Dante the Werewolf: Part Five (rough draft)

Rain fell heavily upon the old tin roof. I can remember the sound so clearly, especially when I am half asleep. I was curled up on an old sofa that smelled like ass and dog with an old crocheted throw draped over me. It was the coziest I had felt in a long time. I was warm and sheltered and filled with stolen beer. My mother had found that old shack, which was a hunting cabin that was maybe used once a year. My mom took the bed while I slept on that old couch.

“It’s fine,” I told her. “The couch is probably less used.” I don’t know why I said that. She was just going to take the bed anyways. Sh always took the bed.

“Alright, baby. If it’s fine, it’s fine,” she laughed.

At that point, we had been on the road for a couple of weeks and we had slept in the car. Mom had taken the back seat while I slept with the passenger seat leaned back as far as I could. That sofa was the first time I had a comfy bed in so long. I was enjoying it, and I was already preparing to have to sleep in the car again.

Through the rain I heard my mother’s footsteps coming from down the hallway. She walked out into the room I was sleeping and stood there staring out the window. I continued to feign being asleep. If she was drunk I didn’t want to engage her, and if she wasn’t she was going to want someone to talk to while she did. But she stood there for the longest time just looking out the window I suppose.

After a while she came and sat down in the armchair beside the sofa, and I continued pretending I was asleep. Maybe if I was lucky I would just fall asleep. My mom shifted in the chair, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh.

At that moment in time I was the same age my mother was when she had me. At sixteen she gave birth to me in the bathtub of someone’s vacation home. I had often tried to imagine what that must have been like for her. Growing up, she had been raised by a feral werewolf pack, even at a young age she learned to be strong, to be vicious. I don’t know if she knew who my father was, but for whatever reason she had me and never turned around. It had always been us, maybe someone else for short bursts of time, but we were always the constant.

“Werewolves can’t settle,” she told me. I was so young when she said this. I remember I loved cereal, but I hated milk. So she would toss me loose cereal over a table top to eat and make fun of how my tiny hands snatched things up. We made a game of it, I would be Godzilla and she would make voices for the cereal bits, aka people, I ate.

“We don’t have that luxury. People find us out. People hate us. This world is dog eat dog for a reason baby.” She blew out that clove scented smoke and sighed. “We got each other, for a while at least.”

“A while?” I asked.

She turned and smiled at me, young but aged beyond her years. “You remember that day we were in the woods?” She leaned closer to me, tapping her sharp nail on the table top. “We saw that mama bird flying away from the nest with her little babies trying to follow? Remember that?”

I nodded.

She flicked a blue ring of cereal at me. “Remember how she never came back? But some of the babies did?”

I nodded again, feeling anxious and queasy inside. I never really ate blue things again after that conversation now that I think about it.

“Sometimes mamas have to leave their babies, because its good for ‘em.” She leaned back in her chair with a big smile. “But not all the time.”

“Why?” I asked.

She tilted her head to the side, sighed deeply and pouted her lips out. She took another drag from her clove cigarette then blew the smoke out up at the stained glass fixture over the kitchen table.

“Nature I guess.”

I guess she would have been young then, twenty at most, possibly even still a teenager. I doubt she knew why even herself. She probably thought so long about it because she wanted to find an answer for herself and not for me.

“That’s fine,” I said and continued eating my dry cereal.

Ever since, I expected her to leave and never return. I would forget that feeling as we traveled, as I was more focused on finding food and sleeping than anything. I grew up understanding I would probably be alone one day. I just never knew when.

A few weeks before we came to the hunting cabin we had been a few states over. Mom had been working in a gas station to earn some money, stealing from the till and customers to fatten her wallet. Across the street from the gas station was this little old church. It was white with a red door, and my mom would stare at it a lot.

We were sitting outside the store, she was smoking and I was drinking soda. She gave me a lot of soda that summer.

“How is it?” She asked me through a cloud of smoke.

I shrugged. “It’s fine.”

She looked across the street at the church, a scowl upon her face. “That place reminds me of when I was a kid,” she told me one day.

