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The first thing anyone tells you about werewolves is to never judge the wolf by the size or shine of its pelt.
That is to say, when Harua finds Maki on the full moon after Maki’s 20th birthday, writhing in pain on the bathroom floor with blood all around him and fur sprouting from his arms, Harua still doesn’t feel afraid. Their pack knew that Maki would have an awful first shift, his human form’s growth spurt so drastic it would only feed into how his wolf form would present. And, of course, there was the fact that Maki was half-Werewolf. His shift was likely going to be a little unpredictable, a lot more painful.
“Get away from me,” Maki pleads, his eyes flashing between gold and black, scratching at his skin with long nails and whining when his wounds keep scabbing over just moments later, only for him to scratch at them again. It should be disgusting.
But Harua knows that Maki is still Maki. They all do.
“It’s okay,” he says, dropping to his knees and facing his palms towards Maki. “You’re okay, Maki. I’m here.”
“I don’t want you to see me.”
“I know,” Harua murmurs, staying perfectly still.
“...It really hurts,” Maki says, his voice crackling and tired.
“I know,” Harua simply repeats, trying to make everything about his presence gentle.
“Well,” Maki pouts, and somehow manages to look cute doing it even in this state, “you sort of don’t.”
Harua sighs. “That’s true, but still, even my partial shift hurt.” He’s a late bloomer, and it pisses him off. The most he’s shifted is having longer nails and sharper teeth, not even ears or a tail. He still remembers when Maki shot up more than six centimeters last summer and wouldn’t let it go for months on end.
“Ah, yeah. I remember your hands bleeding.” Maki tries to joke, “Our tiny hyung.” (Correction, he still hasn’t let it go.)
“If you’re able to make fun of my height right now, then you’re not in as much pain as I thought,” Harua sticks out his tongue, making half a move to stand back up.
“Wait!” Maki yells, his eyes flashing gold again, his voice thunder, mouth wide in a near-snarl. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, features just as suddenly melting back into a mundane twenty-year-old’s.
Harua remembers meeting Maki when he was just fifteen. There was a point in time that Harua could look down at Maki and see the top of his head. How long has it been since then? Harua doesn’t really remember when the baby fat started to deflate Maki’s face, leaving sharp cheekbones instead. His heart pangs.
“I’m not going to leave, you dummy.” Harua sighs, “I was just going to grab you some water.”
Maki shakes his head and whimpers, sounding a lot like a lost puppy. “I don’t want water. I want you to stay.”
“You need water. It’s not about wanting it,” Harua says, no-nonsense tone surfacing, the way it always does whenever he bosses around Maki. “When you fully shift, you’re going to be thirsty.”
Maki frowns before nodding. “Okay. Makes sense. But I need you, too.”
“Shut up,” Harua huffs, trying to not let himself smile or blush, “and let me fill up the bathtub.”
“Okay, okay, fine,” Maki says again, scooching across the tiled floor to give Harua more space. It’s a large bathroom already. Every part of their pack’s home was specifically designed for a pack of nine Werewolves, but of course Maki feels the need to move, still. He’s not quite used to taking up so much space.
Harua smiles at his boyfriend as he walks towards the tub and sits on the floor beside him, turning the faucet on. “I know the idea of drinking this seems gross, but once you’re fully shifted, you won’t care.”
Maki nods as he settles into a fetal position, rocking himself, his arms wrapped around his shins and thankfully no longer bleeding. Harua can see how twitchy Maki’s hands are, though.
So Harua outstretches his palm. “Do you want to take it?”
“I don’t know… won’t I hurt you? I’m probably going to squeeze it really hard,” Maki admits rather sourly, his whole body still shuddering and no doubt wracked with searing, burning aches. Harua remembers being there for part of Taki’s full shift — it wasn’t pretty.
“You’re forgetting that I still heal fast and have high pain tolerance to begin with.” Harua tries his best to look as impatient yet caring as possible. He just really, really needs Maki to stop scratching at himself. “Come on, Maki-yah, trust me,” he adds, voice hushed. Honeyed.
“I’m going to hurt you,” Maki repeats, voice tremoring and flaking.
Harua is quick to turn off the faucet. There’s enough water, anyway. He walks right over to Maki and sits down, their shoulders just barely touching.
“Why are you so afraid of that happening?” Harua leans in and cradles Maki’s face in his hands, wiping away the tears on Maki’s cheeks with his fingertips. “You keep repeating it like it’s true.”
“Because,” Maki starts. “You know I’m only half-Were. What if something goes wrong, what if… what if I’m hideous in my wolf form, and I really do look like a mutt?”
Harua’s touch stays gentle, but he feels a red hot anger spread throughout his veins. “Maki, you know you can’t listen to all the dumb fucking idiots who think that. It’s bigoted bullshit, backed by no evidence, and you’re above it.”
“I wish I could’ve learned some of your confidence,” Maki says, slightly muffled by Harua’s hands squishing his cheeks.
