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1.
It was raining the first time Lycaon found Hugo. In that kind of weather, everything blended into various shades of boorish grays; with only sounds and the smell of rain filling the air, not a single person was in sight.
The umbrella Lycaon carried did a poor job shielding his bottom half from the downpour. His shoes and pants soon became completely soaked. A sinking tone of melancholy settled itself into his chest as he walked down the streets with Jack, trudging his way through the muddy waters.
Lycaon’s gaze swept his surroundings. Amongst the torrential rain that obfuscated the surroundings, down in a dark dirty alley, a vibrant yellow tugged at Lycaon’s attention.
“Jack, wait, there seems to be something there,” Lycaon said, pausing in his step.
Jack glanced back at Lycaon before turning his head towards the alley and squinted ever so slightly. They walked towards the heap of miscellaneous junk with wariness in their step. Bending down, Lycaon gently lifted up the cardboard which half covered that colour, revealing a thin pale figure, unconscious against the wall.
“Hey! Are you alright?” Lycaon called, his ears twitching trying to sense any signs of life.
He quickly grasped the frail boy’s shoulder, shaking him gently. Just then, the boy lifted his head, eyes fluttering open; revealing a pair of beautiful mismatched pupils, defiantly glaring at him. Lycaon’s mind blanked for a second, breathless at the sight.
He was shocked out of daze by a boney shaking hand that suddenly grasped at his collar with a shocking strength. Those delicate lips cracked open, mouthing a whisper that was lost to the sound of rain; yet the sight of which sparked a sense of urgency which thrummed under Lycaon’s finger tips.
Weakening, the tug at his collar loosened as the fingers slipped from its grip. The boy unceremoniously slumped over. Lycaon dropped his umbrella and quickly caught the figure before glancing back at Jack at a complete loss.
“He doesn’t seem to be in good shape, we shouldn’t leave him here,” Jack declared; eyes trailing the bruises and bloodied scratches scattered across the boy, purples and reds painting the paper-like skin.
Lycaon nodded and quickly slipped his arm under the boy’s knees, adjusting the weight onto his shoulder. He picked up his umbrella, tilting it towards the boy, making sure not a drop of rain could touch him anymore.
With a tacit understanding, Lycaon and Jack rushed back to their shelter.
—
Back at the shelter, Lycaon laid the boy across a wooden bench before rushing to prepare dry towels and warm water. Jack on the other hand bent down to help pry off the boy’s wet clothes and check over the wounds which littered the pale skin.
It was truly unusual. The lashes that rained across his arms and back were unlike what an ethereal could do; it was more similar to that of a whip, overlayed onto layers of older scars.
Thinner cuts on his palms and forearm matched with blooming bruises hinted of a struggle as if the boy was trying to get away from something. Yet the torn skin on his knuckles and signified signs of a scuffle.
Lycaon returned with the first-aid kit and other supplies, the two of them quickly working to patch up and dry the boy.
“I don’t think these injuries were from any ethereal attack or hollow disaster.” Jack said in a Solemn tone, tucking the boy under a warm blanket, using extra care not to press against the bandaged wounds, “it seems more like he was running away from some sort of abuse.”
Lycaon remained silent, maintaining his gaze towards the sickly face.
Watching his reaction, Jack continued, “sometimes humans are more cruel than anything you can find in the hollows. Are you worried for him?”
Crossing his arms, Lycaon replied, ”he just seems so… delicate and small. Why would anyone do those things to him?”
“Heh, delicate? I don’t think that’s an accurate description. Looking at the state of his knuckles, this kid puts up a good fight.” Jack jested as he moved his hand to smooth out the rough golden locks, “the fact he’s still alive is a testament to his strength.”
“If… he has nowhere to go could he stay here?”
“You seem to have taken a liking to him pretty quickly.”
“It’s not that, I just…”
“I have no plans to kick him out if he causes no trouble.” Jack said with a sense of finality. His eyes filled with warmth, never leaving the young boy's face.
As the storm and rain cleared, the only thing left in the night sky was the corrupted moon which slowly revealed itself behind passing clouds, as if its light was calling out from the darkness. For some reason, the sight had left a stark impression on Lycaon.
2.
The young boy’s name turned out to be Hugo. His mouth betrayed his soft appearance. From the moment he first woke up his every word was filled with intent, testing their motives with every reply. All whilst wearing a beautiful smile which contrasted the poor state of his body.
“The kid’s a smart one, a smooth talker too. He knows how to use his words well.” Jack once said with an affectionate grin.
Despite that, Hugo could not hide the weariness and fear in his eyes when either Jack or him got too close or engaged with him too much.
Yet over time, with gentleness and kindness, Lycaon and Jack managed to shave down Hugo’s facade and edge. Overtime Hugo no longer scuffed down his food with a haste uncharacteristic to his natural poised elegance. Overtime Hugo no longer flinched away at touch and overtime Hugo no longer stepped with hesitance or caution to mute his presence.
