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Living with a werewolf had its ups and down.
It was mostly ups. For nearly every day of the month, Pearl was human – more human than Cleo could ever dream of being, at least. She was energetic, and fun, and the sweetest person Cleo had ever met. They would talk and dance and eat dinner together like any other roommates you could think of. Two completely normal, mostly-human roommates.
The downs came when the full moon did, and once Pearl fell down, she hit rock bottom.
Cleo was never around for Pearl's actual transformations. This was not of their own volition, of course, because Cleo wanted nothing more than to be there with her. Pearl, however, did not want that, much more comfortable with the current dynamic her transformation had with Cleo – Pearl leaves and then she returns several hours later after the full moon had passed, tired with torn clothes.
At the slightest implication Cleo wanted any more involvement in Pearl's transformation, she would immediately brush off the thought, insisting that she needed to be alone the whole time, that she was terrified of hurting Cleo. As much as they understood that fear, there was a part of Cleo that was almost offended by this insistence, because they knew they could hold their own strength. And as much as they respected this want, it did not mean they were not worried during every transformation.
During the full means, Cleo did not sleep. Instead, they potter around the house, cleaning and doing housework and focusing on anything else to not let their mind slip into a spiral of worries. Sometimes they couldn't help but worry. Sometimes, Cleo would look at the moon, wondering if Pearl was okay, wondering how long it'll take for this to pass.. They would wait and wait and wait all night, not daring to close their eyes for even a moment. They needed to be there for when she returned.
It takes longer than usual before Pearl returns home that night. It was not a reliable usual, because this was the third transformation that Cleo had been there for, but that did not stop relief from washing over every anxiety-riddled part of their body once they see Pearl stumble through the front door at 7:14AM. They shoot up from where they were laying on the couch before she could even close the door.
"Hey," their voice immediately lowers to a gentler register, even if they wanted to spring into an interrogation about every detail so they could help accordingly. Instead, they quietly ask, "how are you feeling?"
Pearl murmurs something in response, Cleo doesn't quite catch it.
Immediately, they noticed the way Pearl's legs shake beneath her, and how she stumbles when the door closes behind her, no longer having the doorframe to steady her. Before she could fall, Cleo gently wraps an arm around Pearl's waist, positioning her own arm around their shoulders to further support her.
"Alright. Let's get you to bed," they murmur softly. They're not quite sure Pearl even processes what they said.
The second Pearl's head hits her pillow, still in her muddied and torn clothes, she falls right asleep. Cleo takes that as their cue to go to bed themselves, comforted by the fact Pearl was now home safe. It was still difficult to sleep, what-if's swimming through their head, but they were never as loud or as scary as the ones they thought of when Pearl was actually transformed, alone, in the dark. Eventually, though, they fall asleep too.
—
When morning came, Pearl was still in bed.
It wasn't concerning at first. Cleo had become well-accustomed to Pearl's post-transformation routine at this point. She would need a good amount of sleep before she felt functional enough to peel herself away from the warmth of her bed, so when Pearl doesn't sit with Cleo at lunch, they're not too bothered. She'll come downstairs in an hour or two, so they should let her rest.
An hour passes, then another, and that is when Cleo starts to worry. They give up leaving her alone when they spot the time is 4:37pm – Pearl had never slept for this long. Something had to be wrong.
Sure enough, when Cleo creeps upstairs and into Pearl's room, they spot her curled up in bed, but not asleep. A soft groaning noise is the only thing heard in the otherwise silent room.
"Pearl?" they ask softly, walking a little closer. "Is everything alright?"
Nothing. Cleo's face twists into a frown, and they step closer, until they're standing right at the corner of the bed. They repeat their question, voice gentler, and Pearl groggily turns to look at them.
"Hey, Cleo," is all she murmurs, eye half-lidded. There was a slight smile on her face, but Cleo immediately knew she was forcing it, and that only makes them more worried.
"What's going on?"
Pearl sighs, and that facade of everything being fine drops at the first sign of Cleo seeing through it. She stops meeting eyes with them, but doesn't turn her head to look away. It doesn't seem like she can.
"Last night was rough," Pearl murmurs solemnly. It sounds like it was painful to even get the words out. Everything action she took was laced with pain. "I wasn't attacked, or anything like that," she quickly clarifies, seeing Cleo's eyebrows furrow. She continues, even though Cleo's expression stays in that same concerned state, "but… the transformation just took so long. I don't know why. And now everything just aches. Everything."
Cleo's worry only deepens, and their face reflects that. They were familiar with Pearl staying in bed and having some pain the night after a transformation, but never to this extent. It was… really worrying.
"Are you even able to get up?" Cleo asks, and the disappointed look on Pearl's face was all they needed to answer that question. They sigh softly. "Alright. That's okay. I can make you lunch?"
