Chapter Text
June 14th, 2022
The lion stands on shaky legs - strengthened, still weak. They prowl the basement. Misha backs away.
His head is spinning. This isn't possible, there is no way this is possible, Ricky can't be... whatever that is. Werewolf is the only word that comes to Misha's mind but a lion is not a wolf and Misha doesn't know a word for some sort of human-lion-hybrid-thing. Nobody ever told Misha this could happen, it never made any sense to assume this could happen, so much has happened tonight - his head hurts. He's so tired.
The lion plods, with an odd wobbly gate, toward the door.
Misha's ears stand up.
They follow the lion. Ricky.
The others, all, slowly turn to face the beasts. An expression dawns on Noel's face that looks downright... tired, weary. Silently asking, perhaps, whether another incomprehensible and difficult thing really has to happen right now. Ricky tilts his head at Noel, and the two make eye contact, and Noel, apparently, breaks first. He goes upstairs and, with a hairless hand and an opposable thumb, twists the doorknob.
Ricky bounds upstairs.
Misha hangs back, hesitates, and then follows.
There's no wind, they're inside and downstairs, but Misha feels the wind in his fur anyway, his movement so restless. One-track mind, moon-drunk monster. Ricky, he's decided, is the pack leader. Ricky can be the leader, that's one less thing for Misha to worry about if someone else is making the decisions. Ricky seems comfortable making the decisions, a self-appointed monarch.
And Ricky moves near-silently, soft-footed and sure-footed even though he's surely never been here before. Whiskers graze the walls. Misha takes a deep breath, takes in the smell. There's silicone, somewhere, they can smell it, they're just not sure where. Ricky takes the lead, investigates the house, moves clutter aside with confidence and grace.
And Ricky finds it first. Savannah.
A cat-like jaw closes around it, and Misha's heart speeds up, just a little. And with a mouth he doesn't have he wants to protest, no, that's mine, don't touch it. He thinks cynically for a moment that Ricky wouldn't listen even if he could say it, but that's not fair, is it? Ricky knows, better than anyone, the damage of not being listened to.
Ricky turns, drops Savannah. Nudges her with one paw.
Misha's afraid to move, for a moment. They don't have the hands for a white-knuckle grip and Ricky's saliva is already all over the stickers. The stickers are peeling, fading. They have been from the start. If they weren't, probably, Misha would have just replaced it. They grab Savannah in their mouth, voraciously.
She won't be taken from him now. Not again.
They dash back downstairs, to where they can put her somewhere for safekeeping, guard her in a corner so nobody can take her, and-
"What the fuck?" blurts out Noel.
Misha thinks cynically for a moment that they should all be used to the werewolf thing by now and then he remembers Ricky. Ricky, entirely unexplained. Huh. He still isn't sure what's up with that.
But Ricky can't explain either, right now. And peace has already been restored.
Misha relaxes.
June 15th, 2022
The group - the humans of the group - end up pulling some sort of all nighter purely because it's hard to sleep after something like that.
But as dawn comes creeping in, and as fur recedes, well. There's some explaining to do.
Nobody explains anything, for a few long moments. There's just too much to say, none of it possible to put into words. They sit and wait for someone to take charge but Ocean, the official leader of the choir, is humbled and quiet in one corner.
"Okay," snaps Noel, finally. He gestures vaguely, eyes on the floor. "First of all, obligatory statement, Misha, none of that was okay."
"Seconded," says Constance. There's a pause. "I mean, if I had to get kidnapped you were one of the better people to do it, but... yeah. Would prefer to not get kidnapped."
Misha crosses his arms, grimacing. Guilty. He's radiating discomfort from the guilt but it seems like he'd rather avoid the feeling than do anything, even apologise. Not quite taking accountability in any meaningful way but Noel's not sure if this is the time to push it.
"Now," says Noel, turning to Ricky. "You have some explaining to do."
Ricky leans against a back wall and smirks to himself as he types up a response.
"What do you want me to say? I just turned into a lion. In real life. I do that on full moons now." Noel groans in exasperation, because this clearly isn't enough explanation; Ricky's smirk fades, replaced by a grin, more humble. "I don't exactly know. It just sort of happened, starting last month."
"Last month?!" chokes Penny. "You knew about this for a whole month and told none of us?!"
"Yeah," protests Constance. "Why didn't you say something?" She sounds a little shaken, a little hurt - so much has happened today and so much of it has directly involved endangering her, it must be hard not to feel betrayed by such a revelation. But Noel's mind is moving so, so fast - if this has been going on for a month then Ricky was fully aware of it as they discussed their plans for this whole intervention. Ricky was the one most aware of the rapidly approaching full moon, the first to insist that they couldn't call anyone, the first to suggest that they could intervene during the full moon.
Noel smiles at Constance, softly. It makes sense, she thinks vaguely, that Ricky wasn't actually willing to go forward with this insanity until they had a plan to protect Constance. The details were just a card they held close to their chest.
"I tried to explain but then someone asked me about my special interest and I got distracted," explains Ricky, looking sheepish.
