the moon hangs over his head, the only celestial body alight in the night sky in a city as large as this. she hovers there, just a sliver past full, waning away slowly until she’s all but vanished from the sky only to return again. ten was careful last night. he doesn’t keep track of the moon’s current phase religiously, but since becoming so involved with an alpha werewolf he has to admit that he’s a little more aware than he used to be.
he’s alone, but he feels safe enough. the streets should be no more dangerous than any other night and he knows from his dealings with the supernatural that tensions are nowhere near as high as they had been months ago. he’s just walking back from a friend’s home, picking up a copy of the notes he had missed in class a few days ago and had wanted to gloss over before the test. the papers make no difference in the weight of his backpack, but ten’s steps feel a little slower than they had been when he was walking the other way. he doesn’t want to go home. he doesn’t want to study.
as he walks, he lets his mind wander, thinking about where he’d rather be. it’s easy to imagine the pulsing bass in his chest and the stink of sweating, dancing bodies in a club. maybe he’d be on the dance floor right now, a drink sloshing around in his hand messily and playful touches and smirks shared with anyone who would slide up to him. his mind drifts to another scenario where he’s pressed against a mattress, a low voice in his ear and familiar hands on his skin. ten averts his thoughts quickly, a shiver running down his spine regardless. johnny’s been busy with the pack on a full moon; ten should pay him a visit later in the next couple days.
suddenly and without any warning, there’s a loud clatter from a tiny side-road he’s just about to pass by. ten jumps, skin prickling and heart racing as the unexpected noise sends a panic straight through his whole system. it was just garbage cans, he realizes, seeing a toppled bin. probably a stray dog or something looking for food.
but he’s not a total idiot, so as he continues his walk he’s careful to leave a wide berth around the area the clatter had come from. even if it is just a dog, he doesn’t really feel like being bitten by anything rabid tonight. vampire bites, fine. dog bites? no thanks.
what happens next seems to happen very slowly, and yet too quickly for the young man to even begin to comprehend what’s happening. it’s a person, he knows that much even when he’s being toppled over. his head hits pavement hard and his world goes black around the edges and fuzzy, and distantly he has the thought that he should scream. the sound never makes it out of his lips his attacker on top of him immediately. ten doesn’t even have time to let out a groan of pain before blunt, human teeth are on his throat. he thrashes, panicked cries finally leaving his lips that turn more gurgled as he feels teeth break flesh. his kicks and flails go unnoticed by the aggressor who shrugs them off as easily as if ten’s attempts to fight was nearly an annoying fly.
werewolf, ten realizes, just before it feels like his whole body is tearing itself apart. maybe the wolf really is killing him, ripping him limb from limb, breaking his bones until there’s nothing left that’s whole. it’s too much, far too much for him to tolerate, and the world goes black.
sticky. it’s the first thing he registers when he comes to, the world still dark around him but no sign of the werewolf that had been tearing him apart. it’s blood, ten realizes, his own blood. it wets his clothes uncomfortably, sticks to the back of his head in matted clumps of hair. he shivers, tears in his clothing making him feel exposed despite being decently covered.
he notices the loud next. sounds he’s never heard, voices with bodies he can’t connect them to, distant and too close all at once. cars, a train, buses, horns, chatter, the click of a cash register opening and the ring of a shop bell. ten sits up suddenly and the world spins, and the loud does not stop. smells too, his blood, the werewolf that had been on top of him, his friend on crumpled papers in a now stained backpack, each item of spilled garbage and every single item that was still in the bins. his senses are overwhelmed, never before taking in so much information at once.
it hurts, his whole body aches as if he had just ran a marathon and then died and came back to life.
phone, he tells himself, trying not to keep himself together despite the overwhelming urge to cry. it’s not in his pocket where it should be and a choked sob forces its way out, irritating the wound in his throat where teeth—no, fangs—had been. panic begins to creep in, making his breathing rapid and his senses kick into a new level of overdrive. he finds his phone, screen shattered and laying on the ground not there feet away from where his head had been, but his hands are shaking as he clutches the device.
there’s so much blood. i need to call for help. it hurts. there’s too much.
