There he was, lying in his almost dead-like slumber.

Sitting on a chair next to the berth, Max watched Tom like a guardian. He had been there all day and the night before. The sun was setting again, but he had no intention to leave the room.

Tom looked peaceful, undisturbed. Doctor didn't know when he should wake up. He could wake up in a week or two or even more. He suffered so many injuries, cuts, several stabs on the back, some gunshot wounds, and he lost some claws. It was heartbreaking to see the bandages almost covering his chest, stomach, arms, legs, and head. On top of it all, doctor said he was blind and his eyes seemed to be bleeding.

What he would do to save the wolf from this.

He couldn't do anything except calling the emergency services and getting the wolf into the ambulance. After that, he could only anxiously stare at the white floor in the hallway as the doctors tended to him. When he learnt that the wolf had no known relatives, he looked down in suppressed grief. Tom was an orphan.

He softly caressed the wolf's hand, glad that most of his fur had been cleaned to its familiar grey. How many things did Tom not tell him? Did he… did he not trust him enough to tell these things? Max felt like he hadn't done enough for the wolf to earn his full trust.

“Did you eat something, Max?" Someone asked him.

The dog only shook his head. Truthfully, he wasn't hungry. He was too worried. What if the wolf woke up when he was gone? What if he did not even wake up?

That fight… it was beyond hellish. He could still see it in his mind, just how uncontrolled, bloodthirsty, and savage had the wolf been. He never saw someone with such intensity of hate and pure wildness in their eyes. It was like a scene from the scariest horror film. The wolf's grin, red eyes, readied claws were haunting him, with his fur reddened by blood all the while he stood still in defiance. Max had been utterly shocked and disgusted at the scene of slaughter before him. The sight of blood and dead bodies on the ground was enough to make him throw up.

Yet…

Tom had been nothing except that. He was the most honest, most straightforward, sincerest person he had ever known. The wolf always watched his words and actions, always cautiously thought about anything he did, always kept himself in check. So… what happened? Was there another side of him that he had kept hidden away?

This dichotomy of personality was bewildering him, and Max had no clue at all as to why.

Someone gently put their hand on his shoulder. “Max, I'm going to get something to eat."

He only nodded.

That hand moved to stroke his head fur. “Tom will be fine." Octo said softly, then took the hand away.

If only… if only the panther knew just how hopeless he felt that night. Never in his life did he feel utter hopelessness like that night. The wolf was fighting for his life, and all he could do was watch. The wolf was almost dead, and all he could do was... watch.

His hand tightened around Tom's hand, then lessened, then tightened again.

Please, wake up.

“What happened?"

It was the first thing out of his mouth when he went inside the hospital room for the first time. It was about 8 in the morning when he received a group message from Max. He was on the way to work, but then told his boss that he'd come a bit later because he had to go to the hospital. As he entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of a bandaged Tom on the berth with Max sitting on a chair next to him.

No one answered his question. Max refused to speak. The dog did not move from this chair; Octo doubted he had even moved from there. The doctor did not give any details because it had been the patient's request. All that she said was that Tom was barely conscious when he arrived at the hospital.

The panther was beyond shocked. On the bright side, he met Kevin there. The red wolf looked fine, just a tad tired. There was a slash mark on his arm that wasn't there before, but Kevin refused to tell him how he got that.

Now, though, he was extremely worried about Tom. Everyone was asking what happened to the wolf. The panther might not show it, but he was panicking. What happened? Why did no one know? What could he do? Tom was lying there with all those bandages and he could only watch? He should've been keeping his little brother safe, for fuck's sake.

After his stressful work was done, he went to the hospital again. Max was still there, not moving at all from his chair. There were bags under his eyes; he looked very tired. It was almost 18 in the evening; he doubted the dog had had something to eat.

“Did you eat something, Max?" he asked the dog, and he just shook his head.

Martin and James were out to get them some food, but he wasn't quite sure Max would eat. He looked too distraught.

He gently put a hand on the dog's shoulder to not startle him. “Max, I'm going to get something to eat."

The dog only nodded.

It was worse than he thought. He let out a small sigh and stroked his head fur. “Tom will be fine." He said softly.

Max did not answer.

He took several steps back, then turned to the others. “I'm going to get some food for Max. I doubt he'll eat what Mart and James get for him."

They nodded. “I'm going with you." Vilkas said and followed him.

He opened the door and they took the stairs, too upset to talk.

There was a small canteen on the first floor. Octo bought two pieces of bread and a can of soda, then sat down on the available chair. This week suddenly became a huge rollercoaster.

Vilkas sat down across the table. “Octo,"

He opened the can and took a gulp before answering. “Yes?"

“I know this is stupid, but… any idea what happened?"