Hugo avoided talking about his past and dodged any probing with jokes and lies. Hence leading it to be a topic that Jack and Lycaon made sure to avoid. Neither of them wanted to push Hugo before he was ready to share that part of himself. Despite it all, Hugo grew on them and slowly they became a home of three.
Jack began to mentor them both, to fight and defend themselves. Hugo took to the training naturally, dedicating himself to learning each trick Jack could impart. It was clear that he took each lesson with a seriousness contrary to the lackadaisical attitude that he liked to give off.
His body slowly became less frail and his skin took on a healthier blush. With sharp movements and a dazzling smile, he slowly became a force to be reckoned with. No longer was Hugo the same weak boy they first found. This realisation hit Lycaon with a sense of warmth and infatuation that he did not want to think about.
One day however, Jack and Lycaon did end up finding out about their companion’s past, adding another puzzle piece to the mystery called Hugo.
After a mission, Lycaon was heading to a rendezvous point to meet Hugo. Although when he reached, Hugo was nowhere to be found. Lycaon started looking around the empty junkyard for any signs of his wilful partner. In the middle of the yard laid an out of commission bangboo, standing out like a sore thumb in the deserted area.
A sticky note was left on the bangboo, a simple cartoon figure hiding behind some objects was drawn on it with a red marker —a childish scribble. The character wore a chastising grin with pointy ears and a sneaky chuckle, waving towards the viewer; taunting them.
It was obvious who it was left by. Behind the paper a general direction was written. Pocketing the note, Lycaon cracked a chuckle and went to look for where Hugo had hidden.
It was a few months after they met when Hugo had begun to play little games like this with both him and Jack. Invisible ink, cryptic notes, hidden symbols, all of Hugo’s favourite tools to curate games with them; flamboyantly showing off his character. The boy afterall, always had a penchant for theatrics.
The first note led to another then another then another. Over scrapped cars, under broken radiators and inside boxes. Each pointing to another place to look. Perhaps they had really given Hugo too little work to do.
Lycaon kept each note, making sure not to crumple them as he folded them into his pockets. He followed the clues with a certain diligence, his tail lightly wagging along behind him. Eventually he made it to an abandoned shed. The same cartoon character was pasted next to an old ladder on the dilapidated wall pointing upwards towards the roof. So Lycaon began to climb.
As he expected, on the roof under the bright moonlight was a figure looking into the distant hollows which acted as a backdrop to a quaint town in the valley below. With an air of dramatism, the figure’s head turned to look back. His hair swaying along with the wind, playfully kissing his cheeks. It perfectly danced around his mischievous grin like the golden frame of some prized artwork.
“You found me, dear partner,” the familiar voice greeted Lycaon’s ears, drawing up an endearing warmth within Lycaon’s heart.
“It seems like you have too much free time.”
“Aw, don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the game. I saw you running around from up here, so attentively following each clue like the good boy that you are~”
The light lift in his voice that accompanied his tease lit a fire in Lycaon as he felt a stream of blood rush to his head, a reaction that he was not proud of. He was not proud of many things he felt when it came to Hugo.
“Shut up, I was simply entertaining you.” Lycaon said as he took a seat next to Hugo.
Hugo directed his gaze back to the distance as he carelessly waved his hand towards Lycaon.
“Believe what you want to believe. I’ll let you maintain some face this time.”
“Hmph.”
The two sat in silence for sometime, basking in the other's company, legs hanging off the old roof; enjoying the night time view and cooling breeze.
Lycaon turned to look at Hugo, observing the tender expression on his face. It became more and more common to see him look so relaxed and at ease. Such an expression suited him, complimented his youthful looks well.
The moon looked especially bright that night, defying the darkness which encroached upon it.
“Lycaon, do you see that mansion in the distance there?” Hugo suddenly asked in a tone which betrayed his previously teasing attitude, “in that hill, near the top.”
“Creepy looking place, what about it?” Lycaon replied offhandedly.
“It’s where I lived, before I found you and Jack.”
Lycaon met Hugo’s eyes, a sense of alarm rose in him, not dissimilar to the feeling he had when saw those eyes for the first time.
“My full name is Hugo Vlad Ravenlock,” Hugo said, “You know, that big ol’ prestigious family?”
“I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t, how could such a shameful lost kid that you and Jack picked up like some stray be part of such an illustrious family.”
“I- No, we never saw you that way.”
“I’m just kidding, don’t worry your head over it, thinking too much would hurt you.”
This time Lycaon didn’t respond to the quip, only maintaining his gaze towards Hugo.
After a pause Hugo continued, glancing away at the eye contact, “I was a bastard child. There was no love from my family. With me gone and out here, it’s frankly one less problem for them to deal with.” Hugo brought his knees to his chin and tucked his head in his arms, “The only family I had which showed me any form of affection was my half sister. But then she died. So I pummeled the perpetrator of the incident into the ground before deciding there was in fact nothing left for me to stay for.”
