Archive of Our Own ^beta

the sun shines outside, its rays streaming through the window and illuminating his sleepy face. his eyes squint, slowly opening them until they get used to the light. he gets up and stretches, still locating himself in the environment. jeno hasn't slept this well for weeks, his body unaccustomed to what it's like to truly rest.

he collects the clothes thrown on the floor, puts them on, and heads to the bathroom for his morning hygiene. calm and warm, like a good may's little summer morning. it's sunday, the elderly are resting in their homes, the children are playing in the pastures, and the parish bell indicates that it is nine o'clock and the sun has been rising for hours.

there's something different in the air, a citrus, slightly sweet smell. the aroma embraces his senses like a perfume and guides him to the kitchen. jeno smiles, noticing large baskets full of tangerines and a dark-haired boy peeling them on the counter. he approaches, the other boy too absorbed in thought and what's outside the window to notice. his strong arms hug the slender waist, his face fitting perfectly into the curve of his neck and his plump lips distributing tender kisses across the warm skin. "morning, baby."

mark laughs softly. he puts down the fruit to caress the blonde strands. "good morning, sleepyhead. did you have a good night's sleep?"

"sure i did with you sleeping by my side." and hugs him tighter, a comforting embrace, the kind you don't want to let go of so you don't lose it. jeno breathes deeply, inhaling the scent permeating mark. "you smell like tangerines."

"maybe because i just harvested some." and continues peeling them. "this harvest was very plentiful. i think i'll make some jelly with the pulp and crystallize the skin to sell at the weekend market."

"it's a great idea." he leaves the other boy to get a tangerine from the basket. jeno leans next to mark on the counter while he peels the fruit, watching him carefully. and so carefully that he doesn't notice his thoughts taking him away while a silly smile appears on his lips.

mark is beautiful, absolutely stunning, and this is nothing new to anyone in the village. black, slightly wavy hair, amber eyes and angular features. sharp jaw, high cheeks, a pretty nose and very red lips, perfectly matching his glowing skin from working under the sun. mark is beautiful, radiating youth and kindness. maybe his docile personality and kind heart make him more captivating because even though his life hasn't been a bed of roses, the boy continues to smile as if he doesn't know what it's like to suffer. his parents died in tragic situations a decade ago, and he has lived alone ever since. mark was a lonely child because he had to fend for himself from an early age, and jeno was his only friend since then. little did they know that this would lead them to build a different bond, something they hadn't felt with anyone else. strong, intense enough to kill and be killed if necessary to save another.

jeno pushes those thoughts away. it's confusing, the old-timers would tell them it's wrong, but it's too good to ignore. last night's marks displayed on the eldest's neck like a possession contract. it wouldn't take long for rumours to spread, but they would resolve this issue in the future. the blonde eats another bud, and the characteristic taste invades the palate. acidic, but not enough to become sour. there's something about this land that makes tangerines subtly sweet, and he loves it. mark grows the best tangerines in the region — and probably in the world.

and after a few more bits, he finally notices the other boy watching him back. "it seems i have captured the hunter by my orchard."

jeno can't hold back his smile after eating the last bit. "not just through his orchard," and he gets closer until they are centimetres apart. this close, he can appreciate the mole on the boy's left cheek and his eyes shining like a starry night. "the whole of you is extremely captivating."

mark laughs shyly and looks away — he doesn't know how to deal with compliments. "flirty..." he mutters. "but something tells me your mother must be worried. you went hunting last night and haven't come home yet."

the blonde boy shrugs. "she knows i like spending the night here. your company is the best i could wish for." and joins their mouths in a chaste kiss, just feeling the texture of the soft lips. "but if you insist so much, i'll leave."

"and come back whenever you want," he assures. "this house is as much yours as it is mine."

he grabs his hunting gear — the machete and rifle — which he always keeps behind the front door. "i'll be back soon." and put on combat boots worn from years of use. he leans against the dark wooden doorway and looks back, the vision of mark always waiting for him in the kitchen already crystallized in his mind. "you know i can't stay away from you for long." and leaves for the centre of the village.

the cool breeze ruffles his hair and clothes, even as the sun shines brightly over his head. serenity invades the fields, birds flying in flocks across the blue sky while the woods surrounding the village makes itself heard. an almost too dense forest, alive from the ground to the top of the trees and jeno knows it like the back of his hand. in fact, his life takes place very far from the capital and any urban centre and its technologies. the village where he lives is small and modest, but home will always be home.

only a few houses, the entire village connected by a single dirt road and the smaller paths like blood vessels that flow from the main artery. if the community has more than two hundred inhabitants, that's a lot. everyone here has known each other by name ever since, and a few have moved, whether from the outside in or from the inside out. peaceful in its essence, but it's this absence of chaos that makes this place so good.

