WHO: Summer Adams and Roger Davis WHEN: Tuesday morning WHERE: City then Roger's apartment WHAT: Summer wants to check that she hasn't eaten her friend RATING: R for some choice language STATUS: Complete | Logged
Summer opened her eyes, blinking against the blinding sunlight and the throbbing in her head. She was cold, shivering, and, even before she moved, she could tell that she was aching all over. She wanted to just lay where she was, not move, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to get up, get back to the world and back to her life. Full moon always kicked her ass but she never let it defeat her. She’d head back, have a big, greasy breakfast at Maryanne’s and then she’d feel better. Except Maryanne’s wasn’t Maryanne’s any more. And she shouldn’t have been waking up out in the open this morning. It had been a new moon the night before... except it hadn’t. Slowly, everything about the previous evening began coming back to her, dribbling into her conscious brain, and she gave a soft, low moan, curling up tighter into a ball, as she remembered. Roger had been there. He’d seen her start to change when the unexpected full moon had risen in the sky. God, he must have been terrified. Where was he now? Was he alright? Oh please, Lord, say she hadn’t hurt him. She didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if she’d hurt him.
Everything after the transformation was a blur of black, white and red in her mind, shapes and smells and sounds, whirring by, making her dizzy. She could remember chasing... something. Person? Animal? She couldn’t remember, just that she had wanted to kill it, rip it, eat it. She had wanted to, and she had. She could remember the feeling of triumph, of wolf as victor, as she stood over her kill. Please don’t let it be him, she thought to herself again, pressing her eyes tightly shut, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. Please don’t let it be him.
After a moment, she moved her arms, pressing her palms down flat against the concrete - she was lying on concrete now, not the sand she remembered transforming on - so that she could slowly push herself up to her bare feet. She gave a little wince as she felt her aching bones grinding together inside her, becoming reaccustomed to the human form, but she was more or less steady on her feet. Still cold, though.
She looked down at herself, guessing that she would be all but naked as she usually was when she woke up, even though she hadn’t managed to strip out of her clothes in time. If she transformed in clothes, they were usually gone by the morning, or hanging in tatters around her, so she’d learned that it was far more cost effective to strip before the change happened. Still, that hadn’t been an option the night before. She’d spent any time, that she could have been using to strip, in running as far as she could in the opposite direction to Roger. In that situation, his life by far outweighed the importance of her clothes.
It took her a moment to realise what she was seeing, even though her eyes were wide and looking down at herself. At first she thought it looked as though she was wearing a form-fitting, pink and brown tie-dyed top. She realised after a moment, however, that the brown was, in fact, large patches of congealed blood, covering much of her chest, arms and thighs, while the pink was the tattered, blood-stained remnants of the white shirt she’d been wearing the night before. She could tell, from the tight, crispy sensation at her throat, when she moved her head, that the blood extended right up to her chin and was probably smeared around her face too. Whatever she had killed, there probably wouldn’t be much left of it now. It looked as though she had really gone to town, and she could feel the heavy, sickening feeling of undigested meat laying in her stomach. If it was Roger...
Doubling over, Summer retched violently, a stream of bloody vomit falling from her mouth to splash over the concrete of the street she was standing on. It just couldn’t be Roger. She wouldn’t have done that to him. She wouldn’t have eaten him. She would have found a way to stop herself. Surely. Maybe. Oh God...
Summer crouched down, feeling her knees shaking beneath her, worried that she might be about to topple over. Her fingers, caked in dried blood and dirt, ran into her tangled hair, holding it back away from her face, as she looked, unseeingly, down at the puddle of vomit at her feet. She needed to know. She needed to check on him and make sure that she hadn’t.... that the chunks of meat in that vomit wasn’t... She needed to know.
Finally gathering the strength and courage to stand, Summer looked around herself. She didn’t know where she was, although she thought the city street that she was standing on looked familiar. Licking her lips, she peered around, searching the horizon for a landmark. She spotted the spire almost immediately, then Stark Tower, then the apartment buildings. She was a little surprised to find that she was still quite near the beach. If she just turned the next corner and followed the block along, she’d be back at the start of the sand.
