Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Corin... Just pick the teamilk you want,” Ellen said flatly, her half-lidded eyes heavy with boredom and exasperation. The shark thiren girl stood with one hand holding her own teamilk, which she sipped slowly as she stared at the younger girl.

“B-But… There’s so many! How can I be sure which one’s right…?” Corin replied, her purple eyes darting anxiously across the glowing menu. She tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt, clearly overwhelmed by the abundance of choices.

A short distance away, a certain white wolf thiren and a ghostly woman stood together, quietly observing. Each held their own teamilk in hand.

“I still don’t quite understand the appeal of this… ‘teamilk’ that Ellen’s so fond of,” the wolf thiren said, inspecting his cup with mild skepticism. He took another hesitant sip- his first in the past five minutes. Before lowering the cup again. “But I suppose it’s simply not to my taste.”

A brief pause.

“…Perhaps Corin could use some help?”

Rina let out a soft chuckle behind her hand in response. 

“Hm~ I say we let them be. It’s not often we get a chance to relax like this,” she said with a gentle smile. “Let them enjoy it. This is a rare bonding moment for all of us, after all.”

“I suppose you’re right, Rina,” Lycaon replied, returning her a small smile with one of his own.

It was a simple, quiet moment shared between coworkers... buying teamilk, enjoying each other’s company. From a distance, one might even mistake it for a heartwarming scene between a close-knit family.

Or perhaps, that's what they really seem like to be.

In the distance, a tall, slim man with long golden-blonde hair and mismatched eyes stood still, watching.

Not that he was stalking them. No—he was just passing by. Pure coincidence. They just happened to catch his attention.

He wasn’t looking at them.

...Right?

Look at them. What a perfect little scene. Laughing. Smiling. Bonding. Like a real family.

Good for him.
Really.
He’s happy.
That's great.
Hah.

Krrrrip!

The sound pulled Hugo out of his thoughts. He looked down.

Oh.

He’d forgotten about the documents in his hands. Forgotten he was holding them at all.

He’d clenched them so tightly the paper had torn clean through.

No, it’s fine. It’s really fine.
Just an instinct.
It doesn’t mean anything.

He didn’t know him. Not anymore.

It’s just… a coincidence. That’s all.

But that eye—
There's not mistaking it.
That singular, sharp red eye.
That white fur, streaked and faded in all the same places.
That slow, familiar swish of a tail.
That voice.

He should go.

Yes. He was supposed to be running a quick errand for his dear Vivi before heading home. Wouldn’t want her waiting.

...

So he has a wife now. She’s beautiful. Kind. Smiles easily. Two kids- Though a wonder how come one of them is not a wolf thiren like the father, maybe just how the genetics worked out.

They seem happy.

No—they are happy.

He’s happy.
He’s well.
He smiles more now.
He’s doing fine.

He’s happy.

Hugo blinked again.

His jaw ached. He hadn’t even noticed he was grinding his teeth until he tasted the faint copper tang of blood where his fang had nicked his tongue.

He should go.

He tells himself he should go.

But his feet don’t move.

Why are you still standing here?
What do you think you’re doing?
He's the one who left you, you should be seething.
So what right do you have now—to watch like this? To want?

You’re nothing more than a stranger now. A ghost.
He doesn’t need you. Never did.

He probably walks the kids to school in the mornings. Maybe they pack lunches together. Go on weekend picnics. Laugh at old jokes.
Simple. Sweet.

Everything you couldn’t give him.

He has his own life. One he built without you. One that works.

And none of it includes you.

It’s like none of it ever mattered.

The nights spent bickering over dinner, stealing food from each other’s plates just to be annoying.

The triumphant grins after every heist pulled off side by side—the quiet pride in each other's success, the unspoken trust.

The gentle touches while patching up wounds, careful hands wiping away blood like it meant something.

Even when the injury came from each other.

Those quiet nights in the dark, curled up together in that tiny attic, holding each other close when one of them had a bad dream.

Too cold. Too small.

But safe.

And now?

Now it’s like it never happened.

Like he never existed in that part of Lycaon’s life.
Like he was just—some passing chapter. One that closed and got left behind.

Hugo sucked in a shaky breath and forced a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

It’s fine. Hah.
Fineeee. Pfftt.

