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b0nesthere's more than flesh and bones
cameron/tyler; divya (the social network)
pg13; ~5,300 words
Cameron dried his hands on their only dishtowel and sighed, mimicking Divya’s previous position, glancing down to his feet and smiling to himself just a little bit. Sure, he could tell him. It’s not like he’d believe it.
notes: written for this prompt. this… let’s just say that I hope this is at least kind of close to what you wanted. I don’t know. I just started writing and this came spilling out (seriously; this fic is a perfect example of ‘making it up as you go along’). I figured since everyone’s always messing with the lore when it comes to werewolves, I could pretty much play around with it a bit as well but I didn’t change too much. the winklecest isn't overt but if you look, it's definitely there. and yes, I did end it that way on purpose.
there is a link back to the livejournal entry at the end of the fic where you can leave me a comment (if you so choose, of course).
The entire room smelled like meat.
(The people, milling around with their glasses of wine and hard liquor, talking, laughing changing rooms like they were playing marathon musical chairs, eating dinner like they had never eaten before.)
All Tyler could smell was meat. He could feel their blood, their skin and muscle in his fangs, coating his dry tongue, rich and malleable, dripping, sliding down his throat. He clutched onto his glass (a glass that was probably worth at least a couple months tuition), pulled at the collar of his shirt, running the tip of his tongue over his clean and very normal teeth. His knees were weak.
“Ty, you okay?” A deep voice laughed politely next to him and Tyler turned, plastering a smile, an assurance on his face as he stared directly at Cameron, his twin. He was suddenly overwhelmed with a heavy want (need need need) to push him against a wall, grab his leg in his hand, rip at his tan throat.
“Yeah, sure, I’m fine. Why?” Tyler could feel the sweat starting to beard on his hairline and along his neck and he nervously ran his fingers through his slicked back hair, rubbing his hand against the back of a chair, sliding his fingernails along his glass. Cameron just laughed again.
“Because you look like you’re about to explode. Or collapse. People are going to start thinking you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I wish,” Tyler heard himself mutter and Cameron smirked like this wasn’t heading further and further towards a dire situation. Tyler could hear Cameron’s heart pounding, the red rushing through his chest. He bit down on the inside of his cheek.
“It’s not a full moon,” Cameron said, suddenly, entirely serious like he had been treating the past few minutes as if Tyler was playing some kind of practical joke, “actually, it’s not even close to one. We’ve still got two weeks. So what the fuck is going on.”
“If I knew,” Tyler replied, taking a large sip of the amber liquid he had poured for himself while carrying on a nothing–but–small–talk conversation with a friend of their coach who insisted that talking to him would get the team better oars or at least some more money to line a few pockets but all Tyler had gotten out of it was that the guy was probably a pervert and that he would never be desperate enough to even waste the energy chasing him down in a parking lot, “don’t you think I would tell you.”
Cameron’s hand darted out towards him, pressing against his forehead and Tyler let it linger there, letting out a small groan when Cameron accidentally brushed Tyler’s hip with his other hand, fingers catching against the fabric and Cameron pulled away quickly at the noise, Tyler’s eyes snapping open and he apologized.
“Don’t,” Cameron said, “I mean… look. You’re heating up and… and your pupils are the size of quarters,” (they both knew it was an exaggeration but it was good enough to get the point across), “jesus christ. I have to get you out of here before…”
“Before I jump you like a rabid dog.”
“I was going to say before you collapse but yeah, that would be worse. Not for me. But yeah,” he repeated, “that would be a lot worse.”
Leading him out was startlingly easy (“had a bit too much to drink”, “ate some bad food”, “we’ve been working kind of hard lately, you understand”) but getting to the car was completely and utterly different. Tyler felt like he was moving through sludge, his knees locking, feet pulling boxes of concrete inside clown shoes and all he could hear was a heartbeat (ka–thud ka–thud ka–thud) that he wasn’t even sure was his own or his brother’s. His scar was itching, burning and he reached up to scratch it, jumped when Cameron grasped his wrist and stopped him.
“Get in the car,” he ordered and Tyler didn’t argue. They sat there, silent, for a good few minutes and just before Tyler thought maybe he was going to get out and walk it, (even if it would take an hour it was better than this) Cameron was lowering Tyler’s seat and climbing on top of him, pushing down on his chest when he tried to sit up.
“What the hell are you doing,” Tyler said, his voice cracking, “this isn’t a good idea. You have to get off of me, Cam.”
“Ty. Shut up.” Hurriedly, angrily, rushed, he pushed open Tyler’s jacket, unbuttoning his white shirt, lifting it off of his shoulder, blinking down at the raised, white skin, a circular scar trailing close to his neck and down his back. It wasn’t the first time Cameron had seen it but he still stared like it was, like he didn’t have one of his own. Tyler asked him what the fuck he was doing exactly, demanded, struggled and squirmed, jolting his hips up and Cameron hit his head on the ceiling, cursing and pushing himself back down, hard, a red flushing across his cheeks when Tyler groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “This isn’t a good time, Ty.”
“You started it,” Tyler tried, hands clutching the arm rests, knuckles pale, “I feel like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“Thanks, that sounded really convincing.” He felt like he was fading, vision clouding and he took in a few deep, slow breaths. He needed something but he didn’t know what and it was driving him up a wall. Cameron was right (wasn’t he always, though?); they were at least a two weeks away from a full moon. So why the hell did he feel like any second he was going to change?
“It’s hot,” Cameron murmured.
“What?”
“Your scar. It’s burning.” He paused. “I… I don’t like this.”
“I’m glad we can agree on something for once. I think I just need to sleep it off,” he says next, like maybe he did just have a little too much to drink (it could be, probably, maybe whatever he was pouring down his throat reacted weirdly with what wasn’t entirely human blood and bone and muscle and thoughts running underneath his skin these days. It’s not like he had many opportunities to swallow down alcohol, at least nothing harder than a beer or maybe a bottle or two of rum with all the studying and the rowing and the sleeping and the ‘trying to hide to fact that he sometimes kissed his brother and oh yeah they’re both werewolves’).