“Hugo you-”
“Don’t look at me like that, I do not need your pity.”
His voice was airy, disconnected as if the events he described were some news he saw the previous day instead of being about himself.
Grabbing the other’s arm, Lycaon pulled Hugo into a crushing hug without a word. Hugo stiffened before slowly relaxing his body into Lycaon’s embrace. He pressed his face into Lycaon’s shoulder and reciprocated the hug, arms circling around Lycaon’s back.
“Lycaon, I want to destroy them. I want to ruin them. I want them to suffer as I have.”
The grip on Lycaon shirt turned tighter and tighter as if he was clinging onto Lycaon for dear life.
“Lycaon, tell me, is it wrong to think that way? To wish for them to die as miserably as possible?”
Lycaon never saw the other like this. He wanted to keep Hugo in his arms, shield him from the pain.
Rubbing soothing circles on Hugo’s back, Lycaon let out a sigh before saying, “Both Jack and I are here for you now. We won’t let them harm you anymore. Hugo, they are not worth your scorn or anger.”
“It sure is easy for you to say that, you and your noble reverie of letting go. How could I possibly let it go, after everything they have done to me?” Hugo’s tone was weak, like a wilted flower, boneless in his arms.
It was a tone Lycaon never wanted to hear again.
“We’ll do it, we’ll make the world a better place, bringing justice to those above.” Lycaon affirmed, “Be it TOPS or the Ravenlocks. We’ll right those wrong together, slowly but surely. But revenge is just not the right way to go about it, you’d destroy both yourself and them in the process. I won’t- I can’t bear to see you like that.”
“And why is that?”
Yes, why was it? It was something Lycaon had already come to terms with for a while. The feelings he held for his first true friend, the first person he held as an equal and trusted so very deeply. It was an emotion that filled him with shame as it desecrated the pure relationship that they had.
Hugo’s ruthlessness and viciousness attracted him whilst Hugo’s vulnerability scared him. Hugo’s beauty was also his fury, Lycaon wanted nothing more than to forever follow the show Hugo directed and the plans he concocted.
He wanted the whole world to see how great his partner is.
So Lycaon hid it. It was easier to let it sink down, becoming a motivation for action. A motivation that assured his actions to keep his family together. Fear prevented him from revealing his true feelings for his partner, fear that he would lose his dear companion.
Lycaon was a coward but he did not mind it. He was already happy supporting Hugo from the back and took pride in his role of propping up the light of his partner. However, at that moment, holding the man of his affections in his arms like precious porcelain, something in Lycaon snapped.
It was a renewed certainty to reach out, a vow to protect.
“Because I love you.” Drawing his arms around the other tighter, Lycaon continued, “Hugo, I love you. So please don’t do this to yourself.”
Lycaon desperately wanted to always hold this man, always take care of him. He wanted him to forget his pains and let go of whatever was haunting him.
A warm wet feeling stained his shoulder as the two embraced, frozen in the moment. Silent tears were all that Hugo responded with.
After that incident, Lycaon landed in one of the happiest periods of his life. Hugo no longer avoided his touch, instead he seemed to even crave it. Whenever they sat next to each other Hugo would cuddle closer, leaning his head against Lycaon’s arm.
When they were joking around with each other, Hugo would often take the opportunity to nudge Lycaon, touching his arms and chest. Whilst after missions Hugo would be the first offering to groom Lycaon’s tail.
What made Lycaon most blissful though was on the colder nights when Hugo would slip himself into Lycaon’s bed and snuggle himself within Lycaon’s embrace.
Lycaon and Jack did everything they could to support Hugo, to show Hugo a sweeter life and Lycaon thought that Hugo would agree with them.
During rushes of adrenaline whilst they ran together, escaping from their pursuers on missions, Lycaon felt that for sure what they had could and would last forever. It was an ignorant youthful confidence.
Yet It was all futile, Lycaon eventually realised. He could never hope to stop someone like Hugo, someone as dazzling as him, even in bloodshed and violence. He was simply a puppy, pawing at its owner as he was once again left behind with broken promises.
Despite his love for Hugo, in the deep recesses of the mind he had this inkling that he was not on the same level as the other, always one step behind. Too stupid to understand his plans, too slow to catch him. This inkling turned into a feeling after Jack warned him about Hugo before turning into a belief on that fateful night where he not only lost his legs and eye but also his dear partner.
When he saw Hugo standing amidst the bodies and bloodshed, it was still him appearance wise. But the look in the other’s eyes startled him, holding zero familiarity. It was still him and yet those eyes which captivated him now seemed to hold the world. Too vast and foreign for Lycaon to understand.
Perhaps he had never really known Hugo. Perhaps the games they played together and missions they ran together and time they spent together were just that, games.