mark's house is the furthest from the village, right at the top of a small hill, not many walk this route. jeno walks along the empty road, admiring the well-known landscape. the forest calls him like a mother, and the blonde boy believes he is the only one in the area who can hear it. he follows its advice, welcomes its whining, and he is enchanted by its fauna and flora. it's no surprise that jeno became an excellent hunter, even greater than his father.

the forest speaks to him, but today it remains silent. jeno feels something different, his instincts activating and hairs standing on end. his eyes run around the environment until he spots a kerfuffle in the distance, on the threshold between pasture and woods. they seem to talk anxiously and worriedly, but the hunter doesn't see what's bothering them. a saying goes around the village: when more than twenty people gather in the same place other than a party or mass, nothing good will come of it.

there's a strange smell in the air, metallic and unpleasant. jeno approaches in a hurry, his flustered presence opening up space between passersby so he can see the reason for commotion. his nose twitches, and his lips purse. blood stains the green pasture, and the intense heat causes it to rot faster than it should. flies fly around, taking advantage of the dead flesh to make their feast. the expression of fear and agony is preserved on the ox's face. open belly, intestines leaking through the carcass, deep and careless cuts. whoever — whatever — killed this bovine had no idea what they were doing, but they certainly had enough strength.

the forest continues in silence. it seems afraid of whatever caused this death, maybe because it wasn't one of its offspring. ", you know, this isn’t the work of any predator." a boy comments as he approaches, breaking the hunter's train of thought. jeno growls softly and notices, at a glance, that it's jaemin, his voice too characteristic to ignore.

he snorts. yes, he knows that. the forest telling him something is wrong long before the others notice. "what's it then?"

the boy shrugs. "i don't know, but it's not normal." and remains silent for a few moments, restless hands playing with the strands of brown hair. he is afraid, and he is right to be. "there's no animal in the area that can do this kind of damage."

"no, not really." and jeno is sure of this because he knows every species that inhabits the vicinity of this place. no wild dog, jaguar, or any other predator would destroy a cattle this way. he looks away from the carcass, his eyes meeting jaemin's. "has anyone already notified the mayor? the priest, perhaps?"

"as far as i know, yes." and he looks back as if he wants to confirm the information. and as if on cue, a middle-aged man and another in a black cassock appear in their line of sight, running as fast as they can. "but it's not like they can do much either." jaemin smiles disdainfully. "you're the hunter, jeno, you're the one who should know what did this."

and jeno looks at the blue sky, his hand shadowing his eyes. the sun shines above their heads, their bodies barely create any shadow. "maybe, but not without eating something first."

…

this time, the rifle rests next to the table instead of its characteristic place. tension in the air, so present it could be cut with a knife. many in the village believe that a cross around the neck is enough protection against any harm, but jeno disagrees. being a hunter, he learned from an early age that the best defence against any threat is a loaded gun in hand.

fists closed, he feels his entire body tense. there is a different weight on his back that has settled there recently. heavier every day, his spine starting to bend. the title hunter has always draped over his shoulders like a beautiful cape, but now it seems overwhelming. jeno has never had to face anything like this (he doesn't even know what he's facing!), and he feels at his core that the village's future is defined exclusively by his success or failure. he grinds his teeth. the longer he sits in this chair, motionless, the more time this monster — whatever it is — will have to grow stronger. anguish fills his chest, there is something strange about this situation. he has been prowling the nearby forest every night for days, and even though he goes deep into the forest until the sun comes up, he still hasn't found any trace of his prey. why?

“keep frowning won’t help you at all.” the soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts. his jaw relaxes. mark finishing filling the jars with fresh jelly, without even looking in his direction.

his fingers loosen to grip the blonde strands, pulling and messing them up. “not doing anything won't help either.” stubborn and impassive, as always.

the boy seals the jar in his hands and stacks it with the others. one can count at least twenty filled with amber jelly, ready to be sold at the next fair. "which is not the case, as we both know very well." he wipes his hands on a towel and pulls a stool to sit next to the hunter. "are you sleeping well by any chance?" and strokes his arm with his soft fingers, too delicate for the life of toil in the fields. jeno feels an electric current running through and warming his body. "you look exhausted to me."

yes, jeno is exhausted. worry and anxiety fluttering in his chest like wild birds trapped in a cage. he fears the worst, the pressure almost making him crack, but he would never admit that not when the entire village depends on his skills. he lets go of his blonde strands and sits up straight, casting his gaze toward the brunette boy. "my failure implies the death of everyone i know, i know that, i can feel it!" the words have a bitter taste that lingers in his mouth. "i can't let that happen."

mark continues to watch him, his soft fingers making circular caresses on the exposed skin. he smiles shyly, his message of calmness during the storm. and indeed, the birds inside his ribcage stop clashing with his bones and quiet down. jeno allows himself to relax for now, for the first time since the cattle started dying en masse nights ago. he smells the scent of tangerines taking over the room, now sweeter, and emanating directly from the older boy. the last rays of sunlight break through the curtains, providing a pleasant warmth and yellowish lights over the two figures. jeno wishes from the bottom of his heart that his mission succeeds; not only because he fears the death of the village, but mainly because he won't let mark be killed.

