Page 29 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

He exhales slowly and nods.

I start climbing before he changes his mind.

"Thanks, brother."

He responds with a subdued growl.

The three of us make it to Wraith's loft's window without falling off the slippery fucking fire escape to our deaths, somehow. Wraith pushes the window open, then hangs back, waiting while Ivy climbs through first. He ducks in after her.

One of the bags catches on the frame when I go in after them. "Shit," I mutter, tugging it free. It tears a little.

Fuck. That was my favorite bag.

"I'm gonna shower," Ivy announces, yawning, already heading for the bathroom. "Join me when you're ready?"

I watch her go, not sure if she meant just Wraith, or both of us, or what. But I don't get a chance to ask before the door closes.

Wraith's eyes flick to mine and he adjusts his scarf again, trying to smooth it into place so it doesn't sag, but it does anyway. I try not to look too long at the scars and the exposed sharp teeth he's so careful to hide.

He crosses the room to his dresser and rummages around in it for a face gaiter. He keeps his back to me as he unwinds the scarf, tosses it in the hamper, and replaces it with his usual mask, rolling his shoulders as he slowly straightens back up.

I wait until he risks another glance at me to sign to him, soundlessly, so he doesn't worry Ivy can hear me.

How are you really doing, brother?

He watches me, blue eyes wary above the mask.

Don't know, he admits finally, sinking onto the edge of his bed. The mattress dips under his weight, springs creaking.

I sit beside him, close but not touching. Giving him space while making it clear I'm there for him.

She saw, he signs with jerky movements. Everything.

I know.

And she's still here. His hands shake slightly as he forms the signs. Why?

I hesitate. I'm not sure how to answer in a way he'll believe when he's in a dark place like this.

Because she loves you, I sign, deciding to just go with the truth. I can tell.

He shakes his head immediately. She's in shock. When it wears off⁠—

It's not shock, I interrupt, pushing my signs into his space to stop him. Brother, look at me.

He forces himself to meet my gaze.

She knew your face was… different, I sign carefully. And she chose you anyway.

She didn't know everything.

She knew enough, brother.

He lets out a pained growl, burying his face in his hands and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

I hesitate.

I'm not gonna try to lie to him and tell him he looks fine. And I won't lie and say Ivy isn't bothered at all, because I don't know if that's true, and it probably isn't.