Keith ducked down and threw his right foot up the air, slamming the other man's stomach to his left. Two of them had been in the fighting ring for almost an hour now. In a flash, the man's fist attempted a hit right on his face, but Keith successfully blocked it with his hands, twisting and yanking it aside, just like how the man had taught him before.
Three years of training and he had never thought he would dread for leaving these lessons.
"Enough," the other man panted. "You're doing well now."
Keith reached out to take the man's hand, pulling him off the ground. Then, Keith tried to breathe evenly again, his lungs suddenly begging for more oxygen. "C'mon, Wren. It's my last day. Give me a harder hit—try me."
When Wren had a hold on the ground again, he walked to pat Keith on his back, an odd smile plastered across his face.
"You've showed it all—I've given all that I have to you already. You need a lot of energy to travel tomorrow, Keith," Wren said to him, for maybe the umpteenth time. He was such a dad to Keith for so many years. It was pretty obvious that he himself couldn't help his emotions turning gloomy for this day—neither of them was prepared for goodbyes.
Keith let out a heavy sigh. Everything felt too fast for him—three years went by like the wind. Three years ago, Keith wasn't fond of these lessons; he had locked himself up in his bedroom so his mother couldn't force him into attending Wren's classes. Now, the idea itself seemed absurd; in fact he felt an urge to go deeper into learning more self-defense game. He found it fascinating how one could be in a battle with using just their existing limbs instead of weapons.
Mom had warned him before—there should be only one purpose in studying martial arts: to defend yourself from danger. According to her, werewolves who did not live in a communal pack would be more exposed to threats especially when they were surrounded by human beings. However, Keith didn't really see the point in his mother's words; for thirteen years he had never found anything menacing being around full humans.
But of course, he knew that being a creature that could turn into an animal had its risks. And he was one.
Wren had not deepened his knowledge about the art; he, too, only studied it as a self-defense skill. He had told Keith there would be unpleasant consequences to the ones who got carried away with this form of art.
Keith didn't see the harm of being a shape-shifting creature around the humans since he was in his human shape most of the time—shape-shifting to his wolf form hadn't always been necessary. He'd barely applied his self-defense knowledge to anyone—there was a memorable one before he and Mom moved from Austin to Los Angeles when he punched a senior who had called him a faggot. It became an issue, though—creatures like Keith weren't supposed to simply attack mortals because their strength was different. But after Keith and his mother moved to LA, everything was fine again—the school was even gay-friendly, and he had normal friends who made him feel human again.
Now his mother was marrying another guy—a mate, she had told Keith—and he would be living in a community of werewolves soon.
Wren pulled Keith to sit down beside him on a long wooden bench at the corner of the room. Drawn about ten feet away from them were the three red circles of the training ring—Keith had been beaten down and bled for three years in it. The pain had shaped him to a new person, even if he didn't occasionally beat people around.
Wren's arm slid around Keith's back, and slowly Keith put his head on Wren's shoulder, appreciating their last moments here together.
"I admire you, kid," Wren said, "you've been a great student. Never thought I could teach before ... then you came."
"Don't say that, Wren. You're going to make me cry."
Wren laughed as tears really stung Keith's eyes. He hoped Wren knew he wasn't really joking.
"Remember those days when you cried after a group of morons called you a girl?" Wren muttered. "I hope I can see you kick their asses in front me now."
"Honestly, I don't remember," Keith responded. "Seriously, I cried? Being called a girl doesn't seem like a bad thing. I'm sort-of a badass female."
Wren continued laughing.
"Tessa should be here by now," Keith said out of the blue.
"You know she's going to be a little late today," Wren replied.
Keith's aunt was an enthusiastic person when it came to shopping, so she had forced his mother to survey wedding dresses with her today. Keith couldn't believe his mom was really marrying another guy, and to make things even scarier, he had never met her future husband. Ugly thoughts came scurrying into his head every time he thought of leaving LA—Washington DC might be another Austin, and honestly, Keith really didn't want to beat another person for throwing slurs at him.
For the first time, Keith would meet more creatures similar to him. How weird that would be? He thought he should feel some sort of excitement to this change, at least for Mom. So when he didn't, he naturally felt bad.
