Toronto, January 2022

“So,” Elias begins, pacing around the dingy living room of his apartment. Tucked beneath four others, down a chipped staircase that connected from the sidewalk outside, it always held a dampness, a darkness that no cheap light could get rid of. Before him, his ride-or-die. Louis. “Is this gonna work?”

The other man doesn’t even try to fight against the chains that keep him bound. They’re too clean, too polished. The lock that hangs against his hip sparkles in the low light of the apartment. Brand new. “I dunno. Most people would just throw me in a basement and call it a day.”

“That’s fucked,” Elias deadpans.

“Paul gives me drugs. You should be more like Paul.” Louie itches his heel along the mildew-y carpet like a fucked up scratch-n’-sniff.

“Yeah, but that would kill you. Paul wouldn’t know that,” The shorter man explains, tousling his greasy hair. His bitten fingernails leave tracks along his scalp, a few thick strands falling forward and getting in his eyes again. 

“He does know that,” A pause.
“If he does, I’ll kill him. Double-dead type shit,” Elias paces, nervously glancing out the stained window. Just beyond the false horizon of the sidewalk, the full moon began to appear. 

“You can’t kill a ghost,” Louis utters. 

“Totally can. Double. Dead.”

The werewolf perks up, face twisting. “You’re sick for that.”

“Exorcism, dude.”

“That’s demons.”

Elias picks at the carpet beneath him. “I can totally exorcise Paul.”
“That’s fucked,” Louis frowns. “Y’know, if it was another monster saying shit like that it wouldn’t be that big of an issue but you’re, like, a human.”

“And?” Elias huffs.

“There’s just the whole… human-slash-monster thing. You kinda hunt us down. Kinda sorta kill us,” Louis continues.  “You make movies about hunting and killing us.”

“Dude, I’m here to babysit you so you don’t go batshit crazy,” Elias narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “And eat someone.”

“I’m just saying that maybe you shouldn’t joke about killing monsters!”

“You. Eat. People!”

“Once! I ate someone once!” The chains clink when he rearranges himself on the couch, lanky legs folding over themselves. “And it’s not like I wanted to.” There’s a moment of silence, between the joking and not-joking. “Can you grab me a water?”

Elias flicks on the light to the kitchen. “Yeah, but I’m not unchaining you if you have to use the bathroom.”

“Really?”

“I left a doggie pad out for you. You’ll be fine.” Another moment of silence falls over them, accompanied by the soft clinking of the glasses he pulls from the dusty cupboard. He turns on the tap and fills one glass until it’s halfway full. 

“Fuck off,” The werewolf sounds exhausted. Elias comes back and he's staring up at the smoke-stained popcorn ceiling above him, foot tapping impatiently. The chains look uncomfortable against his skin– leaving deep red marks from where they hug the flesh a little too tightly. Any looser, however, and he would break free as soon as he transformed. They were already fairly loose, just enough to give him room to transform. 

Elias extends the glass to hand it to his friend and is met with a dirty look. He looks down at the chains, then at his arms, then the water. Rinse, repeat. 

His face flushes as he holds the glass up to the other man’s lips. His shaking hands spill the water down the werewolf’s chin. 

“You could’ve been gentler with that.”

“Why are you being so nitpicky?” Elias huffs, putting the cup down on the wooden table, disregarding the coaster right beside it. 

“I’m just saying!” Louis frowns, leaning back. “You were just… rough, man.”

“It’s fucking water!” The human runs his hands through his hair in annoyance. “Dude, I’m doing you a favor here.” He waves his hands over the wall, filled with cracks and half-assed plaster from all the other times the werewolf ripped chunks out of the drywall when he’d transformed. 

“I never asked you to!”

“You think I want to see you go berserk? You think I like seeing you lose yourself because of this stupid fucking thi–”

“Stupid thing? Seriously?” The werewolf would look intimidating if he wasn’t chained right now. “Why are you acting like you’re so inconvenienced?”

“You’re a grown man! I shouldn’t have to babysit you!”

“Babysit?” Louis snarls. 

“Every time you lose yourself like this, I have to come and clean everything up. I have to keep you from losing your shit. I have to keep you from– from–!” He stammers, letting out a frustrated, shaky sigh as he paces. “I mean, seriously, dude. When can you get a hold of yourself? When will you just grow up?”

“Just shut up, man. I’m tired of fighting you like this.”

