Magic Hands

Vic. Drummer. Part-time wolf.

[ancientsstudies]

The fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.

[lynnarty]

With some frames

[derekreedthewolf]

Holding on and letting go

Derek and Victor

Rilke once said ‘We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easy; we do not need to learn it.’

And that’s what brings me here. Practicing letting go when all I want to do is hold on.

Every day I walk the same path through the woods. The familiar scent of earth and pine needles is comforting in a way. You are home the trees seem to whisper to me.

Some days I sit in this shed and I’m alone. I use this time to practice writing song lyrics. I feel like I am in my own little universe.

And other times I am not alone. Sometimes the door opens and I see a familiar face. One of the people I call family. We sit and talk until they either become solid in their own skin or they run off leaving paw prints in the dirt.

But the best times are when he shows up. My soul mate. Victor.

These are moments full of both happiness and anguish. Saying goodbye never hurts less but I cling to the minutes we spend together. We deserve better but until then this is what we have, fleeting moments spent huddled together beside a space heater in a decaying shed.

I bring his favorite snacks, lots of warm clothes, fluffy blankets to snuggle under. Sometimes I bring my guitar and sing for him. Sometimes I bring a poetry book and read it aloud to him. I live for the times when he smiles at me in that way that lights up his whole face like the sun and it makes me forget that I can’t keep him.

Unstable. That’s him always shifting between being the person I love most in the world and a wolf with hauntingly familiar eyes. Unstable. That’s me when I am forced to watch him disappearing into the trees.

Love is worth the pain we must endure. As long as he keeps returning to me then I can be happy. I don’t let myself be afraid that one day he won’t come back to me... that he’ll stay a wolf forever.

“Does this count as a date?” I ask him as we sit together now, holding each other close wrapped up in an old plaid blanket, munching on snacks. One of my hands finds his and our fingers tangle together. “I was thinking wouldn’t it be cool if we could get matching tattoos?”

[baranova-victor]

derekreedthewolf

Derek likes his logic. He’ll count it as a date then. Their options for real dates are limited. Can’t risk Victor turning into a wolf in the middle of some restaurant or something. So he’ll take this. He’ll take whatever time he can get with Victor even if it’s in an old shed. He’ll savor these moments. Derek never knew he could love someone so much.

He gets quiet for a moment. As much as he is enjoying the laughing and joking around, the tattoo he has in mind is serious. He considers how to best approach the subject. He gazes down at their hands clasped together. “Rings,” he finally says. “I was thinking of matching rings. They wouldn’t get lost or fall off or whatever when you… when we… are not ourselves.”

It’s a tough subject. Derek hates to bring up any reminder that Victor is always shifting between two forms. He’s sometimes this Victor holding his hand and other times just a wolf in the woods staring at him with familiar eyes. It hurts every time he thinks about it but he can’t pretend that it’s not their reality.

And it’s a tough subject because he isn’t sure they will ever actually get married. They talk about it all the time, joking around and making silly plans about guests and poems and what kind of music they’d like. Derek isn’t sure how real any of that could be for them. Maybe it’s just a dream that could never come true. It’s still nice to think about. It’s something to give him hope, a future to look forward to. Regardless of that, Derek would marry Victor right this second in this shed if had to. He couldn’t care less about fancy decorations and a big cake. He just wants Victor to be his forever, however long their forever may be.

baranova-victor:

Victor watches Derek’s eyes flutter down towards their hands, Derek’s thumb circling nervously around Victor’s knuckle as he speaks. Victor gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a moment, frankly a little shocked. Sure, they had talked about getting married -- in the passing way couples do. It fills Victor with a fondness he didn’t know he was capable of experiencing to know Derek had seriously thought about this -- to the point of suggesting tattooing something on their human bodies to show their love for one another.

It’s foolproof, really. Like Derek said, it would be impossible for them to lose them, which is vital given their... unpredictable lifestyles. 

Victor meets Derek’s eyes, a wave of emotion crushing him when he realizes Derek is watching him nervously, awaiting his reaction. As if Victor, in any realm or alternate universe, would ever say no.