He always called Hugo dramatic and chided him for his “childish fantasies” but in the end, Lycaon was the one wrapped in the warmth of the other’s illusions. He gladly feasted on the love which Hugo gave him, blinding himself to reality. Was everything that he and Jack did really that meaningless to Hugo?
Children eventually outgrow their role playing games of make belief. They all grow up eventually.
That night, after he left to save as many as he could, turning his back on his partner, Lycaon was left laying on the desolate ground gazing at the darkness that blanketed the sky. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, the corruption on his limbs made sure of that, he also could no longer see through his right eye either.
There was no despair, no denial, just a soft numbness. That night, the moon was nowhere to be seen. Only an empty abyss that brought him back to that one bedroom decrepit apartment as his mother left with her luggage.
After meeting Jack, he vowed to never go back to being as weak as he once was before but It was everything, everything which he had lost. His mentor first and now his partner and beloved.
3.
It was not the first time Lycaon saw Hugo since they had split. Every time Lycaon felt like he could move on, those golden locks would appear again.
He wished he could hate Hugo, he truly did. Hating was easy, a simple feral feeling of anger which created a black and white view of a person.
Hating him could never hurt as much as the pain of loss he felt eating away at his bones every time he met those mismatched eyes. Those eyes dragged him back into being that brash teen, threatening to destroy any progress he made on himself. It was a reminder that he never really changed. He was still the same deep down, just more restrained and groomed to perfection.
He still yearned the same, he still angered the same and he still loved the same. Lycaon knew he could never change the love he learnt about from that bright smile, the speeches of passion and the throes of desire with that one man. He knew that he could never love another to the same degree.
Over the past couple of years he had received many confessions from both male and female, both eccentric and mild. Frankly, he had the chance to pick and choose whatever type he liked. However every time he desired to reach out to another, he would choke on his words. It was as if a mocking laugh would sound in his ears, dredging up memories of the past.
Victoria Housekeeping gave him a new home, new family after the mayor in his good graces saved him. He should move on, take the advice he and Jack had once given Hugo and just move on from everything.
Maybe he was a hypocrite for hanging onto the past but it was something he couldn’t help.
Lycaon had soon given up any hope or desire of starting anew with another person. He would find himself repulsed by another's touch, another’s warmth, his instincts screaming at him to pull away.
Every movement and expression would remind him of someone else who would once do the same —yet leaving a far more profound impact on his psyche. A certain thief who had not only stolen his breath with ease but also enacted a heist on his heart and soul that he could never recover from.
What was the point of it? What was the point in trying to find someone else when it just reminded him more of what he had lost. Even if it was not in a romantic way, he now had new people that needed and wanted him.
Thus Lycaon further dedicated himself to his work. It was far easier to focus on the task list then to truly consider himself. Binding up memories of the past with curated layers of elegance, Lycaon, the mild-mannered representative of Victoria Housekeeping was born.
Yet wood plated in gold was still wood and the poor orphaned dog covered in silks of elegance was still the poor orphaned dog.
That day Victoria Housekeeping was tasked with guarding their client’s goods through the hollow. Rina had taken Corin, their new recruit, to keep a lookout at the perimeter of the hollow as a form of training. Lycaon and Ellen, on the other hand, made their way to the checkpoint to pass off the goods.
Their client had told them that the mysterious leader of The Garden, another commission services company that did similar work to Victoria Housekeeping, would collect the goods and take over the rest of the job. This leader went by the alias of Ms. Ziteng, a rumoured lethal beauty who covered her face with a mask to block out any prying eyes.
A figure dressed in purple waited for them at the checkpoint. Something about Ms. Ziteng alerted Lycaon’s instincts, causing his fur to bristle. When Ms. Ziteng turned to him, he almost expected to see a familiar pale blue and red but all he ended up seeing was regular black pupils.
The woman's eyes widened slightly when she met Lycaon’s. Everything about her tickled Lycaon’s senses but he didn’t allow his emotions to betray his expression.
Ms. Ziteng wore an expensive purple qipao with intricate embroidery, black silk gloves and a white mask which covered her whole face, save for her eyes. With her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, her appearance gave off a measured grace.
Despite her feminine and elegant demeanour, her stature was sturdy and clearly well-built. Lycaon did not want to test out her combat prowess as his instincts told him that she would be a formidable opponent even in her graceful attire.
“You…” She cleared her throat before continuing, “you are the people from Victoria Housekeeping, yes?”
She lifted the closed metal fan in her hand to where her mouth would be without the mask. When she turned towards Lycaon and Ellen, the silks from her long qipao swayed along with her body, clinging against her long slender legs.
She moved closer with light footsteps, seemingly towering over Ellen yet still far from Lycaon’s height.
Lycaon bowed down with poised practice, taking her hand in his paw before giving a gentle kiss to the black silk.