"and you won't," he says calmly as if he knows what's going through the blonde's mind. "but you need to rest so you don't make silly mistakes. a good hunter has sharp senses, but he only has them because he takes care of himself."

jeno caresses his face, calloused hands against his soft cheeks. he admires the other boy, taking note of all his features. mark accepts the affection like a kitten, lips curving subtly and eyes closing. adorable, the blonde loses himself in warm feelings. he could stay here forever if it weren't for the dark circles gathering under the amber eyes. “you shouldn’t worry about me, you’re already exhausted with yourself.”

but the boy just smiles in his usual kindness. he's not the type to tell what he feels to avoid worrying those around him, and jeno knows that. mark learned from an early age to ignore his own pain for the sake of those he loves “it’s nothing, i’m just a bit anxious about this whole situation.” and takes the hand of the younger one to keep it between his own. he seems to wither slowly as the words escape his lips. “it’s scary not knowing what you’re hunting and not being able to do anything about it.”

silence, the tension returning, climbing the walls. the sun sets, and the room begins to darken. jeno feels the fur on the back of his neck standing up and the birds flapping their wings ferociously. he watches the boy, still with his head down. knowing that something ails mark activates his most primal side, one he barely knew existed. years ago, the other children called him pet dog for always being by mark's side, as if he owned him. honestly, it never bothered the younger boy and now it started to make sense. if necessary, jeno will be his guard dog, protecting mark from harm until his last day.

"you should go home, jeno." the boy then stands up, breaking the silence and inertia of the room. "you have a mother and a sister to protect."

but he insists: "you're all alone."

mark lights a oil lamp, and the room lights up again. he laughs softly: "i've been all alone for years." and he looks at jeno with the mischief of a child. mark knows how to take care of himself like no one else in this village. "i'll be fine, trust me."

the blonde also gets up and collects his things. he approaches the other boy, his heart beating intensely from the proximity. hands intertwined, lips almost touching. “lock the door and the windows. don't go out at night." even though he trusts mark's abilities, something makes him uneasy, as if the shadows from the lamp could transform into animals.

"i will be fine," he pronounces the words slowly, his smile blooming as a sign of comfort. he surprises jeno with a chaste kiss, only to feel the tenderness of other people's lips. "here, take one." he walks away to pick up and hand him one of the jars of tangerine jam. it's still warm to the touch. "i know your sister loves it."

not only the pot, but jeno also feels the heat spreading through his body. “see you soon, markie.” and he leaves for the night that he no longer fears and already knows as a sister.

for the first time in days, jeno slept more than three hours.

…

two days later, he walks to the church when the sun begins to set and give way to darkness. majestic wooden doors and the ringing of bells welcome the impure man into the lord's house. jeno knows that this is not his place. he was never very religious and never really walked the right paths of faith. in fact, there was no reason for him to be here, but the priest made sure the hunter came to meet him as soon as he tracked the first signs of the predator devastating the village.

he walks down the main corridor towards the altar while admiring the inside of the temple. there are colourful and sophisticated stained glass windows on both sides of the building, telling the story of passion of jesus, the last rays of light creating multicoloured shapes on the ground where jeno walks. the construction of this church was the collective effort of all the residents and, even though the village is small and the houses are simple, temple stands out beautifully and imposingly in the heart of the community.

he allows himself to look at the stained glass windows for a little longer. there is something catching his attention in the image of christ carrying the cross, perhaps this mix of beauty and suffering resonates within him. jeno touches his chest, there's also an overwhelming weight on his shoulders. he still doesn't understand, his instincts trying to communicate something that he can't decipher, and this causes him unnecessary fatigue. maybe this is his journey to calvary, his private purgatory, so that better days can exist. he shares christ's pain, and jesus sympathizes with his suffering.

"jeno!" the priest exclaims as he leaves the sacristy. father doyoung, as he's known in the surrounding villages, walks towards him with the same appearance as always: the black cassock, the crucifix around his neck and the tender look of a father welcoming his son. "i'm glad you came! the lord's house has missed you these last few years." and smiles, the boy's visit being more anticipated than he could imagine.

the hunter looks at the stained glass window one last time before turning towards the priest. "you asked me to come as soon as i tracked the first signs of the animal." the priest nods. "i found some footprints this morning."

he tries to keep his smile from before, but jeno can see it wither and the priest's voice fading. "you can't imagine how important it is to have a hunter like you here with us. come and bring your weapons so i can bless them."