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tyler agrees, making a face that he hoped Cameron would interpret as ‘maybe it’s time you got off of me because someone might walk a bit too close to the car and realize you’re not straddling a guy who isn’t your brother’ and yeah, of course he got it. Cameron rolled off of him, pulling Tyler’s seat up just enough to make it safe to drive and started the engine, clutching the wheel, flexing his fingers, setting his jaw like they had a five hour drive and he wasn’t sure Tyler would make it when, really, it was only twenty minutes, thirty if they hit all the lights and that wasn’t too bad, Tyler figured if he just breathed and shut his eyes he’d be okay.
The drive was slow, like Cameron was keeping it 10 miles under the speed limit and Tyler got flashbacks to the night he got bit (not like he remembered much of it, the pain too blinding, the blood too red and too much that all he could see and feel was white hot and black but he could still just vaguely recall Cameron loading him into the same seat he lay in now and promising to get to the hospital quickly (“you aren’t going to die you stupid fuck” and Cameron never cursed, never, but that time he did) but taking his sweet time in actually getting there. When Tyler had bitten Cameron on the hip (he swore it was an accident) he thought about doing the same to him just to let him know how it felt but he just couldn’t do it. He got stopped, almost got a speeding ticket and it would’ve stuck but the cop took one look at Cameron and sent them on their way with a solemn wish of luck. Tyler had assured the nurse that they would definitely be putting down that dog the next morning (the same one that had bitten him) even though it was stupidly obvious that those were human teeth but nobody called the police and he wondered if they just knew who they were and shit, he was just keeping totally off topic).
“Can you walk,” Cameron asked once they got there, tumbling out of his seat and coming over to the passenger’s side, ripping the door open and looming over Tyler who just looked up at him and smiled a little bit.
“I may feel like complete shit, Cam, but I’m not a cripple.” Cameron didn’t smile back and frowned and shit, was he actually, seriously worried. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah. A few minutes ago you told me you felt like you were dying and now you’re okay.”
“I just said that because I knew you were acting like a girl,” Tyler admitted.
“Which one?”
"Which one what?"
“Which one did you lie about.”
“The being okay part.”
“Shit, Ty. Maybe we should…” Cameron bit down on his bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth, shoulders raised as he gripped the roof of the car and Tyler cleared his throat, distracted but not distracted enough to not hear what Cameron was trying to say.
“Absolutely not. It'll be fine. Just help me out of this car and take me back to the room.”
“I thought you weren’t a cripple,” Cameron teased but offered his hand anyway and Tyler moved forward, legs swinging, taking on most of the weight and he collapsed onto Cameron’s chest, listening to him breathing, hearing his heart pumping, quick and busy. “Come on,” he urged a little bit later, nudging Tyler until he stood up just enough that they could stare directly at one another, “it’s not far.”
“I don’t have amnesia either.” But Tyler wasn’t even really trying at this point, the cool breeze of outside, a sprinkle of rain, light and barely there but enough to prickle against his bare skin (and damn he forgot to button up his shirt from when Cameron had pulled it open but his fingers were too numb and shaky to bother trying to fix it) and give a sheen to the ground. Walking wasn’t too difficult but he had Cameron to lean on and he attempted to feign being drunk just in case but they were hardly even glanced at like this was normal and he supposed he should have been grateful for it.
– –
“Sit,” Cameron commanded, pointing at the couch and Tyler acted like this was some big deal and he didn’t really want to but it felt good to sit and he threw his head back, eyes blinking at the high ceiling and he swallowed, wiping a hand over his face, feeling the heat rush down the length of his arm. “Here.” He flinched back when he looked down, a cold glass of water pressed close to the tip of his nose and he snatched it, gulping it down, sliding the glass onto the coffee table, kicking it away from the edge and putting his head back where it had been before he was interrupted, his arms limp at his sides, hands palm–side up.
“What the hell is happening.”
“I don’t know. Maybe–”
“What’re you guys doing here.” They both looked up, startled, facing towards Divya who leaned against the doorway to his bedroom, arms folded across his chest, mouth down–turned on one side, ankles crossed.
“We live here,” Cameron said briskly, moving to stand in front of Tyler like he thought it was easier to just hide him instead of be (somewhat) honest to their friend, “We're allowed to be here.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Divya shook his head, took a step to the left, trying unsuccessfully to peer around Cameron, “Who’re you hiding? Is it a naked girl?” Of course. Of course that was his first guess. Tyler coughed. Divya raised his eyebrows. “A naked guy? I won’t judge, really. We’ve all been there once or twice.” So Cameron just gave up and moved and Divya looked somewhere between entertained and kind of concerned. “What’s up with Tyler? Tyler, you look awful. Like… really terrible. Bad shrimp? It’s always bad shrimp, especially at those parties.”
“Too much to drink,” Cameron offered because suddenly Tyler’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton and sucked of all moisture and it was like Cameron knew.
“I’ve seen too much to drink, heck, I’ve experienced too much to drink. That’s not what it looks like.”
“We don’t know,” Tyler finally managed to mutter. His head was starting to pound and the way that Divya’s muscles were moving under his skin was so clean and loud and he just needed to sleep because then he just wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore (at the moment, he didn’t know which was worse: the way he was feeling or having to listen to Cameron and Divya go back and forth like they were two police officer partners on a cop show that got it ratings in only because of the banter). “It could’ve been the shrimp,” he says next because he thinks that maybe he had eaten some of it without realizing it and that coupled with the hard alcohol? Yeah, it was possible. (He always got a little horny when he was drunk, lost a bit of control over his senses because this was exactly what happened when he bit Cameron minus the bad shellfish).
“Are you kidding me,” Cameron says through gritted teeth, his fists clenching at his sides, turning like any minute he might wrap his hands around Tyler’s neck. Like maybe he had been panicking for no reason, like he was prepared to stay up all night watching him sleep (it happened once before when they were teenagers. Tyler was sick and had fallen down the stairs and Cameron had sat by his bed for hours) and now oh, hey, it was probably the shrimp and the alcohol. It still didn’t explain why his scar was burning or why his stomach felt fine all things considered but Divya didn’t need to know that.
(They had argued once, twice or five times about whether they should tell Divya about the whole werewolf thing. Tyler was all for it just because it would make life easier and it could be helpful to have a regular human around to help cover for them and Divya knew how to keep a secret but Cameron refused, giving a bunch of stupid reasons why it definitely “couldn’t happen” because the last time Tyler told someone he was a werewolf he bit them a day later and Cameron wasn’t sure that he could handle their best friend being one of them too.)