She blew out smoke in rings and laughed that raspy laugh of hers. “The pack lived in an old, abandoned church just like that.”

My mom never talked about her old pack ever, so I was eager to hear more. “Really? How come.”

“I dunno,” she scoffed at me. “Free real estate! For shits and giggles I don’t fucking know.” She took a long drag upon her cigarette and then blew out the smoke like she was trying to fill the church. Her face slacked, her eyes became hollow.

“They used to fuck on the alter,” she murmured.

I furrowed my brow at her, expecting her to say more but she didn’t. She dropped her cigarette and stomped it out with her heel. That evening we left, passing by the church as it opened it’s doors. The light that spilled out from inside was radiant and my mom swerved to scare a car pulling into the parking lot.

We found the hunting cabin the same way we always found a roof over our heads. We found the places where people wanted to vacation and we would find empty vacation homes and rental cabins. Hunting cabins during the off seasons were always a good mine too.

“We’ll settle here for a bit,” my mom said after she picked the lock. “I’m sick for working for now.”

I sighed and made my way into the kitchen. “That’s fine, mom.”

I checked the fridge as she went to the bathroom. There were beers and liquor inside, old ice and some deer meat in the freezer. We cooked the venison and drank beers that evening, and to my surprise mom went to bed early. I stayed up a bit later, reading some of the books left in the cabin. They were mostly old westerns and I wasn’t a good reader. But I tried to teach myself where I could.

I tried falling asleep as the rain came, and then my mom walked out of the bedroom.

My mom sighed again and I heard a rattling on the table. She tossed the car keys across the old coffee table, along with some crumpled up dollar bills and change. She leaned back into the armchair, taking a deep breath and holding it in her chest. Whatever she wanted to say to me, I’ll never know. She was gone by the time I woke up. The mama bird left the nest, never to return.

She left me the car, which was a blessing and a burden. I counted the money, and it would be enough to get me through the next week. I placed it all in my wallet and sighed. “Yeah, that’s fine, mom.”

I stayed at that hunting cabin for as long as I could, getting odd jobs in the town next door. I saved up my money, got a Game Boy, and from then on it was just me. The only constant.

Sometimes when it rains at night, I can’t sleep.

I was a nobody with nothing. No education. No paper trail. Barely even a name. But my mom at least had taught me how to survive, how to bullshit, how to take what I could get when I could get it.

The car broke down a few months after my mom had left. I managed to get it to a garage, although I wasn't sure how I was going to pay for it.

“You better call somebody to come get you, kid,” the mechanic told me. He looked me up and down as he wiped his hands on a rag that was probably making his hands dirtier.

“How long is it gonna take?” I asked him.

“A few days.” He kept looking at me and it was making me uneasy.

“Okay. that’s fine,” I grumbled.

He stood before me and I can remember how small he made me feel. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled and my stomach churned the same as when I saw blue food.

The mechanic chuckled. “Do you know the moon, kid?”

Sweat trickled down my neck and I just stared up at him.

He grinned and slapped my back pretty hard. “I get it.” He pushed me along. “Come on. If you got no one to call, you can come with me.”

“For what?” I grumbled. I wanted to fight him, but something deep inside me told me not to.

“A pack,” he chuckled. “Name’s Mac by the way. What’s yours, kid?”

“Dante,” I answered.

“Dante?” He scoffed. “What sort of fucking name is Dante?”

“My mom heard it on TV before I was born,” I said.

“People these days will name their kid fucking anything,” Mac laughed. He took me to the back of the shop where there was a fridge and a small table. He sat me down, opened the fridge and tossed me a beer.

“How long have you been on your own?” He asked me.

I shrugged. “A while. Used to be me and my mom.”

Mac lit a cigarette, but it smelled nothing like my mom’s. “How old are you?”

I shrugged and looked over the can of beer. “Maybe seventeen, I said. Sixteen. I’m not sure.” I cracked open the can and took a drink.

