Connor and the Wolves - 50. Acceptance

The world had ended.
No, the world kept going. Connor’s life was over. He’d expected this. He knew it was coming.
So why did it hurt so much?
He leaned against a sink, glaring at his reflection. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. A sniffle broke the quiet around him, and Connor scowled. His eyes were still blotchy from his meltdown earlier — that could not happen again. There’d be plenty of time to cry when he left. When he went to Soren’s house.
Connor’s gut twisted. How long would that last? He couldn’t live at Soren’s house. And he was a werewolf. The second his mother found out, Connor would lose that home too. He thought he’d had this all planned out. He’d thought River wouldn’t find out, not until he was more ready to live on his own. He’d had time.
That had been a problem for future Connor.
Future Connor loathed past Connor.
“Come on, pull yourself together.”
Even his voice sounded strained. How was he supposed to get through an entire night of juggling Silas and Soren? All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and go to sleep. Things would be better in the morning.
They had to be. How could they get any worse?
“I saw a janitor go in there.” Soren’s voice rumbled near the locker room entrance. “I wouldn’t go in there yet.”
Connor sucked in a deep breath. Mask up. He cleared his throat. Wiped his eyes. Turning toward the door, he focused on getting a spring back to his step.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered to Soren.
The mage smiled wanly. Wrapping an arm around Connor, he pulled Connor in close, squeezing the broken shards back together.
“It’s okay.”
Connor took a deep breath. He wriggled free from Soren.
“Maybe later?” he asked at Soren’s hurt expression. “I’m not sure I can handle hugs right now.”
“Okay.”
The two stared at each other for a moment. For the first time, Connor could really see the pain in Soren’s eyes, the need to comfort him.
“I-”
“There you are!”
Silas barged between them. He backed Connor against the wall, glowering.
“Did you call the guard after our… thing?” he growled.
Connor grunted, meeting the werewolf’s eyes.
“Yeah,” he said with a clear challenge. Fucking right he called the guard about a neko farm.
Silas’ hands clenched, and Connor braced himself for a fight. The werewolf’s hand raised.
And fell on his shoulder awkwardly.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “I’ve been trying to ditch those fuckers for months. Now they’ll go after you, not me.”
“Glad to know where I stand with you.” Connor rolled his eyes. “I regret nothing.”
Removing his hand, Silas scowled at Soren.
“This your mate?” he growled.
“Yep. This is Soren. Soren, Silas. He’s the wolf who turned me,” Connor said.
“Nice to meet you,” Soren muttered.
“I’m not turning you too,” Silas said.
“I- I…”
“Don’t need you to,” Connor grumbled. “Look, you got fifteen minutes. Then you better come down with something. Are we doing this or not?”
“The deal was you’d go to the dance with me,” Silas said.
“And here I am. With you. Deal’s done,” Connor pointed out. “Look, don’t fuck with me. I’ve had a rough night. Let’s just get this over with so I can spend time with my mate.”
“Whatever.”
Grabbing Connor’s hand, Silas dragged him toward the pitch. Connor glanced back at Soren.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” Soren said, shooing him away. “I’ll be fine.”
Fifteen minutes. That’s all he’d give. Then Connor was going to try to enjoy the evening with Soren.

Gods, this was exhausting! Connor scurried toward a group of tables, glancing around warily for Silas. Twenty minutes come and gone, and the werewolf still refused to let him go.
He needed some sort of interference.
There! Devyn sat at a table, a pained grimace on his face. And wearing a blue dress? Connor shrugged, making his way toward the werewolf. He reached the table just as Devyn let out a thunderous sneeze.
“Fuck Devyn, a sneeze like that would raise Zasar’s beloved,” Cpnnor said, dropping into a seat. “Hey, you haven’t seen Silas around, have you?”
Devyn shook his head, and Connor sighed in relief. He grabbed his phone, shooting a quick message to Soren.
“Thank the gods… he’s been all over me all afternoon. I swear he thought I was going to ditch him or something.” He kicked his feet up, trying to at least look relaxed. “I’m this fucking close to doing it too.” To actually managing it, that was.