“Greetings from Victoria Housekeeping, I am Lycaon and the lady beside me is Ms. Ellen. You must be Ms. Ziteng, we are at your service” Still bowed down, he glanced up from the silk covered hand and met Ms. Ziteng's eyes once again.
“Hm…that is correct. However, I was expecting a Ms. Rina,” she let out an amused chuckle, “you do not seem to be the head maid type.”
Clearing his throat, Lycaon gently let go of Ms. Ziteng’s hand, “Ms. Rina is securing the premises, I have come to hand off the goods instead. May I see the security token before I entrust the goods to you?”
“Right, of course.”
From a small satchel tied around her hip, she fished out a silver token.
“Is this enough proof for you, Sir Lycaon?” She had a teasing glint in her voice, it was extremely alluring. A weaker man would’ve already fallen prey to her demeanour which was sheer perfection in practice.
“This is indeed authentic.” Lycaon said as he checked over the token, “it is a pleasure to work with your esteemed self.”
“Such flattery wouldn’t get you anywhere Sir Lycaon.” Her playful reply teased back as she took the goods from Lycaon’s and Ellen’s hands, “I do hope The Garden would get to work with Victoria Housekeeping again in the future.”
Just as she turned around to leave, a voice called out to her.
“Wait.” Lycaon’s voice stopped Ms. Ziteng right where she stood, “could you allow me to accompany you? It is my responsibility to make sure the job goes as smoothly as possible. Encountering ethereals with your hands full would likely pose a danger.”
“My, Sir Lycaon, don't tell me you think I can’t handle myself? Or could you perhaps have taken interest in me over our short interaction. It would be uncouth of you to make your move on the job you know~”
“I can assure you that is not the case Ms. Ziteng. It is simply our duty to ensure the success of our clients wishes.”
“You don’t need to get so tense, I do not mean to offend any young lady a fine man such as yourself would keep at home.”
“I simply am not interested in such relations at the moment. Ms. Ziteng, I urge you to maintain your professionalism.”
Ms. Ziteng paused for a second, her eyes deep in thought before she conceded. “Alright, if you say so, Sir Lycaon. You may follow along if you wish.”
Lycaon turned to Ellen before instructing her, “Ellen, stay here to rendezvous with Rina. I’ll follow Ms. Ziteng and come back here within the next hour.”
Ellen simply rolled her eyes and nodded before stalking off to some corner to rest.
“What an interesting attitude that girl has, it must be nice having such a youthful companion hm?”
“Ms. Ziteng, let’s continue along.”
“Whatever you say Sir Lycaon.”
——
“Would you like me to help you carry some of the goods?” Lycaon asked.
“I am doing quite alright, underestimating me would not be a good look for you.” Ms.
Ziteng continued to keep up her jabs and teasing, something which Lycaon effortlessly parried with his professional attitude.
“I simply believe that the burden should not be yours alone since we are working together.”
“It is my job and something I was meant to face alone until somebody got in over his head with worry.”
“I just want to keep the goods safe and fulfil our client’s request.”
“Again with the underestimation, are all men as obstinate as you?”
“I am not just talking about ethereals and hollow raiders.” Ms. Ziteng stopped in her tracks and turned back to look at Lycaon at his statement, “I want to keep them safe from you as well, Hugo.”
Ms. Ziteng, no, Hugo’s wide eyes slowly morphed into crescents before he let out a melodious laughter. After a moment he recomposed himself and focused his eyes back onto Lycaon’s.
“How did you know? And I had put so much effort into my disguise as well. What do you think of the dress, Sir Lycaon? I even went out of my way to get some contacts too” His voice was deeper now, his teasing tone became one that was sharpened with venom and edge.
Lycaon immediately lunged at Hugo, reaching for the boxes the other carried. Hugo swiftly dodged to the side, opening up his metal fan. With practised ease, he unclasped one of the metal pieces with a single hand and threw it at Lycaon, firing the sharp piece at him.
Lycaon blocked the piece with his leg, throwing off his movements. Using that moment of hesitation, Hugo took out a small black ball from his satchel and threw it against the floor. Lycaon quickly raised his arms to protect his face as smoke burst out of the ball, instantly blanketing the surroundings in a dark cloak.
His vision and smell was blocked by the smokescreen. By the time Lycaon could refocus his senses again, Hugo was gone with the goods.
Lycaon calmed himself and carefully observed his surroundings. It was an abandoned shipyard consumed by the hollows. Shipping containers stacked on top of each other like children’s Lego pieces.
There were only three available routes to leave the area from between the shipping containers. It would be most likely for Hugo to take the route leading to the seaside where he could easily escape from without being caught by the client’s other agents or Rina who was keeping a lookout on the other side of the hollow.
Making his deduction, Lycaon gave chase down a lane between the shipping containers. He soon picked up a familiar scent, one that raised his suspicions the moment he met “Ms. Ziteng”.
