Eight Dustin

Without football practice to go to, I had a lot of extra time on my hands all of a sudden. At first, I didn't know what to do with myself, but I stayed away from my room as much as possible. I figured Markus had classes and homework to go along with them. But my courseload was fairly light and almost totally homeworkless.

However, I was getting tired of all the jeers and nasty looks from the other footballers as I wandered around campus. It seemed that I'd gone from hero to zero in a span of a single night, especially after Travis and Leroy told everyone I'd gotten them kicked off the team. It was a surprisingly lonely realization that the friends I thought I'd had were so easily lost.

So, for the first time in almost a week, I went back to the dorms as soon as my classes were done. I thought I'd stop for food, but it looked as if the entire football team was in the cafeteria. No amount of food was worth wading through that catastrophe. Better to wait until they were gone.

When I got back to the room, I found the door ajar and the windows open. It was one of the last warm days, and Markus had thrown them open to let in the sunlight. He sat at his desk, hunched over a mound of parchment covered in all manner of strange symbols and runes.

"Is that you, Todd?" Markus turned in his seat, glancing over his shoulder. His face fell as soon as he saw me. "Oh."

"Sorry," I said, feeling like I was intruding. "I won't bother you or anything. I'm just gonna sit here and read if that's okay."

Markus stared at me for a long moment before he turned back to his work. "Fine. Whatever."

"Thanks."

I kept my head down, still feeling like I was in his way. In the past week, things between us were even more awkward than before. Once I stuck my neck out for him, the hate between us seemed to fizzle. With nothing left to hold onto, we were stuck in a sort of limbo. I didn't know how to talk to him, and while I was pretty certain he'd never be friends with me, it felt weird being cordial to one another as well.

Suffice it to say, the tension in the room was always at an eleven out of ten.

Crawling up on my bed, I was acutely aware of every creaking spring as I found a comfortable spot. I pushed my pillow behind me, leaning up against the hard wall. The zipper on my bag seemed extraordinarily loud as I pulled it open and retrieved my book from inside. Then, of course, the pages had to be loud as well. All in all, I felt like a total jackass by the time I opened it and started to read.

And then I couldn't fucking concentrate on it. The moment I stepped foot in the room, I was accosted by that rich jasmine scent that always hovered around Markus. It made my stomach flutter before working its way down to my cock. Thankfully, there was a blanket nearby, so I was able to cover up the boner snaking down my pant leg while I pretended to read.

My gaze kept drifting upwards to him, stealing glances over the top of my book as he worked tirelessly scratching away on his parchment. Whatever he was working on, it looked complicated. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. If he still had the ability to use magic, he wouldn't have to do everything the hard way.

But then I caught a faint flash of violet from his eyes as his hand swept over the page. Several of the blank spaces filled in, copied from another page nearby. I let out a small gasp, and Markus looked up, his brows furrowed.

"Uh… Don't tell anyone, okay?" he said, looking more than a little uncomfortable at being caught red-handed. "I know I'm not supposed to use magic because of… the incident. But if I don't get this book finished, I'll fail my capstone."

"Oh… uh… sure," I replied, trying to seem nonchalant and failing. "Whatever. It's cool."

"Thanks," he sighed in relief.

Even though I turned my attention back to the page, I could see Markus staring at me in my periphery. Unable to resist, I looked up once more.

"Something wrong?"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I was just surprised, is all."

"By what?"

"Well… don't take this the wrong way…"

I braced myself for whatever insensitive thing he was about to say.

"But I didn't know werewolves were into literature." He gestured to the book and me. "Especially football captain werewolves."

"Not all stereotypes are true, you know." It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. "I'm sure not all witches are stuck-up elitist assholes."

"Oh no," he nodded. "They absolutely are."

"Oh."

"But not all werewolves are muscle-headed idiots?" he offered.

"I mean… a lot of them are. Especially those with Alpha heritage. Kinda comes with the territory."

"So, you're an Alpha then?"

"Not in my pack. But I have some Alpha blood in me." I glanced down at myself. "Believe me, not all this muscle is hard work. A lot of it is just luck."

"Wow. That's… something." He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes off my biceps. "So, uh… Treasure Island, huh? Is that a book for a lit class or something?"

"No. I just like to read it."

"Not your first time, then?"

I held up the book that was ratty, stained, and falling apart at the seams. "I've read this copy probably a hundred times. I got it for my ninth birthday." A warm flush rose to my cheeks. "I've always liked pirates and stuff."

"Huh."

I stared at Mark for a long moment. "What does that mean?"

"I'm uh… just surprised, I guess. You're sort of blowing my mind, is all."

"You mean the split-second assumptions we made about one another aren't correct?" I chuckled. "Shocking."

