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For the fifth day in a row, Bigby couldn’t get in touch with him. For the fifth day straight, every call went to voicemail, and Holly either stayed silent or just sighed when he asked questions. For the fifth day in a row, he avoided the wolf as if he were afraid for his life.
But Grendel had never been afraid. At least, that’s what Bigby had always thought.
It had been a simple confession of love after yet another night together. Bigby thought it would be sweet. Appropriate. In the right moment. But as it turned out, two ordinary words only made everything worse.
He hadn’t expected it to end like this. He hadn’t thought Gren would panic and run.
Work no longer brought any satisfaction. No one waited for him by his car. No one brought him his favorite coffee. No one called or texted, pestering him the way they used to. It left an aching emptiness, an unbearable discomfort. He wanted to text first, but the messages never sent.
Everything felt so complicated that Bigby was ready to give up entirely, when that evening he found himself driving past the ill-fated Trip & Trap. The neon sign burned red, lighting up the sheriff’s scowling face. He’d gone through his second pack of cigarettes in just a few hours, even though he’d been down to only a couple a day before.
The wolf got out of the car, forgetting all manners and principles, and pushed the door open. The bells jingled in the small entryway that led straight down into the bar.
That voice…
Even drunk out of his mind, Bigby would recognize it anywhere.
“Fuck, he’s driving me fucking insane! INSANE!” Gren’s enraged voice carried even through the wall, and Bigby pulled the cigarette from his mouth, listening. “This never happened with anyone, Holly, do you get it?! I’ve never felt anything like this before. I could just leave, and no one would give a shit — but not with him! With him everything’s fucked! Fuck, EVERYTHING’S fucked!”
“You’ve been running from him for almost a week,” Holly said calmly, but that only made the dragon angrier.
“Running?! Running from him?!” Gren snapped. “He’s the one on my fucking tail! He’s the one who won’t leave me alone, won’t let me live my own goddamn life!”
He slammed his fist into the table, earning that look from Holly, and quickly deflated, dropping his head into his folded arms.
“I can’t do this anymore, Holly. It’s like worms are eating me alive from the inside.”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept this,” she said softly. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Bigby peeking from behind the wall, looking so miserable she couldn’t give him away, not now, not with Gren like this. “You just need to trust yourself. Stop running from your feelings. Try to accept them.”
“Oh, fuckin’ great, thanks!” Gren growled. “You sound like a goddamn shrink, Holly!”
He still didn’t lift his head.
“Even if I accept it— so what? My fear won’t go anywhere. And his stupid puppy face will keep reminding me that I fucked up! Completely fucked up my life before it even started! You didn’t see the way he looked at me that night, Holly! Fuck, I can’t forget it, even if I drank fifty bottles of beer and snorted a couple kilos of coke…”
A heavy sigh. Holly lifted her eyes to Bigby, who only shrugged. It hurt — his heart still burned from that night — but Gren was too broken right now. All the anger that had built up inside the wolf seemed to evaporate, leaving only a bitter aftertaste.
Holly slowly stepped out from behind the bar as Gren continued ranting about how sick he was of everything in this world.
“Be gentle with him, Bigby,” she whispered into the sheriff’s ear, watching Gren over his shoulder. “He’s… not himself.”
She hadn’t seen him like this since Lily died. Gren’s voice rose again.
“All those looks, the smiles, the touches, the care… fuck, just him! None of this ever happened before him! Just some mangy mutt sniffing around our bar, and suddenly he’s in my head more than drugs or booze! It’s impossible…” He finally lifted his head, only to bury it back into his hands, eyes still closed.
Bigby approached slowly, almost silently. Gren’s drunken mind wouldn’t have recognized him even by scent. A rough hand settled on the wyvern’s thin shoulder, squeezing gently, giving him time to register it.
Recognition came instantly.
“You were listening, you little shit…”
There was no anger in his voice. Only disappointment.
“I didn’t come here to eavesdrop on you and Holly talking about me,” Bigby said quietly, pulling his hand away. “You didn’t even try to talk to me, Gren.”
“Oh, fuck, look who showed up…” Gren snarled, clearly losing control. “You— somehow—” he rose slowly from the chair, “—got into my fucking head…”
His fists clenched.
“Made me—”
He turned just as slowly toward Bigby.
“And now I have to live with everything I feel for you! I fucking hate you! Those are my real feelings, Bigby. Hate you. Hear me?”
Not a single muscle moved on the wolf’s face. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the punch.
It never came.
Gren collapsed against him instead — drunk, shaking, on the verge of breaking — and wrapped his arms around Bigby’s neck like they hadn’t seen each other in years.
“I hate you, you bastard…”
For the first time in days, Bigby smiled. He wrapped an arm around Gren’s waist, pressed his cheek to his shoulder, and closed his eyes.
“It’s mutual, Gren.”