"Then everyone will see me naked." Krey shrugged. "I get that you're a little shy, but I saw you earlier. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"N-No?"

"Nothing at all." Krey reached over and tugged on one of the multiple layers Pip still wore. "I liked what I saw. A lot."

Pip detected a tinge of pink on Krey's cheeks. He's flustered again. Pip pretended like he hadn't noticed. "I-I like my body, but I'm not used to other people seeing it."

"I understand." Krey still eyed him like he could see under his clothes. "I'll find a door for the bathroom tomorrow."

"Where would you find a door?"

Krey shrugged again. "I'll steal my mums." He finally put some trousers on when Pip shivered. Krey would have curled up against him naked. They were moving closer to that level of comfort, but Pip's poor cheeks couldn't take more heat.

When Krey was under the covers, Pip latched onto his warm body. His fingers were like ice. Their legs intertwined, locking their bodies together. Krey was getting used to holding someone tightly before falling asleep. He could no longer picture an empty bed at night, and his thoughts lingered to his mother.

Amidst his grief, he had forgotten to think about how her days had changed too. Now that Krey had Pip, he realised how lonely her life had grown to be. "I think I'll look in my dad's office tomorrow." Krey would usually keep those thoughts to himself. The longer he was with Pip, the more he wanted to share the thoughts that were heavy with emotion.

"Will you look with your mum?" Pip asked with his head against Krey's bare chest. His skin was hot against the side of his face.

"Yes."

Pip listened as Krey's heart quickened. "And you haven't been there since... um-"

"Since he died. No. I'm kinda- I feel weird about it," he mumbled. "I avoid that corridor because I can't stand to see his name on the door." Krey frowned, not expecting to talk about that. He wasn't used to sharing how he felt.

"It might be good for you and your mum to take the time to remember him."

Krey gulped back a sudden pang of sorrow. He held Pip tighter against him, using his comfort as a strength to tackle his sadness.

* * * * *

Krey hovered behind his mother as she held the key to Roden's office tightly in her grip. Her knuckled whitened, her breath was weary, her mouth was dry. Standing outside her mate's office was too much. She couldn't bring herself to open the door.

"I'll do it," Krey said impatiently, worried that they'd both change their minds if they took too long. He had waited until after lunch to find his mother. Pip had given him all the encouragement he needed to finally reach approach the void that was his father's office.

Krey took the key and shoved it into the lock. He held his breath and turned it. The door clicked, and his hand hovered above the brass handle. Krey inhaled calmly. He felt the tension flowing from his mother.

The door had trapped so much pain inside, but Krey inhaled another breath, and pushed the door open.

His mother fell to her knees.

Makena covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Sudden tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Krey crouched by her side and tried helping her back to her feet. "I know," he said when she failed to form words. "It smells like him."

Krey admired her strength. She was dragging herself through each day just for him. Without a mate she was hollow. Krey was the only strength Makena had left to get out of bed each morning.

"I never- I-" Makena, with the help of her son, stood up and edged towards the room. "His clothes were starting to lose that smell. My poor Roden." There was a stain on the worn peach carpet where he died and werewolves had tried to clean it up.

Krey and Makena stood in the doorway, looking around the room. The blinds were still drawn up wonky, just the way Roden liked it to avoid the sun shining on his papers. An empty mug of what would have been black coffee still sat on top of books. The chair Krey had sat in that dreadful night still rested in the same place. The desk had mounds of papers stacked all around it. Roden struggled with computers. He liked putting paper to pen. He liked drawing maps and pinning things to his walls.

Krey entered first, leaving his mother to clutch the doorway. The atmosphere in the room was heavy on his heart. Krey breathed as though his breath would disturb too much. He moved carefully to a picture on the wall and unpinned it.

The picture was small and at least ten years old. His parents stood at the front with their pack all around them. Nine-year-old Krey sulked on the floor by his father's feet. If only I knew he would die so soon. All those years- fucking wasted. Krey shoved the picture into his pocket.

Makena then braved a step. She almost tumbled but Krey moved swiftly to her side. She linked an arm with his, and he took her to the desk. Makena slowly lowered herself into Roden's leather chair. "I used to greet him in this spot when he got back from his meetings." She wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her long grey hair into a bun. "The smile he would give me when he opened that door." She closed her eyes, gripping the desk. "I can see it as if he were standing there right now."

Everywhere Krey looked, old memories formed. Opening the door to his dad's office had set him free in a painful sort of way. Krey was already feeling lighter, but on the verge of tears. The memories hurt like a million pins pressing against his heart. Deep down, Krey was thankful to remember him in such a glorious light. His father had been his hero without Krey even knowing it. He hoped that one day, he could make his father proud.

No, Krey thought with a sudden look of triumph. He turned back towards the desk where his father had spent endless nights. Krey wanted to make new memories in honour of his dad's hard work. Krey could not fail now, not when his father's pack needed him for survival.

"I will make him proud," he said aloud, clashing eyes with his devastated mother. "I will."

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