Chapter Text
One of the most wonderful things in the world was a nice steak dinner. The smell, the taste, the feeling of being incapable of movement after having too much, it was all perfect. Sure, I probably looked like a starving animal as I devoured the course before me, but the only people who would have noticed were the waiter and my date best friend, Malcolm. And, at this point, he knew better than to judge me for eating the way I did.
Of course, that never stopped him from teasing me.
“Dude, are you ever not hungry? You could give a pack of wolves a run for their money,” Mal joked, while methodically cutting his food into pieces. It was almost infuriating to watch him let his food get cold so he could organize. Almost.
He, at least, had some redeeming qualities that made spending my dinner staring patiently at him while he ate enjoyable. He wasn't usually dressed to impress, in any sort of meaningful way, but in his soft sweater he gave off the energy of the kind of man you could come home to. He looked like a stay at home dad -- or a would-be one, seeing as he was only twenty-seven and lacked any long term partners. And, maybe most importantly, he had the eyes of someone kind. Someone good, sweet, trustworthy, who you could put your faith in and never have to worry about being let down.
Right, shoot, he was still waiting on an answer from me.
“What can I say? I’m a growing—” I stopped, freezing mid sentence as if nearly choked on what I had to say next. “—man. I need all of the calories I can get.” The word ‘man’ didn’t make me feel comfortable, but it was at least normal. Something expected to come out of my stupid mouth. Hopefully it could make up for my complete silence while I got lost in thinking about him.
Malcolm only nodded, and went back to slowly but surely cutting his delicious steak into tiny pieces. I wanted to stop him, to make him actually eat, but Mal liked things to be neat before he did anything. At least it was a nice contrast to my method of throwing myself headfirst at everything, and hoping I didn’t crash. Still, I didn’t understand why his desire for tidiness applied to food as well. It was meant to be eaten, and eaten quickly, before it got old or cold or old and cold.
Eventually, thankfully before I started anxiously chewing my nails, Malcolm dug in. It was still slow, still methodical, as if every step was planned out, but at least he ate.
And I was stuck, sitting around, waiting for his stupid self to finish.
At least we were going to his place afterwards. Getting to cuddle with him was going to be worth the wait, it always was.
If only he would hurry up.
*****
One of the most wonderful things in the world was waking up next to my best friend. On top of being a living radiator, Malcolm had a gentleness to him that made me feel home and safe, no matter how anxious I was or how bad of a day I had. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, to have a friend so patient, kind, and trusting of me.
He never questioned why I was so hesitant to stay the night on specific days of the month, or argued when I cut a hangout session short for a seemingly arbitrary reason. He didn’t even argue with my increasingly flimsy excuses for my refusal to try moving in with him. I absolutely wanted to, but, of course, I had a terrible secret:
I was a monster.
And not a normal monster, either. Vampires, alraune, goblins, and every other monster person was totally cool and valid. Heck, even other people with my own condition were great! I’d met a few in support groups, and they were all amazing. They were all totally cool and normal people, y’know? I was the odd one out. The ‘true’ monster, as it were.
“Hey, Earth to Rex. What’s going on?” Malcolm shook his hand in front of my face, ripping me out of my spiral of Bad Thoughts. That was yet another thing he was amazing at, even if he didn’t know the true extent of how effective he was.
Wait, was he expecting a response? Shoot, I was distracting myself again. “Nothing, nothing! Just lost in thought, again. You know how it is.” I tried laughing it off, but hearing my own worthless voice took any false levity out of my tone.
“Alright. If you don’t feel alright, let me know, okay?” If Malcolm gave any indication that he was worried about me, his expression provided no hints. I was positive he knew something was up, we’d known each other for too long for him not to realize I wasn’t all there, but if he didn't mention it I wasn’t going to complain.
“I will,” I lied. I wasn’t about to give him any impression of what was going on in my head, not now or ever.
*****
One of the most wonderful things in the world was listening to Malcolm passionately elaborate on, well, just about anything. It was adorable, the way he couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. His eyes lit up every time, showing more emotion in those singular instances than I’d ever seen from myself. It was almost infectious, and I was overjoyed that I got to be a part of it.
Even if I was almost never prepared to offer him any insight in what he was saying. I knew little about the political situation in Winnipeg, for example, beyond what I learned whenever the subject came up. Despite that, though, it seemed my presence alone was what he needed, and I could at least provide him with that.
Well, that and (according to him) very nice cuddles.
And yes, I knew that the level of physical intimacy the two of us shared was more than what was considered normal for two men, but I wasn’t one to care. He was my best friend, I was his, and if that meant we were more physically intimate than was ‘normal’ for two male friends, then fine. I was more than happy to be around him, to forget about the entire world save for the two of us.
Sure, both of us wanted more, but I at least had long ago resigned myself to the fact that nothing more could ever happen. I was a monster, a dangerous threat to anyone who came too close. Even our relationship as it stood was a threat to him, if I ever slipped up. If I could ignore that, or if it wasn’t a factor, I still wasn’t sure if I was healthy or worth any sort of relationship. I was oversized in almost all of the worst ways, with bulk perfect for a wrestler or a jarhead. It was disgusting. I was disgusting.
Really, the safest thing was for me to just cut him off immediately, and spend even more time than I already did in solitude. It would guarantee that I hurt nobody, no matter how little control I had.
But I couldn’t just do that. Malcolm deserved so much better, even if staying as close as I did was risky. As long as I was careful — and I was, I had apps and alarms keeping track of everything — nothing bad would ever happen.
In fact, I could even afford to spend one last night at his place before putting myself through several days of isolation. According to my calendar, I wasn’t due to transform for at least another day, even if some of the more basic feelings that accompanied the transformation had already arrived in force. But that was fine. I just needed to practice a little more self control and act like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. It was simple.