Harua lets out a fond, exasperated sigh. “I know that you know we both have experienced what it’s like to be made fun of. But we’re all here for you.”
Maki pouts again. “But—”
“—No, Fuma and Euijoo won’t kick you out of the pack.”
“And—”
“—Not even if you think your wolf form is ugly.”
“Are—”
“—No, Maki. I’m not mad at you. I love you.”
Finally, Maki smiles. It’s small, and still a little quivery, but it’s there. “Okay,” he says. “I love you.” He reaches up and carefully peels one of Harua’s hands off his face, intertwining their fingers.
Harua lets out a small sigh. Maki can really be stubborn. “You can squeeze if it hurts, got it? I know it does.” Harua gently pinches one of Maki’s ears before letting his free arm go back to his side.
Maki nods slowly. He lets their hands rest on Harua’s lap, squeezing not too harshly as he lets out a slow exhale. “Thank you, Harua.”
“Ahh. Don’t thank me. You know you don’t need to do that.”
“Mmm,” Maki hums in acknowledgement, his eyes screwed shut as his body twitches, as he lets out the occasional whine of hurt. Every sound is like another arrow to Harua’s heart. While a part of him still wishes he could’ve gone through the shifting process before Maki could, he knows it’s out of both of their control. Harua isn’t useless just because he still hasn’t managed a full shift yet. Maki still let Harua stay with him during it.
Harua is selfishly glad that he’s the one with Maki at this moment. Nobody else should get to see Maki so vulnerable, even if they could give Maki more advice on shifting. Harua knows enough, anyway.
After a few minutes of trying to will the pain away, Maki moves closer.
“What is it?” Harua asks. He knows what Maki wants, but teases Maki anyway.
Maki opens his eyes and meets Harua’s gaze, the effort clearly embarrassing him. Still, he grins, all teeth. “Kiss?”
It’s a good thing that Maki isn’t so stuck in his own head, he thinks Harua doesn’t want to touch him. “Come here,” Harua whispers, his cheeks definitely red now.
Dutifully, Maki sits up a bit, and Harua leans down to close the distance between them. As he takes Maki’s lips with his own, he lets it start out gentle and become desperate. Maki’s tongue darts into his mouth, eager and warm. Harua matches him, only pulling away after a bit to nip at the curve of Maki’s jaw. Maki makes a noise in the back of his throat and Harua swallows it.
“Ah,” Maki flops entirely onto Harua’s lap, his smile still wide, his flushed face beginning to pale. “I feel it.”
“Breathe,” Harua says, running a soothing hand through Maki’s sweaty hair.
They both sense the moon creeping higher up in the sky, a sixth sense ingrained in their flesh and blood. Harua’s feet yearn to get up and run through the forest, where he knows the rest of his pack is. No doubt they’ve already caught a good amount of deer or rabbit to bring back for Maki to feast on, once his shift is fully formed and done.
Harua listens as Maki focuses on taking deep breaths, the way that Nicholas and Yudai told him to do earlier. He smiles and does the breathing exercise with him.
“This is just insane,” Maki says moments later, his eyes gold again, but no longer crazed or glazed over in pain. “I can hear everything. Your inhales and exhales, the faucet dripping, the fridge humming downstairs.”
“Enhanced sense,” Harua says, “I’m jealous of those.” He points to Maki’s ears, which have long since stopped looking entirely human, pointed and furry and dark brown.
“You’ll get there eventually,” Maki says like it’s a promise of his own to keep.
Somehow, Harua doesn’t doubt that if Maki really wanted something, the universe would bend to his will and make it happen. Their whole pack already spoils and indulges him. Harua very much included.
So, Harua smiles, letting himself believe in Maki’s conviction. “I know, I know. I will.”
Maki looks into Harua’s eyes, searching for something. He seems to have found it, because he sits even closer and lets their shoulders fully touch. “Can you sing to me?”
“I can.” Harua tilts his head. “What do you want me to sing?”
“Anything. I think it’ll help calm me down a lot more. And I know I need to be calm right now.”
“You do.” Harua hums as he thinks of something, then he starts singing a ballad that he and Maki both know.
“It’s good,” Maki says, quietly. Fondly. His grip on Harua’s hand becomes slightly less severe, his breathing steady except for a few hiccups, when the pain must be too much.
Harua keeps singing.
He remembers when he first joined the pack, nervous and high strung about everything. He was a quiet kid. Then came Maki, younger and clingy and loud. Sunshine and smiles. Maki had shattered Harua’s walls in record time.
Eventually, Harua stops because he can’t sing forever, his throat too dry. He looks down and meets Maki’s golden gaze.
“I’ve always liked your voice,” Maki says, but the words come out as more of a rumble, his human features melting away.
Harua smiles, remembering when Maki heard him sing in the shower a few years ago. “I’ve always liked yours. We can have karaoke night in a few days, once you feel better.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, good.” Maki lets go of Harua’s hand. “I think I’m ready. I can feel it.”