Pearl finally meets eyes with them again, "that'd be nice."
Cleo gives a short nod. "Any preferences?"
There's a silence as Pearl thinks, before she's finally able to croak out that she's craving meat. Cleo chuckles at the wolfish behaviour, it was almost endearing amongst the otherwise horrible situation, and they assure her she'll be back as soon as she could be.
Twenty minutes later, Cleo returns with a tray, adorned with two plates of bacon sandwiches, two mugs of freshly-brewed tea, and one blister pack of painkillers. Even though it wasn't surprising, it still strained their heart to see Pearl in the exact same position they left her in.
"You'll need to sit up to eat," they say softly, but there's a certain command in their tone. They were not going to let Pearl choke on her food by eating it in her current fetal position, especially since any attempts to stop her from choking would only cause her more pain.
Pearl does not verbally acknowledge the instruction, but as Cleo places the tray down, they notice how she slowly starts to reposition herself, quiet noises of pain escaping her with every inch of movement. Once they're certain that she didn't hurt herself in the process, they drag Pearl's desk chair to her bedside and sits, knees pressing against the side of the mattress.
"There's painkillers, but you'll needs to eat first so they absorb properly," they say, before softy adding, "you need to eat in general."
Carefully, more carefully than they had every done anything in their life, they place the plate into Pearl's lap, watching as she slowly brings the food to her mouth. It was clear from the way her mouth practically watered that she wanted to eat a lot faster than little nibbles along the crust, but they both knew her body couldn't handle it. Despite the borderline animalistic hunger radiating from her shaking hands, she eats slowly. Cleo was just glad she was able to eat at all.
For several moments, neither of them talk. Cleo – in a concerned way that would cross into being creepy without context – simply watches Pearl eat. It's inevitable that Cleo's worry gets the best of them, and they ask one of the many questions swirling through their anxious mind.
"Do you want to talk about the transformation?"
The two had lived together for over four months now, with three transformations happening in that time, but Pearl never talked about the transformations too much. Maybe it was shame, or guilt, or maybe Cleo never asked and Pearl never thought she could answer. So, Cleo asks.
Pearl shrugs, then immediately flinches at the sharp pain the action causes. She sighs.
"It's never usually this bad," she murmurs, and Cleo can sense the bitterness in every word. "I don't know what went wrong, but– but everything was so slow. Your bones breaking and then reforming is so much more horrifying when it happens over hours, and not just an incredibly painful ten minutes." She pauses, then adds in a whisper, "I passed out from the pain of transforming back"
Cleo's quiet. They don't do too well with the vulnerability thing. Without saying anything, still thinking of what they could say, they push the painkillers towards her – she had eaten enough of her sandwich to the point that Cleo wasn't concerned of the pills not absorbing. They hadn't had a bite of their own plate, but that was so little a priority they didn't fully realise. Then, they finally speak, softly asking if theres anything that they can do.
"This helps" she says softly, and Cleo continues to watch as she barely manages to pop out three of the painkillers and swallow them down with a mouthful of tea. But that still wasn't enough. A couple sandwiches and more painkillers than you should take in one go could not make up for her transformations, or the pain it's causing her several hours later. It just couldn't. But there had to be something more they could do, right? They were determined to find something that would help, wracking every possibility in their brain.
"I want to be with you next month."
Pearl chuckles, a little bitterly. She took it as a joke, because there was no part of her that could fathom somebody willing to see her in that state, let alone help her. Cleo was serious. Pearl stops laughing when she realises such, her face falling into.
"Cleo…" she sighs, "I– you know werewolves. I don't remember anything that happens. And I'll– I'll be bigger, and scarier, and I might try to hurt you. And if I do, I won't even remember."
The speech that she launches into felt almost pre-prepared at this point. It had been heard over and over again, but this time, Cleo didn't want to just nod and agree. No, they were going to be with her during her next transformation.
"I know werewolves. And I know you, and I want to help you," they say, voice unwavering.
Pearl sighs, "what would you even do?"
Shit, Cleo didn't exactly think that far ahead. They hated when people had good arguments to combat their stubbornness, but that did not mean they would be any less stubborn.
"I'll be emotional support," they settle on, and Pearl laughs a little at that idea. Not bitterly this time, genuinely. She groans when even laughing puts too much pressure on her chest, and a hot pain is shot through her body.
"Alright, alright," she concedes, using her free arm to hold her stomach to hopefully combat that pain. "You can come with me next time. But only because I trust you not to be stupid enough to talk me down if I try to attack you. You know how it is, animalistic urges and all."
"I know," Cleo chuckles, "and I'm sure you'll be a big puppy dog."
Cleo is only half joking, its mostly hope. Though, they don't really care either way, because being there for Pearl was the thing most important to them.