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Werewolves don't live in cities, and for good reason.
Valko's known that for about as long as he's been a werewolf. It's not just the fact that the full moon brings out the mortifyingly fluffy ears, the tail that has a mind of its own, or the urge to howl and race through the night like a bullet in the dark. No. For werewolves, the problem's never been just about visibility.
It's the noise. All that damned noise. The stream of cars roaring through every highway, every street, at all hours of the day, the veins of a city whose heart is always racing. The constant buzz of radios. Of the noise of people - crowds, everywhere, their voices, their footsteps, as persistent as the reek of human sweat. Of the humming lights in those horrid billboard screens, snuffing out the stars above with their LED glow. He can hear one of them now - shrieking a 5-note melody through loudspeakers that's designed to be an earworm but could also function as a torture device. The auditory horror is bad enough on a regular day - but tonight the full moon shines down on Linkon City, and Valko's wolfish side simply can't be compelled to hide. He hears everything. Sees, smells, feels everything. And it's an utter sensory nightmare.
The tail's been tucked into one baggy pant leg - though it really grates his nerves when he feels it trying and failing to wiggle. It's uncomfortable, to say the least. His cap does a decent job of concealing the ears, but it does nothing to reduce the constant barrage of noise hammering down on his senses. Valko's head throbs, and he squeezes his eyes shut briefly when a double-decker bus comes rumbling by on the nearby road.
Valko hates it. He hates it like he hates the scent of vinegar, or the taste of orange juice after brushing his teeth. But this stupid seller he's supposed to be meeting is a skittish one. There won't be a deal if Valko doesn't get it tonight.
The cities are really no place for a wolf. Linkon least of all. Yet here is where Valko finds himself, at peak hour on a Thursday evening, waiting.
The entrance to the subway station is the perfect place to people-watch, and so he does. It's not like he wants to, but there's little else to do when he doesn't have his headphones. He considers the arcade nearby - decides he'd rather not. The last time he'd been there, the owners hadn't been very happy with him. Cheating at the rigged claw machine's a crime, apparently. Valko observes - a girl from the Hunter's Association, chatting with her friend. A florist selling bouquets from his cart.
He tries not to let the migraine get to him from all the sounds - it's echoey down in the subway, and the footsteps that form a mass of pattering irritates him like nothing else. A car honks in the distance; Valko feels his ears flatten further under his cap. Damned full moon. He shouldn't have come to Linkon tonight. Everything's pissing him off.
The man shows up thirty minutes late, stumbling up the stairs from the subway. Valko takes the package, barely listens to the man's flustered, stuttered apology, and the money's transferred at the tap of a button on his phone.
The seller leaves, and by then, Valko's had just enough of the city. He tries not to think too hard as he begins to head back to where his car is parked.
He's just rounded the corner to an alleyway - a shortcut - when he bumps into you.
You're distracted, just checking messages on your phone as you clock out of your shift at the Association. Your headphones are on full blast, your usual playlist just starting up. It's lo-fi stuff. Not the sort you'd recommend to anyone, but soothing on the nerves after a particularly grueling day in the office. Xavier had recommended it to you. The guy always has the best playlists for sleep.
You gasp as you stumble back, only for steady hands to catch you and the phone as it slips out of your grasp. "Watch where you're going."
You look up, yanking your headphones down to let them hang around your neck.
"Valko?" you say, surprise apparent. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the sight... then narrow at his short tone. He stares down at you with that slightly pinched glare in his eyes he's had since the night you'd first met. You don't have the best relationship with him, not quite. Valko's as layered as they come, but you've realized since your initial meeting that despite the initial antagonism, he's... alright. It's hard to be angry at someone who's just trying to do what he thinks is best for the people he loves. He's likeable, even. Just not right now.
There's a slight twitch in his jaw. His nose is slightly wrinkled, and golden eyes bore holes into you, relentless and cold despite their warm hue.
He's... angry. It shouldn't bother you, but it does. You frown back at him. Then you remember where you are.
"What are you doing here?" you whisper, looking around for CCTV cameras. You tug him into a nearby alcove, hidden in shadow. There's an odd ledge, jutting out of the wall, and cigarette butts litter the ground. But there are no cameras angled this way, and the alleyway's empty enough that you don't have to worry too much about passersby. "You do realize that if anyone sees you here, you're gonna get caught, right?"
Valko, of course, is wary. He knows who you are. He doesn't know if that's enough to trust you. He doesn't reply, but his lips flatten into a firm, ungiving line. Eventually, you huff.
"Fine. I don't need you to tell me."
"Yeah, I don't." Valko's voice is curt. He has that strained look about him, and for a moment you think he's going to say something else. Nearby, you hear the honk of a car, blaring and loud. Valko's jaw twitches again. He begins to leave, turning away.
"Wait, don't-!" You raise your voice, and Valko flinches, whipping around to glare at you. You wince. "Sorry, just..."
You approach him again. Carefully. He's still half-turned, and his eyes narrow in suspicion. "It's a full moon tonight," you say, and you try not to react to the way his brow furrows. "I just... I thought you'd be out of the city."
"I will be." He's still being curt with you, and you boggle at him. He turns again.
"Stop trying to leave!" you snap, and he flinches a second time. He snarls at you, and you shoot him a look of utter exasperation.
"Will you stop shouting?" he hisses. "Forget the damn cameras, your voice alone will get me caught."
"I'm not shouting!" you retort, poking at his chest. It's not particularly hard, but it's enough that the back of his knees hit the ledge behind him, and he sits down. "I was trying to be nice, and you're here acting like I'm not worth your attention at all. Go back to the forest then; see if I care."