The panther let out a deep sigh and looked away. “I wish I knew. Max refused to talk about it." He took another gulp to cover his anxiousness. “If it shook Max this hard, you can be sure it's not something to be taken lightly." He sighed, as if the sight of Tom being bandaged weren't enough.

The husky sighed too, then they went quiet.

“Uh, Octo, about Kevin…"

He turned his head to the husky.

“The other day… why did you call me to ask about him?"

Smiling bitterly to himself, he only huffed. He couldn't tell him; he couldn't tell no one. “No reason, really. He left my apartment in the morning and forgot something important, that was all. I had to give it to him before he got himself in trouble."

“Oh…"

“Why do you ask?"

The husky looked away. “J-just curious… you sounded like you were panicking, so I thought it was something important."

“Well, it was important. To me, anyway." He sighed a little, then finished his soda in one gulp. “Let's get back."

When he got back, he walked to Max and said softly. “Max, here's some bread."

The dog didn't react.

Octo sighed and put his hand on the dog's shoulder. “Max, here."

Max then turned to him and his heart skipped a bit. There were tears on the other's cheeks and his eyes looked defeated.

He put the bread on the berth and knelt in front of the dog. “Hey, it's okay. Tom's gonna be okay."

Max did not react, but then the dog slowly leant forward and hugged the panther, sobbing softly.

This... was really grave. Max wasn't one to break up easily; hell, he never saw the dog this defeated and vulnerable. He looked behind and beckoned them to exit the room for a bit to give them some privacy. John picked up the gesture and ushered the others outside. Kevin protested a bit, but a stern glare from Vilkas shut him up.

The door closed, and Octo hugged the dog back, letting him cry on his shoulder.

“I… I couldn't… do it…" Max whispered between sobs.

He let out a sigh, softly stroking the dog's back to comfort him. “There, there."

“I couldn't… I couldn't protect him…"

Octo closed his eyes, feeling a drop of his own tear from his eye. His little brother was almost dead, and all he could do was watch. He couldn't do it… he couldn't protect him…

He did not want another repeat of all those years ago.

“T-Tom will wake up… h-he's gonna be okay…" he said with a wavering voice, more to calm himself than the dog.

He didn't allow himself to cry to protect himself from that scene… that scene he would never forget.

He… wasn't failing to be a big brother again… was he?

There was black.

There had always been black. And then pain, like it had always been. Then voices, then light.

Now, though, there was no light.

He could hear people talking around him, but he saw nothing. He had opened his eyes, right?

Tom tried to sit, but pain shot up his entire body and told him no. So he kept lying on the bed, looking at what he thought was the ceiling. He closed his eyes again and tried to feel his limbs. Were they still attached?

He tried to move his paws, his toes, every part of his body. Yes, he was still intact.

“T…"

There were… two, three people in the room? His ears were still adjusting. As he began to be able to hear, he turned his ear to the source of the sound. “Y-ya?"

His throat felt like burning.

Instinctively, he reached for any bottle of water, but something held his hands. Was it a bandage? Was he bandaged?

He let out a sigh and rasped. “Wa… wate…"

Someone put a straw on his muzzle and lifted his head slightly, then he drank from it. The burning sensation died down and he let out a relieved sigh after the straw was put away.

“T-Tom? Are you… awake?"

He turned his head. “Y-yeah."

He heard everyone letting out a collective sigh. He then felt that someone was holding both of his hands softly. “Am… Am in… h-hospital?" he asked.

“Yes, dear, you're in the hospital." A lady said next to him. “Do you feel any pain or discomfort?"

Great. Hospital again. “Yes."

“I'm… very sorry to tell you this, dear. I just did a vision test, but your eyes didn't react. I'm terribly sorry, but you're blind."

Oh great; he was blind. Apparently he was one step closer to death. He only sighed hollowly and put his head down again as the hand went away. “'S okay, t-thanks."

No one said anything again.

Tom sniffed the air. Aside from the scent of dried blood, he smelled three people in the room, one someone he didn't know, an elk lady. He never smelled her before, so he presumed she was the doctor. There were two other scents, one strong and canine, and the other a bit muted and pantherine. They were… Max and Octo? Yes, Max and Octo.

“M…Max? Oct?"

“Yes, Tom! Yes! It's me, Max!" the voice wavered. “It's me!"

“You had us… very worried, Tom."

“H-hey, sorry." He chuckled, or tried to, at least. “I'm very sorry. I d-didn't—"

“What did you say you're sorry for?! No! You shouldn't be sorry!" Max said, almost shouting. “Fuck! Tom!"

“Sir, please calm down. He's just woke—"

“No! I'm not gonna stay quiet an—"

He moved his hand, instantly shutting the dog up. His paws curled on the hand, then lacing their fingers together. “Max, I'm here. I'm alive." He said softly.

“But you were wounded and there was blood everywhere!"

“H-hey… I'm here now." He tried to smile in the dog's general direction. “Don't be sorry."