“But… if you’re here, and he isn’t, didn’t you already leave him?” Devyn asked in confusion.
“Oh. I suppose you’re right,” Connor shrugged. “So what’s up with the dress?” His eyes ran over Devyn’s body. “You’re not turning into a girl, are you?”
Devyn shook his head, scowling at the thought. He wasn’t a girl.
“I mean, it’s fine if you are,” Connor added quickly. Gods forbid he be against that; Khurtschono would have his head.
“I’m a boy,” Devyn grumbled, looking around.
“There you are!”
Silas hurried toward the two with a cup in each hand. So that’s where he’d gone off to. Connor bit back a groan as the werewolf approached. This had gone on long enough. What was he supposed to tell Soren? Sorry, I brought you here and now I’m ignoring you?
“Here.” Silas shoved a cup at Connor. Cranberry juice sloshed over the rim.
“Fuck!” Connor fell out of his chair, shaking his wrist frantically. “Silas, this is a rental! Where the fuck is a towel?”
“I’m sorry. I thought you had-”
“Tell that to my dad! He’s going to kill me!”
His gut twinged. The words came by themselves — he had no control over them. And now Connor was even closer to breaking.
He rushed toward the lockers, nearly bowling Soren over.
“Connor?!”
Fuck! Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry-
Shoving into the restroom, Connor lunged for a towel dispenser. He began furiously dabbing at his sleeve, giving him something, anything, to do.
“Let me in there,” Silas growled from the doorway.
“I think you’ve done enough,” Soren said, blocking Silas’ path. “We’re leaving.”
“What?” Connor spun. “No, Soren, we can’t go yet!”
He hadn’t even spent any time with Soren. How had this night gone so wrong?
A spasm struck his gut, and Connor groaned. Heat flooded him — shit, did he not take enough wolfsbane? He couldn’t turn, not here, not now! Yet the world was blurring, his body was turning inside out.
“Soren!”
The mage was at his side in an instant, helping him to the ground.
“Easy,” Soren murmured, pressing a finger to Connor’s neck. His brow furrowed. “Wolfsbane poisoning,” he muttered.
“What?” Connor’s heart thundered in his chest. “I thought it was going to keep me from shifting!”
Soren bit his lip, looking away from Connor.
“Soren?”
“Not if you aren’t a werewolf.”

Connor stared up at the ceiling, feeling the icy drip of liquid entering his arm. He was going to be sick. His stomach twisted and turned, and his mind gave him no relief. The quiet beeps of machinery drilled into his head, a steady soundtrack to his colossal fuck up.
There was no going back. He’d lost his dad. And he wasn’t even a fucking werewolf! Not that River would care. Connor had made an attempt; that was all that mattered.
“Hey.” He turned his head. Soren took his hand, squeezing it. “I got you. Don’t worry about anything, okay? You can stay with me as long as you need.”
Connor smiled bitterly.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
Scooting his chair closer, Soren pulled Connor gently until Connor was laying halfway in his lap. The mage’s hands awkwardly combed through his hair.
He shattered.
There was no holding back the tears flooding his eyes, the hitched breath shaking his body. Shoving his head deeper into Soren’s lap, it was all Connor could do to muffle his sobs.
“Wolfsbane poisoning?!” His head shot up. Bleary eyes made Emma look terrifying in her guard uniform. Connor couldn’t hold back a shudder as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Quit your blubbering. I told you this would happen. And you.” She whirled on Soren. “Get your hands off my son!”
Soren’s hand vanished. Connor grabbed the mage, clutching to him like a lifeline.
“It wasn’t him,” he croaked.
“How many times did I tell you, don’t try to become a werewolf?! And now you’ve gone and poisoned yourself because you just refuse to listen to what anyone says!”
“I just… I just wanna go home….”
Even as he breathed the words, Connor knew they were hopeless. But he was exhausted. The entire evening was fucked. And now, so was his life.
“Then I suggest you call your dad and beg his forgiveness. You know werewolves aren’t allowed in the Meadows.” Emma glared at him. “You’ve pulled a lot of stupid shit over the years. But I never thought you’d actually try to become a werewolf.”