“Tall for your age,” he grunted. “Although you're a scrawny little twerp.” He sat down at the table with me. “Wolves ain’t made to be loners, Dante. Young man like you needs order, needs a family. Always happy to have another around.”

I was looking at the beer can.

“Loners get killed,” Mac said ominously. “Packs protect.”

I glanced up at him. “I’ve heard it the other way.”

Mac chuckled and took a drag on his cigarette. “That’s how loners think. That’s what gets ‘em killed. But when you’ve got a pack, your taken care of no matter what.”

I remember how my mom looked at the church, and I wondered if she felt the same way I did about blue foods.

Mac took me home to his pack. Despite the fact he worked at the garage, maybe owned it I’m still not sure, the pack squatted in what used to be a roadside motel. It was old and disgusting, but it was a home. And for a while it was mine.

I worked in the garage, earning my keep as well as paying mac back for my car. Which was put to good use by the rest of the pack. Mac also had a daughter named Tiffany, and I was often sent with her wherever she went. Like I was her guard dog or something.

Tiffany had a knock for getting into trouble. She loved to run off with human men, sometimes for months at a time. She’d left a few dead, enough that her dad didn’t trust her alone with anyone anymore.

I could see how people could get in trouble with Tiffany too, she was beautiful, dangerously so. She was smart and selfish, looking out for her back at all times.

“Dante, sweetie, aren’t you bored?” She asked me one night. I was driving her around, taking her wherever she commanded me to.

“I’m too busy watching out for you, I don't have time to be bored,” I told her.

Tiffany giggled. “I keep you on your toes don’t I?” She leaned over closer to me, kissing my neck and biting my ear.

“Tiffany, stop that,” I told her.

She kept going, kissing and biting me, moaning against me while her hand slipped into my lap. It felt good, I won’t lie about that, but there was something wrong about it.

“Tiffany, stop.” I grunted.

She giggled in my ear, licking it. “Oh come on. We’re wolves, we’re animals, it’s what we do. It’s nature.”

My guts churned and I felt sick.

“Come on, Dante. I’ve been so curious to see what you’re hiding.” Her hand continued palpating my crotch. She grinned when she felt me begin to grow hard. “Oh fuck. Dante!”

I pushed Tiffany back into the passenger seat, glaring at her as a warning. She scoffed, offended I would tell her no.

“You sniffing only ballsacks?” She scoffed.

“No. I feel nauseous. I think whatever we ate at that restaurant is getting to me.” I lied, but only because I feared the repercussions. Saying no to Tiffany was dangerous. She was a vicious beast and she had her father, and even worse monster, wrapped around her finger.

“Oh,” she still didn’t like it. “Well, your cock is mine now.” She said it so matter of factly. “I like it.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek and tightened my fists around the steering wheel. Tiffany scared me, and it wasn’t something I was into. It was just how living in a pack was.

“Okay, fine,” I scoffed.

Mac’s mother, Sandy, was also part of the pack. She was old and had been in a rough fight ages ago that left her scared and hobbled. She had to walk around with a cane, and even then it was hard on her. She kept to herself, but she was one of the few people I liked talking to in those days.

Sandy liked pot so I would get it for her and smoke with her occasionally. Those were the moments when I liked being part of of a pack.

“Have you ever heard the origins of werewolves, Dante?” She asked me one day.

I looked up through smoke at her and shook my head. “No. I just know we exist.”

Sandy chuckled. “We’re evil beings, did you know that?”

I tapped ash into a dish then passed the joint over to her. “I believe it.”

Sandy was prone to aimless rambling, so I was preparing myself for the long haul now. “I think it’s our humanity that does it. Wolves do what they do because they are animals. They are not born with sin like we are. It’s human nature that makes us evil and turns us into monsters.” She took a drag and held it within her chest.

“And that’s our origin?” I asked.

She blew out the smoke and coughed. “No. No. Roots are there. But the story is about a son and father so cruel, so bloodthirsty, and so powerful they felt they deserved the right to do as they pleased. They said it was what the animals did, but really, animals do what they need, not what they want.”