"bless them?"

now he can no longer hold on to the calm mask, and despair shines in his eyes like a cornered animal. his hand rises to his chest and clings to the crucifix in an attempt to keep himself under control. "you'll understand soon, son." and makes a sign for jeno to follow him.

confused, jeno goes back to get the rifle he left at the entrance and follows the priest to the baptismal basin. he watches the scene in silence, too ignorant to understand the actions and intentions of the man of faith. doyoung purifies the shotgun, bullets and machete with holy water and holy words, apparently verses from the bible. the hunter furrows one of his eyebrows, unsure whether the sacred scriptures would agree with these practices, but prefers to protect himself in his own ignorance. a few minutes later, the priest gives him back his belongings and says: “that should be enough.”

"enough?" he asks, keeping the machete on his waist and the firearm on his shoulder. “father, i don’t understand.”

the older man seems increasingly uncomfortable and uneasy. the words seem to want to come out of his mouth in droves, but he holds them back. he turns his eyes to the altar, to the statue of the crucified christ, and they remain there for a long time. “i expected that you wouldn't understand.” he sighs and looks back at the hunter. "the beast you face, as you may have already noticed, is more violent than any other.” and jeno nods. “that’s because you’re hunting a yaguareté-abá.”

the name echoes in his mind, reaching distant, almost forgotten memories. he can hear his father’s voice telling him a hunting story when he was still a child, “i think i’ve… i’ve heard that name before…”

"probably. just like you, your father was an excellent hunter. he knew all the flora, fauna and folklore of the region.” jeno commonly comes across fantastic stories or tributes about his late father. he smiles restrainedly, if the fishermen tell stories about mermaids, certainly the hunters also tell stories about their prey. doyoung goes down the few steps of the baptismal font elevation and walks to the pews, sitting there. his hand indicates for jeno to follow him. “a yaguareté-abá is a curse made through a profane ritual in which a man transforms into a jaguar every night after awakening.”

the good feelings that sprout with his father's memory have barely time to blossom before they wither. the hunter remains in sepulchral silence, paralyzed, his gaze lost on the horizon. the words spoken ricocheting in his mind, and this pain that has been nestling in his chest for days begins to tear the flesh from the inside out. he loses himself in this catatonia for prolonged moments until he walks towards the priest and sits down next to him. misery and anguish bathing his face to such an extent that the priest became upset. “i’m so sorry, son.”

"how?" is the only word he can utter.

"it is complicated." the priest sighs. “i've kept this secret to myself for years, and i think now is the right time to share it.” he takes a few seconds to collect his thoughts. “the previous priest — may god rest his soul! — made sure i didn’t tell this story until the first signs appeared so as not to cause an uproar in the community.”

about twenty years ago, there was a couple who longed for a child. there were many attempts, the mother no longer had any hope, and the father believed he was infertile but by a divine miracle, the woman managed to get pregnant without complications and had a beautiful child. they were happy for a year, the mother remained at home, taking care of the baby and the orchard they had, while the father went deep into the forest in the service of the empire.

this man was a bugreiro, one of the most efficient in the region. he tracked down indigenous villages and killed all their inhabitants like an imperial hound without leaving a single native alive. it turns out that, on one of his hunts, this bugreiro's crew didn't kill the entire tribe, and many fled, including the pajé. the same day, he returned home as usual and went to sleep only to be woken up by his son's crying.

alarmed, as the child never cried like this, he went to his son's room to calm him down, but what he saw left him in a panic. in the crib, the baby was surrounded by cat skin and chicken feathers. the smell of incense permeated the room so intensely that one could barely breathe inside.

of course, he immediately called the entire congregation, but none of us knew what it was about. he was convinced this was an act of revenge for the pajé who fled, but this information was of little use to us. we did everything we could, purification rites and countless prayers until sunrise. at this point, we could only have faith in our lord and hope that the child was free from this unknown witchcraft.

but as you can see, our efforts didn't work as planned. i spent years studying until i discovered that what happened that night was a ritual to transform men into jaguars. i never figured out how to cure it, just that firearms are not enough to control them, and only blessed weapons can kill them.

in the end, the father died in an indigenous ambush a few years later, and the mother died soon after. the child was already old enough to live off the family's orchard, so the congregation thought it best to let him live there, only receiving periodic visits from the priest to ensure that he remained well and on the path of faith.

