Brothersong

by TJ Klune

  Gavin held up his right hand. He extended his claws. “In my head. Voice. Heard him. Didn’t want to, but did. Only way. I thought. And I….” He looked frustrated. “Can’t find words.”

  Mom said, “You seem to be doing just fine to me. He’s still out there.”

  He lowered his hands, the claws disappearing. “Still out there. Come. He’ll come here.”

  “I know.”

  “Bring pain. Hurt.”

  “He’ll try,” my mother said, her voice growing harder.

  “For me,” Gavin said. “He wants me. Robbie too. Heard him. Gavin, Robbie. Gavin, Robbie. He loves me. Loves Robbie.”

  “I’m sure he does in his own way. But sometimes love is poison, and it drips in our ears until our blood runs with it.”

  “Bring pain,” he said again, suddenly insistent. “You. Pack. Everyone. I go, he stays away.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  He looked around. At the house behind us. At the blue house behind him. At the dirt road that led away, away, away, and I knew it was pulling at him, whispering for him to run as fast and as far as he could.

  But then he turned back around to us, to her. He said, “Thump, thump, thump.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Heart,” he said. “Carter’s heart.”

  “You hear it.”

  “Yes.”

  “It speaks to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “What does it say?”

  He looked stricken. “Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. Not poison.” And then he went to her, his head bowed. He pressed it against her chest, his arms hanging at his sides. He breathed heavily and shuddered when my mother reached up and put her hands in his hair.

  “There you are,” she whispered to him. “Hello, hello. You’re home. So, no. No, Gavin. You aren’t to go away again. We are stronger together than we ever are apart, and this is where you belong.”

  it’s platonic/into this river

  They left us alone for a time. Kelly and Joe wanted to follow me from room to room like they had when they were kids, but Mom pulled them away, telling them to let us be, at least for a little while.

  Gavin was twitchy, like he wanted to shift back to a wolf but was fighting against it. He crowded close as we walked into the house. My throat closed when I first went inside, the scents of home washing over me, embedded into the bones of this old house. The history here was long, and though it wasn’t always good, it was still mine.

  Nothing much had changed. It looked as it had the day I left. The door to the office was closed, and I couldn’t make myself open it, remembering how lost I was the last time I’d been inside, recording a video for Kelly and feeling like I was dying.

  Gavin followed me up the stairs as I trailed my fingers along the wall.

  “It’s all the same,” I said.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Louder. Bigger. More.”

  I looked back at him. “You’ve never been in here without being a wolf. You seem to be doing okay with the stairs.”

  He scowled. “I know how to walk.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to have to carry you.”

  “Lie.”

  I snorted. It was surreal being back here with him as he was now. Even in my wildest dreams while on the secret highways, I never allowed myself to think this far ahead. How it would be if I found him and brought him back. I was at a loss as to what to do. What to say. How I should act, what I should ask him. There was so much I needed him to hear, but I could think of none of it.

  We stopped in front of a closed door.

  “Room,” he said. “Our room.”

  “Our room,” I echoed. Then, “You don’t have to stay here. Not if you don’t want to. Kelly told me he and Robbie are back in the blue house now that all the Omegas are gone. His old room is empty, if you want it. Or anywhere else.”

  “Stay here,” he said. “Better.”

  “For who?”

  “You,” he said. “So you don’t die.”

  I sighed. “I’m not going to die.”

  “You say that. How many times you almost die?”

  He had a point. We seemed to almost die more than I cared to think about. “We’re safe here. We—you can heal.”

  His scowl deepened. “Not broken.”

  I held up my hands. “Not saying you are, dude. But I know how I feel. And I can imagine what it must be like for you. We’ve been through shit for a long time.”

  “Not dude.”

  He looked outraged when I flicked him in the forehead. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen no matter how much you say it. And listen to me.”

  He batted my hand away. “I am. I always do. You never stop. I listen to you. You need to listen to me.” He had a stubborn set to his jaw as he glared at me.

  “I can do that. I can listen.”

  “I stay here.”

  “Good to know,” I muttered, but he wasn’t fooled. He pressed against my back as I turned toward the door, urging me forward. I twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

  The room had been cleaned recently, though motes of dust hung in the air. I stepped inside, and Gavin followed. I collapsed onto my bed with a groan. The bed in the cabin had been terrible. Mine was soft, the blankets heavy and warm. I pressed my face into the pillow. It smelled like Kelly and Joe, as if they’d lain here in my absence. I told myself I was just going to rest for a moment before getting up and going back downstairs. But my eyelids were heavy, and I felt like I could relax for the first time in a long time.

  I opened my eyes again to see Gavin standing naked above me.

  I groaned and put my hand over my eyes. “Come on. You gotta warn me when you’re going to do that.”

  “Oh. Carter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I took off my clothes.”

  I peered at him through my fingers. “You’re a fucking asshole. And I swear to god, if you’re making fun of me, I’m going to end you.”

  “Not make fun. Don’t know how.”

  “You’re a goddamn liar, and you know it.”