“That’s perfect.” Victor says. “Seriously, you’re a fucking genius.” Victor raising their intertwined hands, holding them up in the air to face one another, palms connected, fingers lined up, as he imagines mirroring inked rings on each of their fingers. “I love you so much. I think it’s a great idea.”

[remanence-of-love]

Trying to remember and let you go at the same time…

Follow for more relatable love and life quotes!

[derekreedthewolf]

Holding on and letting go

Derek and Victor

Rilke once said ‘We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easy; we do not need to learn it.’

And that’s what brings me here. Practicing letting go when all I want to do is hold on.

Every day I walk the same path through the woods. The familiar scent of earth and pine needles is comforting in a way. You are home the trees seem to whisper to me.

Some days I sit in this shed and I’m alone. I use this time to practice writing song lyrics. I feel like I am in my own little universe.

And other times I am not alone. Sometimes the door opens and I see a familiar face. One of the people I call family. We sit and talk until they either become solid in their own skin or they run off leaving paw prints in the dirt.

But the best times are when he shows up. My soul mate. Victor.

These are moments full of both happiness and anguish. Saying goodbye never hurts less but I cling to the minutes we spend together. We deserve better but until then this is what we have, fleeting moments spent huddled together beside a space heater in a decaying shed.

I bring his favorite snacks, lots of warm clothes, fluffy blankets to snuggle under. Sometimes I bring my guitar and sing for him. Sometimes I bring a poetry book and read it aloud to him. I live for the times when he smiles at me in that way that lights up his whole face like the sun and it makes me forget that I can’t keep him.

Unstable. That’s him always shifting between being the person I love most in the world and a wolf with hauntingly familiar eyes. Unstable. That’s me when I am forced to watch him disappearing into the trees.

Love is worth the pain we must endure. As long as he keeps returning to me then I can be happy. I don’t let myself be afraid that one day he won’t come back to me... that he’ll stay a wolf forever.

“Does this count as a date?” I ask him as we sit together now, holding each other close wrapped up in an old plaid blanket, munching on snacks. One of my hands finds his and our fingers tangle together. “I was thinking wouldn’t it be cool if we could get matching tattoos?”

[baranova-victor]

There are some moments that Victor never wants to forget. Moments that etch themselves permanently into his brain without him even knowing it. Mundane moments that he feels as though he takes for granted sometimes, with how sparse they’ve been. This is one of those moments.

With a sweatpants-covered leg slung over Derek’s lap, Victor sits on the ratty old couch in the shed in Somewhere, Minnesota, fingers trailing abstract patterns into Derek’s knuckles, the hum of the heater filling the otherwise quiet air, a bag of chips settled between their bodies.

“I think this counts as a date,” he says around a mouthful of chips, holding his free fist to his mouth to avoid spewing crumbs in an unflattering fashion. “We’re outside of the house, so I think it counts.”

“Matching tattoos?” Victor echoes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he peers at his boyfriend, who is looking exceptionally cozy and cute and sexy in an oversized crewneck, eyes fond as they meet Victor’s. “That’s almost too adorable, even for us.” He teases, but he would be lying if he said the thought didn’t make his heart do a somersault in his chest. “What were you thinking?”

[quotemadness]

“This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things.I never knew there were so many different ways to say goodbye.”

— Maggie Stiefvater

[sunsetquotes]

“We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easy; we do not need to learn it.”

— Rainer  Maria Rilke

[baranova-victor]

 Late spring air hugs against my body as I run, the scent of blooming flowers and pine trees flooding my senses. Despite the warm weather change, I find myself one of the few still stuck in my lupine skin.

Raising my snout into the air, I feel out for any sign of life within a reasonable distance, my instincts yearning to run with my pack, rather than alone.

A piercing howl startles me, filled with desperation and pain. An image snaps into my head instantly: blood seeping from a wound, a leg caught in a metal beast.

My body reacts instantaneously, feet taking me to the edge of Boundary Wood. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear cars speeding by.

Then I see her, leg mangled into a human-made trap, half hidden in the undergrowth and vines. The fur is matted with blood, the stench filling my nostrils, screaming danger. Her eyes are scared and wild as she looks at me. I don’t recognize her, but I know that she is part of our pack.

