Neizan carried apples in his t-shirt, which he had used to make a small, makeshift basket so he could catch them all. He asked Lovrenco for help, who picked them up little by little and placed them on a small ceramic plate by the entrance. Once his t-shirt was free of the weight of the apples, Neizan wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced at the mess his clothes were in, covered in ash and mud.
"This one's going straight in the bin," he declared, but Lovrenco, who had spent his entire life surviving on little more than two interchangeable t-shirts, shook his head emphatically.
"A little water will fix it," he said.
"No amount of water can fix this estropicio," Neizan sighed, "but okay, we can try." Before Lovrenco could do or say anything, he took off his shirt, slinging his arms over it and revealing a flat, lean, hardened stomach covered in tattoos, a huge dragon on his belly, and tattoos extending down his ribs and hips, where his sagging pants no longer showed. His boxers were black, and Neizan was now looking at Lovrenco questioningly.
"Uh, ah," Lovrenco said, speechless, but he took the shirt. His nostrils filled with Neizan's strong jasmine scent. Jasmine, sticky rockrose, and probably mint. An almost heavenly mix for a werewolf's nose.
He went to the hose and put his shirt in one of the available buckets. He was going to ask Neizan for a bar of soap, but when he turned around and saw Neizan standing near him shirtless, he was so disturbed by what he felt that he had to look away, focusing again on his hands, on the soft green t-shirt he was holding.
"Soap," he finally managed to say, his voice rasping, and Neizan nodded and went to get it.
Lovrenco had noticed that even if Neizan disappeared from his sight, if he was at a moderate distance, Lovrenco didn't lose his memories. So he tried to calm himself, saying it wouldn't be like a week ago, and waited for Neizan to return.
To his disappointment, Neizan returned with his handsome body now covered by another t-shirt, a long-sleeved black one.
"Aren't you going to roast in that one?"
"Don't think I have too many T-shirts, especially not short-sleeved ones," Neizan smiled, squatting down beside him and rolling up his sleeves. The new T-shirt still smelled like him; it must be old. Lovrenco cleared his throat, took the bar of soap, and began to lather with the hot water flowing from the hose.
They remained silent for a while, listening to their own breathing. Neizan watched with his head tilted, like a bird of prey interested in a discovery, and Lovrenco could barely concentrate. He told himself it was because his head was still cottony from lack of food. He wasn't yet nourished enough, he told himself, and it was true. Lovrenco's usual body, or the one he'd had before being expelled from the pack, was enormous, strong, as big as a piece of furniture, not this taut one.
"Let me help you," Neizan said suddenly, as if he too hadn't handled the strange, though not necessarily uncomfortable, silence between them well. In fact, it had been such a comfortable silence that it had caused an emotional stir difficult to forget in both of them, or at least in Lovrenco.
Neizan reached for the hose, but Lovrenco wanted to prove he could do it himself, and they struggled foolishly until the bar of soap slipped from his hands and landed near the geese.
Neizan stood up, blushing slightly.
"I'll get it."
When he returned, Lovrenco playfully splashed him a little with water, and Neizan giggled. They talked about what to cook and the type of pine needles the trees in this area had, and also about which one seemed more interesting to them, the rabbit or the hare (Neizan said the hare, Lovrenco, the rabbit).
"I've eaten rabbits," Lovrenco blurted out, then realized how animalistic that must sound coming from his lips.
But Neizan didn't take it seriously.
"Hm? I never have. How were they?" he asked casually.
"Fine," and Lovrenco, seeing the other's lack of judgment, ventured to say, "I ate them raw. I often hunted them with my mouth."
He'd let the cat out of the bag; something about Neizan made him talk too much. Strange.
Neizan looked at him with interest.
"What do you mean, 'with my mouth'?"
"Just a figure of speech," Lovrenco said hurriedly. "I hunted them with gusto."
"I can imagine," Neizan said, nodding solemnly. "You must have suffered a lot, you out there, all alone."
"I'm not suffering anymore," Lovrenco said, and he was about to say, Because of you. I'm not suffering anymore, because you're here. But he didn't say it, and they both rubbed harder.
Neizan's breathing quickened after he'd been rubbing for a while.
"Let me take over," Lovrenco asked.
"N...no," Neizan hissed, gritting his teeth with effort. "I'm almost there."
"You're going to run out of air."
Neizan kept rubbing until his hand turned red, and then Lovrenco snatched the soap away.
"There's not even a bar left."
"I'll go get another one." Neizan stood up. Lovrenco glanced at the T-shirt.
"But it's already spotless..."
"It's not perfect..."
"Neizan, are you okay?"
Neizan's eyes were wide, as if he were drugged. He shook his head. It seemed to clear his head.
"Now I am," he admitted. "Sorry, you're right, I thought it had a stain."
Lovrenco pulled him roughly, setting him back down on the floor.
"You don't have to prove a perfection I'm not asking for, Neizan."
"I know," the other whispered.
"I mean it."
"I know," he said, trying to escape, but Lovrenco wouldn't budge.
"Thank you for rescuing me. For saving my life. For giving me shelter and food. For treating the wound in my side. Thank you, Neizan."
Faced with such intense gratitude, Neizan seemed uneasy, as if he didn't like being flattered.
"You're welcome. Let's go back, it's getting dark."
Lovrenco didn't want to push him any further. He returned home, shirt in hand, where they hung it up with the rest of the blankets, some still stained with Lovrenco's blood, each of them placing a clothespin on either side.
They each went to their respective bedrooms.
That night, Lovrenco fell ill with love.