Connor and the Wolves - 34. Crossing Rivers

It was funny how his hopes and dreams came crashing down, and all Connor could do was grin about it.
Okay, maybe not his dreams. But he had been hoping Soren would turn him. It was one of those decisions he really probably should think out more, but Connor had never been one for meticulous planning.
The walk to the river was long enough to soothe the sting — what werewolf didn’t want to fuck their boyfriend? He knew he was being unfair. Not all werewolves were horny. Some were more predatory around the full moon, spending their nights hunting rabbits or squirrels. Others took walks to relieve the excess energy. Soren certainly seemed to be in the last group.
Water rushed past as Connor led Soren over an arching bridge. The wooden planks thudded under their feet, nearly drowning out the nearby rapids. Kids screamed in the water below, their parents allowing one last day of freedom before the weather turned.
A hand slipped cautiously around Connor’s. Looking up, Connor smiled at Soren and squeezed his hand. It had been… what, four days since Soren claimed him? Really not long enough to spend any amount of time with each other, considering the distance between them.
“I’m sorry,” he said as they walked. “I really haven’t given you a chance. I mean, everything you’ve done has been… really romantic, honestly. Well… aside from the stalking thing.”
“You’re not going to forget that, are you.” Glancing up, Connor saw a tiny smile play across Soren’s lips.
“Probably not,” he grinned back.
“You’re still wearing my bracelet.”
It was almost as if Soren was surprised.
“Of course I am,” Connor said, nudging the werewolf. “You made it for me. That’s the first time anyone’s ever done something like that for me.”
An ambulance wailed past the river, speeding over another bridge nearby. The river meandered by, not a care in the world save what path was easiest to flow down. Cutting through the city, it had been given preferential treatment. There were piers near the east end of the city where boats could dock, and to the west, several benches lined the river, where people could watch the waterfowl as the day passed them by.
It wasn’t as primal as Soren’s fishing spot, but it was one of Connor’s favourite places in the city.
“I’m sorry too,” Soren murmured as they passed a patio filled with diners.
Spiced elven food lingered in Connor’s nose. If he hadn’t just eaten, he would have suggested stopping. But they continued their walk down the river instead.
“For what?”
Soren shrugged.
“You’re mad I can’t turn you.”
“Hey, there are other ways. I mean, if you’re open to me being a werewolf.”
Soren’s hand tightened slightly. He exhaled slowly, staring out over the water.
“That’s your choice to make. I shouldn’t influence it.”
“You’re my mate.” Connor paused, following Soren’s gaze across the river. “Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded after a moment’s thought. “I really should make that decision for myself, not you.”
By unspoken agreement, they made their way to a bench, sitting back under an arbour as a gaggle of geese splashed noisily down in the river.
“If I do become a werewolf, that won’t change anything between us, right?”
It felt stupid to even ask, but Connor couldn’t drop that nagging feeling. What if Soren was just chasing humans to turn them? That was entirely his parents talking, but the thought was still hard to remove from his mind.
“I will always want to be with you, whether you’re a werewolf or not,” Soren said, leaning cautiously against Connor.
Leaning back, Connor lowered the werewolf until he was laying in Connor’s lap. Soren’s cinnamon hair drew his fingers, and Connor began combing through the bright strands, carefully picking out knots. It could have been his imagination, but it looked like there was a tear in Soren’s eye.