Noel blinks a couple of times. He thinks he vaguely remembers the conversation Ricky is alluding to but it's still, well, unhinged.
"And by the time I remembered what I was actually supposed to tell you about, I kind of decided against saying anything. It was the most insane thing that had ever happened to me, and once I'd had a chance to get over the shock and get distracted by something less stressful, I wanted to keep it to myself. It's not that I don't trust you guys, I was planning on telling you soon, just... I wanted this to myself for a bit."
"But how?" protests Misha.
Misha has some nerve protesting anything in this situation. This whole thing, Noel is vaguely aware, is technically their fault. Ricky isn't an angry person, generally speaking, but he can hold a grudge, Noel is surprised he seems so forthcoming with explanation.
"That - that shit was not possible," Misha insists. "I have known about werewolf shit for years, you're telling me now that some people just turn into other animals?!"
There's an awkward silence. "I mean," says Constance nervously, shuffling away from Misha just a bit. "There's not exactly a lot of lions in Ukraine, I feel like. Maybe you just... didn't know about it?" Misha stares at her incredulously. "You only know about how your own werewolfism works because it always happens in the same place and the people there knew how to explain it. It... makes sense that you might be a little in the dark about how lycanthropy would work in other places, like with different animals."
"Okay, but there are not usually lions in Canada, either." He turns to Ricky. "You got any idea how this happened?!" Ricky shrugs nervously. "Eaten any suspicious flowers lately?"
"Not in the last few months," answers Ricky.
That feels... oddly specific.
"But before then?" presses Penny.
"I drank some suspicious flowers over Christmas."
"What?!" chokes Noel.
Ricky is snickering as they type an explanation.
"Does anyone remember how Connie gave me those lilies last year? After the breakup I got really drunk and broke the glass they were in. I freaked out and put them in my water so they wouldn't die. Then I drank it because I was really dehydrated from all the alcohol and ... then all the changes started happening."
"That's insane," protests Noel.
"Are you kidding? It was clearly cool as fuck, did you see me?"
"I would kill to understand your mind, Ricky."
"Hang on," protests Misha. "You made magical were-lion potion by accident and then just drank it because you were thirsty?!"
"Didn't you eat the werewolf plant just because you were hungry?"
"That was different, yo! I was just a kid."
Ricky ignores this. "It makes sense in a weird way. Like, you talked about how wolfsbane kills wolves, did you know a lot of lilies are toxic to cats? I guess it might be the same basic principle. I don't know." Ricky pauses, then turns to Constance. "Where did you even get those flowers?"
Constance shrugs nervously. "Just some like... really small flower shop?"
"Yo," asks Misha. "How small are we talking?"
"Uh, it was run by one person, and it kind of disappeared after I bought them-"
"Yo, are you kidding me?! That sounds-"
"Um," interrupts Constance, forcefully. She stands up. "This, this has been great and all - like, actually, that full moon thing was awesome - but I kind of got taken here against my will, and I think I'd maybe like to not be here against my will anymore!"
Her voice starts out confident and forceful, but the nerves seem to kick in belatedly, until she sounds downright nervous, like she's uncertain if she really does want to stop being held against her will - like she's uncertain if she's allowed to want such a thing. Her weight shifts from foot to foot for a moment, as though she's too frozen to actually move. Then she unfreezes like she's tearing her feet out of a layer of mud, and storms out of the basement. Ricky quickly gets up to follow her, and then Ocean follows suit - and that's a little odd to see, Ocean willingly letting Ricky take the lead. Maybe he's proved himself some sort of king in her eyes or maybe she's just grown.
"Бля," mutters Misha.
Noel sits down next to Misha. "You know, you should have expected that kidnapping someone would have some consequences."
"Yeah, I - I realise that now."
"Should I leave?" asks Penny, nervously.
Noel blinks. She'd forgotten Penny was still here.
"Yeah," mutters Misha. "Yeah, maybe... maybe you should."
mi$ha: hey so i had some time to cool down emotionaly and
mi$ha: WHAT THE FUCK??? IM SO SORRY
mi$ha: i literally i... dont know what the fuck was wrong with me, i was so fucked up, i cant believe i did any of that, oh my god im so sorry
Constance looks at her phone, wide-eyed. She imagines Misha, the troubled kid that approached her for help because he didn't know what else to do - stuck in that basement, desperately typing out apologies with his head in his hands, guilt tearing him apart. It's a mental image that makes her heart twinge. She wants to assure Misha that it's fine, stop him from needlessly beating himself up over this, ,let him bury the whole mess. She wants to insist that it's not that big of a deal, it was only her that got hurt.
SpaceJesus: i mean
SpaceJesus: yeah it was fucked up
SpaceJesus: genuinely, Misha, what the fuck
mi$ha: i know
mi$ha: im SORRY
mi$ha: im really sorry
Constance lets a shaky hand hover over the on-screen keyboard and then, after a moment, she turns her phone off.
There was no reason she had to be dragged into any of this.
She can respond on her own time, on her own terms. Misha's guilt is not her responsibility.
July 27th, 2022
Noel finds Misha sitting on the ground under a tree, just barely shielded from the sun.
