Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

44. Don't Tell Anyone

The halls looked about ten times longer and narrower in the dark than during the day.

"You're right, it's like a movie. Like we're in a dungeon."

Toshka snuggled closer to Volya. A shoulder rubbing against Volya's back sent a flash of excitement through him. Fighting the electrical reaction, he barely registered their trekking, even when he stood in front of the principal's office.

The lock on it was a child's play for anyone with deft hands in possession of a plastic ruler.

"Your moment to shine," Volya said to Toshka. Volya was all brawn, rather than finesse, and he'd break the frigging lock before picking it.

Toshka crouched by the door, tongue sticking between his teeth, brows creasing in concentration. He slipped the ruler in, worked it a little. "Voila!"

The door opened with a soft click. They slipped inside to avoid looming in the hall. Volya resisted the temptation to high-five Toshka. "Go find your stupid test. I'll keep watch, okay?"

Volya left the door ajar by just a crack to peer through. Nobody in the hall.

Toshka squeaked, but tiptoed to the desk and knelt by it. He rummaged through its drawers, using the trusty ruler and a small flashlight, until a muffled 'aha!' escaped him.

Still nobody in the hall. Volay glanced at Toshka and couldn't help smiling. The kid tented his jacket over his head to hide the tiny circle of light. It looked cozy. He wished he could leave his post and crawl under there too.

"Can I... copy yours?" Toshka asked.

Asking for permission after they'd broken into the principal's office together? He was really the sweetest. "Sure. Just pray there're no dumb errors."

Toshka snorted. "Right."

His faith in him warmed Volya right up. The electrical sparks started again, so he clasped his hands in front of him, to stop from shaking. Like some crazy person he couldn't wait for Toshka to be done and, at the same time, wanted this night to last forever.

But nothing lasts forever. Toshka's furious scribbling ended. He re-stacked the papers and slid the drawer home. The violated latch clicked.

"We did it! Thanks, Vol'."

"Half-way there," Volya cautioned, studying the darkness. For others it would have been impenetrable. He saw nothing alarming.

They retraced their steps, fueled by the success of their mission, but just as Toshka was clearing the window, Volya's ears caught the watchman's grumbles. Incredibly, the guy was out and about, circling the weed-fringed yard for reasons lost in the recesses of his alcohol-pickled mind.

"Freeze," Volya hissed to Toshka.

Toshka gulped, let go and tumbled to the ground. The window made a soft bang. The distant ranting of the watchman stopped.

Volya crept up to his full height, flat against the wall. His hand reached the window to pull it shut.

Toshka curled up on the ground by his feet. His eyes squelched shut. Like closing them was going to help.... Looking, listening and keeping your head cool was how you did it.

Volya grabbed his partner-in-crime under the armpits and heaved him toward the darkest shadow next to the service building. The weeds took over the loose gravel next to its peeling wall. Luckily, Toshka only needed one push to get moving. Once in motion, he kept going and sunk into the greenery under his own power.

"Shhh." Volya warned and crouched next to Toshka.

The sting of hip-high nettles almost ripped a cover-breaking squeal out of his own throat, but he stifled it at the last moment. It came out as a surprised hiss. "Stupid nettles."

Toshka kicked at the stems with his boot, wrestling the monstrosities to the ground. The frigging weeds rustled like crazy.

"Leave it." Volya yanked on Toshka's arm to kneel in the shadows. Their backs disappeared in the nettles, stings burning through his t-shirt with every move. Toshka fared better with his jacket. Volya ignored the pain and stretched out his neck to track the watchman.

The old man stumbled around, preoccupied with telling his invisible audience a convoluted story about injustice done to him.

I'll never touch a drop for as long as I live... Given the carb content in wine, he probably wouldn't anyway, but if he could, he still wouldn't. He hated pathetic people.

"We'll have to wait the old fool out," he whispered to Toshka and settled back onto his heels.

"Dunno if we can call him a fool," Toshka whispered back with a chuckle. "I mean, just look at us."

Volya mussed up his hair. "Now you've mentioned it, this whole caper was total idiocy."

"Uh-huh." Toshka grinned. "Moronic stuff."

"I'll have blisters all over my ass tomorrow from the nettles."

"Sorry!"

"Meh, it's medicinal."

His ass would be fine in the long run. He was allergic to food, nettles weren't so bad. Toshka's arm on the other hand... he pointed at the jagged scratch that ran the length of Toshka's forearm. In the anemic light given out by the dim lamp at the corner of the yard, the cut and the trickle of blood looked black.

He wasn't stupid, so he didn't ask if it hurt. If it tickled, Toshka would be giggling. "What got you?"

Toshka twisted his arm to see the cut better. "The nail on the frame, when I jumped out. Serves me right for hitting the panic button."

Volya had seen Toshka dismiss all kinds of injuries before as no biggie, but the electric charge still coursed through his veins. He went dizzy with Toshka's proximity and a warm glow in his chest. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to Toshka's torn skin.

"There, I've kissed it better."

Toshka blinked rapidly, nearly giving him a premature heart-attack. Toshka couldn't be mad at him, could he? He'd just frigging broke into the principal's office for his sake, and... heat pumped into his cheeks. Maybe he shouldn't have done it.

"Ah, it's fine. So long as it heals before my wedding day..." Toshka quipped. His hands still shook from excess adrenaline.

Volya caught his fingers, rubbing some warmth into their chilly skin. Toshka forgot to take them away, even after the adrenaline rush had passed, and they slumped into a sleepy silence, waiting for their cue to run to the dorm.

"Thanks," Toshka whispered after a while.

Volya huffed, feigning indifference. "Ten out of ten, will do again."

But inside, he was anything but indifferent. He was sweltering, strangled by his own clothes.

"Let's swear an oath to be mates to the grave, like they do in the books," Toshka said, extracting his hand gently. But a second later, he offered it again, for a handshake. "Like having each-other's backs always and helping out and stuff. Do anything for the other's sake."

"Sure thing," Volya agreed. "Soulmates and all that."

"Just... let's not tell anyone?"

"Sure thing," Volya repeated. He would have done anything for Toshka anyway, and all the best vows were made in secret. 

***

For chapter's mood is a super-old Soviet song 'Winged Swings', basically an anthem of nostalgia for one's childhood.