– –
“It probably wasn’t the shrimp,” Tyler said as soon as his head hit the pillow, staring at his brother’s back as he moved around on the other side of the room, trying to act busy.
“I know that.”
“I tried to convince myself that it was for a little while there but this doesn’t feel like food poisoning.”
“Go to sleep, Ty.”
“He’s hovering.”
“What?” Cameron peered over his shoulder, hands paused in folding socks that didn’t need folding, his brow furrowed.
“Divya. He’s hovering. I can feel him lurking outside the door.”
“I’ll talk to him. Now go to sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
“Why do you always have to be so sensible.” Tyler closed his eyes, falling asleep seconds after the words had left his mouth.
– –
“He’s all right,” Divya said from a spot on the couch when Cameron walked out of the room a few minutes later (a book clutched in his hands like he had been casually reading it the entire time even though it was pretty obvious he hadn’t been there for longer than thirty seconds) like he wasn’t trying to really ask it.
“Calm down.”
“I’m calm. I’m more than calm.”
“Right,” Cameron snorted.
“You know, this may be hard to believe but I can tell when you guys are lying to me. I’m not stupid.”
“Of course you’re not stupid. You’re a man of Harvard.”
“Why do you say things like that. Just… can you even hear yourself when… nevermind. Look,” Divya threw his book down and stood, joining Cameron in the tiny kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching him wash out the dishes that were stacked up in the sink before continuing, “you know I can keep a secret, right? Remember that thing you told me when you were drunk three weeks ago?”
“…No?” Cameron frowned because he totally remembered being drunk but not telling Divya anything but he supposed that was kind of the point that Divya was getting at.
“Well no, you wouldn’t. But I do. And I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t even told you. So. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I could just get you drunk,” he raised his hands up when Cameron gave him a look, “I’m just saying. I’ll do it.” Cameron dried his hands on their only dishtowel and sighed, mimicking Divya’s previous position, glancing down to his feet and smiling to himself just a little bit. Sure, he could tell him. It’s not like he’d believe it.
“Tyler and I…”
“Yeah?”
“We’re werewolves,” Cameron shrugged. Divya pursed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times, looking off to the side and then back to Cameron, tilting his head slightly and chewing on his bottom lip. He scratched at a spot on his arm.
“Seriously.”
“Yup.”
“Werewolves.”
“That’s what I said.” Cameron was already laughing but then he wasn’t when Divya said:
“That’s it? Really? I thought you guys were serial killers or were secretly making out with each other. Werewolves. I could see that. Is it like a ‘change whenever you want’ kind of thing or ‘only on a full moon’ thing?” Divya went on to rattle off a few more questions, hardly giving time for Cameron to answer.
Somehow, even with his constant persistence that they should totally tell Divya, Cameron felt like maybe Tyler would maul him in the morning.
– –
Tyler didn’t feel worse when he woke up the next morning but he wasn’t exactly better and he was never more grateful that he didn’t have any classes that day than he was the minute he opened his eyes to find out that his head was still pounding, that his limbs felt heavy and that, at some point in the night he had woken up and thrown up in a trashcan that Cameron probably put next to his side of the bed just in case (he would).
So, okay. Maybe it was just bad shrimp (and a bit too much to drink). But yeah. There was no point in being completely sure quite yet.
Stumbling out in his boxers and a t–shirt that may or may not even been his (he couldn’t tell anymore) he shielded his eyes against the sunlight that made him wince, a little disappointed to find that Cameron had disappeared and left him alone with Divya who looked a little too cheerful for so early.
“Hey,” Divya, fully dressed, said, lowering his newspaper, his hair pushed back like he was trying to be professional and Tyler struggled to remember if Divya had some kind of special presentation today or if he just thought he’d try to look extra classy for no apparent reason, “You still look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Tyler muttered, dropping down at the kitchen table across from Divya, burying his face in his arms and groaning.
“Coffee?” Tyler made a noise that absolutely meant ‘yes’. Divya let out one hearty laugh. “Get it yourself.”
“You suck and I hate you.”
“No, I don’t and no, you don’t,” Divya laughed again, going back to his paper. Tyler pushed himself away from the table and staggered over to the counter, pouring himself a large mug of coffee, staring down into it with disgust as he realized that drinking it wouldn’t actually be an option.
“I can’t drink this.”
“I’ll take it off your hands,” Divya blindly reached out behind him until he felt the heavy mug settle in his long fingers, “You should try orange juice.”
“Do we have any?”
“No.”
Tyler got himself water instead and flopped back down in his chair. “I really, really hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” They lapsed into a silence, Tyler absent–mindedly reading the back of the paper, so focused on an article about the state of politics that he missed what Divya said and jumped when Divya tapped him on the hand and then went back to reading. “I said: I know.”
Tyler took a sip of his water. “You know what?”
“About the werewolf thing. Cameron told me last night.”
“Cameron told you.” Tyler sat up a bit straighter, letting out a long breath through his nose, the right side of his mouth turning up in a bit of a smile. “And you believed him.”
Divya lowered one corner of his paper. “Why shouldn’t I? It kind of explains why you guys suddenly started ordering your steaks rare and the whole disappearing on the nights of full moons and then sleeping through the entire next day thing. It’s more fun to believe it anyway.” Tyler didn’t know what to say, so he figured it was best to just not even try, which Divya assumed meant he could just keep talking. “Cameron told me that you being sick probably wasn’t food poisoning.”
“No kidding. Any theories yet?”
“Pheromones.”
“What?”
“Well, you’re part dog…”
“…it’s a little more complicated than that, Div.”
“Just roll with me here. You’re part dog. You guys can probably pick up on pheromones more than normal people. Somebody was coming on way too strong and, since you’ve still got a lot of human in you, it didn’t know how to handle it and your body flipped out,” Divya explained simply like it was just so obvious and Tyler had to pause because it was kind of weird but still a better explanation than the ones he had been leaning on since he first started feeling sick (and yeah, come to think of it, he only started to feel like this after talking to that possibly–a–pervert friend of the coach).
“It’s plausible enough for me to just accept it.”
“You sound like Cameron.” And, like Divya had summoned him, Cameron came tearing through the door, slamming it behind him, halting in his rush when he saw Tyler was awake, stomping over and sticking his hand under Tyler’s chin, pulling his face up so he could inspect it.