“what do i want to tell you with all this,” he says, patting the blonde's back. “it's just that hunting a yaguareté-abá is not like hunting any wild animal, jeno, it's a difficult and painful duty because, deep down, you'll be hunting one of us." the priest stays quiet for a moment. “i thought you deserved to know the truth and why this burden in your chest won’t go away.”

and the hunter, the poor boy, says nothing. the head stays low, the spine is still bent, and the elbows remain resting on the knees. jeno doesn't react, his mind in a deafening cacophony for long minutes. the priest gives him a sad and empathetic look, even if the blonde doesn't see it, and hopes that he understands his words. little does he know that jeno had connected the dots long before finishing the story because he saw up close the loneliness and pain in the years that followed that deaths. his chest begins to tighten, his ribcage too small to accommodate the birds inside him that seem to weigh more and more. his expression doesn't change, he's still observing his own paws and wondering if ripping them off would free him from this burden.

“don’t get stuck inside your own head, son. this is an evil that must be done for the benefit of the community.” the voice of the man of god takes him out of his thoughts. “once a yaguareté-aba transforms for the first time, it will become an extraordinary and hungry hunter in a few nights, and if it is not stopped soon, the entire village will be destroyed by the curse that fell on the poor child.”

jeno stands up, and his eyes meet the statue of christ on the wall behind the altar. now, he understands his pain and this anxiety that consumes him day after day. after all, he was right: the village' fate is in his hands, and everyone will die if he doesn't succeed in his mission, but he no longer wants to. he closes his fists tightly around the handle of his shotgun and runs out through the same wooden doors he entered, the storm embracing him.

…

"jeno!" the older boy exclaims, surprised, as he opens the door. "why do you..." and he can't finish the sentence.

jeno steps forward, the shotgun falling to the ground and wet lips colliding with soft ones, cold against warm. at first, mark seems scared and remains motionless, but it doesn't take long for him to return the kiss. his soft fingers tangle in the dripping blonde locks as the heavy, calloused hands pull him closer.

intense, breathtaking. jeno clings to mark's body as if nothing else in the world existed besides them, as if this were his last opportunity to have the boy in his arms. something pierces his chest, impaling his heart, and it hurts more than the worst blade. he moans -- with pain, with lust. the oldest catches his lower lip between his sharp teeth (sharper than jeno used to remember), and a shiver runs down his spine.

they separate minimally, enough to breathe. red lips and wet clothes. "what... did something happen?"

the hunter shakes his head. his hand on the back of mark's head, foreheads touching. "nothing," he replies. he wouldn't admit it so as not to worry the other boy, but his head is spinning incessantly. “i just missed you.”

and mark laughs softly. "silly... you saw me a few hours ago."

jeno closes his eyes. another stab in the chest, increasingly intense. he feels his back bending with the weight on his shoulders. it's more than he can carry, more than he can handle, so harsh that his lungs fail, and he has to remind himself to breathe. it's different now, the overwhelming truth will break you at any moment, he only doesn't know when. "i'm always missing you."

his lovely lips curve into a smile. it’s beautiful, calm and full of tenderness. mark seems oblivious to this savagery that consumes the hunter, and it's better this way. jeno wouldn't have the courage to tell him, the words piling up in his throat. mark takes a step away and begins to unbutton his shirt. "you should take off those clothes. they're soaking wet, you're soaking wet!" the first piece of clothing falls to the floor with a wet thud. "you shouldn't walk in a storm like that to see me."

"i would do anything to see you again and again." sweet, at first, but despair drips from every word. what should be a promise of love seems more like a threat from someone who has nothing to lose.

their eyes connect again, and jeno goes deeper and deeper into this amber forest. he sees love, care, recurring tiredness and something more. he sees something obscure that shouldn't be there, nestling in the curve of mark's gaze and waiting for the right moment to feed again. the hunter feels the most primitive part of himself waking up, like a hunting dog that finally finds its prey and prepares to capture it.

so from that moment on, they no longer exchange words, their lips colliding in a kiss as intense as the previous one. jeno feels restless, hands grabbing the flesh and eliciting sly moans from the other boy. excitement consumes the bodies as if oblivious to their destinies. jeno knows it's not enough, even though love was there from the beginning it won't save them. the curse already corrodes mark, impregnated in his blood, throughout his body. nothing can be done, so at least jeno wants to feel the warmth of the boy he loves one last time.

careless steps, they wander through the house to their destination without caring about the furniture. they're in a hurry — jeno is in a hurry, he can't say how long there is until the next transformation. clothes fall one by one along the way, hands eager to feel other people's skin. mark's touches give him delicious goosebumps, and despite the country life being difficult, jeno can't understand how the brunette has such soft and gentle hands.

naked bodies fall onto the mattress. and as if they know something is wrong, as if they know something important is about to happen, they are in a hurry. the plump lips run over the hot skin, marking it wherever it goes. the teeth attach to the flesh, leaving red marks, purple hickeys and sly moans behind. jeno feels his fur standing on end, and his claws dig into his skin. his eyes darken, the savagery that dwells within showing as his mind begins to collapse.