The beach.... Her phone was at the beach. She could call Roger, if she could find it. It would take her much less time to find her phone than it would to try to get back to the apartment buildings and find someone who would talk to her. Although her legs were still trembling beneath her and the concrete of the street was hard and painful beneath her feet, Summer began to ran.
It took her just a few minutes to reach the edge of the sand and, in another few, she was halfway along the beach, heading for the black splodges in the distance which she was sure were her discarded jacket, jeans and boots. Her phone had been in her jacket pocket and, since the tide didn’t reach the point on the beach where the clothes were, she should still be able to use it. Roger might even have sent her a message. He might be fine! She might have been worried for nothing.
After what felt like a very long time, Summer finally reached her clothes. She had been right; the shapes that she’d been able to make out were her jacket, pants and shoes - all the things that she’d managed to get out of, before or immediately after turning. Without hesitating, Summer leaned down, unzipping her jacket pocket and reaching inside. Her phone was there! And dead. The battery was gone. Why hadn’t she charged it the day before?!
“Fuck,” she yelled, throwing the phone down hard into the sand where the red “out of battery” light gave her an indignant wink before going dark again. What was she going to do now? She’d wasted time by coming down here. Still, at least she had pants now. She wouldn’t have to wander through the streets next to naked. Quickly pushing herself up from the sand, she pulled her jeans on and fastened them at her waist before brushing the sand off of her feet as best she could and sliding them into her boots. She didn’t bother tying the laces. There was no time.
Scooping up her phone and jacket, Summer started heading back along the beach, in the direction she’d just come, her eyes feverishly moving across the sand for any sign that Roger had been there the night before. If there had been any evidence, any tracks, they had been washed away by the tide, just like her sand fort had been. She’d just have to go to his apartment and hope for the best. God, she hoped for the best...
She pulled her leather jacket on as she walked, her pace as fast as the soft sand underfoot would allow, and zipped it up so that it covered her breasts. She still had her black bra on but one of the cups was ripped and the strap had been severed on one side; needless to say, the bra would be no good to her any more. That was the least of her worries right then, though. She zipped her useless phone back into her pocket again before quickening her pace, breaking into a jog as soon as she reached the firm, concrete surface of the street.
The apartment buildings seemed a long way off from here - the city really was big and Summer was aching all over - but she forced herself to keep going, keep running, until she could see them up ahead of her at the end of the street. Once she was through the double doors at the base of Building Two, she headed straight for the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor as soon as she was inside. She took the time while the elevator was moving to take a deep breath and prepare herself. Roger might not be in his apartment. He might have stayed somewhere else over night and not had time to get home yet. She didn’t know what time it was. It felt like mid-morning but maybe it was earlier than she thought and he was safely tucked up somewhere else, sleeping among a pile of books in an unused building somewhere, safe and sound. If she didn’t get any answer here, she would go home and use her laptop to contact him. It would be fine... That was what she tried to tell herself, at least.
Licking her lips, ignoring the metallic taste of the blood that still lingered around her mouth, Summer stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, starting down the corridor towards Roger’s apartment. The hall looked the same as it always had, except nothing was the same today. Even if he was alright, nothing would be the same - not after what he’d seen. Still, the main thing was that he was alive. “Please be alive,” she murmured to herself, barely able to hold back the painful lump of tears that were lingering somewhere in the back of her throat. She needed him to be okay.
Stopping outside Roger’s door, she lifted her fist, hesitating for a moment, before she began knocking on the door. She knocked once at first, waiting for a few silent minutes before knocking again, twice, a third time, a fourth. By the fifth knock, she was becoming frantic, barely waiting between bangs to see if anyone was coming to the door. Oh God! He wasn’t there! He was dead! She’d killed him!
~
It had been a rough night. Roger had thought that everything was fine, that the evening had been going well. Only when it had gone dark and the moon had risen- things went strange. He thought he was going crazy, that maybe he'd been high or something. He'd scrambled up to his feet and up the beach, running straight for the apartment buildings. It had taken a while, and he was worn out by the time he got up there. He'd slammed the door shut, locking it behind him, then nearly drowned himself in a shower before collapsing in bed, exhausted. He hardly slept, tossing and turning and was just drifting off again.