He smiled. "Well, when you put it that way…."

"I know this is stupid to ask," I said, getting a sudden burst of confidence from his smile. "But can we start over? I know we're just roommates, but I don't want to walk on eggshells for the rest of the year. Especially since I'm not gonna be doing football anymore."

Markus looked long and hard at me. Then he smiled, pushing his project to the back of the desk. He turned in his chair to face me, kicking one leg up over the other.

"I think I can do that."

I leaned across the bed, holding my hand out. "Dustin," I said. "Ex-football player, pirate lover, and hater of philosophy."

Markus reached out, taking my hand. "Mark," he said with a smile. "Spirit witch and dabbler in time magic."

"Nice to meet you, Mark." I pressed my back against the wall, letting my book rest in my lap. "So, you already know that I like pirates and reading. What do you do for fun?"

"Fun?" Mark laughed. "You're funny."

"What do you mean?"

He gestured to the pile of paperwork on his desk. "I don't have fun. I study and I work. That's all I have time for."

"You don't have any hobbies at all?"

"Wouldn't matter if I did. I wouldn't have time for them."

"Oh, come on," I pressed. "There has to be something you feel passionate about."

"I mean, I daydream about hot guys quite a bit, if that counts."

That comment caught me completely off guard.

"I forgot," Mark added hastily. "Wolves don't really do the gay thing, do they?"

My heart was beating a mile a minute. "They… uh… they do. But it's pretty rare and not a popular lifestyle to have."

"You make it sound like it's a choice."

I shook my head, trying to regain control of myself. "I know it's not. It's just… well, I didn't expect you to say that."

Mark lifted an eyebrow. "Does it bother you?" He held a hand up before I could respond. "Just be honest. I don't get offended easily."

Now it was my turn to lift an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"You are not allowed to call me out like that yet," he said, trying to hide the smirk pulling at his lips. "We are not good enough friends for that."

"Sorry." I couldn't help smiling myself. "No, it doesn't bother me. I'm just surprised, is all. Like you said, being gay is so rare in the werewolf community, and usually, those who are, get left behind by their packs. Wolves aren't very good at adapting to change." I grumbled as I glanced down at my book. "Especially in rural Ohio."

"Ew. That sounds awful."

"It's not great."

"Is that why you want to go pro? To get out of there?"

I froze up the moment he asked me. A part of me wanted to spill my guts and tell him how I'd been trained since elementary school to be a football player. Or how my father would pretty much disown me when he found out I'd been kicked off the team. Maybe I'd tell him how I was starting to despise football and all the expectations that came along with it.

"You don't have to answer," Mark said after I'd been silent for a little too long. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No… it's just… well, complicated."

"Most things are."

"Let's just say there's a lot riding on me getting drafted." I sighed, glancing down at the floor. "Everyone's gonna be really upset when they find out I was kicked off the team. Later games are when the scouts start showing up. Can't get drafted if I'm not there." I looked up at Mark. "Not that I blame you. I don't, honestly. You had every right to be pissed at those guys after what they did."

"Dustin…"

"Oh," I said, cutting him off. "Speaking of that, I have something for you."

I reached over, digging through my backpack for the project I'd been working on for the past few days. Finally, I found it, pulling it out of the bag with a flourish. However, the moment the sunlight fell on it, I felt a little ashamed.

"I uh… I tried to fix him," I said, holding out the ragged stuffed wolf that Travis and Leroy had ripped in half. "I'm not a great sewer, but he's dried out and back together now."

Mark's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Artie…"

"Is that his name?" I couldn't help a small chuckle as I handed it over. "That poor little guy has been put through the wringer. Literally actually. He was pretty wet when we got back."

Mark didn't answer. He just stared at the little creature, turning it over absentmindedly. Finally, he looked back up at me. "Y-You saved him?"

"I just held onto it," I answered, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. "That's all."

Granted, swimming through Lake Erie in the middle of the night while holding onto stuffed animal pieces had been a bit of a chore, but I didn't need to tell Mark that. I was just happy to get it back to him. Although, if I was being honest, I was a bit loathe to let it go. It smelled just like him, and I liked having it around.

"I figured he was special to you," I added. "So I tried to put it back to rights." I furrowed my brows. "I just hope I didn't make it worse."

"No," Mark smiled, pulling the stuffed animal close. "You made it a lot better." He looked up at me, those violet eyes of his shining. "Thank you, Dustin."

It was a simple statement, nothing more. But when Mark said my name, my heart fluttered, and that familiar electric shock ran down my spine. For the first time, I didn't push it away. Instead, I allowed the warm sensation to fill me up. It was so nice to see him smiling at me like that.

"No problem," I nodded. "Just happy to help."