“Let it in. Don’t fight it.” Harua repeats what he’s been taught, what the rest of the pack has said about trusting your wolf and all the instincts and sides that come with it. Bloody and ugly and terrifying.
Maki closes his eyes. Harua stands up and steps back. Not all the way across the bathroom, but far enough. He winces as he hears the bones in Maki’s body click and clack and crunch into place, as he sees Maki’s entire being contort and tremble with pain, but Harua is quick to control his expressions. He can’t let Maki think that he’s scared or disgusted by him in any way.
It doesn’t take long for one of two shadows on the tiled floor to become large and exceedingly less person-shaped. Harua smiles as he looks at a furry, fanged grin.
They can’t communicate when one of them isn’t shifted and the other is. Otherwise, Harua would be able to telepathically converse with him. Another pang of loneliness and anxiety over being a late bloomer hits him, and it must sour his scent, because Maki’s paws immediately go towards his direction.
“You’re beautiful,” Harua says honestly, staring openly and generously. “I told you, you’d be.”
Maki’s wolf form is large, as to be expected. His rich coat is a dark chocolate brown mottled with an inky black, his eyes the same gold found in an autumn sunrise. He lets out a happy bark and takes a few steps towards Harua, his nose cold and wet as it presses carefully against Harua’s forearm.
Harua laughs and gently pets Maki’s snout. “Take the compliment, you silly dog.”
Maki makes a noise that might be a wolf laugh. Then he calms down, and nudges Harua again, a spark of concern in his act. It’s almost the same way he’d nudge Harua in his human form, but with a snout instead of an elbow.
“I’m okay, Maki. I promise.”
Maki lets out a soft bark.
“I don’t know what you’re saying. But I can guess. I really am okay, I promise. And I’m happy for you. Not mad. See?” Harua smiles wider and fonder.
Maki looks at him. Then he licks Harua’s palm. Then he licks Harua’s neck. It tickles and tingles and it’s way too sticky, but Harua laughs.
Another bark.
I love you too, Harua thinks. He turns to the door and opens it. “Go ahead, Maki. Run wild.”
Maki pokes at Harua’s arm again.
“You know I can’t come with you.”
Another bark, a sad whimper. Those sunrise eyes look right at him, almost begging.
Harua fights the urge to cry, to beg Maki not to leave. “I’ll be okay, promise. Even if you can’t keep me company while they go out and hunt anymore.” Harua scratches the back of Maki’s ear, needing to reach all the way up to do it, but thankfully not needing to go tippy-toed. He’d really never hear the end of it.
Maki whines again. He goes back towards the tub and drinks, letting out a full body shake after he’s had his fill. He’s utterly endearing in this form, and Harua wonders why Maki was so worried in the first place.
“Was that enough water?”
A nod and woof.
“You can go, now.”
Harua watches as Maki reluctantly steps past him and out of the bathroom, into the corridor. He follows him, smiling when he sees Maki gingerly going down the stairs, as though afraid to break any of them despite knowing he wouldn’t. It’s hilarious to watch such a giant creature move with care.
“Have fun for me, okay?” Harua calls down the staircase.
Maki’s ears flick and he lets out a howl at the bottom.
Then he slips through the open door, a blur of brown-black fading into the night.
Harua stands there and lets himself breathe in Maki’s lingering scent of pine and sugar. He really is fine. But something about him can’t get over the fact that their youngest is grown up, that the Maki he remembers: round, baby-faced, shorter by multiple centimeters, is now sharp-jawed and already going on his first hunt.
At least they had each other for a little while, both unshifted and inexperienced. Just last month, Harua and Maki were paying one another company by yelling over Mario Kart and watching Ghibli movies while their pack went out to hunt. Just last month, Maki told Harua that he loves him, taking his chance when the rest of the pack couldn’t overhear them. Just last month, Harua kissed him until they both went breathless.
Now, Harua goes back to the bathroom and drains the tub. He takes out the cleaning supplies from beneath the sink and wipes the blood from the tile, from the wall, sweeping and vacuuming up all the fur, too. Once that’s done, he washes his hands and makes his way down the stairs, standing at the door while glancing at the moon.
“Will you let me shift soon?” he asks her, ever so round and bright.
He hears his pack howling somewhere in the woods, not too far away but distant enough for the ache between his chest to stay.
With a tilted smile, Harua takes a few steps forward and sits right in front of the door, outstretching his legs onto the grass. He imagines Maki running around, sticking his snout into the river, biting at Yuma’s tail the way he always threatened to do once he shifted. The thought is enough to make Harua's lips form a genuine enough smile, to loosen the tension in his shoulders. He lies down onto the grass and decides to wait like that.
“Just wait,” Harua whispers to the wind, “I’ll be with them soon.”
Another howl, and an unanswering moon.