They broke up. It’s been years.
Years.

Hugo doesn’t need to be part of that mutt’s life. Not anymore.
He has his own life now.
His own world.
And it’s good. It’s great. It’s—

Perfect.

He’s perfectly content.
And more than happy.
Absolutely, undoubtedly happy.

He is.
Really.

He shook his head hard, forcing himself to look away.
Gods, he’d been staring. Just standing there like some desperate ghost.

He probably looked like a creep.

Strawberries. Kiwis. Vivian asked for strawberries and kiwis.
That’s what matters right now.

That’s what he told himself as he started walking away, jaw clenched so tightly it ached, fingers digging into his palm as he walked.

He didn’t look back.

"When that time comes, you’ll eventually forget about me.”

"Or you’ve already forgotten me.”

“Not out of cruelty. Not out of spite. Just… the way people forget things they no longer need to remember.

You’ll forget the way I used to call your name.
The weight of your hand resting on mine, steady even when everything else wasn’t.
The little arguments we used to have about nothing, the ones we always made up from with a grin or a nudge.
The sound of my footsteps beside yours.
The warmth we shared when the nights got too long.
The promises whispered when no one else was listening.

And it's all faded
The edges blurred

I’m already just a half-memory in the back of your mind.
A story you no longer tell.
A face you’ve replaced with someone else’s smile.

And that’s okay.

I don’t blame you. IblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyselfIblamemyself

You found something better. Something quieter. Softer. Something I could never give you.
You moved on, like people are supposed to.
You let go, you made up your mind
And me?

…I'm just the one who never learned how to.”

Chapter Text

Lycaon took another sip of the teamilk.

Still too sweet.
He didn’t dislike it, exactly- but he found himself missing the earthy bitterness of his usual blend. Something simpler. Less dressed up.

Still, Rina had a point. Days off were rare. Bonding, as she called it, was... good. Healthy, maybe.

So he drank. Slowly. Quietly. Content to listen as Ellen and Corin chattered beside him, their voices drifting between casual teasing and indecisive debate. He chimed in now and then, when prompted. Or when something caught his interest enough to warrant a comment.

Just as the noise began to blur into background warmth-

Something hit him.

A scent.

Lavender. With a faint trace of sweetness. Vanilla, maybe.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

His fingers paused on the rim of his cup.

That scent-
It was just like-

“It’s ‘loyalty to justice,’”

The boy had said it with mock seriousness, chin propped on his palm, golden hair falling into mismatched eyes.

“Oh, Lycaon, I can’t believe you’re having trouble with such simple lines,” he’d sighed, all exaggerated disappointment. Then that grin—sharp and wolfish despite the fact he wasn't the wolf in the room.

“Could it be…” a pause, playful menace. “That something’s wrong with you up here?”

A finger tapped lightly against his own forehead.

Annoying.

“Shut it.”

The chair had gone flying.

“Ack—!”

Deserved.

…

No.

No, that couldn't be.

Too much of a coincidence.

Just a trick of the senses. A shared shampoo brand. A scent from a nearby cart. Something explainable. Logical.

But there’s no one with that smell—
Well, no one quite like that.

Indeed, plenty of people wear lavender and vanilla. But his scent is different.

There’s always this little not, —something just a bit off-beat, a twist in the sweetness. Like laughter tucked into perfume. Like nostalgia burned into memory. Something Lycaon could never name, only feel.

A scent he could recognize anywhere.

Even now.

Especially now.

That scent always came with...



Golden-blonde hair.

Always a mess, but not the kind born from carelessness. No, his hair was messy with intention—just enough tousle to look natural, just enough charm to get away with it.

It framed his face in that annoyingly perfect way, like the world rearranged itself just to flatter him.

Mismatched eyes.

One a storm-grey, cold and thoughtful.

The other crimson—sharp, brilliant, impossible to ignore.

Both of them dangerous. Both of them captivating.

Just like him.

Those fangs. Always flashing in a grin far too pleased with itself, looking one second like a threat and the next like a promise.

Those stupid ears- perking up, drooping down, twitching with every shift of mood.

Once, when he thought no one was watching, they even wiggled. Content.

And his voice-

Gods, that voice.

Smooth like velvet. Soothing like an old tune.

