Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

44. Don't Tell Anyone

So, how to put it delicately... "Stop acting like a moron, getting one answer wrong isn't the end of the world," Volya said.

"Easy for you to say, Vol', you're great at math. I was failing as is."

"Am not that good."

"You're. You're just lazy." Toshka sniffled again, the sound of it worse than nails on glass to Volya. "And I'm going to be stuck—"

Volya cleared his throat, trying to come up with something therapeutic, when Toshka stammered, "without you..." and his throat seized.

Damn it, he should say something already. Toshka was crying because he was afraid to end up in a different class from his, so it concerned him. It made it his responsibility in a way. He startled, as if someone had shot an electric charge through him. "Hold on. We can fix it. I promise."

"How?" Toshka's eyes, made bluer by crying, turned on Volya, who realized that he was about to do something certifiably moronic. Moronic and vital.

***

By nightfall, Volya still didn't know why their plan was vital. He had an abundance of reasons why it was moronic. He lay in bed, sleepless, waiting until it was dark enough to sneak out.

Toshka, who swore he wouldn't sleep a wink from anxiety, snored with a bit of a whistle. His nose must be swollen from crying. He tossed and turned for a while, twisting out of the blanket, but his face, fringed by the mess of red curls, looked peaceful. A goddamn Botticelli painting, that was what Toshka was.

Volya grinned before clamping his hand over Toshka's soft, pink mouth.

"Wakey-wakey," he whispered and shook Toshka's shoulder.

After comprehension flickered in Toshka's widening eyes, he removed his hand.

"Maybe we shouldn't?" Toshka hiccuped.

"Oh, we should," Volya said authoritatively and pulled Toshka upright. "I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so we totally should."

Something inside him flipped, planting a suggestion that he didn't have to be this gung-ho. Climbing into bed with Toshka to cuddle might be safer and more effective. He was tempted, but they weren't children anymore. He couldn't even remember when they did that last... three years ago? Four? Ever? Or was it just in his dreams? The breaking-and-entering was safer than being caught in the same bed, his thirteen-year-old acumen advised him. People were prone to misunderstanding nicer stuff. They had far less problems with the outright mischief.

So, using his preternatural senses, Volya led Toshka through the dark yard to the window with a broken latch on the first floor of the school building. It 'stuck' in its wooden frame thanks to the building's many years of settling. The teachers had no idea about the latch or it lingered on the long list of needed repairs.

The older boys snuck in and out of that window all the time. They just rattled it a little... like that... yeah, just like that.

Volya expelled a pent-up sigh of relief once the frame swung inward. The screech it made nearly deafened him, but it barely got a wince out of Toshka.

"Come on," Volya whispered after slithering inside the school, and extending a hand.

Toshka gripped it and ran up the wall to jump inside. "Like in a movie," he giggled.

Volya pressed a finger to his lips.

They shut the window and crept down the familiar halls, listening for the night watcher's approach in case the man wasn't drunk. The chance of him being sober was slim to none, but as they say, overconfidence ruined a rascal, so Volya strained his hearing to the max. The coast was clear.