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Tch. It was always like this.

"Loup? You've been staring at the windows for almost half an hour now."

The wolf sighed but didn't look away from the falling snow. He hated this, he hated this for making him hate everything.

"Um, loup, I'm really concerned." Martin said again from behind him. Tom could feel his gaze on his back, full of questions.

"I'm fine, Mart, wait, I'm not fine." He turned around and looked at the fox. "Sorry, looks like I need to go out for a bit. Thanks for tonight, though."

"Pas de problème, it's okay. Are you gonna be okay, though?"

"We'll see," Tom walked ahead of him and took his phone and jacket. "If I still post a new status on WhatsUp then I guess I'm not dead."

The fox put his hand on the wolf's shoulder, making him stop. He looked at the back of Tom's head worriedly. "Don't do anything dangerous, okay? Really... please just stay here."

"I won't. I can't." Tom opened the door and gave a sigh. "Thanks a lot, Mart.", he said as he stepped into the hallway and closed the door softly.

It had been snowing since yesterday, so the snow was piling up tonight. As he exited the dorm building, the wolf made his way through the snow, occasionally looking around. Few were outside at this time of night. He glanced at his phone and pocketed it back. Seemed like he was alone again, like he had been for the most part of his life.

He didn't blame Martin, or Max, or Octo, or anyone. He knew he could just give them a call and they would be there to help him. But right now, he felt like shit. Fuck Lain for not being there in times like this. Wait, no, sometimes Lain annoyed the hell out of him instead.

He exited the campus complex and looked at the falling snow. Sometimes, he desired death. Death seemed like a kinder option compared to what he'd been through. He had watched death before, it seemed beautiful, compassionate, welcoming. Red dancing with black, creating a wonderful mix of grey. He was familiar with it; often, they chased each other just for fun.

He could've done it himself. Just a knife or a rope or a car or a bridge, and then there would be bliss. Utter nothingness. Deprivation. He would be free.

Instead, this lifeless, merciless joke of reality grabbed his tail and dragged him back. How many times did he have his arm bleeding, his head punched, his body beaten? He lost count; he was sure that sooner or later, he would be blind, or his feet paralysed, or he'd become crazy. He was broken beyond repair. The scars on his body were the testimony that god left him a long time ago.

He kicked the snow as a car passed by. Society was merciless. Most people only cared for themselves. The only reason he was not crazy right now was the Seven Rules he had been following. It was the main thing keeping his sanity. Without it, he probably would've been a serial killer or a psychopath long ago. He had wanted to throw it away, to succumb to his desire to hurt.

Compassion was a precious thing, buried deep in hatred and pain.

He chuckled a bit. Pain. What a joke. Pain had been his best friend; it told him that he was still alive. Yet now, pain did the opposite. Did it mean he was dead? Probably. Dead inside. See? Even pain left him.

So why did he keep holding on to the Rules? Mercy was for the weak, but time after time he found himself giving it. Good thing his life had taken a turn for the less terrible. Had it not, mercy would be his road to annihilation. Mercy was weakness, compassion was rubbish.

The trees looked dead, their green leaves no more. This way, the city square looked deserted. Tom wanted to be like them, being able to die for a while until the warmth of spring showered them with life, with hope.

Tom looked at a large tree at a corner of the city square. It seemed ancient, beautiful. How many times did it die and be born again? Was it really dead when winter struck? He wondered if evolution would give him the ability to die and revive when the world wasn't treating him like rubbish.

Oh, trees. Majestic, ancient, solid. Perseverant. Wise. Please, give me your wisdom to stand before Time, to walk upon Mercy's beautiful path, to knock at Death's wonderful gates. The world hated him, and he hated the world in return. Its branches looked sturdy, maybe he could hang himself there.

He chuckled. What a headline it would be. 'A Wolf Found Dead at the Central Square', he imagined. That could be all over the TV, newspapers, forums. Maybe he could leave a message, 'thanks for nothing, world'.