jeno pants, getting lost in the beautiful silhouette beneath him. he wishes he could stay here for hours, admiring mark, satisfying mark, loving mark. the black-haired boy moans softly, body thrown onto the sheets like he were a prey to be proud of. dark hair frames his face, his eyes shine intensely, and his smile shows sharp teeth. the hunter has never seen mark so beautiful, so obscene, and the desire to possess, to consume, stirs in his chest.

they do not speak, the grunts and primal sounds answering for themselves. they kiss again, the delicacy dripping from the corner of their lips, and only brutality remains. phalluses touching, rubbing and producing pleasurable sensations. mark moans into the kiss and grabs the blonde strands, sharp nails scratching his scalp. it hurts, but it's a relief, the distress seems to subside to focus on the physical pain. jeno growls and moves his hips to increase the friction between their bodies.

bodies move away again, but for a short time, enough to prepare mark. no oils, sole spit. the pink muscles and the stiff phallus smeared with saliva, pre-cum running down the head and dripping onto the mattress. jeno pants, lust consuming him and making his head cloudy. he positions himself, the tip touching the entrance. the older man groans, his hips wiggling in anticipation. a growl escapes his throat, and jeno enters at once.

a whimper of suffering echoes through the walls. mark grips the sheets and groans, the discomfort becoming present. his eyes water, but jeno does nothing but wait patiently. the calloused hand holds one of the thighs, and the eyes devour what they see. the boy pants, his breathing slowly returning to normal and his body adjusting to the voluminous phallus.

yes, they don't have time anymore, but jeno finds himself watching mark for long minutes. there is something different, something that the hunter could not perceive until then. the hunter grabs his hands and pins them to the mattress above his head. mark pants, his eyes too dark for a pure boy. jeno brings the bodies slightly closer, sinking a little deeper into the warm, soft flesh and eliciting a moan in response. then he sees in detail the dark circles, the fangs and the claws that don't belong to mark. it's as if the monster was slowly consuming the older boy, stealing piece by piece until only the carcass was left.

jeno growls, his chest hurts, and sadness spreads. his eyes water, but hatred inflames his veins and consumes his body. he thrusts his hips, and mark moans louder than he should. he feels anger and hostility towards everything, towards everyone, and he will take it out on the monster that inhabits the body of the boy he loves.

and from that point on, he no longer has control, his body moving on its own and eliciting broken moans, gasps and ahs from mark. a tear runs down his cheek, but jeno barely notices, too busy watching his beautiful features contort in unbearable pleasure. he growls, a low, guttural sound like a dog protecting its prey from other curious hunters. jeno loves mark, loves him like a dog, like a hideous monster, like something that doesn't deserve to be loved back. and he would love and protect mark until his fangs fell out of his gums, until his lungs were pierced, until his last remaining day on earth. a visceral and intense love, on the threshold of sickness. a level of devotion never felt before, of giving one's body and soul without blinking, that the death of one would result in the death of another.

jeno lets go of the other's wrists and glues their torsos together. the pace slows down but appears to be more precise. faces close together, they share the same breath and the same heartbeat. mark throws his arms around his neck, claws playing with the skin within reach and creating bright red gashes. blood streams from the wounds, and so be it: it is better that jeno's blood flows instead of mark's. it's intense like everything that's primitive, it's carnal, sweat dripping, and the smell of sex permeating the environment. but above all, it is intimate, terribly overwhelming, and this will cause their doom.

the hunter grunts, he knows that mark feels that same intensity resonating in his body, pulsing in time with his heart. boiling body, about to explode, the boy couldn't last long, he wasn't made to handle all these emotions at once. mark clenches his fists, and his spine arches, electric currents running the length of his spine. his lips release a needy moan, and all the knots on his lower abdomen untie.

his hips keep moving, and the growls keep escaping his throat. jeno ceased to be a man a long time ago when he took up his post as a guard dog. he holds the pretty and tired face as best he can, making mark look at him with his teary and weakened eyes, the glowing beast getting closer and closer. he gasps, connects their lips once again, one last time, and then allows himself to feel all the pleasure.

bodies thrown onto the sheets. they pant, gazes fixed on the ceiling, sweat running down their bodies in winding paths. jeno can't think, his mind too clouded, and his senses returning to normal. he feels mark closer, his body slowly curling into his as best he can and his warmth hugging him like a soft blanket. the hunter smiles and reciprocates the affection. "jeno?" the boy asks in his sly voice.

"yes?"

he clings tighter to the younger's body and sighs before continuing. "do you promise me, no matter what happens, you will save the village?"

jeno remains silent for long moments. the blonde never imagined that such simple words could weigh on his mouth. "i promise." a bitter taste spreading across the palate.

