Forgotten Childhood Werewolf: Part One
Once again, thank @barking-brat for helping me come up with this idea. Lol
When you were a child, you moved around a lot. That led to you meeting many people, but also forgetting many. That was why when the shy, but admittedly charming, werewolf from your Chemistry class started talking to you, you didn’t remember him at all. You thought he was just a nice classmate who was eager to make friend sin a new town.
Yiska, on the other hand, remembered you. Remembered everything about you. You were his mate, after all. You had moved into town only a few miles away from the Reservation he lived on, so the two of you had gone to school together. Well, the four of you, if you counted his two sisters that were in your class. Normally, werewolves don’t recognize their mates so young, but after his sister introduced the two of you, it was like his gray world had exploded with color. He had never even known that he was missing something until that moment.
So when you moved away, it was crushing. He was too young to understand what he was really losing. To understand why it felt like he was being ripped apart.
It hurt when now, he smelled another male on you, or when you smiled politely, al without the cheer he used to find on your face for those few months when you were kids. However, he knew that you were his. You were made for him. And him alone. He wouldn’t let something as unimportant as your having a human spouse run him off.
Grandmother Moon made you for him.
You were why he had moved here, and a human wouldn’t stop him from having you. He couldn’t love you as much as he did.
When he had been helping his sisters pac for college, one of them had found a shirt you had give her the day before you moved away. It was your favorite at the time, and you tearfully gave it to her as something to remember you by. She laughed, talking about how sweet you were. How that semester meant so much to her. Yiska, on the other hand, he could hardly breathe. Hardly hear his sister. The second he caught your dull scent on that shirt, he knew.
Despite the old musk and cedar scent from being packed away in her keepsake chest for years, he knew.
That scent, your scent, you were his make. Everything made sense. The way his world had brightened when he met you. The way no one could really catch his attention even after all these years. This way his wolf ached in the back of his mind any time he thought of another female. It was you. It had always been you.
The yearbook didn’t have your picture or name because of the time you transferred in, and out, and his sister didn’t remember your last name. It had been too many years, and you were just kids, after all.
Luckily for him, his mother never threw out anything, so from one of her many notebooks full of handwritten phone numbers, she found your mother’s. Last name included.
“Bet you kids ain’t gon’ make funna my collectin’ now,” she smirked, her thick Oklahoma accent dripping with a condensation only a mother can have.
And that was all it took. A little internet sleuthing and he found what collect you went to. Transferring took a few months, but that was fine. It gave him time to learn everything about this new, grown up version of you.
That was why when you dropped your pen that first day, he easily snatched it up. With his wide, toothy grin, he said, “hey, you dropped this,” as he gripped the pen in the claws he had worked so hard to try to keep hidden.
And you said with a polite, clueless smile, “thanks. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”
Poor Yiska felt sick, but that was okay. He could overcome this too. You would remember him eventually. You had to. His eyes flickered to the ring on your finger, but he already knew you were married. It didn’t matter.
“Yiska, but you can call me Ka.”
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