“Hi, Cam,” Tyler said, feeling Cameron’s fingers dig into his jaw.
“Did Divya–”
“Yeah, he did. And you’re probably right.”
“About what?”
“About the whole pheromone thing– you can probably let go of my face now, Cam,” Tyler smiled and Cameron may have actually blushed a little bit and Divya just looked kind of amused.
“Right. That. Divya thought of it. Not me. But I’ll take the credit if you’re offering it.”
“Don’t even think about it Winklevoss,” Divya said, “it was a moment of pure genius and I deserve all the recognition. Even if it’s only from you idiots.”
“Hey,” they said simultaneously but with entirely different tones (Tyler kind of laughed it out because he knew Divya didn’t mean it, he never did but Cameron spoke like he took it to heart (he’d always had a problem with being called an idiot ever since their father, in a fit of rage over something ridiculous that none of them can even remember anymore, accidentally called Cameron an ‘idiot’, putting specific emphasis on it like he meant it and Cameron had never quite forgiven him for it).
“Well,” Cameron said, recovering swiftly, moving around behind Tyler so he could drop his hands onto his shoulders, “it wasn’t really a moment of pure genius.”
Tyler quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yup,” and Tyler could practically feel him grinning as he spoke, his grip tightening for a moment, “he just Googled it in a million different ways until something relevant came up.”
“Judas,” Divya exclaimed, slamming his fist down onto the table and Tyler reached out to hold his glass before it toppled over.
“At least he tried,” Tyler said, flinching when Cameron smacked the back of his head in that way he did when he was trying to tell Tyler to stop being a dick because he had no idea how worried he was all night and why hadn’t he even asked where he had been all morning because he didn’t have a class until late that afternoon. “Where were you? This morning.” He leaned back, looking at Cameron upside–down and Cameron appeared startled like he always did whenever Tyler did something like being able to read the smallest twitch of his fingers the way that Cameron knew how to read the way that Tyler smiled (“at least ten different kinds,” Cameron had told him one evening, “ten different smiles”).
“None of your business.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I said okay.”
“You guys do know I’m still here, right,” Divya said, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, mouth quickly pulling into a serious line as he bent forward, stretching one of his arms across the wooden table, fingers moving slowly against the surface as he stared the brothers down. He licked his lips and dragged his teeth along the bottom one. “Can I ask you something?” He didn’t wait for any kind of consent before saying, bluntly: “Can I watch?”
“Watch…” Cameron started, rolling his hand in the air, urging him to answer his own question so they didn’t have to sit there playing twenty questions to try and fill in the blank.
“You guys. When you change. Can I watch?”
Tyler’s face scrunched up. “You think there’s a not creepy way you could ask that?”
“I’m serious.”
“We know you are." A pause. “Why?”
“Why not? Who wouldn’t? I won’t take pictures. I just… want to… yeah, Tyler, I see your point. I do sound kind of voyeuristic. I promise I won’t masturbate either,” Divya blinked at Tyler and Cameron’s reactions, “I’m sorry I said that. I don’t know why it… I swear I hadn’t been thinking about and now I am. This is disturbing. I blame you,” he pointed at Cameron, who scoffed, making a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “Please.”
“No,” Cameron said, shaking his head vigorously, “no.”
“He said ‘please’, Cam.”
“So? That’s not… no. Not gonna happen. Absolutely not.”
– –
“I can’t believe you convinced me this was a good idea,” Cameron said two weeks later, the purple and dark blue of twilight edging in through the windows, the bright, full moon peeking out from the leafless trees, aimlessly wandering over the horizon, only a matter of a couple hours until it reached it's spot high in the pitch black sky freckled with stars, most of which were dimmed by the lights from the campus and nearby city. He was pacing, walking as Tyler and Divya lounged on the couch. Eventually, Tyler stood, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Cameron’s wrist and stop him from moving. They shared a look, talking without opening their mouths.
“So,” Divya clapped his hands, breaking them out of their silent conversation, “how does this work? Do we go outside or what?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said, continuing to keep his gaze on Cameron, who peered down at Tyler’s hand still clutched near his, “We go outside.”
Outside. Outside was chilly, a wind blowing, surrounding them and Tyler shivered. They stood close and took their time, feet scuffing against the stone pathways, listening to the chatter, laughter of the people sitting on the steps, bags and coats hugged to their chests. None of the three spoke and Tyler and Cameron led Divya to a quiet spot among some trees that were clustered together enough to shield them from roving eyes and curious bystanders. It was merely an illusion of privacy but they could never do any better unless they got in their car and drove (they had tried that once but only made it so far before abandoning the vehicle on the side of a busy road and disappearing into some bushes. Having to explain to their father why they had just left the car there and how they ended up twenty miles at least, maybe more, away from it on foot was torture and they never planned on going through it again).
Cameron pulled a bottle of what turned out to be rum from the inside of his coat and he sniffed and swallowed against the sudden cold, a stark contrast to thirteen days ago when it was warm enough to walk without a jacket. Just their luck they hit a cold snap on the day they shed their clothing.
“What’s that for,” Divya asked the same moment Cameron unscrewed the cap, tossing it over his shoulder, pushing the bottle to his lips and taking a big swig, shoving it into Tyler’s waiting hand. “Is it that bad?”
“Sometimes,” Tyler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “all the time,” he said, taking another drink before handing it back to his brother who then offered it to Divya.
“Yeah, sure,” he accepted it, nodding and tilting it forward slightly, raising it in the air before chugging, spilling a bit when he popped it back and away from his mouth. “This is unreal. How do you know… I mean, how will I know?”
“How about I just tell you… shit, yeah, right now,” Cameron said, pushing his coat off, undoing the button on his jeans, taking in a deep breath, listening as Tyler’s sweatshirt hit the bushes, their shoes joining each other in a small pile at the base of a thick tree.
“This is it,” Divya asked, handing the bottle back, watching them finish it like they did it all the fucking time and he took a step or two back, not noticing as his breathing picked up, his heart pounding like a bug running over and over again into a window. Bones cracked, skin rippled, fingernails splintered and awful sounds came from deep within their chests.
The empty bottle, abandoned on the wet grass, shattered underneath the weight of a new, heavy foot.
Divya gasped.