“So these men became animals?” I asked.

“Perhaps. I’ve also heard someone thought it’d be funny to sacrifice a child to Zeus and that pissed him off. But then again, Zeus shuldn’t be judging anybody, so I’ll believe the latter.”

I furrowed my brows. “The latter being?”

“Human nature,” she sighed. “Good old human nature.”

I still wasn’t sure what she meant or even was sure what she was trying to tell me. I just shrugged and took the joint from her fingers. I hated the word nature.

“What is it you need, Dante?” She asked.

“Nothing really,” I answered.

Sandy eyed me. “We all need something. Beyond what is basic, we all need something. Sometimes it is what is basic.”

I just shook my head. “I think I’m fine.”

Sandy scoffed. “We can think and think all we want, but thinking rarely ever gets us going anywhere. There is something you’re missing, Dante. Something that you need. I know it. I see it. You’re not happy, which means you’re missing something you need.”

“Is anyone happy?” I asked. I handed her back the joint and she took hold of my hand instead. Sandy looked up at me and took in a very deep breath that puffed out her chest.

“I know what you need,” she said decisively.

I rolled my eyes.

Sandy chuckled. “I know it now, boy. I know exactly what you need. It ain’t food, it ain’t shelter. Hell, it ain’t even peace and quiet.” She squeezed my hand tight. “You need love.”

I scoffed. “Sandy, I’m just fine. Now take the fucking joint, would ya?”

Sandy leaned back and took the joint. She held it between her fingers while she gazed off into the wood behind the hotel. “Yup. I’ve got you now, Dante. I’ve got you.” She finally took a drag. “You won’t find it here. You won’t ever get what you need here. So either you rot here until my granddaughter kills you. Or you run.”

A cold chilled ravaged its way through my body.

“You gotta run, Dante. You won’t find what you need here at all. It’s all dried up.” She turned and looked back at me. “Get some sleep. Running takes a toll.”

It took me a while to take her advice. But after  one too many nights with Tiffany, and one too many nights in jail, I got fed up. I packed what few, meager things I had, took my car, and I ran.

I ran until I was too tired to run and I got a campsite to rest at for a while. I didn’t have a tent, but I was able to string up some old tarp I had in the trunk to make a shelter.

“Son, you alright?” The manager of the campsite came up to my spot one morning. He was carrying a large trash can on wheels around to empty the other trash cans.

“I’m fine sir,” I answered him.

“It’s suppose to rain soon.” He pointed at my shelter. “Are you going to be okay with just that?”

“I can go to my car,” I said simply.

He sighed heavily and set the rolling trash can aside. “I’m going to ask you again. Are you alright, son?”

I wanted to blow him off, but I got to thinking about it. I guess he saw me thinking, because he sat down at my picnic table with me.

“I’m getting ready to open up for the summer rush,” he said. “I can use all the extra hands I can get. I’ve got cabins for my employees who travel between my properties, you’re welcome to it and a job. Big fella like you is always needed around here.”

I looked at him, confused. “You don’t know me.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know a lot of people. But that’s part of life, ain’t it?” He held his hand out to me. “Call me Earl. What’s your name?”

I shook his hand out of caution. “Dante.”

“Good name,” Earl chuckled. “You know where that name comes from?”

I shook my head. “No. I was just told it came from something on TV. That’s all I know about it.”

Earl smiled at me. “It comes from a man who's been to hell and back. Sound familiar to you?”

I just chuckled. “Possibly.”

I took the job offer from Earl. During the summer I worked at that campsite, and as winter came around, he gave me another job as his winter resort. The moving back and forth felt normal to me, but Earl’s kindness was why I stayed.

It was a couple of summers later I thought my life would be ruined when a woman grabbed me from behind while I was shifted.

Right now you’re fast asleep, tucked into bed as snug and cozy as can be. Your hair is messy, you’re wearing my shirt, and you would hate to know I’ve caught you in such a state. But I can’t sleep. It’s raining too much.

