(no subject)

[It had been about four and a half years since Tooru had returned to that painful place, but he'd been there for a reason this time despite having not wanted to return. Not when that place held a painful memory, being the day he'd "died" to almost everyone he'd known. A small handful of people he did know, apparently, had been werewolves as well. Some born, some turned, and a couple of them just aware of the supernatural from young ages and were just human themselves. Even some of his friends, at that, but they'd helped him adjust at the very least. He knew he couldn't ever face Iwaizumi again, so he'd left Japan as soon as he was able to. It hurt at first, and there were times he wanted to turn back and fling himself at the person he loved dearly, but Tooru learned to deal with the heartache until it became a dull throb in his mind that he could ignore most days.

Until that dawn when he was sniffing out a trail of a teenager who recently had been turned and Tooru came upon the last person he wanted to be faced with.

The figure was unmistakable, and Tooru remembered that smell even 5 years later. It was him, it was his Hajime. Panic washed over him, and the only things in Tooru's favour among the trees was that he was in wolf form, and that he was fortunately approaching from behind. Everything else was terrible, especially with the wind blowing towards where he was going. In an instant, Tooru took off, breaking twigs beneath his feet and to the worst of his luck he got caught in a trap.

This was bad, he didn't want to face him after all these years. Not like this, not like what he'd become. His heart felt ripped open all over again, impossible to stitch back together. 24 years old feeling like 19 and waking up in his own blood all over again and restrained by familiar faces that knew him and what he was thinking.]