…

jeno wakes up with a thud, sitting up quickly. eyes wide and heart pounding, completely alert. in a few seconds, his vision adapts to the dark room, and the bed seems more spacious, colder and lonely.

heartbeat drowning out external sounds. "mark?" he calls. "mark, where are you?" this time louder, voice showing signs of discomfort. he waits long seconds, minutes, and just silence. so absent of sound that cicadas don't sing, frogs don't croak, and the wind doesn't whistle.

then he begins to feel light-headed as if he lacks air to breathe. he gets up and staggeringly puts on his clothes. pressure dropping, dizziness and a face so pale it looks like a spirit. jeno feels his heart beating so fast, so intensely, that he feels it in his mouth, pulsing on his tongue. thoughts run aimlessly, bump into each other and get confused. he feels his way along the walls. he knows what is happening but refuses to believe it. his core suffers, and his mind enters a catatonic state, but refusing to accept reality.

trembling, he ties the laces of his worn combat boots. the door is open, wide open, and where the lock should be, there's a hole: broken into — from the inside out, as the hinges are clearly loose. jeno has no other option, vision returning to normal and lungs filling with air. he wants to cry, but he can't; so he takes his gun and goes hunting.

little summer night, when the sun sets, it remains hot and stuffy. the storm ended and left behind wet ground and humidity in the air. the full moon shines in the sky, accompanied by its faithful stars. it's such an intense glow that jeno doesn't even need to carry a lamp with him, the village perfectly lit by moonlight. there are no lamps lit in the houses, there are no fireflies around. he keeps walking, searching, and everything seems too quiet. it's as if the animals know there's something nearby and are afraid of attracting attention. the village itself, in its core, in its roots, recognised that an unknown predator lives within and withdraws into itself so as not to perish.

he walks through the tangerine orchard, the characteristic smell invading his nostrils and bringing back memories of the boy. something inside him screams, warning him that this is not the path to follow, that the yaguareté-abá is not in this direction, but he ignores it. jeno knows the creature isn't around, and he knows it took so long to follow its tracks because he was looking in the wrong places. fruits filling the branches and competing for space with white, fragrant flowers. he continues to deceive himself, believing that if he stays here, mark will return as if nothing had happened.

there is no rush, so perhaps he will be able to postpone his destiny. his chest hurts, his sadness and his hunter instinct fighting within him. fur standing on end, jeno looks back as if someone is watching him, but there's no one there. guilt begins to eat away at his insides, he promised — not only to the whole village but to mark — and he needs to deal with the consequences of his words. jeno grabs the blonde strands and falls to his knees on the ground, writhing and grunting.

his skin tingles and something seems to crawl under it. ignorance is bliss and father doyoung ripped it away from him, leaving him only sorrow and suffering. jeno feels alone, the forest has nothing to tell him, and there is no one to share his pain. he looks up, everything remains the same because nothing will come to free him from this situation. his body starts to move on its own, and instinct shows him the right direction to follow. jeno doesn't know where he's going, his steps are uncertain, and he wants to go back, but he knows he'll find what he's been looking for for so many days. he does not think but only follows the invisible path presented to him.

he runs along the mud roads, his footsteps the only sound to be heard throughout the village. the hunter is not afraid that the yaguareté-abá will listen and come after him because he advances towards the creature. jeno feels his eyes watering again and blurring his vision. he continues on this mysterious path for long minutes, his heart beating faster with each step. the smell of tangerines quickly replaced by the odour of blood and death.

then he sees for the first time, in the pasture closest to the centre of the village, the yaguareté-abá in its true form and his knees begin to shake.

big, huge, exuberant animal. jeno has seen jaguars in the past, but this one is different, much bigger, easily exceeding two metres in length. under the moonlight, the predator has an spectral appearance, its yellowish fur becoming whitish and contrasting with the dark markings. his eyes shine like the light of an oil lamp and appear to be as sharp as a blade. the hunter breathes deeply, trying to calm himself, but his agitated heartbeat still resonates through his body like church bells.

he doesn't move, there's nowhere to hide, eyes wide, just watching the yaguareté-abá enjoying another prey. the bovine carcass does not appear to be destroyed as before, as if the jaguar had finally learned to hunt, to target specific points instead of attacking unpretentiously. the animal's blood stains the fur around its mouth and front paws red, showing off its sharp claws.

jeno breathes heavily, hands gripping the rifle so tightly they could break it. he aims carefully, but his hands insist on shaking. he doesn't want to shoot. he feels his eyes watering, his breathing becoming louder, and drawing the yaguareté-abá's attention. the jaguar raises its head and looks directly at the hunter, eyes blazing in savage fury. everything happens too fast, jeno doesn't have time to think, the animal growls and then runs towards him.

he shoots on pure instinct. the bullet hits perfectly in the chest, in the creature's heart.