Her mouth forms into a whine as I approach her tenderly, ears pulled back, reaching out as far as they can to see if any of the trap-setters are nearby to retrieve their catch. I’ll get you out of there somehow, I promise.

[baranova-victor]

rxnhannah

The female didn’t care about the pain that ran through her body, the need for warmth, the need to feel like a human was much stronger. Hannah didn’t want to turn into a wolf again, she wanted to be human, feel like a human, be around other humans. the brunette was tired but they were so close, so close to home. Giving up now wasn’t an option.

Hannah focused on her breathing, in and out, it was unsteady because of all of the running and heavy. she allowed Victor to jog ahead to open the door as she was feeling way too exhausted and shaky to do it herself but it seemed like Victor was just as exhausted as her.

They finally get inside and a rush runs through her body as she quickly closes the door to keep the warmth inside the house while Victor cracked up the heat. She had missed this place, she had missed the warmth, she had missed being home. She was home. They had made it, they survived for another day. steady the breathing, you’re okay, breathe, you’re okay. Steady the breathing and then change into warmer clothes. the thoughts ran through her head as she took one step at a time, with her eyes closed she breathed in and out slowly steadying her breathing as the adrenaline ran high through her body.

the female opens her hazel eyes and not helping smiling back at the male “Tell me about it, sure got my adrenaline bumping” she admitted as kicked off her shoes and winced when she kicked her hurt leg. She kept forgetting about it but she needed to check on it and clean it properly. Hannah took off the layers of clothes she had wrapped around herself until she was just wearing jeans and a tshirt.

She made her way to the kitchen and found the kettle, turning on the sink, she filled the kettle with water and then turned it on, thinking some warm tea might help “Do you want anything? I can cook after I have gotten dressed into my own clothes and checked the wound” she spoke as she walked out of the kitchen and into her room, she didn’t bother closing the door, he had already seen her naked before as she went and changed into a oversize sweater and leggins.

baranova-victor:

Piles of musty clothing litter the hardwood floors as Hannah and I shed layers -- clearly she had the same thought process I did. She pads barefooted across the room and into the kitchen, reaching up on her toes to reach the kettle in the stored in the cabinet. Afterwards, she walks to her room -- one of few bedrooms that is on the first floor.

I scrub at my tired eyes with my muddy, scraped-up hand, exhaustion beginning to cloud my brain. “A grilled cheese sounds killer, I’m not gonna lie.” I begin to head up the stairs to my room.

Once there, I immediately feel more at ease, the familiarity of my bedroom making me feel more firmly human -- the dark comforter thrown hap-haphazardly across the bed, unmade from whenever I had slept in it last, one of Derek’s guitars leaned in one corner, pants and socks turned inside-out on the floor. The whole room is frozen in time, for some reason tugging at my emotions.

I rummage through my drawers and find a pair of joggers, thick fuzzy socks that Derek had bought me after complaining for the umpteenth time about my “cold-ass feet,” and a hoodie, grab a lone cigarette that sits on my nightstand and tuck it behind my ear, and head downstairs.

Hannah is changed and in the kitchen when I come back down, the crackling sound of the frying pan wafting from the room. She sits at the table, leg propped up on a chair across from her, inspecting her injury, hair falling into her face. I enter the room and take on grilled cheese duty, leaning against the counter, spatula in hand. “How’s it looking?” From where I’m standing, it seems that it has started healing, or at the very least stopped bleeding.

[baranova-victor]

Escape to L.A. || Mackenzie & Vic

One day and six hours. A span of 2,077 miles. Destination: Los Angeles, California.

Victor’s fingers tighten around the straps of his backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning his room for any items left behind. Not that he has much to his name as it is, but it doesn’t hurt to double check.

Mackenzie, Victor’s blonde-haired, doe-eyed best friend, would be coming to pick him up any second to begin their trek to a city he hasn’t seen in months. Years. LA.

It was Victor’s idea, initially. He had been beginning to become stir crazy, cooped up in the house without any contact from the outside world. Without Derek, without Grace, without Cole, he was simply a little speck floating through life, so to speak. Floating. Existing.

He and Mackenzie had distanced themselves from one another the last few months, the cold tearing Victor away from his body more times than he could keep track of, deeming it impossible to keep in touch with her. Now that the grass had become less frosted and brown and the days begin to grow longer, he feels more firm in his skin.

