the noise of the world fading into a distant hum.
He didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not even as a hot finger pressed once against his cheek. "Are you awake, pretty boy?"
Wait. What...?
"Go back to sleep, Sam." Wolf’s hand lingered against his hair once more, pulling away eventually and leaving a phantom. Grape's head buzzed.
What else could he do except listen?