Valko's face twists. He goes quiet, and you can see the gears in his head churning. "...Too loud."
You pause. "...What?"
He clenches his jaw. You're starting to get worried that he might crack a tooth if he's not careful. "Everything's too loud."
You think for a moment. It's a full moon.
Your eyes wander up to his cap. You feel a twinge of guilt. "Oh. You're..."
He looks away, unwilling to speak any further. You consider him for a moment - the pinched look around his eyes, the tightness of his features. His short, impatient tone. He's not angry. He's stressed.
Too loud.
In the distance, you hear one of the billboard advertisements going off, a noisy, pitchy tune that irritates even you. It's been playing all day, on repeat every hour between other ads. You realize, belatedly, that Valko's probably hearing that ten times better. Or, well, worse.
You think for a moment, then tug your headphones off your neck. Valko tenses as you step closer, your hand coming up to lower his head gently. "What are you d-"
"Shh." You tug his cap off, then fit the headphones over his human ears. He glares at you in confusion, wolf ears flattened and pointed backwards.
"Why are you-"
"Can you shut up for a second." You give him a firm stare, and his mouth snaps shut begrudgingly. You reach further up. Slowly, your hands close over the soft, fuzzy ears, cupping them against his short-cropped, wine-red hair.
Valko's eyes are locked on yours, golden and uncertain. His hands come up around your wrists, fingers closing around them as if to pull them away. They don't.
You smile crookedly at him. "Better?"
You know he can't hear you. But he definitely reads your lips, and the tension in his jaw is fading. He nods, a tiny movement you barely catch. He blinks once, twice, the tightness wrinkling the corners of his eyes going lax. He exhales, minutely, and you find yourself catching the way his shoulders sag. You have to pretend not to notice the way his head pushes against your palms, nearly imperceptible and oddly gentle - you know he'd flee the moment you even mention it.
He shuts his eyes for a long moment. His breathing deepens. Your arms are starting to burn a little; he's tall even when he's sitting and his head's bowed towards you. You ignore the discomfort, instead leaning in just a little to relieve a bit of that ache.
You consider making a joke to lighten the mood. You'd thought about asking him before about it - whether werewolves listen to music using their human ears or their wolf ears. But it doesn't seem like the right moment now. Not like this. Not with his ears, warm and fuzzy, underneath your palms, or the gentle grip of his calloused hands. You're too lost in the shadows of his lashes over his cheeks, and the soft puffs of his breath.
The minutes pass, long and quiet. You watch the pressure seep out of him. He's still holding you by the wrists. You try not to shiver when his thumb brushes over your pulse, slow and hypnotizing.
When he looks at you again, the wariness hasn't faded. But there's less of that pain now. He still looks a little unsure. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop - like you're going to laugh in his face or make him regret this curious, quiet moment of weakness. You become painfully aware of yourself. You pull your hands away, just a little. "Sorry, I shouldn't have..."
"No." He mutters the word, still considering you. "I'm sorry. I was... rude."
"It's alright," you say easily. "You were worked up. It happens to everyone."
He looks away, but there's a tiny curve to his lips now, just enough for you to know even in the shadow of the alcove that he's relieved. You glance down at your shoes, momentarily flustered. But then your eyes catch movement. You stifle a snort when you notice his pant leg wiggling. "Is that your tail?"
Valko flushes. He pulls your hands away and takes the headphones off, placing them back in your hands. He rises to his feet quickly. "No. Good night."
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. You gaze up at him. Yep - he's avoiding eye contact now. Definitely flustered. You soften. "Valko. Look at me."
He glances down at you, and you wait until his eyes stop darting away to continue. "The next time you're in the city... text me or something. You have my number."
Valko lets out a soft exhale. "...I will."
You hesitate. Then you ask, "Are you planning to tell me what you're even doing here?"
Valko shakes his head. His ears twitch slightly, and the openness in his gaze shutters. You stifle the urge to pry. "Alright."
And yet, neither of you seem to want to leave. You stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to another. He frowns to himself, and you realize you're prolonging the moment without meaning to. So you step back and smile awkwardly. You clear your throat. "Well, I'd better get going..."
"Let me drive you home." He offers. He pauses for a moment, seemingly surprised at himself. Then he seems to make up his mind. " Let me drive you home. I'm on my way back to the woods."
You shake your head. "It's alright. I've got my own ride home. I don't need you going out of your way for me."
Valko nods. But his ears are flat against his head again, and he shoves his cap back on. You notice his tail has stopped wiggling. "...Fine. But I'm walking you to your bike."
You smirk. "You worried about me?"
Valko rolls his eyes, but even in the half-light of the alcove, you can see the tiniest flash of his canines as he looks away to hide a shy grin. "No. My car's in the same carpark."
The walk is quiet. There's a weight hanging between the two of you, words unspoken. But it's not tense, just... awkward. You try not to smile at him as you catch him looking at you out the corner of your eye. For someone so intimidating, he's awfully nervous around you, and the thought of it is both endearing and unhealthy for your heart.
He watches as you hop onto your MH240, eyes roaming over the bike.
"Like it?" you ask. You try to not rev your bike - no loud noises. Valko shakes his head, though he's clearly lying, because the hunger in his eyes is the same one you've seen on your other friends when they get their hands something to tinker with. You file that away for reference, a small fact to mull over when you're alone.
"I could make you a better one. Quieter."
"Is that an offer?" you tease, leaning back on your seat to bat your lashes at him.
Valko scoffs. His ears are red as he folds his arms. You try not to stare. "Only if you ask nicely."