I Can Hear Your Voice

s e v e n t e e n

May 24th.

[Third Person]

It's been two weeks since Friday.

Five days since Luka's body shut down.

He hasn't woken up.

"Matt," Denis looked at his son worriedly, a steaming mug in hand as he leaned against the doorway. "You haven't gotten better even though we've moved him into our house. You can't wait here forever."

"..."

"Matt."

"..."

"Matt."

"..."

"Matt!" Denis's voice cracked, his eyes burning as he looked at his son. Gaunt with weight loss, face ashen and eyes red from crying. His hair was unkempt, and stubble was growing on his face. Large dark bags were under his eyes as he stared at his mate unblinkingly. His eyes were empty. Dull.

He was dead.

Tears spilled over Denis's eyes. It wasn't uncommon for werewolves to go through this. This only happened if they were rejected or if their mate was dead. Matteo was the exception.

He watched the frozen, statue-like body of his son. He sat there unmoving on the bench next to Luka's bed, staring at his mate's face. Denis watched the unmoving pale face of Luka. Even when he wasn't awake, his whole being radiated sadness.

Everything went wrong.

Oh, everything went wrong. In only a day, everything went wrong.

Denis knew that his son knew more. That Liam knew more. They were hiding something from them.

Denis thought back to his memories of Luka. Of the times he's spent at his house, of all of the times him and Bailey have spent time with the boy.

He was always smiling.

Always laughing.

But he never cried.

Which meant that every time he smiled,

Every time he laughed,

Every time he didn't cry,

The thing he wanted to do the most was cry.

And that was what hurt.

A person you cared about was so close yet so far that it isn't close enough to help them.

Denis felt pain in his heart when he saw his son slowly melting, his back beginning to hunch over as a new batch of tears started to stream down his face.

"Dad," Matteo croaked, his voice hoarse as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. Denis jumped, startled at the abrupt sound. It was very quiet in the room. It was always quiet in the house. No one spoke, and if they did, it was quiet.

"Yes, son?" Denis's voice was scratchy.

"It's so cruel," Matteo's voice broke. "No one realizes that the person we're waiting for isn't real. That the real Luka isn't someone we've met before. I can't even say I love the real Luka because I've never met him before," he paused, his sobbing choking his words.

"It's so cruel, so cruel to Luka."

Matteo said this as he reaches out his hand to caress Luka's hair, combing the curly platinum locks skillfully. His eyes were alive, but they were a pool of despair and sadness as he looked at his mate.

"Wake up, baby." he coaxed.

"Please..."

"I'm waiting for you..."

"Open arms."

"And we can rock each other to sleep..."

Denis stood there, watching his son. Time passed mutely, and it was only when he sighed with a small smile on his face that his tense shoulders collapsed. His son was with his mate, arms curled around his waist as he laid there right next to Luka on his bed, Matteo's head tucked over Luka's heart as the smaller boy was hugged fiercely into his body.

Denis shook his head with a small chuckle and tiredly lumbered away.

* * *

June 1st.
8:45 p.m.

"It's been two weeks since he's shut down. Will he ever wake up?" Marie asked hoarsely. Matteo glanced at her. He didn't look as he did before, being clean-shaved and well rested. But the hope in his eyes has been slowly diminishing and only can his mate reassure that hope.

"He'll wake up," Matteo said hollowly.

"Will he?" Liam asked from his chair, a disbelieving look on his tired face. Tired was a common word around here. Everyone was tired.

"He will," Matteo said firmly, but his voice held no hope. Silence permeated the room. They were all circled around the fireplace; Ian, Marie, Liam, and Matteo.

"Breakfast!" Bailey tiredly yelled, calling them to the table. They hadn't been doing this before; it was only after everyone started to drift apart that Bailey began to forcefully keep them together, not letting them crumble to the ground. Matteo heaved from his spot on the couch, emotionally exhausted enough to not have the energy to get up, but he nonetheless managed to make his way into the dining room, his friends trailing behind him.

Matteo looked blankly at the food in front of him. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes with syrup drizzled over the top. On any other day it would've tasted delicious, today the food was tasteless. All the food he ate was bland.

Matteo swallowed the eggs thickly, the food going down his throat with difficulty. It was troublesome.

Eating was troublesome.

Without Luka, everything was troublesome.

The sound of metal forks clinking against plates was loud in the quiet room.

...but also the soft beat of footsteps was loud in the quiet room.

Matteo froze. He looked around the dining table.

1...2...3...4...5...6...everyone was there.

The bond was light. It wasn't tight, heavy and lodged in his chest like a vice. He'd always hated the feeling of his bond being heavy.

Matteo suddenly stood up from his chair, the wooden piece of furniture thudding to the ground. He ignored the questioning voices of his family and friends and spun around, steps heavy on the floor as he turned down the hallway behind him.

Luka.

He was standing there in his hospital clothes, wild curly hair ruffled, skin pale but his eyes were wide with emotion.

It only took a second—no, not even a second for them to crush into each other.

Luka's arms were wrapped tightly around Matteo's neck, legs crushing around the bigger man's waist. His embrace became tighter and tighter the seconds that went by. Matteo's arms curled tightly around his mate's waist, trying to absorb the boy into his own body with his knees planted into the floor.

Both of them were nuzzling into each other, burying themselves into each other's necks, inhaling the other's scent while whining softly to their ears, not having to use words to tell the other their emotions.

They ignored the creaking of their bones as they squeezed the other dry.

It wouldn't be enough even if they hugged their bones broken.