You stir slightly, turning one way and then the other. I see on your face a slight dilemma and when your hand reaches towards my side of the bed, you begin to wake up. I slip down from the window seat and gently tuck your hand back into bed.

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper.

You grumble and prop yourself up. “What are you doing up?”

I sit on the edge of the bed, hoping I can coax you back to sleep. “Can’t sleep. I didn’t wanna bother you so I just sat in the window.”

You rub your eyes then and sniffle as you wake up more. “Why can’t you sleep? Is everything alright?”

I sigh and kiss your forehead. “I’m fine. It’s just the rain.”

You glance towards the window where the glow from the street lamp illuminated the droplets of rain on the window panes. You sit up more, stretching and yawning loudly. My shirt rides up over your belly and I can’t help but smile. I reach out, tugging my shirt down so you stay warm.

“You don’t have to get up,” I say.

“Yes I do. I gotta pee.” You stand up wobbly from bed and scratch the top of your head. “I don’t think you want me doing that in bed.” You head to the bathroom and I sit there with a smile on my face.

The first time we met, I was scared, terrified even. Earl had given me some semblance of peace and tranquility in my life. Then you popped out of the woods with your phone. You were scared, I was scared. Years later and somehow here we are.

You come back from the bathroom and crawl back into bed, coming towards me for a kiss. Your mouth is cool and wet from a drink of water, and your hands are still dewey from washing. I smile at the affection, you give it so freely. I’m not so used to it, so sometimes I know it’s hard to earn, but I take whatever you can give.

“I didn’t know the rain bothered you,” you said as you sat beside me.

“It’s just one of those weird little character flaws,” I murmured.

You kissed my arm and shoulder then leaned into me. “Does it bother you? Like the sound or something?”

I breathe in a deep sigh. “Something.”

You yawn and nuzzle up closer to me. “Well, is there anything I can do to get you back in bed despite the ‘something’?” You sleepy, soft kisses on my arm were growing more intense. A shiver went down my spine as I realize you were hinting at more than snuggles

“I dunno,” I murmur, playing along.

The soft squish of your breasts under the shirt press into my side and I lose my breath for a moment. I bow my head down, grinning like a mad man and chuckling.

“Aren’t you tired?” I ask.

“Not when you’re brooding half naked in a window,” you giggle. You sit up a bit more, placing soft kisses on my cheek and jaw. The softness of your body is growing hard to ignore. A speaking of growing hard-

“You and Miri’s books,” I sigh.

“I know you read the western one the other day, don’t try me, moon doggie.” Your hand rests in my lap and your gentle fingers fall upon me. You find me engorged and growing bigger. The warmth from your palm is good enough for me,but the pressure and your soft gasp affects me even more.

“Do you like it?” You ask.

I am more focused on arousal than anything. “Huh?”

“The book. Do you like it?” You dare to talk to me while touching me.

I nod. “It’s silly but it’s good.” I let out a moan as you stroke me. Your touch feels so good, even through my underwear.

“What made you pick it up?” You slid your hand into my boxers and touching me directly felt like sparks were flowing through my blood.

I grunt and moaned, melting at your touch. “I like westerns-” I manage to get an answer out.

You giggle again, kissing my arm then gently biting as you stroke me. “What a surprise.” You lower yourself down into my lap, tugging down my boxers slightly. My cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face.

“You still surprise me,” you murmur. Your lips press against me and my eyes flutter. You’re just giving me the lightest of touches and it’s doing things to me.

Your lip part uon my shaft and your hot breath makes me moan. Then your tongue, your warm, wet tongue, laps me up like ice cream. You kiss and lick, taking my tip into your mouth. You sleepily suckle upon me, waking more as your own arousal grows. I can smell it in the air, this heavy, sweet scent. I love this smell, and the stronger it is in the air, the more I feel the beast inside me rise.

I touch your cheek, bringing your eyes up to me. Your mouth slips from my cock as you rise up, meeting my lips with a hungry kiss. I pull you into my lap, grinding my cock against your panties.