➞ back to livejournal
cameron/tyler; divya (the social network)
pg13; ~5,300 words
Cameron dried his hands on their only dishtowel and sighed, mimicking Divya’s previous position, glancing down to his feet and smiling to himself just a little bit. Sure, he could tell him. It’s not like he’d believe it.
notes: written for this prompt. this… let’s just say that I hope this is at least kind of close to what you wanted. I don’t know. I just started writing and this came spilling out (seriously; this fic is a perfect example of ‘making it up as you go along’). I figured since everyone’s always messing with the lore when it comes to werewolves, I could pretty much play around with it a bit as well but I didn’t change too much. the winklecest isn't overt but if you look, it's definitely there. and yes, I did end it that way on purpose.
there is a link back to the livejournal entry at the end of the fic where you can leave me a comment (if you so choose, of course).
The entire room smelled like meat.
(The people, milling around with their glasses of wine and hard liquor, talking, laughing changing rooms like they were playing marathon musical chairs, eating dinner like they had never eaten before.)
All Tyler could smell was meat. He could feel their blood, their skin and muscle in his fangs, coating his dry tongue, rich and malleable, dripping, sliding down his throat. He clutched onto his glass (a glass that was probably worth at least a couple months tuition), pulled at the collar of his shirt, running the tip of his tongue over his clean and very normal teeth. His knees were weak.
“Ty, you okay?” A deep voice laughed politely next to him and Tyler turned, plastering a smile, an assurance on his face as he stared directly at Cameron, his twin. He was suddenly overwhelmed with a heavy want (need need need) to push him against a wall, grab his leg in his hand, rip at his tan throat.
“Yeah, sure, I’m fine. Why?” Tyler could feel the sweat starting to beard on his hairline and along his neck and he nervously ran his fingers through his slicked back hair, rubbing his hand against the back of a chair, sliding his fingernails along his glass. Cameron just laughed again.
“Because you look like you’re about to explode. Or collapse. People are going to start thinking you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I wish,” Tyler heard himself mutter and Cameron smirked like this wasn’t heading further and further towards a dire situation. Tyler could hear Cameron’s heart pounding, the red rushing through his chest. He bit down on the inside of his cheek.
“It’s not a full moon,” Cameron said, suddenly, entirely serious like he had been treating the past few minutes as if Tyler was playing some kind of practical joke, “actually, it’s not even close to one. We’ve still got two weeks. So what the fuck is going on.”
“If I knew,” Tyler replied, taking a large sip of the amber liquid he had poured for himself while carrying on a nothing–but–small–talk conversation with a friend of their coach who insisted that talking to him would get the team better oars or at least some more money to line a few pockets but all Tyler had gotten out of it was that the guy was probably a pervert and that he would never be desperate enough to even waste the energy chasing him down in a parking lot, “don’t you think I would tell you.”
Cameron’s hand darted out towards him, pressing against his forehead and Tyler let it linger there, letting out a small groan when Cameron accidentally brushed Tyler’s hip with his other hand, fingers catching against the fabric and Cameron pulled away quickly at the noise, Tyler’s eyes snapping open and he apologized.
“Don’t,” Cameron said, “I mean… look. You’re heating up and… and your pupils are the size of quarters,” (they both knew it was an exaggeration but it was good enough to get the point across), “jesus christ. I have to get you out of here before…”
“Before I jump you like a rabid dog.”
“I was going to say before you collapse but yeah, that would be worse. Not for me. But yeah,” he repeated, “that would be a lot worse.”
Leading him out was startlingly easy (“had a bit too much to drink”, “ate some bad food”, “we’ve been working kind of hard lately, you understand”) but getting to the car was completely and utterly different. Tyler felt like he was moving through sludge, his knees locking, feet pulling boxes of concrete inside clown shoes and all he could hear was a heartbeat (ka–thud ka–thud ka–thud) that he wasn’t even sure was his own or his brother’s. His scar was itching, burning and he reached up to scratch it, jumped when Cameron grasped his wrist and stopped him.
“Get in the car,” he ordered and Tyler didn’t argue. They sat there, silent, for a good few minutes and just before Tyler thought maybe he was going to get out and walk it, (even if it would take an hour it was better than this) Cameron was lowering Tyler’s seat and climbing on top of him, pushing down on his chest when he tried to sit up.
“What the hell are you doing,” Tyler said, his voice cracking, “this isn’t a good idea. You have to get off of me, Cam.”
“Ty. Shut up.” Hurriedly, angrily, rushed, he pushed open Tyler’s jacket, unbuttoning his white shirt, lifting it off of his shoulder, blinking down at the raised, white skin, a circular scar trailing close to his neck and down his back. It wasn’t the first time Cameron had seen it but he still stared like it was, like he didn’t have one of his own. Tyler asked him what the fuck he was doing exactly, demanded, struggled and squirmed, jolting his hips up and Cameron hit his head on the ceiling, cursing and pushing himself back down, hard, a red flushing across his cheeks when Tyler groaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “This isn’t a good time, Ty.”
“You started it,” Tyler tried, hands clutching the arm rests, knuckles pale, “I feel like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“Thanks, that sounded really convincing.” He felt like he was fading, vision clouding and he took in a few deep, slow breaths. He needed something but he didn’t know what and it was driving him up a wall. Cameron was right (wasn’t he always, though?); they were at least a two weeks away from a full moon. So why the hell did he feel like any second he was going to change?
“It’s hot,” Cameron murmured.
“What?”
“Your scar. It’s burning.” He paused. “I… I don’t like this.”
“I’m glad we can agree on something for once. I think I just need to sleep it off,” he says next, like maybe he did just have a little too much to drink (it could be, probably, maybe whatever he was pouring down his throat reacted weirdly with what wasn’t entirely human blood and bone and muscle and thoughts running underneath his skin these days. It’s not like he had many opportunities to swallow down alcohol, at least nothing harder than a beer or maybe a bottle or two of rum with all the studying and the rowing and the sleeping and the ‘trying to hide to fact that he sometimes kissed his brother and oh yeah they’re both werewolves’).