It was the knocking that slowly brought him back into consciousness. Groaning, he rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, but the knocking didn't stop. Grumbling to himself, he rolled out of bed and found a pair of boxers, pulling them on and raking his fingers through his hair as he made his way out to the door. A hand came up to cover a yawn as he opened the door, blinking at the sight of Summer. "I- Summer? What's- are you alright? What's going on-?"
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, covered in dirt and- was that blood? "Do you need- here, come in-?"
~
Summer gasped, taking a small step back, when she felt the door beginning to give beneath her beating fist. At first, she was worried that she’d just broken it down, in her desperateness to know if Roger was alive, but then she saw that it had swung inwards on its hinges and there was someone standing in the opening made. Roger! He was alive.
Her mouth fell open, a wave of relief washing over her, and she brought her hands up to cover her mouth, her face beginning to crumple. She had been so worried that she had hurt him, killed him, but here he was, in front of her, looking just as alive and well as he had the day before.
“I thought...” she managed to croak, the sound muffled by her hands, before she gave a loud sob and trailed off. There was a brief pause before she launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Roger’s neck and burying her blood-caked face against his bare chest. Oh God! He was alive! She could hear his heart beating, feel him breathing against her, feel the warm skin at the back of his neck beneath her dirty hands. He was alive!
~
Roger took a half step back as she launched herself at him. His hands came up, awkwardly patting her back before untangling himself from her, his hands at her shoulders. He stepped back, hand sliding down her arm to find her hand and he closed the door behind them. "Summer, what happened? You're covered- is that-"
He broke off, suddenly remembering some of the posts he'd seen the night before he'd fallen asleep. Werewolves. He should have known when she'd mentioned it before that first night they'd met, about some worlds having werewolves and other creatures. So did that mean- "Are you a werewolf, too?"
~
Summer felt Roger’s awkwardness and quickly loosed her arms from around him. Of course he didn’t want her hugging him. He’d seen her start to change. It was hardly a surprise. She wouldn’t want her hugging her right then. Not to mention the fact that she was covered in dried blood. She knew she must look a complete mess. She needed to get herself together. She’d wanted to know that he was alive and now she did. She just wished she’d thought of what to do next...
Hearing his question, she looked down at herself again, looking at the way the blood had fallen and dried in rivulets on her skin, following the downward pattern of fur that had covered her body a few hours previously. Ashamed, she nodded. It was blood. She didn’t know whose, or whats, but it was blood. She had hunted, killed and feasted on something and the evidence was written all over her body in dried, flaking, brown ink.
She was about to turn, leave - he wouldn’t want her here now, certainly not looking like this - when she heard him question her again. Her head snapped up, her blue eyes wide, a frown creasing her brow. Was he being serious? Hadn’t he seen her the night before? Hadn’t he heard the howls or read the inevitable shit-storm on the network? “No,” she said, sarcastically. “I’m a fucking fairy.” Her face crumpled again and she took a step backwards until she was leaning against the closed apartment door, her head falling back so that she was looking up at the whitewashed ceiling. “Of course I’m a werewolf,” she said, her voice barely more than a sob. “Didn’t you see me... last night? What else could I be?”
Slowly, she let her eyes lower again until she could meet his gaze, still feeling the hot, uncomfortable shame deep within her. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was, what she was. She was scared that she’d hurt someone from the island but she knew it hadn’t been her fault - not really. Still, she was ashamed that she hadn’t been honest with Roger before. She’d had so many opportunities to tell him what she was and what happened to her every full moon, but she hadn’t said anything and she could have killed him as a result. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice sounding small and high and wavery. “I should have told you. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that...”
~
Roger winced, folding his arms across his chest at her sarcasm. He watched her, wanting to reach for her and comfort her at her whispered apology. His hands fell back to his sides and he sighed, fingers raking through his hair again. "I- Christ, Summer-"
He looked to the side, then back to her. "No, don't- you shouldn't apologize. It's- you had your reasons. I- well, no I don't think anybody wants to find out like that, but- are you okay? Now, I mean? Can I- do you need a shower or- anything?"
~
Summer gave a kind of hiccup come sob when he asked if she was okay. God, she’d nearly killed him the night before and he was asking her if she was okay? Was this guy for real? She’d expected him to be angry at her, throw her out maybe, but not ask her if she was okay and offer her a shower. She almost wanted to laugh, although she was pretty sure that, if she did, it would turn hysterical pretty quickly. She was such a mess of emotions right then, not helped by the fact that she ached from head to little pinky toe.