The shepherd didn't answer, but he felt soft fur on his hand and heard a quiet cry.

Someone stroked his head fur and he turned his head. “O-Octo."

“I'm just happy that you're awake now."

Behind the panther's gentle voice, he wavered, too. He felt guilty for making them sad.

“Please don't cry." He looked back at the ceiling and cringed from the pain before letting out a deep breath. “Doctor?"

“Yes, dear?"

“Why am I blind?"

He heard a sigh. “It seems like the blood vessels on your eyes are leaking, covering the lenses. Your eyes are red because of the leaked blood."

As expected,

“I need surgery, ya?" he asked.

“Yes." She put her notes on the berth; he felt the vibration. “You're… surprisingly… calm to take in all of this. I was expecting you to panic."

Tom chuckled. “I had experience… lots of it…" he closed his eyes and took a deep sigh when he felt his chest tightened. “How long was I out?"

“You were out for about three weeks."

“What happened? How am I still alive?"

“The adrenaline kept you alive enough for the ambulance to take you here." He heard some shifting sounds. “You lost a lot of blood."

What happened in the alleyway suddenly hit him hard, making him cringe in pain and try to hold his head. Everyone panicked, trying to keep his hands down while almost shouting his name. The wolf just took a deep breath and let the pain run over him, letting it take over before slowly fading and leaving him in the darkness.

Yeah… that fight. No wonder he was in the hospital.

The scenes were still fresh, but they felt dull to him, for some reason. He had been through this multiple times, maybe that was the reason. The wolf closed his eyes, taking another deep sigh as he tried to relax. “T-thanks, doctor."

“You're welcome. I'll be back in an hour with the medications."

“Y-yeah."

He heard a chair being dragged away before letting out another deep sigh. Max held his hand close, but that was enough for him. Octo's tail brushed against his feet and he was again reminded that this was not over.

He still had people worth fighting for.

Max ushered himself into the hospital, almost running. He couldn't calm himself. He couldn't leave Tom for too long; who knew if the wolf needed help?

He hadn't been able to concentrate while presenting his thesis before. Good thing Mr Beck was one of the examiners, so the questions hadn't been hard. Almost the whole university knew about Tom going to the hospital and Mr Beck knew how close was he to Tom.

He was glad that it was all over. He was going to graduate soon, but he had another thing in mind right now.

Opening the door softly, he went inside the room. “Tom? It's Max."

The wolf was sitting on the berth, now being allowed to do so. The bandages on his body and arms were covered by his patient robe and another one was placed around his head, covering his eyes. Doctor said it was to protect his eyes before the surgery.

“Oh hey, Max. James, Martin, and Vilkas left about an hour ago." The wolf smiled at him. “Congratulations on your graduation."

Max pulled the chair next to the bed and sat down, looking at the wolf intently. He then smiled softly and took his bandaged hand carefully. “Are you feeling alright?"

“Yeah. I'm fine."

They then fell into a comfortable silence. Max took his bag down and put the cake he bought on the bedside table. He was pretty sure Tom wasn't allowed to eat it and he had only realised the wolf couldn't look at how beautiful was it when he left the store.

He wanted to pull the latest copy of his thesis and ask the wolf about his final revision, but he held back. It was pointless; he didn't want to make the wolf feel bad.

“What?"

The dog looked at the wolf. “What what?"

“You were looking at me, weren't you?"

“Who said I was looking at you?"

Tom chuckled. “I can tell."

“Of course you are." Despite himself, Max laughed softly. “How can you… uh… look using sound and smell?"

Tom shrugged, or tried to, at least. “I hear a voice or smell a scent, I pinpoint the origin. It's simple, really." He punched his shoulder softly. Max was surprised at how accurate it was. “We're canines, we have pretty good hearing and smelling, you know."

Max raised his eyebrow. “Yeah, but—isn't it hard?"

“Not really." Tom grinned smugly. “For example, I can tell that you're sitting on my left, wearing your usual blue jacket. Your bag is next to the chair. It was past 14, the window is slightly open on my right. The drapes are open."

“Wow, that's… wow." Max was surprised at how accurate the wolf described his surroundings. “How can you even tell that I'm wearing my usual blue jacket?"

“The zip makes a loud noise when it hits the berth's metal rail. It's your only jacket that has a zip."

The dog patted his arm. “Impressive."

Tom just smiled at him, then looked away bashfully. “I did ask Zoogle about the time."

Max gave a chuckle, then took a deep breath and looked away. It was time he asked the wolf about this. As Tom said, it was better to speak to him directly than to drop hints. “Tom, I want to ask, how… how did that happen?" Max looked back at the wolf and tightened his grip on Tom's hand. “I have so many questions. Why are you so good at fighting? Why did you seem like a different person? Why don't you have any contact named 'mom' or 'dad' on your phone?"