“Oh, Dante,” you moan.

“Having sweet dreams, were you?” I growl, my fingers sink into your hips and rear. I grind against your more, feeling heat, feeling dampness upon the silky fabric.

“I just want to be close to you,” you whimper.

“Nothing closer than this.” I lay you down upon the bed and tug up your shirt. I kiss your breast, taking the stiff peak of your nipple upon my tongue. I nip and bite, making you shudder and whine.

“You want the wolf?” I snarl against your soft flesh.

You whimper again, wrapping your fingers around the back of my head. “I just want you. I don’t care how I get you.”

I kiss you again before pulling away so I can shift. It would be easy to fuck you now, to take you into my arms and just have you. But when I am with you, I want more than that. I want to give you more, be more. When I am the wolf, I am more myself than ever. I can give me all of me then, monster, man, and beast.

You sit up watching me, concern etched on your face as the transformation begins. In my youth, shifting was painful, even traumatic sometimes. But as I’ve gotten older, the pain isn’t as horrible as it used to me. And transforming for you made me feel safe and secure. Transforming in the wild I was open and vulnerable. But with you, I’m home.

I sink the bed when I climb back upon it. Your eyes are wide with awe as you gaze up at me. I grasp your breasts with my claws and enjoy how soft and delicate they are compared to how viscous and dark I am. Your scent wafts up to my nose and I begin to salivate.

“Are you ready for me?” I growl into your ear.

Your arms wrap around my neck and you beckon me closer. “Dante-” All you needed to do was say my name to set me aflame again.

I push your panties aside, too excited to pull them off. You're beautiful below, soft and supple, peachy plump and when I touch you your wetness strings on my fingertips. I lay my cock upon you, rubbing against you again.

“Dante-” you whimpered again. “Don’t tease me.”

“Not teasing,” I growl. “Fuck. I’m enjoying myself.” I watch my shaft slicken from your, your plump loin beckon me deeper. I licked my chops and slowly placed myself inside. You stretched to take me, opening up and tightening around me.

“Oh fuck-” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby,” I shiver and I prepare myself to keep going, I wasn’t going to stop here. I finish the plunge, inching inside you bit by bit until my knot is pressed against you. I look down, seeing how much of me you’ve taken. “Damn, Baby.”

Inside your inner walls clench and push around me. Drool drips from my mouth and onto your breast. You feel so good without even moving, just tightening yourself around me is enough to make me lose all control.

“Big bad wolf,” you coo. “Look at me.”

I raise my eyes to yours, and the way you’re looking at me is too much. There’s so much love in your eyes, so much affection. I fall into your arms, nuzzling to your breast while you hold me. I push up your hips, holding your legs, and I move inside you. I press deeper, harder, then pull back to feel you tremble.

It frightens me how much I feel for you. The last time I depended and needed someone like this, she left me. She put her car keys on the table and she left in the rain.

“Dante, oh god, Dante,” you cry out.

I snarl and grunt, rising back up to kiss you then thrust myself harder inside you. You whimper and moan, tossing your head back into the pillows. Inside your warm and wet, so tight around me. But it isn’t enough. I push more, pressing closer.

“Oh!” Your voice squeaks.

I push more, feeling some give.

Your fingers dig into my arms and pull at my dark fur. “Fuck…oh fuck!”

My knot begins to open you, slip inside you. Your eyes widen, your mouth hangs open. You let out a silent howl and I am I fully, deeply, inside you.

I am panting hard, so aroused and hazy by having my knot planted inside you.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck!” You clench around me again. “Dante-” You have something to say, but much like me, you can’t think around your desire.

I kiss you, kicking your neck as I grind myself inside you. With my knot in place we’re locked together. I’m breathing hard, shuddering all over. I’ve never felt this good before, it’s remarkable.