So damning nice to hear,

Even when every word he spoke made Lycaon want to drag him out back and strangle him with his own hands.

Because of course, he was always insistent on dramatics.

Always monologuing like the world was his stage, and Lycaon was just the poor fool caught in the spotlight beside him.

Always pushing, always teasing, always there.

He isn’t anymore. 

Not that the person Lycaon’s thinking about is dead, or anything. It’s just… they went their separate ways.

For the better.

Really. For the better.

Some things just aren’t meant to be. Even after everything.

And besides, weren’t you the traitor?
By his words, anyway.
Not that it matters.
He’s the one who broke the oath first.
Simple as that.
You didn’t need to say it.
He confirmed it himself.
He tore it, and that was that.
No excuses could cover the truth.

Even if it means bending his heart, breaking it, then stitching the pieces together again, over and over.

Because the truth is- the love they had once? It’s not the same anymore.
Once it’s broken, it’s never the same. No matter how much you want to fix it.

Nothing can change that.

...

Then why does he feel it?

That sudden, stupid flicker of something.

Hope.

Why does he find himself moving-
Mechanical legs acting before his mind can stop them-
Eyes scanning the crowd like he’s chasing a ghost?
His ears twitch, just barely, like they’re waiting to catch a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

A voice he told himself he’d already forgotten.

Lycaon doesn’t even notice when he breaks away from the girls. Just walks. Searching. For what? He doesn’t know. He doesn't want to know.

...

And then it’s gone.

That faint trace of lavender-vanilla-
The one scent he swore he wouldn’t remember anymore-

Gone.

Like it had never been there at all.

And why does that... sting?

Why does he feel disappointed, like he lost something? Like he almost found something and then it slipped right through him?
Why does his chest feel hollow in silence?
Why do his ears start to droop, his tail giving a small, quiet swish against the pavement- weak, almost embarrassed by its own movement?

“Uh, boss? You good or whatever? You kinda dipped on us.”

The words snap him back.

Lycaon blinks, slow, like dragging himself out of a fog. Turning around, sees Ellen standing there—teamilk in hand, brow raised in that usual unimpressed way.

Except there’s something behind it. A crease of concern, maybe. She’s not dumb. She noticed.

He clears his throat, looking away.

“...Nothing. Just—drifted off. That’s all.”


That doesn’t convince her, but she doesn’t press.

They walk back toward Rina and Corin.

He doesn’t look back.

“When that time comes, you’ll eventually forget about me.

You said it like a fact. Like something gentle. Like you were already letting go.

And I told myself that was fine. That it was better that way.

I thought if I kept moving forward, eventually I wouldn’t look back.
I thought if I stopped saying your name, I’d stop hearing it in my head.
I thought forgetting would mean healing.

You’ll forget the way I looked at you when you laughed.
The weight of my shoulder as you rest your head on it when the nights were too long.

You’ll forget how I loved you.
Maybe you already have.

I told myself that was fine.
That it’s for the better.

There is no amount of apologies that can ever mend what has broken between us.
No words that can piece together what’s been torn apart.

So let us forget.
Let us burn everything that ever was between us-
The memories, the promises, the pain.

Because it’s for the better.

…But sometimes I wonder…
I wonder if I’m just a hypocrite-
Telling us to burn it all and forget,

…When I’m the one who can’t let go."

Chapter Text

The hill wasn’t steep, just high enough to feel like the world softened beneath it. 

The grass was long, but not wild- gentle blades swaying in the breeze like they were breathing. Every so often, a puff of dandelion drifted by, catching the sunlight like lazy snow.

The sky stretched out in hazy blue, the kind that melts at the edges — not too bright, not too dull. Just soft. Dreamy. Somewhere in the distance, birds trilled half-hearted songs, lazy and content.

The kind of place where time didn't seem to move. Where everything felt suspended in honey and gold.

The  wind rolled over the hilltop like a sigh, combing through the grass in ripples. The sound it made wasn’t quite a whistle or a rustle-something in-between. Like the world was whispering.

There, in the middle of it all, two figures lay close in the grass. Golden-blonde hair caught the wind like sunlight in motion, while white fur, brushed with black, stirred softly.

