ADYEN

     After the meeting that afternoon, I spent most of my time myself to think. Len kept messaging me, but I either ignored him or sent quick short replies. I used the excuse of midterms to avoid him, and I was too tired to care about my grades since my mind was occupied with so many other things.

     I moved through the week feeling drained. My mates at track practice noticed, and when they offered to head out with me for fun downtown, I panicked and got up from the bleachers. What if the biker werewolves stopped us to get to me? What would I do if things got dangerous? I didn't have a wolf, and I didn't know two shits about fighting or protecting myself.

     "I'm sorry..." I trailed, realizing that all eyes were on me now. It was a Thursday evening, and practice had ended about half an hour ago.

     "What's wrong with you, man?" the oldest person on the team said, narrowing his green eyes at me as he rubbed the back of his neck. Half of the team had left, and the other half, including me, had decided to sit in the bleachers. They had been having a conversation, and I had zoned out before they made their random offer.

     I shook my head, letting out a sigh. "Nothing," I insisted, letting my eyes flicker towards the exit.  Usually, my teammates didn't talk to me, but my lack of focus had been bothering my coach. I was the fastest person on the team—and even though people weren't my friends and were mere acquaintances they depended on me doing well on the team, so they cared in very specific cases when I was acting "off."

     "I'm going to leave, I need to study for my test tomorrow," I announced before making my way through the crowd of sitting boys before heading down the stairs on the side.

     There was a groan. "What's wrong with him?"

     "I don't know, man. Ayden's always weird, maybe he's just tired."

     "Do you think it's that native kid that he's been hanging around recently?"

     I swallowed the spit in my mouth as I walked out of earshot. I didn't want to hear my teammates theorize about my personal life. I blocked them out for a reason.

     I didn't bother changing out of my track clothes, and I just wore my trousers over my shorts and put on my winter coat. It was snowing today and had been somewhere in the twenties on the below-zero measurement scale. As I walked out and shivered as the cold wind dried up my face, I wondered what Len was up to—what he was doing. I didn't sit with him at our classes for the past few days, and he had tried to talk to me at first but had respected my wishes and backed away.

     Trending on the snow-covered paths was bothersome. My shoes got soaked and so did my socks, and they put me in a worse mood than I was already in. I wondered if Len could feel it.

     I wondered if Len could feel my frustration and tiredness.

     My lips quivered when I stepped into the apartment complex with my dorm. A part of me was both comforted and irritated at the new fact I had learned. Yes, if Len could feel what I felt it made me feel less alone, but at the same time, I was frustrated that I couldn't do the same—that I couldn't tap into what worried and bothered him. What made him happy? What made him relax? I felt like we were both approaching our budding relationship differently. Len acted as if he knew me—and maybe he did, but I didn't know him well enough, and it frustrated me. I barely knew myself.

     Hey, don't go in.

     I blinked, squinting when the voice filled my head. I furrowed my brows, staring at the entrance of the building as I thought about stepping inside.

     I told you not to go in.

     My eyes went wide when I heard the voice again, but this time I could recognize it. It reminded me of my time at the pizzeria. I remembered it from when Georgiou was having a back-and-forth with the biker pack's leader.

     It was the alpha. It just had to be. He was looking for me. The young werewolf at the meeting had said so.

     A shiver ran through my spine, and I swallowed the air in my mouth to stop myself from yelping from fright.

     You're acting like a deer caught in front of headlights. Aren't you going to turn? The voice wasn't menacing or demanding. It sounded almost playful, even, but that didn't stop my hands from shaking, and that didn't encourage me to turn to find the source of it. Even at that, I still wasn't reaching out to open the door. My body was frozen in place, and my mind was buzzing with too many things to draw up a proper escape plan.

     "I just want to talk to you." The actualization of the voice as an actual sound made me turn my head to the side, I stared out into the path through the side of my eyes. At first, I didn't see anyone, but then a figure in faded black jeans, high tops, and a jacket with a hood they had over their head stepped out from behind a parked car.