“But he’s not a werewolf,” Soren pointed out.
“I know you well enough to know this won’t stop you. You tried once; you will try again. And I won’t put my livelihood at risk for you.” A beep interrupted Emma, and she backed toward the door. “You can get your things tomorrow. But you’re not staying with me anymore. You want to make adult decisions? Then be an adult.”
He knew it was coming. But even knowing beforehand didn’t make it any easier to watch his mom walk out of the room.
Connor was alone.
And suddenly his tears were gone. A numbness took their place. He didn’t know how long he stared at the door while the IV dripped and Soren waited.
“You don’t have to wait.” The words scraped his throat. Tore at his chest.
The chair creaked as Soren shifted next to him.
“I want to stay with you.”
“Soren.” Connor squeezed his eyes shut. Only the remnants of tears wetted his cheeks. “Please go.”
He could see the hurt in Soren’s eyes. The agony. But Connor couldn’t fracture any more. He was shattered beyond repair.

A broken man trudged out of the hospital. Phone in hand, Connor slumped against a cold concrete wall.
The sunrise shone in his eyes. It was a new day.
A new slice of torment. Maybe he was through the worst. It couldn’t hurt more than this.
He forced his finger to the phone. Pressed a button. And then another.
The phone buzzed. He swallowed drily.
“Hello?”
Another swallow. He needed to do this.
“Connor? Is everything okay?”
“Hey Dan-” Fuck, it came out a croak. He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut. “Hey Dan.” Better. “I… I need you to check on my father.”
Silence.
Then… “Any particular reason why?”
He was wrong. It could hurt more.
“He kicked me out. I don’t want him to slip.” Connor fought back a whimper.
Don’t let them see you break.
“Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yeah.” The lie came easily. Too easily. “I’m staying with a friend.” He shivered, leaning back against the wall. Where was he going? There was no meet today. No school. No practice. He should be sleeping, enjoying a few more hours before waking up for a large breakfast.
Or cuddling with Soren. The wolf who had convinced him to change. The wolf who wasn’t even a wolf.
Hot tears pricked his eyes. Huh… he actually wasn’t cried out yet.
“Connor? Are you still there?”
He swallowed again.
“Yeah. Still here,” Connor said, forcing the words out as smoothly as he could. “Just… make sure my father’s okay.”
He dropped the phone. Jabbed the button to end the call.
And Connor leaned back, staring blindly at the overhang.
It felt so wrong, letting the stress win. But he couldn’t keep going. Not anymore. What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to go? He couldn’t stay with Soren. He couldn’t pile his mistakes on the mage.
He knew where he needed to go. Well, not exactly where — Connor needed to look the place up. But there would be a homeless shelter, probably close to Timber Creek. Or he could try his luck at the West Astaran Packhouse; his mother was a member of the pack, and that allowed him certain privileges. But he didn’t want to take a bed from someone in need.
Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath.
You’re homeless.
The words struck hard. He was homeless. He was someone in need.
Slowly, Connor picked himself up. The hospital was bound to have some sort of packet or sheet, an address for the nearest shelter, if nothing else.
Trudging through the door, he slammed into a wall of warm flesh. Connor’s eyes widened as he looked up.
“Soren?!” The mage glanced away quickly. Connor could almost imagine wolf ears folding aside. “What are you doing here?”
He still wore the teal jacket from the night before, albeit crumpled and creased. Dark splotches lined his eyes, visible no matter how he tried to hide them.
“You didn’t go home, did you?” Connor accused.
Soren shook his head.
“I was worried,” he mumbled. “You… you aren’t going to ask me for help. Are you.” It wasn’t a question. Connor’s eyes widened at the quiet hardness to the words.
“I-”
Soren’s throat rumbled — clearing it? Or was the mage actually growling?!
“Look, you’re my mate,” he said, his words wavering. “You tried taking care of me. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”
The mage seemed so uncertain… so nervous. Connor could say no. Connor could shatter him, tell him he didn’t need help.
“...Okay.”