His entire life, he's been the freak show of the neighborhood. Elijah didn't ask to be born differently. It's not his fault that his mother took fancy to a shifter who was just passing through town. They had a one-night stand, and he was the result; born nine months later. He came into the world screaming, his little lungs producing an impressive howl, and the rest of the room screamed right along with him. Only his mother remained silent, he's been told; cradling him lovingly to her breast and running her fingers over the fine layer of dark brown fur that covers him from the top of his head to his paw-like toes.

He's got hair, he really does – a wild mop of dark brown strands that do nothing to hide the twitching lupine ears that grow from amidst the mess of it. He's even got a tail, as if his life weren't bad enough. A real, furry tail that reacts just as well to his emotions as his ears do.

"Why me?" he's always whined, his ears flattened and his large, almond-shaped amber eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Why did it have to be me? Why did you have to sleep with him?"

"Because, baby," his mother always whispered as she ran a brush gently over his fur, "he was the one. I've been with enough partners to know how it feels to be with the one, and he was it."

"So why couldn't I just be a shifter like him?"

"We don't get to decide things like that, Elijah. You were given a wonderful gift. One day you'll learn to love it."

He's never thought of his condition – and that's what he calls it – as a gift. To him, it has always been a curse. It was something for children on the playground to point and laugh at him for, because his mother insisted that he go to public school just like every other child in the city.

Going through puberty was a nightmare, because until then he'd never felt any kind of attraction to anyone before. Suddenly, here was this huge life-changing thing, and then he was noticing all of the bigger, stronger boys in the class. He could smell them; all of their emotions. Their lust, their anger, their disgust when they looked at him – it was all laid out bare before him.

Hoodies became his favorite article of clothing, as well as baggy pants that he could fit his tail down so that no one would see it. It was uncomfortable to do it, and left him with knots and cramps up his spine, but it was a small price to pay, in his mind.

Never in his life did he think he would ever come to love his condition. Of course, as cliché as fate tends to be, that was when Gaiden showed up.

Gaiden Lucas – Lucas to all of his friends – is perfect. He's tall, and he's built; sculpted like a Greek God, while at the same time, not overdoing it on the muscle tone. He's got the most amazing blue eyes and a thatch of hair just as wild as Elijah's own unruly mop. It's blonde, and perfect, and when the sun hits it, it shines the most amazing shade of gold that he's ever seen. Elijah watches him with a longing he can only compare to the longing he sees that his mother has for his absent father. That same pained light fills his eyes whenever he smells the senior coming down the hallway, and he always has to hide in the closest classroom before the older teenager ever comes close to him.

The best part, and probably the worst, is that Gaiden doesn't even know that he exists. Not unless he's heard the rumors that run rampant in their school. The most popular one is that Elijah is a science experiment gone wrong that everyone felt sorry for, which is why he's even allowed in the school in the first place.

So he watches from a distance, and he pines, and he wishes most days that he was dead, because there's only too many times one person can be shoved painfully against the hard metal lockers before they snap and bring a gun to school. He would never do that, and he would never commit suicide, but sometimes it's so tempting that he curls into a ball at night on his bed and sobs himself to sleep, believing that no one in the world could ever love a filthy halfbreed freak like him.

"Hey."

He wasn't fast enough. He can't help it that they share Gym, and he's done an impressive job of keeping out of sight before now. The school year is already almost half over, and he hasn't run into Gaiden once. His luck was bound to run out some day, and he knows that. He was just hoping that wouldn't happen until long after the senior had graduated and moved away with whatever girl he found.

So he's a bit justified, at least in his own mind, when he squeaks at the sound of Gaiden's voice over his shoulder and ducks down to curl into a tight ball with his hands buried in his thick hair. His ears flatten and he can smell his own fear, it's rolling off of him that strongly. He's not expecting the large, warm hand that curls around his shoulder. Heat seeps through the thin material of the shirt he has to wear for the class, and he clenches his eyes shut even more tightly.

"You won't leave a bruise," he whimpers out, his hackles bristling at the back of his neck. He might be sweating, if he didn't have fur. He's not sure if it's because Gaiden is touching him, or because he's about to beat the shit out of him. It's the first contact between them, and even through his fear he can feel his breath catch from expectation.

The thing about Elijah is that he never gets his happily ever after. He's never going to have a happy ending. If anything, he's going to get a horrible, bloody ending – beaten to death in some back alleyway by a group of thugs who refuse to let a blemish like him stain the world any longer.

"What?" And that's honest-to-God confusion that he smells. His ears rise slightly, curving forward before flicking back, and he can feel his tail twitching restlessly. "What are you talking about?"