He followed that scent with the pursuit of a predator, dead-set on its target. The prosthetic legs paused as he came to a blockage where Hugo’s fragrance seemed especially dense; stalking along the shipping containers with keen alertness for even the slightest movement or sound.
There.
Lycaon smashed open a door of a shipping container revealing Hugo standing inside, seemingly unsurprised that his location was uncovered.
“Looks like you found me Sir Lycaon! I expected no less from an esteemed attendant such as yourself. You’re doing so well aren’t you?” Aggression filled his every word.
Lycaon pounced on him, pressing Hugo against the metal floor. Hugo’s mask flew off on the impact, his hair turning into a mess as stray strands fanned out across the floor. Large hands gripped at Hugo’s collar, threatening to rip the silks right off.
The familiar face revealed itself in front of Lycaon. It was the same yet different. Hugo’s baby fats were gone, he had grown into his features. his handsome face which laid in the middle of the golden strands that splayed itself across the floor filled Lycaon with an uncontrollable rage.
He despised the way Hugo looked at him with contempt and he especially despised the way his traitorous heart jumped at the sight.
“Lycaon, do your new companions and clients know what you’re actually like? Do they know that you’re an disloyal dog who went to them as a last resort?”
“Shut up.” Lycaon leaned down closer to Hugo’s face. His ears pressed down against his head, eyes narrowed and teeth bared.
“Gracious attendants shouldn’t be using such coarse language you know? You’re still the same as before, you pompous dog,” Hugo spat each word with unbridled disgust.
Just then Hugo pushed his head upwards, meeting Lycaon’s lips with his own, breaking the tension. At that moment Lycaon let his grip slip and body tense. Hugo took that opportunity to push Lycaon off, sending a knee to his waist, and slipped out from under the other man.
Hugo swiftly grabbed one of the boxes which held the client’s goods and ran out the shipping container before Lycaon got himself together and gave chase with an angry growl vibrating out.
Just when Lycaon was about to catch Hugo again, Hugo threw out the box he took towards the nearby ledge. This cunning bitch! Lycaon turned his heel to reach for the box, just barely managing to catch it before it tumbled off into the distant ocean.
By the time Lycaon turned back, Hugo was already gone. Lycaon surveyed his surroundings once again but he already knew that it was for naught. Hugo had long escaped by then. With his empty hand clenched, Lycaon turned back to the empty and now wrecked shipping container that they fought in to pick up the rest of the goods scattered across the floor.
Turns out the real Ms. Ziteng had been given a different rendezvous point. The woman wore a similar attire but deep in Lycaon’s mind he judged that she did not hold a candle to the grace Hugo conducted himself with. That disdainful thought accompanied a sense of shame that washed over Lycaon.
Rina was settling the fall out of the incident whilst he quietly stood behind. The grimace he wore on his face accompanied his drooping ears and tail.
“You knew that guy right?” A lollipop hung from the mouth as Ellen tilted her head over to pose the question.
“He was… an acquaintance from my past. Before I came here.”
With a raised eyebrow Ellen maintained an unamused look as she stared at him.
“Right.” She turned back to Rina. Faced with Lycaon’s avoidance, she didn’t seem too keen on prying any further.
———
“It seems Ms. Ziteng’s security token had also been swapped by a fake.” Rina explained to Lycaon as she dealt with some paperwork covering the incident. “What an interesting and cunning fellow that man is. Thankfully our dear Lycaon was able to thwart his schemes. Our client wishes to deliver to you his glowing regards.”
“Should you really be saying that about the culprit?” A hint of hesitance stained Lycaon’s voice as he brought a cup of tea to his lips. Rather than properly facing his surroundings, he kept his focus on the warm liquid swaying around in his cup.
“The client’s goods managed to make a safe journey in the end, so I don’t see it as such a big deal. And I can’t help but admire such a smooth young man.”
“Hmph.”
“Do you have something to say?” her pen stopped and red eyes gazed up, “our client is still furiously searching for the culprit you know?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“I have nothing to add.” The room suddenly felt stuffier. Lycaon took another sip of his tea, averting the red that stared him down.
After a beat, Rina turned her eyes back to the document in front of her. Twirling her pen around to the rhythm of her fingers, she hummed a soft note.
“Well it’s nothing for us to worry about.” Her words floated through the air, purifying the room like a cooling spring breeze, “our contract ended the moment we passed off the goods. Victoria Housekeeping no longer holds any responsibility to them.”
Lycaon decided to keep his head low and remain silent. Why didn’t he admit what he knew about Hugo?
Perhaps he truly was afraid of his new companions finding out about his past. Ellen and Corin did not have the slightest clue whilst Rina wasn’t aware of the more intimate details. Only the mayor knew the extent of it all, save for how deep his “partnership” once went with Hugo.
He’d rather die than divulge those details to a third party.
Just like that, the matter was settled. Like all the scars and imperfections on his body, he covered this incident up with tough bindings —further restraining his impulsive feelings.
