Melodramatic Metathesiophobe

Ragged

A million thoughts rushed through Mikey's head, emotions and fears making him sway on his feet, but he shoved the door closed and forced his legs to carry him into the living room.

"Ray?! Ray- are you okay?! Where are you?! What's going on!" He called with more urgency, his throat thick and dry, and he checked his couch and the kitchen. Both empty. "Ray! Answer me!"

Maybe he shouldn't have phrased it like that, because what he got in response was a loud cry of pain. He focused on following the sound.

"Ray, Ray where- what's going on?! Are you okay-" he looked into Ray's bedroom and his vision simply failed him.

It was like what he saw was beyond his comprehension, so his brain decided to take the liberty of blinding him temporarily and giving him the option of looking away. He didn't, though, it was like he couldn't.

Ray was on the floor, hunched over and shaking, half naked, the glint of the moon running over the sweat on his back in an oddly beautiful sparkle. It would have been beautiful if Ray wasn't shaking so much that he distorted the shine. He was trembling, as if he actually was in the electric chair, and when Mikey looked closer, which was difficult, he could even see his muscles quivering below his skin. Most of him was fine, most of him was normal, but as soon as you moved lower...

It was hard to consider a tail and clawed feet normal.

"Ray?" was all he could seem to choke out, his breathing almost as quick as Ray's, "Ray? What- I- Ray, are you-" he gave up on speaking, taking a couple steps in, and that finally seemed to give Ray the idea that there was another person in the room. His head snapped up so he was looking Mikey in the eyes, and it was difficult for Mikey to restrain himself to his spot.

He was crying- he'd been crying, the remnants of tears staining his skin, but his eyes weren't red- they were yellow, piercing and large, as if he was staring into Mikey's soul. His pupils were slits against his irises and even then, the only emotion Mikey could read from him was fear. Gut-wrenching fear.

His hair was longer, cascading down his back in messy curls, eating at the edges of his face, and his limbs- his arms were shaking the worst, shuddering deeply, his hands larger than before and still growing, slowly becoming covered in the same hair spreading down his back. He was clutching them to his chest and gripping at his own skin, drawing small lines of red into his flesh. He was heaving, each breath seeming to be a labor, his teeth gritted so Mikey could see the sharp canines. It didn't make any sense. His brain was short circuiting just trying to come up with an explanation for it. It wasn't right, it wasn't-

Ray cut off Mikey's thoughts with another cry, falling to the carpet, clutching at his stomach and making a sound that could only be compared to a cat stuck in a garbage disposal. His back- well, his back did something, Mikey didn't have any other word than 'rippled', and there was a sudden crunching sound that made bile rise in Mikey's throat. Ray cried as his spine--it was his spine, his spine cracked--pressed out, lengthening his midsection in an agonizingly slow movement, and then his tail--did he always have that?--was growing longer as well. He looked up again, face more strained than before, his eyes squinted in anguish, and opened his mouth. Mikey assumed he was trying to speak, but it didn't go well. All that slid past his lips were pained whimpers and cries. He could have sworn he heard his name somewhere lost in the sound, but he wasn't completely sure.

He became aware that he'd just been standing and staring, mouth agape, so he managed to persuade his limbs into moving and slid to the floor in front of Ray, who moved back. He scooted away with wide eyes, and only stopped trying when Mikey rested a hand on Ray's... well, they weren't hands anymore, were they?

He melted, then, stopping his movements, his eyes flashing with another bout of tears and he hunched, desperately trying to... to grab Mikey's hand? It wasn't very clear, he couldn't really grab anything with the state he was in, but Mikey just moved to cup his cheek and shush him. It was all he could do. There was a sudden flash in his mind, a memory, and his eyes widened.

"Now what do you think about werewolves?"

The realization was a smack to the face.

He'd been telling the truth.

Ray had been telling the truth.

It had been a werewolf.

Ray's body shook with vigor then, his skin rippling, and it really hurt Mikey to watch the hair--fur? It was fur, wasn't it--push through and feather over his body. The remains of humanity in his face had faded and there was barely anything left of the real Ray. A few more crunches and cries later and he was larger, by a few inches, and it didn't seem like it was stopping. Mikey scooted away in fear and concern , watching as anything that could be considered human disappeared, the changes taking over the whole of him and leaving nothing behind. When it finally seemed to stop, he was hunched over, panting, looking down at the carpet, curled like a ball of dark and ragged fur. Mikey just stared, his own breathing quick. All he knew about werewolves was that they were ravenous, bloodthirsty creatures who went on rampages during full moons. He didn't want to die, and of course, he wanted it even less by Ray's hands.

But he didn't feel any claws in his chest. Ray--was it still Ray? Was it someone else, something else?--just stayed hunched, so Mikey got up slowly, carefully moving over and reaching out, about to rest his hand on Ray's head.

Ray snapped up. His eyes flashed dangerously.

He yowled, getting up and knocking Mikey back, rushing to the open window and managing to get out through it, and Mikey shouted. He could hear the footsteps padding away, could hear him howl and cry, and he just sat in a daze.

There were so many questions. So few things that made sense. Werewolves were real, for one, they had to be unless this was a sick fever dream, and for two, Ray was one. That thing in the woods had in fact bitten him, and it had in fact also been a werewolf. Ray wasn't the only one. There was someone else in town. At least one, for all Mikey knew there could have been hundreds. That, for one, didn't make sense. Mikey never really believed in supernatural creatures, but if this was real, then...

And the fact that his friend of years now was one...

How could he confront him about it..? Would Ray remember it? Was Ray still Ray? He was acting strange, and everything that had happened before was making sense, but was he something else? Was Ray completely taken over by that wolf and it was just pretending to be him? How could he ask him about that?

But there was a more pressing question. Ray was in the woods. Would he come back? Could he come back? Would he get lost? Would he get hurt? Would he hurt someone else?

The only plan that Mikey could think of was to stay there, at the house, and wait. If Ray wasn't home by sunrise, then something was wrong and he'd have to go find him. If he was back home by sunrise, then Mikey could... well, he didn't really know. If it was still Ray, then he guessed he'd help, he had to help... Ray had seemed so ruined ever since being bitten, he'd seemed scared and broken down and Mikey cursed himself that he hadn't realized it before. He had to help, he had to put comfort before his questions. When Ray was better--when he was awake and fed and rested, then Mikey could ask his questions.

He wasted time "researching". Really he just looked things up on his phone. Any information he could get was better than none, and he was sure it would be pretty easy to differentiate what was real from what was fake based on what he'd seen already.

After his light research, he stared out the window at the woods, watching it for any signs of a large brown beast. Either that or a dirty, ragged version of Ray.

//Author's Notes\\

And Mikey's finally in the loop :)

~XO, Vacant.~