“Like what? Like you’d rather kick my ass again?” Louis pales, looking away as he feels his face grow cold.

“I already apologized for that. Stop holding it over my head.”

“No, no, I won’t. Because I’m just a stupid fucking human who shouldn’t be babysitting a dumbass werewolf who can’t control himself,” He stammers, flushing as he tugs down the collar of his shirt. Long, jagged scars from when his claws dug into his shoulder blades. Elias could still remember the burning pain when the werewolf’s fangs sunk into the nape of his neck, how the blood coated his favorite shirt. How the muscles pulled and snapped under the pressure. “Not a fucking zombie, not a ghost, not a damn vampire–”

“Eli, enough, man. I said I was sorry.”

“Shit hurt, man. You don’t even know me when you get like that. It hurts.” His voice breaks as he takes a breath, pursing his lips and looking away. “We’re friends, right?”

Louis stays silent, looking down at the ground. HIs hand fidgets with one of the chain links.

“Why do you want to hurt me so bad?”

“I don’t,” Louis defends himself. “Listen, Eli, I really don’t mean to hurt you. I just lose control and–”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said bullshit. You do know what you’re doing,” Elias crosses his arms. “It’s why you didn’t kill me that night. You knew.”

Silence. 

“I just wanna know why I’m the target. Why am I the target and why am I the one who’s supposed to clean up your mess?” The human’s voice is watery. Hair begins to sprout along the sides of Louis’ face. He can see the telltale discoloring along his eyes and nose, and the way that the chains are beginning to strain against his skin.

“Eli–”

Elias takes a heaving breath, opening and closing his hands at his sides. Get it together. Get it together. He turns and opens his mouth to say something, but finds the werewolf staring down at the floor. Louis' foot hits the floor again. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“Just– Y’know, you really–” Elias starts. The man is starting to change, and he thinks for a moment that it’s no use talking to him in this state. He wants to say something, horribly. 

Yell if you need anything. 

I’ll be in the other room. 

I’ll stay if you want me to. I’ll stay even if you don’t. 

But he doesn’t, and instead, he walks to his bedroom and shuts the door, locking it behind him. 

He stares at the photo of the two of them on the wall, decorated in a wooden frame. Two boy scouts, grinning gap-toothed and reckless. 

Can I even live without him at this point? He wonders with a pang of sorrow. 

It wasn’t like he had many friends to fall back on– he was a human living among monsters. An outsider at best, a half-decent meal at the worst. 

He can hear the werewolf whine escape him in his sleep from the other room. Elias feels a pang of pity. 

Louis trusted him enough to allow him to see him like this. To restrain him in a home that’s not his own, to feed him anything to knock him out and keep him prisoner until the sun rises. To drag him home when he escapes and eats whatever livestock he can find. In the city it’s hard, and the grocery stores can't even file a complaint for their broken doors because of the Werewolf Protection Act of 1981. 

You can’t fault a werewolf for craving meat.

You can’t fault a vampire for drinking blood. 

You can’t fault a demon for temptation. 

But a human? You can fault a human for a lot of things, especially in a world like this one. He was other. 

Maybe he was just frustrated. Frustrated at his circumstances, frustrated at the world for being so damn strict and not having a cheat-sheet for how to simply exist.

And maybe the closest outlet for that happened to be the werewolf before him. 

Maybe Louis was doing the same to him. 

He steps out into the living room again after taking a few deep breaths, looking over to the man on the couch. 

Elias drapes a blanket over the sleeping wolf, laying down on the couch nearest to him. He stays there until dawn, when the apartment is bathed in golds and oranges, and the man before him finally looks human enough again. 

“Hey,” Elias begins. 

“Hey,” Louis blinks up at him. Elias uses the key on the large lock holding the chains together, and the other man is free. “I didn’t go crazy.”

“Yeah.”

“Eli, I’m really trying. I promise,” He mumbles. “You know I’m trying.”

“Can we talk later?” Elias shuts him down. 

Louis stays silent. 

“Let’s just… grab a coffee. On me,” The human mutters, throwing on his worn jacket. 

“Yeah,” Louis sits up. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

About the Author

Olive Hannigan is a senior Arts and Global Change major at Arcadia University. She enjoys writing speculative fiction and has recently delved into poetry, and hopes to bring her long-abandoned Tumblr blog back to life. When she's not writing, she's drawing fanart of her favorite games/shows, playing dress-up, or wrangling her niece and many nephews.