the enormous feline collides with the ground, still rumbling. it tries to get up on its paws but doesn't have the strength to do so. its chest rising and falling rapidly, paws moving aimlessly, claws scratching the ground and nothing else. jeno remains in the same place in disbelief, eyes wide and tears silently running down his cheeks. a flood of emotions, he had never felt so much fear, so much relief, and so much grief all at once. he feels so much and so intensely that he paralysed for long moments.

and when his senses return to normal, when jeno finally gathers himself, he drops the weapon and quickly approaches the creature. his hands shake, and his heart palpitates so much that it could burst through his chest. jeno gasps, eyes wide, and kneels down next to the big feline. more growls, increasingly deep and constant. the jaguar staring at him intensely, his mouth producing the sounds he manages to communicate. he lacks air, and he gently strokes the smooth fur. soft and silky, exactly like mark's hair. tears begin to flow from his eyes like streams. this close, jeno can see the boy through the metamorphosis, through the curse that didn't suit him. he sees the amber eyes, once so serene, now troubled. mark is confused, scared and afraid, heart beating as hard as it can in pure anxiety.

jeno closes his eyes tightly, wails escaping his lips. he cries, sobs, and barks like a scared dog that refuses to bite. “you already knew, right? you knew something was happening to you, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, even though he knows the jaguar-shaped boy can't answer him. “you didn’t want me to worry? were you afraid?" and mark remains silent, only the sound of his heavy breath can be heard.

eyes meet again. bright amber eyes, scared and pleading, as if, despite everything, he was begging jeno to free him from this curse. and the hunter cries profusely, unsure of what he should do. he promised the older boy that he would save the village no matter what, but the promise now weighs heavily on his shoulders because killing mark would be like killing himself. jeno does not exist without mark, and sacrificing him in the name of the village would be the same as self-annihilation. but he has no other option.

one hand covers his bright eyes while the other feels for his belt. he doesn't want this to be mark's last sight. jeno trembles, hands unsure of what to do, his chest heavier with each beat. it aches, it hurts so much that it feels like squeezing his heart to rip out every last drop of blood. “i’m sorry, mark,” if this isn’t done, the entire village will quickly perish. “i’m so sorry, mark.” he raises the machete in the air and closes his eyes. jeno would rather lose his hand than have this memory engraved in his brain. “please, please, remember i always loved you.”

then it descends like a streak in the air, and the head disjoins from the body.

silence, the jaguar no longer makes any sound. jeno pants, his ragged breath filling the silence. the birds fighting, colliding repeatedly against the cage of bones, chests rising and falling rapidly. he feels like he can't breathe properly, there isn't enough air, and his face starts to burn. he opens his eyes — his pupils tremble — but he doesn't look down. his gaze is directed anywhere but down. tears flow like rich streams, running down his cheeks and dripping onto the blood-stained ground.

his heart pounds, his head hurts. it seems very light, thoughts accumulate in heaps, but he doesn't understand any of them. his mind is a white sheet with white words written from top to bottom, trampling and overpowering each other. his hands shake, but he can't move them. he feels paralyzed, absolutely inert, his core close to imploding and bursting open the carcass of flesh.

then he feels something under his fingers, moving slowly. jeno barely has time to assimilate what he just did. he doesn't move, he doesn't dare look down, but a chill runs up his spine. cold, freezing sweat begins to run down his skin. something transforms under his hand, the fur falling out and turning into smooth, soft skin. his mind clicks, the hunter quickly withdraws his hand, his body falling back and walking away clumsily.

so clumsy that his gaze flickers for brief moments and finds what he fears most. and once his eyes fix on the image, they can no longer look away. a buzzing noise cuts through his ears, his chest hurts so much it could burst, and his lungs stop working.

he sees the naked body inert, arms and legs lying haphazardly on the ground. there's a huge scarlet stain on his chest, right where his heart is, that keeps leaking. blood flows and desecrates the ground. broken neck, totally disconnected from the rest of the body. his eyes remain open, and his face twisted in inexorable fear. jeno should close his amber orbs as a sign of respect, but he can't, he can't...

then jeno screams, cries and howls. wild and primal sounds, the first sounds of anguish and woe that humanity has ever known. he sobs and grabs his own hair, pulling it. he would never be the same again, his mind shattered by the crime he committed. he would not exist from then on because there is no jeno without mark, and it was his own hands that sealed his fate. yes, he saved the village, but at what cost? may everyone die so mark can live!

at this point, the lamps in nearby houses begin to light up. jeno continues whining, his throat hurting so much that he no longer has the voice to keep screaming. he doesn't know what to do — he doesn't know what he did! his head spins, pain spreading and consuming his body. the image of mark decapitated burned into his mind like a ghastly painting.

everything goes black. jeno faints.