"Hey," he says, gently.
Misha's usually here, lately. There are just some things that are hard to come back from. At some point he sort of skulked away from Constance, not seeming to want to inflict himself on her any longer. He sings in choir and that's about it. Things are tense but... not in the same way as before. Noel makes an effort to talk to him because he feels someone ought to.
Who is she kidding? She knows damn well that's not the reason.
"Yo," says Misha, and they've got a white-knuckle grip on Savannah's handle even as they sit. "How's it going?"
"Same old, same old. We graduate in a few days." Misha already knows that, he's graduating the same school. Noel says it anyway because honestly, Misha's seemed so oddly disconnected from the whole group that sometimes he thinks he has to give him updates on what he surely already knows. "You got any plans for after graduation now?"
"Not really," says Misha, grimacing. "Is Constance okay?"
Noel sits down in the grass next to Misha.
"I wish you wouldn't ask that every time I talk to you," she admits. "I'm not that close to Constance, I don't really know how she's doing. But you did something that was not okay, and when you just keep asking me if Constance is okay, I feel like you just want to be reassured that the hostage thing was fine because it didn't have any long-term effect on her psyche."
"Mm. I'm sorry."
"You need help, Misha.
"I know. I don't know how to get it. I'm sorry."
Misha has this unnerving tendency to sound like a dog when they apologise. The words fall out, whining monotone, like a dog just whimpering on repeat in the hope that the beating will stop. It reminds Noel far, far too much of the incident last year, the screams and swears as their leg was broken and pieces shoddily put back together. Noel sits a little closer to them, frowning deeply.
"I don't... know what's going to happen now," Noel admits, uneasily. "But I promise, Mish, I'm not going to just abandon you to deal with everything yourself now that we're done high school. I know that you... did some really fucked up shit in June, and really scared us. That wasn't okay, and I'm not going to lie and say that it was, but we still care about you, and we want to help you."
Misha frowns. "We?"
"Ricky wanted to talk to you. He's still upset about everything but..." Noel pauses, then takes out his phone. It's open to some sort of Amazon link. "You know you can get actual wrist straps to attach to your cane? You always hold it like you're afraid it'll get taken away again."
"I am afraid."
"You can attach it to your wrist so it's harder for people to take it. Maybe it would help with the anxiety. Maybe it would make you safer." She sighs. "I care about you a lot, Misha. We all do. I'm not abandoning you."
"I love you, Poet."
"I love you too," says Noel, and that's all he needs to say. There's no caveats, no apologies. For a moment, sitting under the tree, there is no tragedy in all this. It isn't unbearably complicated or doomed, there's no compulsion to list a million reasons why nothing could ever work out. Maybe something could work out. Noel is taking it slowly, and cautiously.
It's like there's nothing complicated or terrifying about any of this, which is odd, because Noel's not sure there's anything in the world that isn't unbearably complicated or terrifying.
"I found out my coworker isn't actually named Ivan," says Noel, casually. "He introduces himself as Ivan and we all call him that but when he actually signs in on the system with his legal name, it's something totally different."
Misha snickers. "Then why does he call himself Ivan?"
"What am I, the resident Ivan expert? I just work with the guy, I don't interrogate him about his name. He's transphobic so I don't think it's a gender thing. Although, if I had to make an educated guess on why he's going by a name completely different to his actual name..."
She leans in closer to Misha, teasingly. Misha goes wide-eyed, curious. One eyebrow raises, expecting answers.
"I'd say," Noel finishes. "that it's probably because, well, I've an bone to pick with him."
Misha bursts out laughing. Noel's not sure if it's mostly just nervous laughter, or if it's some sort of emotional whiplash from hearing such a dumb joke at such a tense moment, or if it's just genuinely funny for Noel to have referenced that joke again all these months later.
The laughter dissipates eventually.
Noel takes a deep breath. "What happened with you and Constance last month. You can never do that again. To anyone. You're responsible for your own actions and you need to stop hurting people, no matter what fucked-up shit is happening to make you feel like it's your only option. Do you understand that?" Misha nods. "Okay. Good. And that doesn't mean I want you to hurt yourself instead as an outlet. It means... there's other options, and there are people who want to help you find them."
Misha crosses his arms, visibly uncomfortable. "I am just so... tired."
"I know. I know. I wish I could tell you it gets easier from here, but..." He sighs, grimacing. "I don't want to make promises about things I can't predict or control. And... you know, a lot of life's like that. Shit just keeps happening, none of us can possibly know about it until it happens, and ... we all find ways to try and pretend we have control over it, but we really don't."
"I know."
"But... we have each other. I think that counts for something." She leans on Misha's shoulder. "Everything's... everything's gonna be okay, I think."
"Everything will be okay in the end," agrees Misha.
Noel frowns. "Well... maybe not in the end. But intermittently. There's gonna be moments where everything's okay, and I think that's worth fighting for even if it doesn't last forever."
Misha doesn't respond, wrapping an arm around Noel.
"Everything's gonna be okay," repeats Noel. And whether it's true or not doesn't really matter. It means something.