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tyler agrees, making a face that he hoped Cameron would interpret as ‘maybe it’s time you got off of me because someone might walk a bit too close to the car and realize you’re not straddling a guy who isn’t your brother’ and yeah, of course he got it. Cameron rolled off of him, pulling Tyler’s seat up just enough to make it safe to drive and started the engine, clutching the wheel, flexing his fingers, setting his jaw like they had a five hour drive and he wasn’t sure Tyler would make it when, really, it was only twenty minutes, thirty if they hit all the lights and that wasn’t too bad, Tyler figured if he just breathed and shut his eyes he’d be okay.
The drive was slow, like Cameron was keeping it 10 miles under the speed limit and Tyler got flashbacks to the night he got bit (not like he remembered much of it, the pain too blinding, the blood too red and too much that all he could see and feel was white hot and black but he could still just vaguely recall Cameron loading him into the same seat he lay in now and promising to get to the hospital quickly (“you aren’t going to die you stupid fuck” and Cameron never cursed, never, but that time he did) but taking his sweet time in actually getting there. When Tyler had bitten Cameron on the hip (he swore it was an accident) he thought about doing the same to him just to let him know how it felt but he just couldn’t do it. He got stopped, almost got a speeding ticket and it would’ve stuck but the cop took one look at Cameron and sent them on their way with a solemn wish of luck. Tyler had assured the nurse that they would definitely be putting down that dog the next morning (the same one that had bitten him) even though it was stupidly obvious that those were human teeth but nobody called the police and he wondered if they just knew who they were and shit, he was just keeping totally off topic).
“Can you walk,” Cameron asked once they got there, tumbling out of his seat and coming over to the passenger’s side, ripping the door open and looming over Tyler who just looked up at him and smiled a little bit.
“I may feel like complete shit, Cam, but I’m not a cripple.” Cameron didn’t smile back and frowned and shit, was he actually, seriously worried. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah. A few minutes ago you told me you felt like you were dying and now you’re okay.”
“I just said that because I knew you were acting like a girl,” Tyler admitted.
“Which one?”
"Which one what?"
“Which one did you lie about.”
“The being okay part.”
“Shit, Ty. Maybe we should…” Cameron bit down on his bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth, shoulders raised as he gripped the roof of the car and Tyler cleared his throat, distracted but not distracted enough to not hear what Cameron was trying to say.
“Absolutely not. It'll be fine. Just help me out of this car and take me back to the room.”
“I thought you weren’t a cripple,” Cameron teased but offered his hand anyway and Tyler moved forward, legs swinging, taking on most of the weight and he collapsed onto Cameron’s chest, listening to him breathing, hearing his heart pumping, quick and busy. “Come on,” he urged a little bit later, nudging Tyler until he stood up just enough that they could stare directly at one another, “it’s not far.”
“I don’t have amnesia either.” But Tyler wasn’t even really trying at this point, the cool breeze of outside, a sprinkle of rain, light and barely there but enough to prickle against his bare skin (and damn he forgot to button up his shirt from when Cameron had pulled it open but his fingers were too numb and shaky to bother trying to fix it) and give a sheen to the ground. Walking wasn’t too difficult but he had Cameron to lean on and he attempted to feign being drunk just in case but they were hardly even glanced at like this was normal and he supposed he should have been grateful for it.
– –
“Sit,” Cameron commanded, pointing at the couch and Tyler acted like this was some big deal and he didn’t really want to but it felt good to sit and he threw his head back, eyes blinking at the high ceiling and he swallowed, wiping a hand over his face, feeling the heat rush down the length of his arm. “Here.” He flinched back when he looked down, a cold glass of water pressed close to the tip of his nose and he snatched it, gulping it down, sliding the glass onto the coffee table, kicking it away from the edge and putting his head back where it had been before he was interrupted, his arms limp at his sides, hands palm–side up.
“What the hell is happening.”
“I don’t know. Maybe–”
“What’re you guys doing here.” They both looked up, startled, facing towards Divya who leaned against the doorway to his bedroom, arms folded across his chest, mouth down–turned on one side, ankles crossed.
“We live here,” Cameron said briskly, moving to stand in front of Tyler like he thought it was easier to just hide him instead of be (somewhat) honest to their friend, “We're allowed to be here.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Divya shook his head, took a step to the left, trying unsuccessfully to peer around Cameron, “Who’re you hiding? Is it a naked girl?” Of course. Of course that was his first guess. Tyler coughed. Divya raised his eyebrows. “A naked guy? I won’t judge, really. We’ve all been there once or twice.” So Cameron just gave up and moved and Divya looked somewhere between entertained and kind of concerned. “What’s up with Tyler? Tyler, you look awful. Like… really terrible. Bad shrimp? It’s always bad shrimp, especially at those parties.”
“Too much to drink,” Cameron offered because suddenly Tyler’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton and sucked of all moisture and it was like Cameron knew.
“I’ve seen too much to drink, heck, I’ve experienced too much to drink. That’s not what it looks like.”
“We don’t know,” Tyler finally managed to mutter. His head was starting to pound and the way that Divya’s muscles were moving under his skin was so clean and loud and he just needed to sleep because then he just wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore (at the moment, he didn’t know which was worse: the way he was feeling or having to listen to Cameron and Divya go back and forth like they were two police officer partners on a cop show that got it ratings in only because of the banter). “It could’ve been the shrimp,” he says next because he thinks that maybe he had eaten some of it without realizing it and that coupled with the hard alcohol? Yeah, it was possible. (He always got a little horny when he was drunk, lost a bit of control over his senses because this was exactly what happened when he bit Cameron minus the bad shellfish).
“Are you kidding me,” Cameron says through gritted teeth, his fists clenching at his sides, turning like any minute he might wrap his hands around Tyler’s neck. Like maybe he had been panicking for no reason, like he was prepared to stay up all night watching him sleep (it happened once before when they were teenagers. Tyler was sick and had fallen down the stairs and Cameron had sat by his bed for hours) and now oh, hey, it was probably the shrimp and the alcohol. It still didn’t explain why his scar was burning or why his stomach felt fine all things considered but Divya didn’t need to know that.
(They had argued once, twice or five times about whether they should tell Divya about the whole werewolf thing. Tyler was all for it just because it would make life easier and it could be helpful to have a regular human around to help cover for them and Divya knew how to keep a secret but Cameron refused, giving a bunch of stupid reasons why it definitely “couldn’t happen” because the last time Tyler told someone he was a werewolf he bit them a day later and Cameron wasn’t sure that he could handle their best friend being one of them too.)