Vic had texted Mackenzie on a whim after tossing and turning in his empty bed, sheets plastered to his legs, comforter tossed carelessly over the edges of the bed as he fought his thoughts, fought to fall asleep. He kept thinking about his past. About NARKOTIKA. About LA.

Victor hadn’t exactly left the city on a light note. Cole face-planting into his keyboard and Vic higher than a kite, barely noticing, isn’t exactly the highlight of his time there. Shortly after is when Beck had found them.

Something inside of Victor longed for something outside of normalcy -- what was now his normal, anyway. A change of scenery. Spontaneity. And what better way to unleash that then by reconnecting with his best friend for the first time all season?

Mackenzie had agreed, and now here Victor sat on his front porch two days later, bags in tow, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips as he waited for her car to arrive. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. There are a million ways this could go wrong. And Derek could change back any day, to find him missing. But at the moment, Vic just needed to escape.

Part of him is nervous to see Mackenzie. Even though his absence wasn’t to ant fault of his own, he hadn’t seen her in months. Heard her voice. Perhaps anticipation was more correct of an emotion.

Just as Victor is fumbling for his phone out of his jacket pocket to check the time, Mackenzie’s little car’s headlights stream through the trees down Beck’s driveway. He can’t contain the smile that spreads across his face when he sees the familiar shape of her in the drivers seat, heart-shaped sunglasses shading her eyes.

[baranova-victor]

mxckenzix:

Kenzie just smiled at his comment about her looking like a new woman as she started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Good because this journey will be something” she replied as she got on the road. She had never been to LA before, sure she had been to places but when she was in one of her moods and disappeared she never want that far that she reached LA so she was excited to see something new.

the now brunette liked driving, she loved the free feeling it gave her, sure she had some fear about driving for personal reasons but driving made her not think, it cleared her head and it was some sort of comfort. She thought a bit about his question wondering what she could tell him, nothing much had been happening, she just stayed home, spent time at the studio, hung out with her friends when she could and some days she just stayed in bed and didn’t answer any calls or open the door. There were up and downs but Mackenzie tried to not let it get to her though it was hard learning to be really happy instead of faking it like she used to. Sometimes she did fake it but it wasn’t as often as she used to but it made her think that maybe she wasn’t that bubbly happy person as she pretended to be.

“Nothing much really, just the everyday habits, all pretty much the same everyday. Dance, home, friends, dance, home, friends you know” Mackenzie wasn’t going to admit that she was lonely, she was lonely in that big house all alone. She was going through that state of wanting someone to wake up next to every morning, she knew many people loved and cared for her but not in the way she was seeking out for. Maybe she was unlovable in that way “What about you?” she asked though she sort of knew the answer to that but maybe it would get the ball going.

She needed to feel normal, she needed the old times.

baranova-victor:

Victor’s eyes scanned the trees as he rode in the passenger seat, Mercy Falls whisking by, fading into the rear-view mirror until it was out of sight. The wind tugs at Victor’s hand as he lets his palm lay open out the window, the breeze flying through the gaps in his fingers. Mackenzie’s hair dances around her face, little strands clinging to her lips, twisting this way and that.

When Mackenzie mentions her daily routine, he remembers fondly the times he has watched Mackenzie dance. She had always seemed to disappear into it, the tension releasing from every joint in her body, the hard lines that appeared on her face when she was upset smoothed away. He had envied it a little -- remembering how playing the drums used to do that for him. But usually that train of thought crashed and burned off a cliff, because then he would start thinking about his old habits, and would shove the thoughts away. He wasn’t about to go there mentally, no sir.

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy,” Vic brings his attention back to Mackenzie, who is fiddling with the radio stations, tongue poking through her lips in concentration in a way that makes him smile in affection for his best friend. “Not much to report at the Werewolf Residence. It’s pretty pathetic, actually.” He laughs. “I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized every soap opera on cable television.” He doesn’t mention that Derek still hasn’t shifted back, which has began to worry him. He was slowly being dragged closer and closer to the brink of insanity, of intense loneliness he never realized he was capable of feeling until then. Lots of nights spent staring up at the ceiling in his room, imaging worst-case-scenarios.