"If you punch me," Elijah clarifies, uncurling slowly and turning to face his newest tormenter. Obviously, Gaiden has decided to take offense to his presence and has come to do something about it. "You won't leave a bruise. Y'know, 'cause of the fur…"

Gaiden's voice is so smooth, like silk. It wraps around him like a physical caress, and he shudders beneath the hand still gripping his shoulder. The other teen's thumb is close to the collar of his shirt, and when he shifts he feels warm skin brush against his scruff as the tip of Gaiden's thumb touches the side of his neck. A look of confusion crosses his face, and his blue eyes darken from it.

"I'm not going to punch you. Why would I do that?"

"Because everyone does." He says it bluntly, and actually feels a small curl of satisfaction at the way that Gaiden flinches away from him; his hand sliding away to fall uselessly back at his side. For a second, they just stare at each other, and then the other senior suddenly looks angry.

"So, what, you just lump me in with all of them automatically?" the teen challenges, taking a step closer. Elijah already has his back to the wall, and he's so close to it that when he backs away, he presses up against the cold concrete and shivers. "You think I'm like them? You don't know me."

"You don't know me either," he growls. He bares his teeth, which are sharp and incredibly wolf-like in every way except for their actual size, which is much more fitted for his small, humanoid mouth. "You don't know me either, so don't you get all high and mighty with me."

It's the first time he's ever talked back to someone, and it feels surprisingly good. He's never lashed out before, not even at his mother or his absent father. He's an omega, in every sense of the word – the punching bag of the group; meant to take whatever the others dish out and accept his lot in life. Not this time, though. Not from a potential mate.

As soon as he thinks it, his fur stands on end and he drops his eyes. All of his aggression flees from him, leaving him no better than a trembling pup in the face of an adult. That's not at all what the situation is actually like, but it's how he feels, and his feelings have always horrified him. He'd always been a freak, but after finding out that he was a homosexual when he finally matured, it was even worse. Thankfully that little tidbit of information wasn't leaked out to the entire school, or else he would have actually had the motive to kill himself a long time ago, and damn the consequences.

"I'm right here, Elijah. Pay attention to me."

That enthralling, captivating voice catches him up and carries him away. Fingers slide beneath his chin and lift his face slowly and gently. So gently, as if Gaiden is handling something precious and fragile instead of some fur-covered senior who happens to be younger than him, and, well, covered in fur. His ears flatten and his tail goes stiff, but when no blow comes, he warily relaxes. It's a slow thing, unlocking his muscles inch by painful inch, but the smile he gets in reward makes his heart thump painfully in his chest and tangles his air in his throat until he feels like he can't breathe.

"That's it," Gaiden whispers encouragingly, nodding. Gym has probably already started, but they're alone here in the locker rooms. The loud, boisterous laughter of the other boys has long since faded into the silence broken only by his ragged breathing and the other teenager's calm, slow breaths. Eventually, he starts to emulate Gaiden's breathing patterns, until he's taking long, slow inhales while the last of his tension bleeds from his skin. He has to lean back against the wall, his legs feeling like jelly.

"I'm going to touch you now," he hears, but it's like he's trapped in a kind of fog that blurs everything and makes it blend together. He almost thinks he doesn't hear the words properly. They sound slurred to him, mixed and mangled together. He nods anyway, though, and closes his eyes when a finger touches the tip of his nose and traces its way over his small, blunt muzzle.

"How was this possible? Were you really a science experiment?"

A slow, lazy laugh rumbles up from Elijah's chest. "No. My father is a shifter, and for some reason, when he and my mother, y'know, did what they did, this was the result I got stuck with. We don't know how to explain it, or why it happened. It just did."

"Fascinating." And Gaiden actually sounds fascinated, still brushing curious fingers over his soft, thick brown fur. Here and there are little patches of roan-colored hairs that blend in with the rest of his fur to make something his mother always told him made him look more exotic and appealing.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice is too raw, too low and destroyed, because he can't stand this kindness; this fascination with the way he is. It's all a lie. Soon enough, those gentle fingers will turn harsh, and everything will become more painful, and he doesn't think he can handle that. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you that you aren't willing to give."

He freezes at that, his ears flicking up and straining forward, as if the echo of those words will make everything suddenly so much clearer. "What?" he whispers, because he can't have heard that right. There's no way in the entire world that he heard that right. Things like this don't happen to him. It's just not possible.