The wolf didn't react, he simply stared at the wall in front of him. He then took a deep breath. “I… I think it's about time. I can't keep it to myself forever. I did promise to tell you when I think we're ready back in semester five, didn't I? I think we're ready." He then turned to Max. “Please don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

Max nodded, “Okay."

Tom leant back on the headboard and took another deep breath.

“I'm an orphan, Max. I never knew my biological parents. I was raised by a couple until I was six. I knew that because while they never told me I was adopted, they weren't canines. I was forced into living in the streets after they were killed." He looked down. “They were killed right in front of my eyes."

The dog gulped.

“They raised me… well, I think. But after their death, I was forced to live in the streets. Things were not good, but not the worst either. I was adopted again by another couple. I didn't know why, but they took me in, and it was when life started turning into hell.

“They despised me. They barely feed me. They even physically abused me sometimes. Often, I was forced to scrape for food on the streets instead. Sometimes I got into fights over food. That's when I learnt how to fight.

“Then, when we… parted ways, I was forced to live on the streets again, scraping for food and shelter. Life in the streets was tough, you know. You got into fights often, you see blood often, you could even lose your mind. And that was exactly what happened to me. As I got older, I began to become… feral, uncontrollable. Things had been messy, and I began to question myself. I had my first suicide attempt when I was ten."

Tom turned to look at the windows, smiling bitterly.

“After it failed—the knife wasn't sharp enough—I became even more uncontrollable. When someone gave me a bread, though, I began to… rediscover the compassion my first stepparents taught me—fuck, that sounds so corny." The wolf laughed bitterly.

Max gripped his hand again, but Tom did not bulge. He was shocked at the story. He wanted the wolf to stop. It was enough. While the wolf didn't seem to mind, he knew that not only was the wolf reopening old wounds, he was also putting salt over them.

“I was taken into an orphanage at thirteen. I knew nothing about social life back then. I was aggressive and feral. But I began to make sense of things. They enrolled me in a school, and I began to take life seriously. Sometimes I still went out to, you know, hunt something but at least I didn't have to worry about food and shelter anymore.

“Tom…"

“I finished middle school in hospital after another failed suicide attempt. They diagnosed me with severe depression, long-term recovery-stage PTSD, and mild sociopathy. I didn't mind, though, not that I was in a place to mind considering what kind of life I had. Death seemed to be a better option. At least I wouldn't be able to kill anyone if I were dead.

“By the time I went into high school, I noticed something. There was… another mind in this body. Another personality. I read the theories; apparently he was my body's reaction to what I endured. He was the one who took over for a while in the library that day." Tom looked in his general direction with an apologetic smile. “Sorry if it freaked you out. He usually didn't take control, but I—me, Tom—had a panic attack.

“In high school, though, I wanted to change. I wanted to leave that all behind. I was taken into child protection in the following summer holiday. I moved out from the orphanage and was given a room in the child recovery complex in Barrowisle. I didn't have many friends, but it was okay. I'm well used to living alone. I'd prefer having a small circle of friends whom I could trust rather than a big one whom I couldn't trust.

“I then graduated high school, finished some more therapy sessions, got used to yet another personality inside my mind, got a full scholarship to University of Barrowisle, and here I am." He finished with a smile. “I used to work for a drug dealer before I was adopted to the orphanage, but when I found out about drugs, I quit with force. I highly suspect that's why that fight a few days ago happened. They still want me dead.

“You know," Tom took a deep breath and looked down. “I've always tried my best so that no one on campus knows about me. Abuse, multipersonality, all that stuff. I just… I just want to keep it to myself."

That was it?! He didn't tell anyone about his traumatic past because he just wanted to keep it to himself?!

Max almost lunged forward, wanting to knock some sense into the wolf. How the hell could he be talking about that so nonchalantly?! How the fuck didn't he tell anyone?! That was seriously serious stuff, he should have therapy sessions right now! Hell, he even fucking attempted suicide multiple times!

However, Tom smiled at him and said softly. “But I did not regret it. There's no use in holding grudges. I hated the world, yes, but had all those things not happened, we wouldn't have met." He gripped his hand tight and took a deep breath. “I'm glad that we met."

Max lunged forward, but instead he hugged the wolf and let his head rest on his chest. He felt betrayed, spent, tossed aside, disgusted, yet he pitied the wolf greatly. Tom… Tom had gone through all of that but he still accepted that as a part of himself.

“I'm sorry… for that…"

“Don't cry, Max." Tom hugged him back and rubbed his back softly. “Thank you for being with this broken self. You made my cold world warmer."

Max pulled himself away and forced himself to look at the wolf. “How… how did you… do that? Th-that must've been… hell."

“I had no choice, Max." The wolf smiled in pain. “The world is what one wants to believe, and I believe I still have a long way to go."

At that moment, the world seemed to be a little bit brighter.