[scottstiles]

Tyler Posey in The Last Summer (2019)

[enisteyjia-deactivated20250106]

[mxckenzix]

baranova-victor

The first thing Victor notices when Mackenzie emerges from her car is her hair, once light, now shimmering in the bright sunlight, darker than his own, curled and resting past her collarbones. She pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head, squinting from the sudden change in light. A cautious smile spreads across her face, mirroring what Victor is feeling – nervous excitement.

Vic secures his bags on his arms, taking his cigarette from his mouth and resting it behind his ear for later. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I think you have the wrong house. I’m waiting for my friend Mackenzie, she’s blonde…” I tease, beginning to describe her, grinning at her as he makes his way down the porch steps, meeting her at the bottom. Vic holds his arm out for a one-armed hug.

It felt like things were clicking back into normal “Haha very funny” she replied and then let out a giggle and hugged him back. She had missed his hugs and his presence. She was going to make sure that the trip went well, it had to for the both of them. They needed this. “You like it though? I decided to go back to my roots, was tired of being a blonde” she asked as she parted from the hug and opened the back of the car for him to place his bag in. 

She was still a little nervous about being all alone with him after such a long time but she was sure they would go back to normal in no time. She was too scared to ask him how he had been, worried that he hadn’t been doing well “Ready?” she asked instead and gave him a smile before opening the driver seat door. 

[baranova-victor]

Once the two pull away from the hug, Mackenzie catches her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, one hand restlessly twisting her brown locks between her fingers, leaned against the side of her car with the trunk popped open.

“It looks good,” Victor promises. “Caught me off guard, is all. You’re like a new woman.”  He tosses his bag into the trunk and slamming it shut, following Mackenzie to get into the car.

He’s filled with energy, eager to get on the road and get back to his roots -- Los Angeles. Although it isn’t his hometown, it felt like home. So many memories were packed into that city -- not all of them pleasant. Nonetheless, Victor wanted to visit again. He felt pulled there, for some reason. For closure, maybe? It makes it all the more fun that Mackenzie had never been there before, not to mention it was a good icebreaker to get back into the swing of things after being apart for so long.

“I was born ready.” Vic flashes a smile as he hops into her car.

Mackenzie’s bracelets dangling from her arms cling together as she backs out of the driveway, pop music playing lowly from the speakers, the smell of citrus fruit filling Victor’s nostrils from the little air freshener in the shape of a pineapple dangling from her rear-view mirror. He realizes how long its been since he’s been in a car that wasn’t Derek’s -- or a car at all, for that matter. Mercy Falls was so small that he could walk anywhere he wanted to. Not that he did, really. Fear of shifting spontaneously usually kept him boarded up in the house. Today, he decided to ignore the nagging fear, say fuck it, and just go. It should be easier to stay human in the warmer state. Or so he’s hoping.

"So,” Victor begins, unsure of where to even start. It had been so long, it seemed a little daunting to start conversation, even though he knew it was ridiculous. Mackenzie is his best friend, they can always fall back into their bond. “What’s new, besides the hair?” He hangs his arm out the open window, feeling the wind pull at him, soaking in the warm air. Warm for springtime in Minnesota, anyway.

[derekreedthewolf]

Part 1

I lost you again. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. I’m a horrible boyfriend. No one understands. I look out into the yard and watch you. I hear you howling for me all through the night and the sound destroys me. I curl up into a ball on the bed crying into the pillow, screaming and trying to drown out the sound of it. I love your voice. I love your howl. I love hearing you out there alive. But you are sad and so am I. We need each other. So close but so far away. I’m stuck here and it’s killing me. It’s the only time I wished I could turn into a wolf already. I wouldn’t fight it. But I need you to fight. I need for us to get through this somehow. I need you to come back to me. If we could live our lives forever as wolves, if that’s all there was I would take it, but there’s more to this. I want you in my bed wrapped in my arms so that you can never leave. I want forever with you. But you are gone. So I drink to try to numb the pain and I stare outside my window at your eyes. Remember how you said that you were worried I wouldn’t recognize your eyes as a wolf? I do. I recognize them. I know you. I know you as a human and I know you as a wolf. Because you are my soul mate. I will always know you.