“When that time comes, you’ll eventually forget about me.” The words were spoken with a grin- all fangs and sunlight- as he lay back against the grass, hands folded over his chest, eyes lost in the hazy blue above.

The other’s head tilted, ears twitching at the remark. A furrow creased his brow.

“Hah! You should’ve seen your face!” the blonde laughed, mismatched eyes crinkling with amusement- Perhaps something else, something buried too deep to name.

“…I don’t get it. Why would I forget you? You’re talking nonsense again.” His tail flicked against the grass, a sharp, restless motion. He scowled, but the other only smiled wider.

“No, really. Maybe life will take its turns. Maybe you’ll find someone new- a pretty little thing to keep you tame- though honestly, I doubt—Ack!”

The sound cut short when a hand smacked against his head—not harshly, but enough to jolt him. 

“I said you’re talking nonsense,” came the low growl, quiet but heavy enough to still the air between them.


...

And then—silence.

...

“You think I’d forget you?” The question broke the quiet, sharper this time- no longer playful, edged with genuine confusion.

The other only grinned wider, almost too wide, as if the shift in tone hadn’t touched him. He folded his arms behind his head and sighed, the sound exaggerated and careless.

“Maybe...” he said, voice still teasing but soft beneath it, the faintest thread of something sad.

“Life’s a bit of a rollercoaster, isn’t it? You’ll find someone else. Someone who doesn’t make your temper spike every other minute.” The grin held, but it faltered at the corners- like a laugh that never quite reached his eyes.

“And then what happens to me, huh?”

The question landed heavier than it should have.

The wolf immediately shifted, leaning up on one elbow to look at him properly. The playfulness was slipping away now.

“What do you mean, what happens to you? You’re not just going to disappear, are you?”

The words came out sharper than intended.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then came a low chuckle, soft and tired.

“Disappear, huh? Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.” he murmured, eyes drifting toward the clouds. 

“People forget. That’s what they-”

“Not me.”

The response came fast—
too fast.

He blinked, caught off guard by the sudden reply from the wolf."

“I wouldn’t.” came again, quieter this time. 

No response from the other.

That grin was still there, faint but stubborn, like he didn’t know how else to exist.

And maybe that was what made something in him snap.

A quiet growl escaped- not of anger this time, but frustration, something raw and unspoken. His hand moved before thought could catch up, curling around the blonde’s wrist and tugging, gentle but firm.

“I said."
“I’m not forgetting you.”

For once, the blonde didn’t have a reply ready. His lashes fluttered as he looked up at him, eyes wide, uncertain- 

then slowly softened.

“You’re too serious,” he breathed, voice shaking just slightly.

“Maybe,” came the reply. His hand slid up, fingers brushing through golden strands, then settling at the back of his neck. “But I mean it.”

The blonde let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving, and then, hesitantly let himself sink into the touch. Their foreheads met, a careful press, a silent admission.

Neither spoke.

The wolf’s arm shifted around him, pulling him in until the world narrowed to shared warmth and uneven breaths. The other’s hand rested against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his palm.

“See?” the wolf muttered, eyes half-lidded. “You’re real. How could I forget that?”

The blonde smiled at that, a small, fragile curve of lips. Something in it trembled- like he wanted to believe him, but couldn’t.

"Then don’t let go."

And he didn't.

“When that time comes, you’ll forget me.

No. I will not.

How can you be so certain?

Even if the world spins wild and thoughts scatter like leaves,
Even if our paths are torn apart by storms that never end,
I cannot- will not- forget you.”

You speak with too much certainty.

And you, with too much doubt.

Then what will you do?

I’ll hold on.

What if holding on hurts too much?
Then I’ll learn to live with the ache.
Because some things are worth the pain.

And if I start to fade from your mind?

You won’t." 








“It’s alright,
I’ve already faded—
like the last flicker of a candle
in a room you’ve long since left.
I’m still here, burning softly,
but you don’t see me anymore.
You've found yourself a new light
and I’m just a ghost slipping into the shadows,
a name you no longer whisper.”

“You haven’t faded
No matter how far you drift,
you’re the echo in every silent moment,
the ache I carry when I close my eyes.
I tell myself to let go,
but the truth is—
you’re the part of me I can’t forget.”

"I haven't learned to move on from you."

"I can't move on from you."