  He shrugged. “Prove it.”

  “Put your clothes back on.”

  “You see your brothers naked.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, wow. You really need to not say that outside of this house. And now that I’m thinking about it, don’t say it inside this house either.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it sounds weird.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I know that, but other people won’t understand.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, almost like he was pouting. “People know about wolves here.” He made it sound like I was the idiot.

  “Still doesn’t mean you can tell them that. Werewolves are one thing. Nudity is something else entirely. It’s—why are you still naked.”

  “Itchy. Clothes itchy.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I was still wearing Kelly’s jeans, and even though I hated having them on in bed, I wasn’t quite sure I could trust myself to take them off while he stood there in all his glory. The universe had a terrible sense of humor, putting us together. “You have to put on clothes if you’re going to stay human.”

  “Fine.”

  I took my hands off my face and saw him shift back to a wolf. He shook himself before he turned to the bed, laying his head on the mattress, eyes wide as he stared at me. “Oh no. You can stay on the floor. I’m finally in my bed again, and I’m going to stretch—stop it!”

  He growled at me as he bit down on the leg of my jeans. He started tugging them off, almost pulling me down to the floor. The jeans slid from my hips. He got them half off before he started on the other leg. He jerked his head again, and I threw my pillow at him.

  From somewhere below, I heard Gordo say, “Maybe we should have left them in Minnesota. We need to soundproof that room so I don’t have to hear if they start screwing. I’m already scarred enough as i
t is.”

  “Fuck you, Gordo!” I shouted. “I’m not going to—Gavin, you’re ripping my pants off!”

  Gordo sighed deeply.

  Gavin looked pleased with himself, holding my pants in his mouth. He shook his head side to side, letting them flap around his head before he dropped them on the floor. He put his front paws up on the bed. I tried to kick him off, demanding that he stay on the floor. But he was a three-hundred-pound timber wolf, and he was apparently going to do whatever the hell he wanted. He climbed up and over me, his back paw nearly squashing my junk before he settled on my legs, turning so he faced the door. He lowered his head and closed his eyes.

  “Get off me.”

  He didn’t react.

  I tried to move my legs. I couldn’t. “Gavin, I mean it.”

  He opened one eye scornfully.

  “Move.”

  He growled and closed his eye again.

  “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want. I don’t care.”

  He huffed out a breath like he thought I was full of shit. Which, to be fair, I pretty much was, but I still had to save face somehow.

  I closed my eyes again, planning on resting just for a moment until I could clear my head.

  A moment later I was asleep.

  My dreams were green, and I ran with wolves.

  I WAS GROGGY WHEN I WOKE. The sunlight had moved from the floor to the wall, which meant it was late afternoon. Gavin was breathing slowly, his tongue lolling out onto my leg, my shin wet with his spit.

  “Gross,” I muttered.

  I heard someone chuckle.

  I looked over to see Mom sitting in the chair at my desk, her legs folded underneath her.

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” I told her.

  She shrugged. “Sure. Though you should know that excuse has never worked on me.”

  “What’s going on?” I tried to sit up, but Gavin moved in his sleep until he was lying on my knees. My shins were probably crushed, and I’d never walk again.

  “I was watching you sleep.”

  “Mom,” I groaned. “That’s creepy.”

  She smiled. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed. Besides, I’m allowed. I’m your mother.”

  I waved my hand at her. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  “A few minutes.”

  “Oh, that’s not—”

  “I lied. An hour.”

  “Mom.”

  “Consider it penance for leaving.”

  I sighed. “That’s… fair. Still creepy.”

  “I never claimed not to be.” She nodded toward Gavin. He was twitching in his sleep. “Is he all right?”

  I looked back at the ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s gonna be slow going. He’s been a wolf for years. You heard him. It’s easier. I don’t even know how he managed to shift back in the first place back in Caswell.”

  “Really,” Mom said dryly. “You have no idea what would have caused him to shift back. No idea at all.”

  “I’m going back to sleep,” I announced. I closed my eyes. Then, “You’re still watching me, aren’t you.”

  “No, of course not. I’m watching Gavin.”

  “Mom!” I turned my head to look at her again. She was laughing quietly into her hand. “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious. I’ve always thought so. Just because you don’t appreciate my sense of humor doesn’t make it untrue. Your hair is long.”

  “Didn’t have enough time to get it cut,” I muttered.

  “Kelly told me you had a beard. He referred to it as an infestation on your face.”

  “I was busy.”

  “Too busy to have basic hygiene?”

  “Mom.”

  She stood from the chair and walked over to the bed. She leaned over me, her hand pressed against my forehead. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  My eyes stung. “I think so.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  “I….”

  She said, “I think it was. In the end. I’m not happy with the way you went about it, and you’re grounded for the rest of your natural life, but I’m so very proud of you. I don’t know if he’s ever had someone fight for him as hard as you have.”

  “You can’t ground me,” I said weakly, her praise like a fire in my chest.