[baranova-victor]

Sometimes I find myself staring into the cracked blinds of the house, eyes searching for a hint of movement in the yellowed light of the room. Searching for something I can’t place, driven merely by a sense of loneliness, of missing something, deep within the pit of my stomach. I can sense you inside, even when you aren’t one of us. My instincts warn me away from traveling so close to humans, but something stronger, deeper, urges me to stay. When an unexpected movement flashes through the window, I’m jolted back, paws pounding against the frostbitten grass as I run back to the trees.

I miss you when my fur grazes another one of the pack’s, sensing your absence. The lack of your howl among the others, no footsteps in the snow to indicate you have been with us. I feel it through a deep ache in my chest, a feeling that confuses my animal mind in its intensity, in its otherness. I wait for you every morning, every night, lifting my head and calling to you from the woods, hoping that somehow, you can hear my voice, calling you home.

[baranova-victor]

derekreedthewolf

Derek is surprised by the questions that come out of Victor’s mouth. Is that what he really thinks is true? That Derek would be better off without him? Would be better off if they had never even met? Did he wish that Victor wasn’t a wolf? Of course not.

“No,” he answers honestly, gazing at his boyfriend and feeling his heart shattering in his chest. “Before I met you I barely existed. I was just waiting until it was my time to go off into the woods and die like the other wolves. I didn’t know what it was like to be happy. You changed everything for the better. You made me a better person just by knowing you. You make me so happy and make life worth living.”

He felt like crying again but he was trying so hard to hold it together for Vic. “If you weren’t a wolf then we wouldn’t have met and maybe your life would be better off but probably not because you weren’t doing well when Beck…” But he doesn’t want to talk about that so he moves onto the next question.

“I do wish you didn’t leave. It’s not your fault. I’m grateful for the short time we get together. I don’t regret being with you. I’d never regret that no matter what.” That’s the truth. He would never ever regret Victor in a million years. He’s so thankful for him, thankful that he’s gotten to know him and love him and any time they’ve spent together has been a gift.

He wants to be strong. He wants to let Victor go and not have it destroy him. He wants to reassure Victor that it’s okay and that he’ll be okay without him. But he can’t. He doesn’t blame Victor. He knows Vic isn’t choosing to leave and can’t control it. If anything he blames himself for not being able to find a cure already. Every time Victor leaves it always feels like having his heart ripped out. It feels like all of the light and goodness in his life just drains out of him and all that’s left is him all alone in the darkness.

He wishes he could be a better boyfriend, wishes that he could at least pretend to be okay in Victor’s absence. But he can’t. He’s already crying again now, unable to control himself.

baranova-victor

Victor’s eyes remain planted to the speckled floor, studying each individual strand of fabric in the burgundy blanket cascaded around his feet, soaking in Derek’s words.

Although Derek has said similar things to Victor in the past -- he isn’t completely oblivious to the affectionate gleam in Derek’s eyes when they lock gazes, the gravitational pull of their bodies when they’re merely in the same room, but it still fills Vic with a thick wave of emotion that overtakes his body, consuming him. He never had given much thought of his future before meeting Derek, especially in the significant-other sense. He never could have imagined someone would see him this way. That he would make someone happy, make someone feel like life was worth living.

Victor finally drags his gaze back to Derek as he speaks, his partner’s eyes shimmering even in the dimly lit bathroom, his voice a low tenor over the roar of the bathtub filling, steam hovering above their heads and floating up, fogging the glass of the mirror. Despite everything, he’s never loved Derek more than in this moment, when his life is falling into shambles around him. His feelings are constant, consistent, never wavering in their honest vulnerability and passion.

Body shaking and numb, Victor slowly scoots himself off of his perch on the toilet seat and sits on the floor beside Derek, whose back rests against the tub, knees pulled up to his chest, fingers fumbling with the straying strands of string littering the knees of his jeans. Victor stops their nervous picking with his own shaking hands, squeezing his fingers inside of his own.