– –
“It probably wasn’t the shrimp,” Tyler said as soon as his head hit the pillow, staring at his brother’s back as he moved around on the other side of the room, trying to act busy.
“I know that.”
“I tried to convince myself that it was for a little while there but this doesn’t feel like food poisoning.”
“Go to sleep, Ty.”
“He’s hovering.”
“What?” Cameron peered over his shoulder, hands paused in folding socks that didn’t need folding, his brow furrowed.
“Divya. He’s hovering. I can feel him lurking outside the door.”
“I’ll talk to him. Now go to sleep. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
“Why do you always have to be so sensible.” Tyler closed his eyes, falling asleep seconds after the words had left his mouth.
– –
“He’s all right,” Divya said from a spot on the couch when Cameron walked out of the room a few minutes later (a book clutched in his hands like he had been casually reading it the entire time even though it was pretty obvious he hadn’t been there for longer than thirty seconds) like he wasn’t trying to really ask it.
“Calm down.”
“I’m calm. I’m more than calm.”
“Right,” Cameron snorted.
“You know, this may be hard to believe but I can tell when you guys are lying to me. I’m not stupid.”
“Of course you’re not stupid. You’re a man of Harvard.”
“Why do you say things like that. Just… can you even hear yourself when… nevermind. Look,” Divya threw his book down and stood, joining Cameron in the tiny kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching him wash out the dishes that were stacked up in the sink before continuing, “you know I can keep a secret, right? Remember that thing you told me when you were drunk three weeks ago?”
“…No?” Cameron frowned because he totally remembered being drunk but not telling Divya anything but he supposed that was kind of the point that Divya was getting at.
“Well no, you wouldn’t. But I do. And I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t even told you. So. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I could just get you drunk,” he raised his hands up when Cameron gave him a look, “I’m just saying. I’ll do it.” Cameron dried his hands on their only dishtowel and sighed, mimicking Divya’s previous position, glancing down to his feet and smiling to himself just a little bit. Sure, he could tell him. It’s not like he’d believe it.
“Tyler and I…”
“Yeah?”
“We’re werewolves,” Cameron shrugged. Divya pursed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times, looking off to the side and then back to Cameron, tilting his head slightly and chewing on his bottom lip. He scratched at a spot on his arm.
“Seriously.”
“Yup.”
“Werewolves.”
“That’s what I said.” Cameron was already laughing but then he wasn’t when Divya said:
“That’s it? Really? I thought you guys were serial killers or were secretly making out with each other. Werewolves. I could see that. Is it like a ‘change whenever you want’ kind of thing or ‘only on a full moon’ thing?” Divya went on to rattle off a few more questions, hardly giving time for Cameron to answer.
Somehow, even with his constant persistence that they should totally tell Divya, Cameron felt like maybe Tyler would maul him in the morning.
– –
Tyler didn’t feel worse when he woke up the next morning but he wasn’t exactly better and he was never more grateful that he didn’t have any classes that day than he was the minute he opened his eyes to find out that his head was still pounding, that his limbs felt heavy and that, at some point in the night he had woken up and thrown up in a trashcan that Cameron probably put next to his side of the bed just in case (he would).
So, okay. Maybe it was just bad shrimp (and a bit too much to drink). But yeah. There was no point in being completely sure quite yet.
Stumbling out in his boxers and a t–shirt that may or may not even been his (he couldn’t tell anymore) he shielded his eyes against the sunlight that made him wince, a little disappointed to find that Cameron had disappeared and left him alone with Divya who looked a little too cheerful for so early.
“Hey,” Divya, fully dressed, said, lowering his newspaper, his hair pushed back like he was trying to be professional and Tyler struggled to remember if Divya had some kind of special presentation today or if he just thought he’d try to look extra classy for no apparent reason, “You still look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Tyler muttered, dropping down at the kitchen table across from Divya, burying his face in his arms and groaning.
“Coffee?” Tyler made a noise that absolutely meant ‘yes’. Divya let out one hearty laugh. “Get it yourself.”
“You suck and I hate you.”
“No, I don’t and no, you don’t,” Divya laughed again, going back to his paper. Tyler pushed himself away from the table and staggered over to the counter, pouring himself a large mug of coffee, staring down into it with disgust as he realized that drinking it wouldn’t actually be an option.
“I can’t drink this.”
“I’ll take it off your hands,” Divya blindly reached out behind him until he felt the heavy mug settle in his long fingers, “You should try orange juice.”
“Do we have any?”
“No.”
Tyler got himself water instead and flopped back down in his chair. “I really, really hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” They lapsed into a silence, Tyler absent–mindedly reading the back of the paper, so focused on an article about the state of politics that he missed what Divya said and jumped when Divya tapped him on the hand and then went back to reading. “I said: I know.”
Tyler took a sip of his water. “You know what?”
“About the werewolf thing. Cameron told me last night.”
“Cameron told you.” Tyler sat up a bit straighter, letting out a long breath through his nose, the right side of his mouth turning up in a bit of a smile. “And you believed him.”
Divya lowered one corner of his paper. “Why shouldn’t I? It kind of explains why you guys suddenly started ordering your steaks rare and the whole disappearing on the nights of full moons and then sleeping through the entire next day thing. It’s more fun to believe it anyway.” Tyler didn’t know what to say, so he figured it was best to just not even try, which Divya assumed meant he could just keep talking. “Cameron told me that you being sick probably wasn’t food poisoning.”
“No kidding. Any theories yet?”
“Pheromones.”
“What?”
“Well, you’re part dog…”
“…it’s a little more complicated than that, Div.”
“Just roll with me here. You’re part dog. You guys can probably pick up on pheromones more than normal people. Somebody was coming on way too strong and, since you’ve still got a lot of human in you, it didn’t know how to handle it and your body flipped out,” Divya explained simply like it was just so obvious and Tyler had to pause because it was kind of weird but still a better explanation than the ones he had been leaning on since he first started feeling sick (and yeah, come to think of it, he only started to feel like this after talking to that possibly–a–pervert friend of the coach).
“It’s plausible enough for me to just accept it.”
“You sound like Cameron.” And, like Divya had summoned him, Cameron came tearing through the door, slamming it behind him, halting in his rush when he saw Tyler was awake, stomping over and sticking his hand under Tyler’s chin, pulling his face up so he could inspect it.