“I’m covered in blood,” she said in response, her eyes falling away from him and lowering back down to her dishevelled appearance. She did want a shower, not to mention a really strong cup of coffee, but she was still undecided on whether she should stay, accept his hospitality and trust in the fact that he could learn to be okay with what she was, or just leave right then and crawl back to her own apartment to figuratively lick her wounds.
~
"Come on, then." Roger brought a hand up, smoothing back a bit of her hair before sliding his hand to her shoulder, turning to lead her in the direction of the bathroom. "Why don't you clean up here and I'll find you something you can wear and- I'm guessing you probably haven't eaten today? I think I've got some bread for toast and I'm sure I can find something for you. I know I'm hungry, and I've not- I probably haven't had the night that you did."
~
Summer’s eyes closed, a little intake of breath parting her lips, as she felt his hand close to her face. Why was he so lovely? She knew she didn’t deserve it after the night before but still, here he was, being nice to her. She gave a little nod after a moment, pushing herself away from the door when she felt his encouraging hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, glancing up at him for a moment, as she followed him into the apartment, unable to find anything to say that didn’t sound completely pathetic.
When he mentioned food, however, her stomach gave a little lurch and she paused momentarily in her stride. That vomit had still been full of blood and meat, even if it hadn’t been... She could still have hurt someone else. Until she looked on the network, she couldn’t know for sure. And she just couldn’t bring herself to do that just yet, even if she’d feel nauseous until she knew for sure. She shook her head, falling back into step beside him, and said, quietly, “I’m not hungry...” Usually she was ravenous after a full moon but, until she knew, she didn’t think she’d be able to keep anything down. For now, she just wanted to be clean and warm. “Maybe a coffee?” she said after a moment, glancing back up at him with wide, childlike eyes.
~
"I can do coffee." Roger opened the bathroom door, then stepped into his bedroom, quickly finding a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants she could borrow. He also found a towel and brought it all back into the bathroom, setting it all on the counter. "Yell if you need anything, alright? I'll start the coffee." And he knew he should probably find some clothes, too.
~
Summer hovered at the door to Roger’s bathroom, watching as he found her some clothes from his closet. If she hadn’t been quite so preoccupied, she would have been curiously looking around his room, analysing what things he had with him and what his closet was like, not to mention paying acute attention to the fact that he was nearly naked. Still, her mind was focused on other issues at that moment so, instead, she just watched with hollow eyes until he’d retreated and the bathroom was free for her to use.
Stepping inside, she shut the door behind her and paused for a moment, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the wood. She knew she needed to find the will to clean herself up and get on with the rest of her day but it all seemed incredibly hard at that moment. With a sigh, she eventually pushed herself upright and turned, taking a few steps to the side so she could look in the mirror. Oh god! She looked terrible! Worse even than she’d imagined. There was dried blood all over her face, not least around her mouth and over her chin. She looked like something out of Dawn of the Dead! No wonder he hadn’t wanted her hugging him. She gave a disgusted sound, turning her face away, before crossing the room to start the shower running. She needed to get clean. She couldn’t do anything else until she was clean.
Quickly stripping out of her soiled and ruined clothes, Summer piled the jacket, jeans and boots in the corner of the bathroom before throwing the remains of her shirt and bra into the trash can beside the sink. Once she was naked, she stepped into the shower, shutting the door behind her, and stood beneath the flow of running water, her eyes closed, just letting the steady stream begin to wash away the blood. She stayed that way for a few minutes before opening her eyes and reaching out for a bottle of shower gel that was hanging from a hook on the tiled shower wall. She cleaned her body from top to bottom, her skin, hair, nails, everything, before letting the water wash the suds away. She hadn’t been under the flow long enough for the warm water to do anything for her aching bones and muscles but at least she was clean and that was the main thing for right now.