"Wren," he said, the word came out more like a sigh, "what is it like to live in a werewolf pack?"
Wren was the only guy Keith knew who actually lived in a formal pack. Keith remembered visiting the neighborhood—shirtless muscular men scattering everywhere, people around his age with similar bulky built fooling around like children—the sight had been extremely peculiar, and Keith wasn't sure if he could adapt well to it soon.
"It's nothing," Wren replied. "It's like . . . living with a group of friends. Trust me; it's going to be fine."
"Is there any difference to living outside a pack? Like me and Mom?" Keith asked. "Like . . . is there any weird daily routines or something?"
"Well, there'll be fun things, depending on how awesome your Alpha is. My Alpha's a party freak, so there are always going to be some weird party or gatherings during the weekends."
The thought of parties didn't calm Keith, but Wren didn't need to know that. Keith always skipped them, including the ones that had been organized by his school. Not that he'd get invited to any, because his school friends thought he was a recluse. Or a freak—who knows
Hence the automatic preference of curling up in his chair in a computer desk in his bedroom, the place he'd say goodbye to soon.
"Why won't Mom's future husband move to LA and live with us?" Keith asked all of the sudden. He couldn't hide his sour expression now. There was a tiny rage blooming inside of him, and he tried so hard to hide it, but from Wren's reaction he knew his attempt didn't work.
"Keith," Wren sighed, pulling Keith closer until there was no distance between them. "Your mom wants you to experience a life being in a pack. It's going to be a good."
"I'm sure it'd work out well for a straight boy," Keith said. "But I'm not one."
"Why do you think communal werewolves aren't fond of gay guys?" Wren asked.
"I don't know ... those macho bravado boys put up with each other? You know how boys act with each other ... reminds me of locker room in PE ... and stuff." Keith would avoid the locker room scene as much as he could to prevent any more human-werewolf fist fight. "Or maybe I just don't feel like leaving this place. I have all the space I need here."
Wren turned to stare at Keith. As Keith looked into his teacher's eyes, he couldn't believe a man who looked as soft as Wren could turn him into a stealthy warrior.
"There's a reason why your mother is mated to Anthony, you know?" Wren spoke. "We may not know what it is, but there is a reason."
Werewolves believed in a theory that every one of them was born with an incomplete soul as they had two different switchable sides. A mate was a werewolf's complement, another missing part of a werewolf's soul, and destiny would eventually unite the two mates as one. In simpler words, on one lucky day they would meet a completely attractive mate, fall in love and be with them for the rest of their life.
Keith struggled with this mate bond theory—it was way too fairytale-esque for his liking.
Not that he could totally dismiss the idea. Whenever Wren and Tessa were around, he would always feel like he was engulfed in bliss and safety, like nothing bad could happen if the two were with him. Wren and Tessa was a perfect match from the start he found out about them having the bond. He also learned from Mom that the presence of mates emitted this magical energy that everyone could sense—he'd totally know what that meant the moment Wren and Tessa made eye contact in his sight.
That part might be true, but how come you couldn't choose who you were going to be in love with? Their kind was born in pairs, so had destiny chosen their mates before they exist? Say, if Keith's mate was a girl, would he turn straight? That didn't seem to make sense to him yet.
"It seems to me that this whole mate thing is just like how people tell love stories of soul mates in those fairy tales, isn't it?" Keith didn't even realize he was saying that out loud.
"No," Wren answered immediately, a tad of defensiveness in his voice. "It's totally different."
"How?"
"Both of your parents weren't true mates," Wren said. "If they were, your mother wouldn't have lived now. Mates are inseparable, as they are actually one. I can't live without your aunt, Keith."
Keith nodded, keeping his disagreement to himself.
"You don't choose your mates?" Keith echoed his own thought as a simple question.
Wren, however, decided to ignore him and started to stand up. He looked outside the window of the empty space as a sight of Tessa's car appeared out in the yard.
Wren's eyes remained still on the car, trailing it until Tessa stepped out along with Keith's mother. Wren's grin turned wider, happiness flashing in his face like a kid in front of a toy store.
If they weren't mates, Keith could've cringed. It's that emission of magic energy, he thought.
"No, we don't," Wren finally responded as he walked to the front door, "and that's the best part."