"You heard me just fine, Elijah Walters. I'm don't want anything from you that you aren't willing to give." They're so close. When did they get so close? He can feel each exhale of Gaiden's breath on his cheeks. It stirs the fur there, making the individual hairs twitch in a way that tickles and makes him close his eyes.

"You don't know what you're asking me," Elijah rasps hoarsely. "You can't be asking me this. It's not possible. I don't get a happy ending. I'm just some freak."

Hands cup his face, and a warm forehead presses against his own. Their hair mixes and mingles, becoming something that is both beautiful and a complete lie. Gaiden is so perfect, so human, and he's… well, he's just Elijah, the wolf-boy. This has to be a dream. Only he's already gotten attacked once today, so he's pretty sure he's awake.

"I'm not crazy, and neither are you." Gaiden is smiling, and it's so achingly beautiful. It's everything he's ever longed for – safety, security, and everything else all rolled into one complete, perfect package. "I've been watching you for just as long as you've watched me, Eli."

No one calls him that but his mother. No one has ever even tried to call him that. The fur on his cheeks feels suddenly damp, and he realizes that he's crying. He thinks he is, at least. No, yes, he really is crying. He didn't even think that Gaiden knew his name.

"Stop it," he begs, his throat tight and his heart clenching painfully. He's trembling, he realizes belatedly, and his paw-like hands have curled into fists. His claws dig into his pad-rough palms slightly. It's a point of pain for him to focus on, so that he knows it's all real. And yet, still, something is whispering that this is just a dream. That he's going to wake up soon, and it will have all been a lie.

"It's not a lie," he hears, the words spoken softly and intimately between them. Something just for them; he must have been speaking aloud. They're so close now, breathing in each other's scents and breaths. Gaiden smells like Axe, something sharp and alluring and incredible. A soft whine slips from Elijah, something completely animalistic that he can't stop, and he feels his fur prickle from embarrassment. It's how he blushes.

Lips touch the tip of his small, twitching nose, pressing a sweet kiss there, and he shudders even harder. Those lips trail down to his mouth, then, as Gaiden's fingers slip down to his shoulders to pull him closer. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, their bodies intertwining perfectly, and nothing like this has ever happened to him before. He doesn't know what to do, so he just leaves his hands hanging by his sides.

When they actually kiss, it feels like fireworks are exploding in Elijah's brain. His vision whites out and a needy, desperate sound tumbles past his lips. He shoves up even closer to Gaiden, tangling his suddenly-mobile fingers in the taller teenager's blonde hair and holding on for dear life as a tongue slips out to brush briefly against his lips before retreating. There's no demand, and no rush, just the feeling of their lips sliding together in a slow, intimate dance as they learn one another.

"I must confess," Gaiden whispers when they pull apart at last, "that I thought you were hot from the moment I saw you. I thought you were the most gorgeous thing in school, and I've been trying to talk to you since the first time we crossed paths. You kept hiding from me, though, and I couldn't just approach you. You made it too hard for me, no matter how hard I tried."

Elijah laughs softly, the sound quiet and happy, and shakes his head. His ears are trembling finely, and he doesn't know what to do with his tail, trapped beneath the baggy material of his basketball shorts. He's never felt so ecstatic.

"Kiss me again?" he whispers, and it comes out more like a beg instead of a soft request. He needs to make sure, though. He has to know this is for real.

"Always," he hears, and then they're kissing again, their mouths opening at the same time. Gaiden's tongue slides over his canines, no fear in the older boy's body at all; learning and finding out how sharp they are when the tip cuts a little nick in his tongue. A drop of blood wells up and they share the taste between themselves. It's almost primal, and it stirs something in Elijah that he has forced to remain dormant for a long time. He wants to howl, he's so happy.

The door slamming open startles them apart, and in an instant the small locker room seems to be full of shouting, gesturing males. They crowd into the little hiding place that Elijah and Gaiden have made for themselves, rough hands pulling them apart. Blows rain down on him from all sides and he can hear Gaiden screaming in the background. The scent of hatred and fear fill the air as he's thrown bodily back against the wall. His head smacks off the concrete painfully and he whimpers as he tries to slide down and curl into a ball. He bares his teeth, but it's futile. Those hands grab him again, and then he's being punched over and over, every impact more painful than the last.

"Eli!" Gaiden is roaring his name, and when he looks up he sees that the senior is being restrained and fighting; struggling to get free so he can help him. It brings a smile to his face, blood leaking out from between his teeth. Something in him snaps, then – fractures into millions of tiny, sharp pieces. A snarl tears from him, and a fist connects with his temple. The entire world goes black.

And then he wakes up.