Shutting off the shower, she reached out and grabbed the towel that Roger had laid out for her, quickly drying herself off before stepping out onto the mat in front of the shower. Her feet were sore and she was sure there were cuts all over their soles from having run through the city after waking up. Still, the soft mat felt nice beneath her toes and she knew she’d heal quickly. She always did. Setting the towel aside, she reached out for the sweatpants and t-shirt that were folded on the counter, waiting for her. Roger’s clothes were miles too big on her small frame but they were warm and dry and they smelt like him so she slipped into them readily, hanging the towel up on the rack before scooping up her clothes and heading out of the bathroom, through his bedroom and on into the living room to find him. She could smell coffee.
~
Roger moved back into his bedroom as she closed the bathroom door, and he found a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt to wear. He tugged them on and then made his way out to the kitchen, humming a little to himself as he found coffee and started up the coffee pot. She had said she wasn't hungry, but he was, so he put some bread on for toast and found some peanut butter. That would do for now.
There was so much to think about. Werewolves. Magic. People from different times and places. Roger didn't understand it, but how could he really question the reality of it? Maybe it was all just some crazy trip and he'd wake up in rehab back in New York one day. Who know?
The coffee had just finished and he had poured himself a mug when he heard the bathroom door open. He poured Summer a cup as well and then brought them both and his toast over to the living room where he sank down onto the couch, looking up with a faint smile as she reappeared. "Cup for you here. There's sugar and stuff in the kitchen if you want any- help yourself."
~
Summer took a deep breath as she walked into the living room, feeling almost anxious at the thought of facing Roger again. Now that she was clean, her damp hair hanging limply around the shoulders of his t-shirt, she felt more exposed and less sure of herself. What was she going to say to him? What could she say to him? Steeling herself, she crossed to where he was sitting on the couch and sank down a little distance from him, reaching out for her coffee with a small, forced smile. She usually took sugar but she couldn’t bring herself to move again. Moving just exacerbated the aching in her limbs. “Thanks,” she murmured, bringing the steaming coffee cup up to her lips and blowing gently on the dark surface before taking a little sip.
Nervously, her eyes flickered up to him over the rim of her cup as she wondered if she should try to start conversation. After a moment, she lowered her cup to rest on her knee, her hands clasped around it to warm them, her gaze falling so that she was staring into the black liquid. “I was going to tell you,” she said softly, a small frown creasing her forehead. She really had been planning to tell him about herself, she just hadn’t found a good time. He was so painfully human. He’d been so shocked when she’d mentioned vampires and werewolves before. She hadn’t wanted to tell him and risk losing a friend; when he’d arrived, she was still so hurt from losing the others and she hadn’t wanted to ruin whatever could have been built between them. Still, after that, there hadn’t seemed to be an appropriate moment to just throw, ‘Hey, I’m a werewolf’ into conversation. And now it was too late.
~
"There wasn't a chance, really," Roger replied, reaching for his toast and breaking off a piece, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. He chewed thoughtfully, then took a sip of his coffee. "It's not- I'm just glad you're okay, you know? All things considered. I'd hate to lose the best friend I've got around this place."
He looked back to her, offering a hesitant smile. "I'm not angry at you, you know. And how the hell am I supposed to question anything that goes on around here? It's all pretty impossible to me, but here we are."
~
Summer felt an unexpected jolt of joy run through her as he spoke. Although he had effectively friend-zoned her, she was okay with that right now - more than okay with that - if it meant he could learn to be alright with the fact that she was a werewolf. Wasn’t that all she’d wanted in the first place, after all? Someone she could just be herself with?
Still, it wasn’t as simple as he was making it out to be. True, there hadn’t been a right time and it was really nice that he cared enough about her to be glad she was okay, but that didn’t excuse what she had done. Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she nibbled nervously at her nails as she shook her head. “Friends don’t put friends in danger,” she said, still frowning, glancing up at him over her knuckles. “I could have killed you last night. I thought I might have...” She shook her head. “I should have told you. You should have known to run as soon as I...”
~
"Well, now I know. And- from what I got, it wasn't the right time for a full moon, was it? So it seems like it took everyone by surprise?" Roger took another sip of his coffee, then looked back to her. "And you didn't. I think that might be the most important part." He lifted his shoulder in a shrug and then picked up the other half of his toast. "I'm not trying to write it off or say it isn't important. I'm just- I'm trying not to freak out. Yeah, I was fucking scared, but I'm fine. And you're- well, I don't know how fine you are, but you don't seem to be hurt too badly and you're still alive."
