Although Blue felt like garbage for the way he had treated his mate, Eivind didn't seem to be as disturbed by his aggressive behavior, and Blue was thankful for that. The younger male smiled when Eivind said he was safe, and for the moment it was easy to believe; no one was going to come after them in the privacy of their hotel room. Except Sig, perhaps, but he was always a welcome distraction. Blue followed the constellation of scars along Eivind's body as the wolf directed him to them, many of them Blue already recognized. The marks covering Eivind's muscled form were much older than Blue's freshly knitted wounds, making them less garish, less offensive, like they were molded into the wolf's body from the day he was born, though Blue knew that couldn't have been true. He promised himself he'd memorize every single flaw dug into the wolf's flesh, things Eivind couldn't remove, so if he ever needed to remind himself, he could feel, and he would<i>know</i>.<i>This wolf is mine. He belongs to me. And I belong to him.</i><br/><br/>Blue stood, pulling away from Eivind momentarily so he could strip. He removed everything, all his nice clothes, and tossed them to the side so he stood there naked before his mate. He took Eivind's hand, gently encouraging the wolf to stand and follow him to the bed where Blue pulled him down into the silky white sheets and pillowy comforter and weaved their bodies together. Blue was determined to cover every inch of Eivind's body in precious, adoring kisses, hoping Eivind would understand just how dear he was to him. Blue didn't want to use words. He was done with them for now. His lips had another purpose, and his fingers danced along the contours of Eivind's torso, remembering.<br/><br/>The two males spent many hours woven together like this, kissing, touching, petting, learning. For once, sex seemed to be the furthest thing from their minds, as all the two wanted to do was<i>be</i>with one another. Even lying there silently, listening to one another's breathing was more pleasurable than any other activity they could imagine. Blue was grateful, and by the time late afternoon rolled around, Blue found there was nothing else he could do. There could be no more waiting. The second hand on Eivind's watch, still sitting contentedly on the bedside table, ticked by ominously, forcefully, reminding Blue they couldn't wait, they couldn't distract themselves with another romantic date. They had go to.<br/><br/>They got dressed, Blue picking out the nicest clothes they had purchased for both of them. Blue combed Eivind's hair and somewhat tamed it with some mousse, but the wolf's mane was thick and swooped with loose waves, and although Blue thought it adorable, he wasn't sure how his parents would feel about it. They barely liked their son's shaggy dark locks; his dad was always grumbling under his breath about how Blue needed a haircut whenever he let it get too long. Blue affectionately stroked Eivind's face when he was finished and kissed him. "You look beautiful," he said softly when he pulled away, admiring the way the fitted clothes hugged his boyfriend's healthy physique. "But promise me you'll never shave your beard again."<br/><br/>The<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.ibb.co%2Fh2HsZ5%2Fbroussard_home.jpg&amp;hash=d5007af226b54a5a91a4ee01dc1049bc" href="https://image.ibb.co/h2HsZ5/broussard_home.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Broussard home</a>was tucked into a small cul-de-sac on the outside edges of the city.<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.ibb.co%2FbzVvNv%2FSIMON_ROGERS_3_bg.jpg&amp;hash=5a031a273d76c8716f24bff873ed41ba" href="https://image.ibb.co/bzVvNv/SIMON_ROGERS_3_bg.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Louis Broussard</a>kept the front lawn immaculate at all times and filled the yard with various shrubs he dug and planted all on his own. He liked the feel of working on his home. Perhaps not to the same degree as Eivind, who had actually<i>built</i>his house, but he liked gardening, and plumbing, and fixing things. It bothered him that Blue, his eldest child and only son, didn't share his enthusiasm for ameliorating his residence. Blue didn't care about anything unless he could paint it or drawn on it. He had always had his face buried deep in his sketchbooks, ignoring reality and his responsibilities to focus only on the fantasies he had created in his mind and bled upon his papers.<br/><br/>And he was gone.<br/><br/>The months had been very quiet without Blue around. The girls were absolute messes. Although Chrysanthemum carried her head high, refusing to show just how hard she was hurting, Little Bird often sulked and cried, and had lost much interested in going out with her friends, playing her guitar or doing<i>anything</i>, really. Blue's mother,<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimage.ibb.co%2FeGvZFF%2Fkatherine.jpg&amp;hash=9546691565780bad66067ac4ab4dbeb5" href="https://image.ibb.co/eGvZFF/katherine.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Katherine</a>, was even worse. She missed her son. Her baby. Her first baby, the tall, slight one who had only been four pounds when he was born. So tiny, so fragile. Riddled with health problems, Blue's life had always been a struggle even from his earliest moments, and she had watched with glassy eyes as her little boy fought every single day. As he got older, Blue got stronger. He had surgery to fix his pyloric stenosis and the hole in his heart healed itself. His juvenile asthma went away, he stopped getting ear infections and suffering from what felt like the perpetual flu. He turned into a rambunctious little man, moody and wild, but he was strong, and she loved his ferocity even when it made her tired.<br/><br/>Something had changed in his late teens. He became a loner, often running off by himself and going who knew where. When he was home, he hid in his room, drawing, painting, writing, it didn't matter. As long as he could be alone. She had been okay with this, mostly. He still seemed happy when he decided to interact with the family. He was still young. He had so many years to continue growing into a man. But then he had told them about his homosexuality, and from that day the Broussard home became a place of mourning. Katherine had lamented her son's admission at first, but now that he had been missing for months, all she wanted was for him to come home.<br/><br/>What would she have done if she had known he was so close, sitting in a rumbling truck just a few houses down, staring at his family's house?<br/><br/>Blue had instructed Eivind to stop a few hundred feet away. He didn't want his family hearing his boyfriend's loud, growling vehicle, he didn't want them seeing him before he was ready to be seen. He sat, wringing his hands together nervously, his body trembling. What were they going to think when he appeared on their doorstep? Would they hate him?<br/><br/>"We have to come up with a story," Blue said, unable to pull his eyes away from the innocuous-looking home. "About where I was. How we met. We can't tell them the truth." He should have discussed this with Eivind sooner. What had he been thinking? His heart was pounding furiously in his chest. He felt like he was going to vomit all over himself.<br/><br/>"I... I ran away. That's close enough to the truth. The beginning of it, anyway. I ran away to be with you. We... we met six months ago. Somewhere. Fuck. I don't know. A coffee shop? Is that believable? Does that sound stupid?" Fuck,<i>why the fuck</i>hadn't he thought of this sooner? How was he going to keep all the details straight? His family would demand answers. His father would<i>demand</i>answers.<br/><br/>"If they ask you about your age or your job, just tell them the truth about that. There are only so many lies we can remember. My shirt hides all my scars, so we shouldn't need to worry about that." Even his voice was shaky now, his mouth terribly dry.<br/><br/>"No matter what, though, you're my boyfriend. I'm not going to tell them you're anything less than what you are. We may need to lie about the how we came together, but I refuse to pretend like I don't l--" He stopped himself. He cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. "Like you're not mine," he finished, licking his lips.<br/><br/>"What do you think?" he asked, his voice weak as he looked up at his lover, brows furrowed together with worry. "Am I stupid? Is this stupid?"