Words often escape Victor -- he’s never been the best at conveying his feelings, especially ones that are this intense, this real. He isn’t well versed in romance, never feels adequate, a mere shadow in Derek’s blinding light. He wishes he could say this and more, explain the way his heart physically aches within his rib-cage at his words of reassurance, the way Derek’s eyes bore into his own with nothing short of love.

Instead, Victor simply brings his boyfriend’s knuckles up to his chapped lips and kisses each one, gently, focusing on the sensation of his skin against them, the exhale that escapes Derek’s own lips, rather than the gnawing feeling of otherness that he feels threatening to overtake his body, his fleeting brain.

Tears streak down Derek’s face, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he fights to keep his sobs inside. Victor rests his cheek against Derek’s hands. “I want to be everything you need me to be, everything you deserve.” Victor’s voice trembles, barely above the sound of the running water. “You are everything to me, Derek. It feels like I was just floating through my life before you were in it. Like I wasn’t really me.” He inhales a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut so hard he sees colorful stars behind his eyelids. “You make me better, want to be better. I don’t want to hurt you. I fucking hate it.” He can’t stop his voice from breaking. “I’m scared for the day I can’t control it anymore. That the shifts like this never stop.”

As far as Victor is aware, there has never been another like him. So unstable. It’s unknown territory for them all. And it terrifies him. It terrifies him even more to voice these fears aloud, speaking them into existence.

[theselockscreens]

parachute, neck deep.

like if you save! pics are mine, words are not.

[baranova-victor]

derekreedthewolf

Derek can barely believe that Victor is trying to comfort him and reassure him after he’d just locked him in the basement like the worst boyfriend in the entire universe. He should be the one assuring Victor that everything was okay and that none of this was his fault. It wasn’t fair to punish Victor for something he couldn’t control.

“What can I do for you?” he asked him. “How can I make this better? Do you still feel…?” Do you still feel unstable? Would Victor change forms again in the next few moments? Just the idea of it made his heart ache. He couldn’t handle this.

“Do you want a hot bath?” he asked him. “I can help you.” He couldn’t help anyone, especially himself. Victor’s reassurance did help him a little. He hated himself a little less than before. Maybe he wouldn’t go and do something stupid in Victor’s absence like he usually did. Maybe.

baranova-victor

Derek’s eyes are almost pleading as he offers help, wanting to make things right between them. There is a nagging, itching feeling deep in the pit of Victor’s stomach, the unfamiliar bite of anger, of betrayal. He pushes it down as far as he possibly can, not wanting it to bubble to the surface. He can’t be mad at Derek for this. He won’t let himself.

“Yeah, a bath would be good.” Victor meets his partner’s gaze again, ignoring the former question, because he knows Derek wouldn’t like the answer. Although he feels more human than he had a moment prior, he wouldn’t exactly label it stable. He knows that he can’t trust his own body, his own instincts. When he gets like this, there’s no telling what could happen. It sneaks up on him, creeping, lingering in the shadows of his mind, deep in his bones.

What can I do to make this better? Turn back time. Victor wants to say.

The two boys stagger to their feet, disoriented from emotion and prolonged sitting. Victor’s stomach churns, and his head pounds like the worst hangover he’s ever had. He squeezes his eyes shut, catching his bearings, willing it to go away, or at the very least subside.

Derek leads the way upstairs, slowly, his hand trailing behind him, Victor’s hand attached lightly, a ghostly whisper against his fingertips. He makes a conscious effort not to stare at the damage he created in his desperate attempts at escape -- it only makes him feel more shitty.

Vic and Derek reach the downstairs bathroom, Victor settling himself onto the closed toilet seat, elbows propped on his knees, letting his head sink into his hands. Derek fumbles with the knobs of the tub, the roar of the water pounding against the bottom startling him despite him knowing it was coming. His reactions still seem feral in nature, skittish.

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t met me?” The words leave Victor’s mouth before he can filter them, his head unmoving, still drooping between his open knees, eyes on the blanket fabric twisted near his feet, still wrapped around his shoulders in a half-attempt at warmth and modesty. “Or wish I wasn’t a wolf? Wish that I didn’t leave?” His words become more slurred with each syllable, cohesive thought and pronunciation escaping him. He’s losing it.

[playlistforthesongsilove]

Why were you digging? What did you bury Before those hands pulled me From the earth?