There’s a pulse inside you, I gaze into your eyes. You touch my face, tracing your fingers down my muzzle and through my fur. I jolt again, pressing deepe inside. You whimper nodding your head to me. I move again, grinding inside you. That pulse grows and grows, your lashes flutter, your body arches. You take my breath away, and at once I fill you. I release everything inside you. I feel myself shuddering again and again, jerking, bucking,c rying out as if in pain because it is so deep. You’ve grabbed hold of my arms, squeezing them so tight until your fingers release. You fall against the bed, I fall on top of you.

The world is quiet. No rain. Just the sound of you breathing.

I wake to the sound of rain and I open my eyes. I see you lay across from me, hair messy, completely naked. I smile dreamily, just watching you slumber in such a tranquil state. The sound of rain didn’t bother me. I pulled the blanket up over your shoulder, afraid you’d be cold.

You whimper and stir, letting out a sigh as you begin to wake again. “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “With this rain, I won’t have to work today.”

You roll onto your back and kick your legs under the blankets. “Fuck.”

My eyes widen slightly. I was a bit rough last night, what if my knot was too much. “Are you okay?”

“A little sore,” you murmur. “But mainly my panties are soggy and cold.” You chuck them out from under the blanket then roll back over. “My god…what happened last night?” You giggle girlishly.

I smile with relief, settling back down beside you. “I know. It felt so good.”

You smile at me. “I like when you shift for me.” You touch my face, gently stroking my cheek and beard.

“I feel safe enough to do it with you,” i murmur. “I know you didn’t like it the first time you saw it.”

You giggle. “Well, now I love it.” You kiss me and lay against my chest. “This rain is so nice too. Everything feels perfect right now.”

I wish I could agree. The rain makes me uneasy, but as long as you’re happy, I’m happy. I kiss the top of your head and gaze towards the window. As long as it was raining, there wasn’t anything I could do around the campsite. It was rare I would get days with you like this, especially when I was working.

“You don’t like the rain though, sorry,” you say.

I kiss the top of your head again. “It’s okay. You make it better.”

You tighten your arm around me, giving me a loving squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me or anything, but I am curious why you hate it.”

I sigh heavily, sinking my chest in and you along with it. “It’s a long story. Has to do with my mom.”

You peer up at me, a concerned look painting your face. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I scratched the side of my face. “Last time I saw her it was raining.”

You sat up slightly, propping up on your elbow to look at me. “When you were sixteen, right?”

I wanted to look at you, but I knew if I did I could start crying. I look out the window instead. “Yeah.”

“I see,” you whisper. “You don’t have to say anymore. I’m so sorry, Dante.” You kiss my cheek, snuggling back up against me. “I get why the rain would bother you so much. It must have been hard.”

“I was prepared for it. She had hinted to me once before it would happen.” I kept my gaze outside. The raindrops fell along the glass panes, clearing away the fog. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Your arm around me gripped stronger, as if you were trying to say a silent apology.

“Hey, it’s okay.” The tightness in my chest grew, squeezing at my throat and forcing out a few tears. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here. I’m where I want to be.” Those few tears didn’t stop. They kept falling, kept spilling. “It’s fine,” I sobbed. But it wasn’t.

You took me into arms, hugging me tight while it all came pouring out of me. It wasn’t fine. It never was.

“I’m so sorry,” I sniffled.

You used my shirt to mop up my tears. “For what? It’s okay. Cry when you need to. We all have to sometimes.” You smiled at me and I never felt more safe.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I know,” you murmur back. “I love you too.” You took my face between your hands and gave me a stern look. “Could I take your mom?”

I burst out laughing. It felt refreshing and needed after such a long, hard cry. “I don’t know. Maybe if she’s still a smoker.”

You smiled. “I think I could.” You kiss me and smooth the last few tears from my cheeks. “I’ll go get coffee started for us. Okay? Want your cinnamon kind?”

I nodded, sniffling. “Yes please.” I watched as you put on shorts and a shirt to go into the kitchen. I laid back in bed, taking in a deep breath. The sound of rain was growing louder on the tin roof of the cabin and it made me uneasy. But as soon as you came back into the room, it didn’t bother me again.