~
Summer watched him sip his coffee before lifting her own cup to her lips to mirror his action. He was right. Now he knew and the fact that he was at least trying not to freak out was a good sign. If he was trying not to freak out, it meant that there might be hope for their friendship. She would just have to prove to him that she was just a normal girl most of the time, not dangerous or scary, when she wasn’t turning into a wolf once a month. Or twice this month...
“Me?” she asked with a huff of mirthless laughter, lowering her coffee cup again as she spoke. “I’m fine. Well, as fine as I am after any full moon.” It wasn’t her she was worried about. She’d been through hundreds of full moons, hundreds of transformations. She was always fine. It was other people she was concerned about. Just because she hadn’t hurt Roger, thank God, that didn’t mean everyone else on the island was okay. She’d need to check her phone when she got home, although the terrified part of her wanted to put that off for as long as possible. As long as she was sitting here, sipping strong, black coffee and dressed in Roger’s t-shirt and sweatpants, she didn’t have to face the rest of the world.
“You must... have a lot of questions,” Summer said a little sheepishly, her eyes flickering up to him even though her head was partially lowered. She couldn’t even imagine everything that must have been running through his head after seeing her wolf out like that, completely out of the blue. Werewolves had always just been a normal thing to her but, to him, they were just something you saw in the movies sometimes.
~
Roger looked back to her as she laughed, holding his cup in both hands. He bit his lower lip then looked back down with a sigh. What could he say? It was so much to take in- it wasn't that long ago that werewolves were just..just myth. They weren't real, not in his world. At least, not that he knew. And he'd never thought he was one to believe in them or the existence of ghosts or the supernatural. But this was a different world- he had to remind himself of that. "I don't even know what to ask. I mean. I know you're- it has to be real, I saw it. How long have you been a werewolf? It is always so- so painful?"
~
Summer slipped her hands around the outside of her coffee cup again, her eyes flickering between her fingers and him. She wasn’t surprised he didn’t know where to begin. It wasn’t exactly a normal topic of conversation. She’d had to tell people about herself a couple of times before and the reaction had always been similar - stunned disbelief before a kind of shocked silence. No one had ever actually seen her transform, or start to, before though. At least that had convinced Roger that it was all real so she didn’t have to.
Summer glanced up at him again, her gaze meeting his for a moment, before she pressed her teeth into her lower lip and nodded. “It’s always the same,” she said quietly. She’d never told a human about the pain side of it before. Of her friends that knew, they mostly just assumed she went up to the reserve, shifted and had a jolly old time all around. It had never felt right to talk to them about the pain involved. But Roger wouldn’t have been able to miss it, what with all the screaming she’d been doing. It unnerved her slightly to have to talk about it, but she guess she had asked him to question her.
“I triggered the curse when I was born,” she explained, pausing a moment to nibble at her lip again before continuing. “I’ve been changing once a month ever since.” She gave a little shrug. Last night had been something like her 247th transformation. She usually had years on most of the other weres she met and that was definitely an advantage. The transformation and the pain that went with it had always been a fact of life for her. It didn’t make it any easier but she didn’t mind it as much as some of the more recently triggered weres. She was lucky in that respect.
~
"Wow." Roger watched her as she spoke. He couldn't imagine it. After a moment he looked back down to his hands. Once a month from birth? He couldn't imagine living with that sort of pain, that sort of change. He took another long, slow sip of his coffee, rolling that information around in his mind. "I- sorry. I'm not trying to be weird about this. I just- wow."
He reached a hand over to hers, giving it a light squeeze. "That's- I don't know how you do it. I don't think I could. But- Christ. What's- what's it like? I'm just- I guess I'm trying to understand."