  “Be that as it may, you’re still grounded. And though it may seem like I’m not angry with you, don’t be fooled. Once the happiness at your safe return quiets down, I’m going to yell at you. Scream, even. Do you believe me?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.” She leaned down and kissed above my right eye. “Get up. Everyone is waiting.” She turned and walked to the door.

  I was confused. “For what?”

  “Tradition, of course,” she said. “It’s Sunday, and we have much to be thankful for.”

  And then she left, closing the door behind her. I listened as she walked down the hall toward the stairs, the creaks and groans of the house familiar.

  “I know you’re awake,” I said. “You drooled on me.”

  Gavin snorted as he raised his head. He yawned, his fangs sharp, as his jaw cracked. His stomach rumbled as he laid his head back down on my legs, watching me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Me too. But you gotta turn back, okay? Just for now. When we’re done, you can shift again. Not that you need to eat any more. Christ, you’re heavy. Were you always this fat?”

  The sound I made when he snapped his fangs at me wasn’t one I was proud of.

  HE WASN’T HAPPY WITH ME as he followed me down the stairs. He pulled at the hoodie I’d given him, but I thought it was all for show. It smelled like pack, and I caught him sniffing it when he thought I wasn’t looking. I’d given him a rubber band to tie his hair back. He’d fumbled with it, glaring as it broke.

  “You’re hopeless,” I muttered before motioning for him to turn around. He did so without complaint. I didn’t even think twice about it as I did it for him, his hair soft. “And now I’ve created the first hipster werewolf. I’m not proud of this. You shouldn’t be either.”

  “Hipster?” he asked.

  “Never mind. Come on.”

  He did, crowding behind me again. At first I thought it was because he still didn’t understand the concept of personal space, but when we reached the bottom of the stairs and the voices of the others grew louder, he ducked his head, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to make himself smaller. When I glanced back, he had a panicked look on his face, breathing heavily through his mouth.

  “You don’t have to hide,” I said quietly. “Not here.”

  He frowned down at the floor. “Not hiding.”

  “A little bit.”

  “Very loud.”

  I startled. “I guess it is. Not like it was in the forest.”

  “Just you and me.”

  “And your father, who wanted to kill me,” I reminded him.

  His lips twitched like he was amused at the idea of me being murdered.

  I looked toward the kitchen, feeling the pull of the pack. It wasn’t like it was before when it was as bright as the sun, but it was there. A whispered promise. “They’re loud,” I said. “And it’s going to take time. Time we probably don’t have. But they want you here. Never forget that. This is yours as much as it is mine.”

  He looked up at me, and my heart clenched at his hopeful expression. “It is?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, man. Of course it is. We’re pack.”

  “Bennetts.”

  “It’s more than that.” I paused. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Yes.”

  I bumped my shoulder against his. “It’s a little loud for me too.”

  “It is?”

  “I’ve been gone for a long time. And I was by myself for most of it. I never… I never had that before.” I heard my mother singing in the kitchen, and I could barely focus. “Even when I was away for school, I could always pick up the phone and hear their voices or drive for an hour and be
back here.”

  “Good or bad?” he asked.

  “It just was. I was in my own head. And that wasn’t so good because I started not to trust what I was seeing or hearing. But I learned how far I could go, how hard I could push myself. I was stretched to my limits, but at least I know what my limits are now.”

  He gnawed on his bottom lip as he pulled on the hoodie strings. “For me.”

  “What?”

  His eyes flashed violet. “You did it for me.”

  “I guess I did.” This thing between us was awkward. I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt reckless, out of control. But I didn’t think I wanted it to stop. Thump, thump, thump, and my skin itched, fingers twitching as I stopped myself from taking his hand in mine again. “After what you did for us, I had—”

  “For you.”

  I blinked.

  “For you,” he insisted. He was scowling again, but it wasn’t like it was before. His cheeks were flushed, and he would look at me, then look away. At me, then away. “Helped you. Saved you. Them too, but mostly you. Couldn’t die. Couldn’t watch you die.”

  I said, “Okay,” and I wondered if this was a beginning to something I never thought possible. A gift, and one I never thought I needed.

  I reached out and took his hand.

  He stared down at our hands for a long moment. Then, “I’m hungry.”

  I laughed until I could barely breathe.

  I LED HIM INTO THE KITCHEN, and Mom stopped singing. She glanced at our joined hands, and though I knew she wanted to say something about it, she didn’t. Instead she said, “There you both are. Come here.”

  We went.

  We stood before her, and she looked at us both. “Gavin,” she said warmly. “Did you sleep well?”

  He shrugged awkwardly before nodding.

  “Good. You must be hungry.” She’d heard him, but we all acted like she hadn’t. “Kelly and Joe told me about your little cabin. It sounds lovely.”

  That was not the word I would’ve used, but I knew what she was doing.

  “Small,” Gavin muttered. “Not like here.”

  “I don’t suppose it was,” she said easily. “However, it’s not about the size of something, but what you do with it.” She blinked. “Oh dear. I think that’s another conversation entirely.”