Glancing out the window, Lycaon saw that the moon was a waning crescent, its light peeking out behind dark curtains. It’ll be gone the next night. A fleeting glow which Lycaon wished to grasp but was powerless to do so as a mortal.
4.
It was a cocktail of emotions every time he saw news of Mockingbird’s newest escapades. Just the knowledge that Hugo was still thriving, still well, gave him a strange sense of peace.
With the help of Ellen, he had even set-up an Interknot account to join one of Mockingbird’s fan groups; though even she wasn’t privy to what he used the account for. In a way, it was a guilty pleasure of his.
He’d often see fans make commentaries on Mockingbird’s latest heists about what motives and methods were behind their schemes. When reading these analyses, Lycaon often couldn’t help but sneer in his head at the inaccuracies.
Mockingbird’s fans would take to fervent worship and devotion, treating Hugo as an infallible god, a sort of martyr for the common man.
They saw him as a nonchalant charismatic criminal, without knowing how the enigmatic lines he spun were all dramatics rehearsed in a shoddy attic. Even if the location changed, he was sure that Hugo maintained his childish liveliness in creating his finishing monologues.
Lycaon would think of the times Hugo would run to him in spurts of excitement to rehearse his new script, pestering Lycaon to join in. The chair turned soapbox would act as a private performance between just the two of them against the backdrop of a quiet night.
The crack window pane, leaky roof and mouldy walls became their personal paradise where they shared fantasies of grandeur; sipping grape juice in chipped wine glasses to practice their performances. It was their stasis, a home.
Now, he’d never have to eat or drink from chipped dishes again. But in the deep recesses of his heart, part of him yearned to go back to that old attic to share just one more night, ignorant of what’s to come.
If he had known the future, he would have treasured and indulged more in the last night they had together before everything fell apart.
None of them could understand the man’s cheekiness and recklessness, his follies and imperfections. They did not know him, they did not know how very human Hugo really was. They did not know just how beautiful he was without that mask, laughing in that little world belonging to just the two of them.
There was still the ever present bitterness of Hugo’s broken oath. Lycaon deep down understood what drove Hugo to what he did, he also came to understand that the memories they shared weren’t lies.
But he’d rather play ignorant to that, lie to himself that Hugo never cared so Lycaon wouldn’t have a reason to care either. Because if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have a reason to mourn Hugo’s loss.
Whenever those complex feelings bubbled up inside him, he’d repeatedly remind himself of Hugo's betrayal, creating a ruthless caricature of the man in his mind.
———
There were suspicions which probed at his instinct when he had first seen the auction invitation from the proxy. The familiar scent of the letter made his nose twitch and hair raise.
During the banquet all his suspicions came together. Under the hall lights Hugo paraded with the stolen sacrifice core.
It brought back those unspeakable memories but it was different this time. This time it was no longer an intimate rehearsal between two; this time Hugo’s gaze no longer lingered on just him; this time he was just one of many audience members basking in his infinite radiance.
Under the pretext of following up on the mayor’s mission, Lycaon started to chase Hugo with the proxy. The escape routes, the tricks and sleight of hand were all things he had long committed to heart.
On nights where he couldn’t sleep, Lycaon would pour over the security camera footage of Mockingbird’s heists and investigation notes that were leaked on the Interknot. Although it was not really for any particular reason, he’d stare at Hugo’s familiar movements and trace his fingertips over the screen, taking in Hugo’s every move.
So of course Lycaon knew where Hugo was going. Whilst all the other security personnel were blindly searching for Hugo, only he could really know what the other man was planning.
Together, the proxy and Lycaon chased through the disordered cargo boxes. It was reminiscent of that one time he chased Hugo in a similar fashion.
Just that this time Hugo purposely egged him on, tempted him to follow along. Setting traps and shooting coins from a distance, it was like Hugo was playing with them.
It was in a similar fashion to the games Hugo would play with him when they were younger.
As Lycaon and the proxy got to a clearing in a wider space, footsteps tapping against metal alerted him to Hugo’s presence.
At the sound Lycaon whipped his head back facing Hugo for the first time in months.
Found you, a voice in Lycaon’s heart whispered.
Lycaon didn’t have time to take in Hugo’s appearance before the metal briefcase was fired at him.
“Long time no see, traitor.”
That sparked something in Lycaon. It was as if millions of tangled noises whined in his ears and the pressure in his chest was about to rip straight through his skin, tearing him to pieces.
A beastly noise escaped from his throat as he launched himself towards Hugo in a burst of speed. Only when they were exchanging blows in the heat of aggression could Lycaon silence the suffocating sounds.
Hugo did little to hide his resentment, his ire, in every word he shot towards Lycaon. How he wished he could keep those lips from moving.
Then just like every other time, Hugo would slip away again. Like a stampede, he descended as a torrential flood and left, leaving chaos in his wake, utterly wrecking Lycaon’s heart.