     The figure approached me, and the sound of their shoes crunching the snow below filled the air. I stayed still, deciding not to leave the porch in case I needed to make a quick run for it inside.

     "I wanted to talk to you," the person repeated, stopping at the edge of the stairs before reaching up to pull down their hood. I felt my throat clog up when I met face-to-face with the werewolf from before. His short hair was soon dusted with flakes of snow and his dark skin was dry, yet his smile was bright.

     Why was he smiling at me?

     I wondered about that, confused by the contrast of his behavior when compared to how stern he was at the restaurant.

     "Adyen?" he asked me like he was testing the name.

     "How do you know my name?" I asked instead of answering him. He raised a brow at me, licking his lips before letting out a sigh.

     "You don't remember?" he tucked his hands into his pocket. "I thought the memories would come back after you spotted me at the parlor," he added, rubbing the back of his neck before casting his eyes to the ground. At the pizzeria, he had looked tough—a bit scary even, but now he looked like I had hurt his feelings by saying I had no clue about what he was talking about.

     "I don't know what you're talking about," I mumbled, taking a step back. If I moved any further back I would be up against the door. I tried to remind myself that I needed space to reach for the handle if I needed to make a run for it.

     The taller dude sighed, staring at me with confusion in his eyes. "You don't remember anything. Anything at all?" he asked, and I felt myself shake. "No dreams, nothing?"

     My shoulders relaxed and my lips parted. I frowned, wondering if he was referring to my dreams. Len told me they probably were a result of trying to connect to a past life—that there was a high chance that they were just false memories.

     "You did remember something," the older boy said, making me blink before looking up at him. He had an awkward smile on his face, and he had buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket to hide them from the cold.

     "Do you remember me?" he asked.

     "Yeah, from the pizza parlor—"

     The older boy cut me off by shaking his head. "No, not that. Do you remember me and mum?" he asked, and I narrowed my eyes at him until the dream about a woman and two toddlers flooded my mind.

     "I'm Naylan," he said, not waiting for me to give him my answer.

I wanted to say something. My lips were parted, and my eyes were staring into his brown ones. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask him about the woman he claimed was my mother. I wanted to ask him if they ever looked for me after that night. I tried to vocalize my thoughts, but nothing came out.

     "You seem shocked," the older person said, walking up the stairs until he was standing right in front of me. He was taller. I had guessed as much when I had looked at him from the distance. This time instead of trying to capture just his looks, I began to search for the similarities that would hint at us being brothers. Sure, he was black like me, but aside from that, I don't think we looked very similar. I wanted to ask if we maybe had different fathers, but I guess that would be an odd thing to bring up now.

     "H-how old are you?" I asked, not being able to stop myself from stammering.

     "I turned twenty last month," he said. I reached out my hand, but I pulled it back, not sure what I was trying to do. I guess I wanted to reach out and touch him. Reach out and figure out if this was all real, and if he just wasn't a figment of my stressed-out brain.

     "So, just about a year and a handful older than me?" I said, and he nodded.

     We both went silent, not saying anything as we stared at each other. He seemed like he had a lot to say but was giving me time to process things.

     He opened his mouth, but closed it again before shaking his head and speaking out, "Mum's in Nova Scotia—"

     "Adyen!"

     We both turned towards the sound, and my eyes went wide when I noticed Len's figure making its way towards us in the drizzling snow.

     "Let's talk later," Naylan said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder before turning to walk away. Before Len reached me Naylan had climbed into a motorcycle he had packed and drove off.

     "What was that about?" Len asked, panting as he took hold of my arm.

     I didn't say anything. Everything he told me had me excited yet anxious. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell Len any of it yet. I had always wanted to know about my family, and here this werewolf was, telling me I was his brother, and that our mother was now in Halifax in Nova Scotia.

     "Nothing," I said, not focusing on Len who was panicking on my behalf. Instead, my gaze was focused on the dot in the distance that was Naylan's motorcycle.