“Hi, Cam,” Tyler said, feeling Cameron’s fingers dig into his jaw.
“Did Divya–”
“Yeah, he did. And you’re probably right.”
“About what?”
“About the whole pheromone thing– you can probably let go of my face now, Cam,” Tyler smiled and Cameron may have actually blushed a little bit and Divya just looked kind of amused.
“Right. That. Divya thought of it. Not me. But I’ll take the credit if you’re offering it.”
“Don’t even think about it Winklevoss,” Divya said, “it was a moment of pure genius and I deserve all the recognition. Even if it’s only from you idiots.”
“Hey,” they said simultaneously but with entirely different tones (Tyler kind of laughed it out because he knew Divya didn’t mean it, he never did but Cameron spoke like he took it to heart (he’d always had a problem with being called an idiot ever since their father, in a fit of rage over something ridiculous that none of them can even remember anymore, accidentally called Cameron an ‘idiot’, putting specific emphasis on it like he meant it and Cameron had never quite forgiven him for it).
“Well,” Cameron said, recovering swiftly, moving around behind Tyler so he could drop his hands onto his shoulders, “it wasn’t really a moment of pure genius.”
Tyler quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yup,” and Tyler could practically feel him grinning as he spoke, his grip tightening for a moment, “he just Googled it in a million different ways until something relevant came up.”
“Judas,” Divya exclaimed, slamming his fist down onto the table and Tyler reached out to hold his glass before it toppled over.
“At least he tried,” Tyler said, flinching when Cameron smacked the back of his head in that way he did when he was trying to tell Tyler to stop being a dick because he had no idea how worried he was all night and why hadn’t he even asked where he had been all morning because he didn’t have a class until late that afternoon. “Where were you? This morning.” He leaned back, looking at Cameron upside–down and Cameron appeared startled like he always did whenever Tyler did something like being able to read the smallest twitch of his fingers the way that Cameron knew how to read the way that Tyler smiled (“at least ten different kinds,” Cameron had told him one evening, “ten different smiles”).
“None of your business.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I said okay.”
“You guys do know I’m still here, right,” Divya said, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, mouth quickly pulling into a serious line as he bent forward, stretching one of his arms across the wooden table, fingers moving slowly against the surface as he stared the brothers down. He licked his lips and dragged his teeth along the bottom one. “Can I ask you something?” He didn’t wait for any kind of consent before saying, bluntly: “Can I watch?”
“Watch…” Cameron started, rolling his hand in the air, urging him to answer his own question so they didn’t have to sit there playing twenty questions to try and fill in the blank.
“You guys. When you change. Can I watch?”
Tyler’s face scrunched up. “You think there’s a not creepy way you could ask that?”
“I’m serious.”
“We know you are." A pause. “Why?”
“Why not? Who wouldn’t? I won’t take pictures. I just… want to… yeah, Tyler, I see your point. I do sound kind of voyeuristic. I promise I won’t masturbate either,” Divya blinked at Tyler and Cameron’s reactions, “I’m sorry I said that. I don’t know why it… I swear I hadn’t been thinking about and now I am. This is disturbing. I blame you,” he pointed at Cameron, who scoffed, making a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “Please.”
“No,” Cameron said, shaking his head vigorously, “no.”
“He said ‘please’, Cam.”
“So? That’s not… no. Not gonna happen. Absolutely not.”
– –
“I can’t believe you convinced me this was a good idea,” Cameron said two weeks later, the purple and dark blue of twilight edging in through the windows, the bright, full moon peeking out from the leafless trees, aimlessly wandering over the horizon, only a matter of a couple hours until it reached it's spot high in the pitch black sky freckled with stars, most of which were dimmed by the lights from the campus and nearby city. He was pacing, walking as Tyler and Divya lounged on the couch. Eventually, Tyler stood, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Cameron’s wrist and stop him from moving. They shared a look, talking without opening their mouths.
“So,” Divya clapped his hands, breaking them out of their silent conversation, “how does this work? Do we go outside or what?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said, continuing to keep his gaze on Cameron, who peered down at Tyler’s hand still clutched near his, “We go outside.”
Outside. Outside was chilly, a wind blowing, surrounding them and Tyler shivered. They stood close and took their time, feet scuffing against the stone pathways, listening to the chatter, laughter of the people sitting on the steps, bags and coats hugged to their chests. None of the three spoke and Tyler and Cameron led Divya to a quiet spot among some trees that were clustered together enough to shield them from roving eyes and curious bystanders. It was merely an illusion of privacy but they could never do any better unless they got in their car and drove (they had tried that once but only made it so far before abandoning the vehicle on the side of a busy road and disappearing into some bushes. Having to explain to their father why they had just left the car there and how they ended up twenty miles at least, maybe more, away from it on foot was torture and they never planned on going through it again).
Cameron pulled a bottle of what turned out to be rum from the inside of his coat and he sniffed and swallowed against the sudden cold, a stark contrast to thirteen days ago when it was warm enough to walk without a jacket. Just their luck they hit a cold snap on the day they shed their clothing.
“What’s that for,” Divya asked the same moment Cameron unscrewed the cap, tossing it over his shoulder, pushing the bottle to his lips and taking a big swig, shoving it into Tyler’s waiting hand. “Is it that bad?”
“Sometimes,” Tyler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “all the time,” he said, taking another drink before handing it back to his brother who then offered it to Divya.
“Yeah, sure,” he accepted it, nodding and tilting it forward slightly, raising it in the air before chugging, spilling a bit when he popped it back and away from his mouth. “This is unreal. How do you know… I mean, how will I know?”
“How about I just tell you… shit, yeah, right now,” Cameron said, pushing his coat off, undoing the button on his jeans, taking in a deep breath, listening as Tyler’s sweatshirt hit the bushes, their shoes joining each other in a small pile at the base of a thick tree.
“This is it,” Divya asked, handing the bottle back, watching them finish it like they did it all the fucking time and he took a step or two back, not noticing as his breathing picked up, his heart pounding like a bug running over and over again into a window. Bones cracked, skin rippled, fingernails splintered and awful sounds came from deep within their chests.
The empty bottle, abandoned on the wet grass, shattered underneath the weight of a new, heavy foot.
Divya gasped.
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