Standing at the edge of where Hugo left, Lycaon stared off into the distance. The noise had disappeared leaving an empty silence which permeated Lycaon’s skin and bones.
In the desperation to release the pressure Hugo left, he ended up admitting everything to the proxy.
In a way, it was like playing spot the difference each time he saw Hugo. His hair had grown, he started wearing more rings and his shoulders were broader. Last time Lycaon was mainly in charge of frontal assault whilst Hugo took more of a stealth role. Although now, Hugo probably handled both leading to his larger build.
The thought of that gave him a feeling of indignance even though he couldn’t really tell why.
Then Hugo offered that olive branch when faking his death. That night at the port, the torrential waves that separated them settled into still waters. They weren’t completely together again but now, Lycaon could see the way forward.
There was a lingering sense of regret over the years wasted but now, he did not want to wait anymore.
+1
The plush carpeted hallway floor muffled the sounds of Lycaon’s metal prosthetics pressing against it with each step he took. Slowly ticking forward, the gold needle moved onto 10 o’ clock, perfectly on schedule. Keeping his pocket watch, Lycaon pushed open his apartment door.
Something was amiss. The window was open; breeze gently caressing the curtains and tugging it aside.
Someone was here.
Lycaon quickly scanned the surroundings yet nothing seemed to be out of place or missing —all except a white note left on the window sill with a glittering gold coin weighing it down.
A withheld breath escaped as a sigh before Lycaon moved forward to examine the note. It was nothing to be alarmed about, the culprit was clear.
Lycaon first picked up the coin, observing the familiar mockingbird which glistened under the moonlight, making it seem mystical. A soft smile graced his lips as he pocketed the coin.
The paper used was cardstock, exuding a lofty professional feel. It was aligned with elegant flourish along the borders. In the center of it all, juxtaposed to the professional elegance of the card itself, an almost crude figure graced the receiver with a mocking grin.
It was drawn with a red marker and clean lines. With long ears, pointed teeth and little hat; oh how familiar it truly was.
The figure was jumping out the window onto the roof of a building which had a noticeable logo drawn on it, Lycaon’s hint.
Through those childish lines, repressed feelings tore through Lycaon’s heart, setting him alight.
He slid the invitation next to the coin in his pocket. Lycaon unwrapped the bindings on his arms and loosened his vest before bracing himself on the window sill —unhesitatingly leaping off.
From roof to roof he ran like an animal hunting its prey. Leaping across the ledges, landing on all fours and clawing over obstacles with a feral ease; his restraints wiped away with the wild winds.
Society, responsibility and the wider world ceased to exist at that point of time, all that mattered was this game, this chase.
It was here. With a thud, Lycaon landed on the unkempt roof of some building. The building itself didn’t matter. All that mattered was the man standing by the ledge of it, staring off into the distance.
“I found you”
“You found me.”
The man had not turned back yet, posture remaining the same, languid and relaxed. Lycaon slowly stepped forward with measured paces, a deep contrast to his earlier pursuit. His large hands moved forward and wrapped around Hugo’s lithe waist.
“I caught you.”
“Hm~ indeed you did.” Glancing up from the hands at his waist, he finally turned to look at Lycaon, “now what?”
It was a beauty that civilisations could have gone to war over. There was a pause where they just stared at each other but there was no awkwardness whatsoever. They were both where they needed to be. Lycaon continued to remain silent, maintaining his gaze into Hugo’s eyes. It was always those eyes, it was always that grin, it had always been him and he’d be a fool to think otherwise.
There was never anyone else, there never could be anyone else. Perhaps it was from the first time Hugo pulled him off the mouldy couch to dance, perhaps it was from when Hugo first gifted him a beautiful shared dream of glory in that shoddy attic, perhaps it was from the time they first met. It was impossible to exactly pinpoint when Hugo became his friend, his family and lover; giving him the chance to aspire and have dreams an orphan like him would’ve never dared to even think of.
Just then a slender hand lifted from Hugo’s side and threaded through Lycaon’s fur. A teasing voice following, “Have you given up your loyal lapdog facade? You look like a disheveled mess… see? Your hair’s all ruffled up and your attire is a mess.”
“You said you liked it when I was more aggressive.”
“I did say that, didn't I? Well you haven’t answered my question yet, now what?”
At that moment Lycaon surged forward, pressing his lips against Hugo’s. With intertwining limbs and bodies pressed against each other, it was a perfect complete picture. In each other’s precious warmth, they were right where they needed to be.
Lycaon was laughing. Hugo, after a beat, followed along as well. They were stupid, foolish men who wasted so much time writhing in false beliefs and misunderstandings. Who would’ve thought laughter and happiness could’ve been such a simple thing.
Above, the moon hung so bright, so beautiful. It was not beautiful in spite of its darkness, instead it was beautiful because of it. Its imperfections and radiance that shone through anyways was what made it truly whole. Forever would Lycaon keep that moon in his heart.