He couldn’t pull his hand from Soren’s.
Through the entire walk home — the entire dozen kilometre walk from west Astara to Connor’s neighbourhood — Connor clutched Soren’s hand. Or was it Soren clutching his hand, like a lifeline? He didn’t know why that thought came to mind, but Soren seemed to really need the connection today. Maybe it was the absence of Khurtschono. Maybe it was the claim. Whatever the reason, Connor was not letting go.
Feet sore from the walk, they climbed the three flights of stairs to Connor’s apartment, hands still glued together. Outside his door, Connor turned, backing Soren against the wall across the hall. Reaching up, his lips caressed Soren’s tenderly as his free hand cupped Soren’s face.
“You up to face my father?”
Sucking in a deep breath, Soren nodded.
“If… if it’s okay. I mean, I should probably get home and make dinner soon-”
Connor pressed a finger to the werewolf’s lips.
“Pretty sure we’re going out for neko food tonight,” he said. “It’s a tradition we have.”
He heard Soren’s stomach rumble. Just how much food could the werewolf put away? It didn’t matter. Connor was going to do everything he could to let Soren explore dietary options beyond freshly killed fish. He was going to provide for his mate.
Stealing another kiss, Connor reached into his pocket. He fumbled one handed with his keys until he successfully wrangled the right key into the lock. The door creaked open, each groan the crackle of gunfire in the quiet apartment. Wincing, Connor forged ahead, pulling Soren inside after him.
River’s eye followed Connor from the recliner. When Soren appeared, he grunted.
“Got a call today.” Connor tensed slightly. “Seems you skipped fourth period. Any particular reason why?”
If there was something River hated more than werewolves, it was skipping out on work. That his sleep had been interrupted just rubbed salt into the wound.
“I was feeding the poor?” Connor tried. Soren winced behind him, hand slipping away. “Oh, no, Soren, I didn’t mean it like that!”
“I have to go,” Soren muttered, turning toward the door. That time, there definitely was a tear.
The door closed loudly between them, and Connor sagged.
“Fuck!”
“Language,” River snapped. “If your relationship with Soren is going to make you cut classes, I’m going to end it. You have responsibilities you cannot neglect.”
“It was one class,” Connor said sullenly, trudging toward the bedroom. “And it doesn’t look like you’ll have to end it. I think I just did.”
“And what about practice? I doubt your coach was happy about you skipping.”
“Can we not do this right now?” Connor snapped. He instantly regretted it — he’d never snapped at his father before. River’s eye narrowed, a snarl on his lips. “Sorry,” Connor muttered. “I don’t… I just need to be alone right now.”
“Fine. I’m going for a walk,” River growled. “Enjoy your solitude.”
He stalked into the bathroom with a set of clothes. Connor threw himself on the bed with a groan. His phone was in his hands a second later, pulling up PackTalk. Connor paused with his finger over the call button. Soren rode the bus in wolf form. There was no way he could answer the phone, and without Soren’s actual number, there was no way Connor could leave a message.
His fingers flew over the phone as River stormed out of the bathroom. Connor’s father stalked from the room, and the front door slammed shut a moment later, leaving a deep pit in Connor’s stomach.
‘I’m sorry. I never should have said that, even as a joke. I understand if you need some time to cool off, but call me when you can.’
Tossing his phone aside, Connor fell back on the bed. The day had been going great. How could he fuck that all up this badly? And why did it hurt so much? How could he fall for the werewolf this fast? It made no sense.
He slid off the bed, trudging to the bathroom. There was no sense wallowing in misery. A shower would help him feel better.
The water ground on, as hot as Connor could get it. He closed the door and stripped before stepping under the searing rain. Sitting heavily, Connor let the relentless heat wash over him, soaking into him. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around himself. He could almost imagine it was Soren’s arms wrapped crushingly around him, holding him together.
A cheerful ringing pierced his malaise. Connor shot up, slipping in his scramble to escape the tub. He sprinted into the bedroom, hurling himself on the bed to grab his phone.
“Hello?” he said breathlessly.
“Erik’s had a relapse. I’m on my way to his place now,” River said gruffly, and Connor’s heart plummeted even further. Apparently the day wasn’t done yet. “Don’t expect me home anytime soon.”
“Yeah,” Connor muttered. “Look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” River agreed. “You made your bed. Time to lie in it.”
“Yes sir,” Connor sucked in a deep breath. “Will you be back before morning?”
Even as he asked the question, Connor knew it was stupid. River would be gone as long as he needed to be to help Erik sober up. Maybe even longer, if their support group thought Erik needed someone to watch him.
“We’ll discuss the consequences of your actions after school tomorrow. And you will attend every class,” River said instead.
The line went dead, and Connor dropped the phone. His shin throbbed where he’d smacked it on the tub. The pain almost felt earned.

Nine o’clock. Connor stared at his phone on the table. His plate was empty — Askani food never lasted long.
He felt like the only person in the restaurant. Diffuse amber light surrounded him, and quiet string music played on invisible speakers. A fish tank just barely in his sight had several large fish, golden and white scales glinting in the tank’s light. A wall-sized painting showed a river winding through snowy mountain peaks.
It was one of River’s favourite restaurants, though it was a bit expensive. The lighting was perfect for his eye, and the variety of dishes offered a nice break from the usual steak and fries he’d get from other places.
For Connor, the place held the memories of a happy family. He’d been excited to share those memories with Soren. But Soren was gone. And River was gone. He sat alone at his table, staring at Soren’s picture on PackTalk.
His hand hovered. Snatching the phone before he could stop himself, Connor hit the call button.
“Come on…” It rang in his ear. “Come on, pick up…” Was the tone always so piercingly annoying, or was he just overly frustrated?
Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Sighing, Connor cancelled the call and dropped the phone on the table again.
A waiter came by — a human. Normally the restaurant was staffed by nekos, but they were all hiding today. He set down a bag with a large box inside.
“Will that be all for you, sir?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Connor said, standing up stiffly.
He stretched, his back popping quietly. Grabbing the bag, Connor made his way to a bar near the entrance. Another human met him there — he’d never even seen an elf enter the restaurant. Shaking that thought from his mind, Connor slid three silvers across the bar.
“Thank you for coming,” the woman smiled, taking the coins with a gloved hand.
“Thank you,” Connor echoed, the ghost of a smile on his own lips.
He turned, stepping out into the cool autumn night. Pausing on the sidewalk, he glanced westward. He could get on a bus, and be at his mom’s house in minutes. But what was the point? It would be just as empty. And it would be missing the person he really wanted to see.
Fighting back a sigh, Connor began the long walk home.