~
Summer looked up, giving him a small but genuine smile. “You’re handling it way better than most people usually do,” she said, holding her hand up to indicate a higher level of coolness than she was used to when talking to humans about the subject. Once her hand had dropped back to her knee and he had reached over to give it a light squeeze, though, the smile slowly faded away. As nice as his hand felt against hers, he had asked her a question and she needed to think seriously about how she was going to answer it. “It’s... hard,” she said, honestly. “Not the pain,” she added quickly. “You get used to the pain. But... it’s hard being different, not being able to be yourself incase you scare people away, having to make excuses about where you are every full moon, that kinda thing.” She paused, lifting her coffee cup to her lips to take a sip while she considered the situation. “I mean, it’s easier here,” she carried on. “There are so many freaky people on this island that a little old werewolf actually looks quite boring.” She gave a little sheepish shrug. “I usually tell people straight away here,” she said, looking across at him, hoping he’d understand. “But you were just... so human. I didn’t want to send you running screaming...”
~
Roger was quiet as he looked back to her, listening. He understood pain, getting used to something you didn't like. Of course, he maybe hadn't experienced pain to the degree that she had, but still, he was trying. "I'm not sure how other people handle it, or how I'm supposed to or not supposed to handle it. I just- I guess I figure I've seen enough unbelievable stuff here that I just- I have to believe it, you know?"
He took another drink, then realized his cup was almost empty. "Would you like any more coffee?"
~
Summer nodded. Still, she couldn’t help being glad that Roger had reacted the way he had, especially after she’d turned up at his door covered in blood. Lots of people would have just turned her away straight away but he hadn’t. That counted, a lot, in Summer’s book.
Summer looked down at her own coffee cup. It was about three quarters empty now and, while she’d like a top up - an excuse to stay here with Roger longer - she supposed she should really get back to her own apartment and check up on what damage had been done the night before. “I’m okay, thanks,” she said, giving a sad sigh. “I should go soon.” She looked up at him, her eyebrows drawn up and together a little in the middle. “Thank you...” she said quietly, hesitantly. “For this. For everything.”
~
"You don't have to thank me." Roger set his cup down and turned a bit to face her. "And you don't have to, if you don't want to. I mean- just- no rush, yeah? Stay as long as you'd like."
He had intended to get up to refill his cup, but he didn't move just yet. "I mean- seriously, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just- I'm glad you're okay. And if you need anything- you know, not just- not just today- let me know?"
~
God, she wanted to stay. She really did. Roger had somehow, accidentally, become her safe place. But she needed to go. She needed to face the world and she really didn’t want Roger to be around her when she did it. What if she’d... No. She needed to go home.
She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his as he spoke, and she couldn’t help the little lump that rose in her throat at his words. She gulped, nodded then looked back down at her coffee cup. She couldn’t think of anything to say, besides ‘thank you’ again, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get words out anyway.
Lifting her cup to her lips, she finished off what was left of her coffee before leaning across to place the empty mug down on the table. “I really should be getting off,” she murmured, putting her hands down on the couch and pushing herself up to stand. Her bones creaked as she moved and she gave a little wince but it was only momentary and then she was on her feet and looking back down towards Roger. “I’ll call you?” she added, hoping he’d say yes. She had no idea how this day would go but she thought she might need someone to talk to later, good or bad.
~
"Yeah, definitely. Please do. Or just- you know. Stop by or something if you want." Roger watched her with some concern as she stood- she was moving stiffly and he couldn't imagine the sort of pain she must be in. He waited for her to stand before he did as well, reaching for their cups and his empty plate. "Like I said, if you need anything at all, just let me know. You know where to find me."
~
Summer gave him another small, genuine smile as he stood up. Quickly, slipping between the plate and cup obstacles, she leaned in and gave him a short, tight hug before stepping back and turning away. She needed to get home and the longer she stayed here, the less she’d want to leave. Scooping up her clothes from where she’d put them beside the couch, she started heading for the door, her head bowed. When she reached the hallway, she paused and looked back. “I’ll bring the clothes back... at some point,” she told him, actually quite glad that she’d have a reason to come back and see him again soon - she might have talked herself out of it otherwise, to avoid any more awkwardness or the chance of him changing his mind and rejecting her now that he knew what she was. Glancing up at him, she gave a small nod before turning once again and hurrying to the door, reminding herself why she couldn’t just stay with him there and then like she wanted to. She needed to check the network and face up to reality. After that, then she could think about seeing him again and hiding away in the shelter of his friendship. Her clothes held under one arm, she reached up to open the door before slipping out into the corridor, not caring that her feet were bare. After a moment, the door banged softly shut behind her and she started off along the corridor towards the elevator that would take her to her own floor.