Sadly, he could only bury his wishes into the depths of his heart and walk away, leaving the ancient tree to succumb to winter.

He looked up at the sky, at the softly falling snow. He raised his hand and let some snowflakes land on it. They melted as soon as they touched the pads of his hand.

The glassy sky above will protect me.

He let out a soft breath. The coldness of snow right now was no match against those winters he spent on the roads. He just realised he only wore a thin jacket, yet he hadn't been trembling since he left the dorm building. Smiling bitterly, the wolf kept walking as he thought that maybe all those winters spent beyond fire and warmth did give him more resistance to cold.

His steps brought him to that alleyway where he had a fight a few weeks ago. It was dark, but he could make out a trail of blood there. His eyes adjusted to the absence of light, and he saw a shape and smelled someone familiar.

"Heh, seems like it's my bad day."

Tom clicked his tongue and kicked the snow. "Nice to meet you too, Rodrigo."

The bison straightened his posture a bit. He was sitting down against the wall, legs elongated. Tom noticed that the trail was his blood. His body was bruised, bits of blood coming out of his mouth.

"What're you doing here?" Rodrigo asked him with a sneer.

Tom walked towards him. "That's not important. You look like a truck ran over you." He towered over him.

"Guess you could say that."

The wolf snorted.

"What? Don't have the courage to just kill me now? Weakling."

Tom rolled his eyes. "It would be too easy. You deserve more suffering."

"So do you, bitch. Heard you cry on your way back out." That bastard dared grin at him.

"Stop. I'm warning you."

"Oh? Or was I too busy running for my life to hear you--ack!"

Tom kicked him in the chest, then pulled him up by the collar. Rodrigo was bigger than him yet he lifted him up without much difficulty. "Don't you dare fuck with me right now, Rodrigo. You do not want to get me even more riled up than I already am."

"Y-yeah?" he was still grinning. "W-what're you g-gonna do?"

Tom stared at him, then with his other hand, he probed the wound on the bison's upper shoulder, making him cry out in pain. He then licked his bloody paw. "Tastes like bullshit, or should I say, bison-shit."

"Fuck!"

Without warning, Tom bit his wound, earning a scream from the bison. He gave it a few licks. It really tasted like crap. The wolf dropped the bison away. "You really ought to eat more vegs. Your blood tasted like fat." He said, spitting the blood to the ground.

"Y-you... you're a f-fucking m-monster!"

"Yeah, knew that already." The wolf said, licking his bloody lips. "Told you not to rile me up." He looked at the bison who was wincing in pain. He envied him for being able to feel pain and not getting riled up by it.

Rodrigo growled at him. Funny sight, he thought, a bison trying to scare a wolf away.

Tom kicked him some snow, then sat down opposite of him. "Seriously, did you fight the police or some other shit 'es involved?"

"N-none of your fucking business."

"Sure. Whatever you want."

They sat down, quiet for a while. Occasionally, Tom glanced at him. Did he have a fight? It was unusual for the bison to fight alone. There were several bruises on his arms, and a pretty nasty wound on his upper shoulder, the one which he bit.

Rodrigo looked back at him, then clicked his tongue and looked away.

Tom chuckled at that childish behaviour. "Reality's a bitch, isn't she?"

Unexpectedly, Rodrigo chuckled too. "Y-you could say that again."

"Reality's a bitch." He said again. "Reality's a bitch. Maybe she needs a fuck or two."

"She definitely needs a fuck or two."

He laughed mirthlessly.

"I didn't choose this path of life." Out of the blue, the bison uttered.

"Welp, this path of life chose you."

"Shut up. You bastard don't even know anything."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"I was forced to join this gang."

"I was forced to scrape to live."

The bison straightened his legs. "My parents trashed me when they knew I fucked a girl."

"That's nothing."

"My own father almost killed me."

"I saw my own parents get shot in front of me."

Rodrigo stared at him.

He continued. "I lived with my quote-unquote stepparents who punched me all the time until I was forced to defeat my stepfather because he wanted to kill me."

"That's fucked up."

"More than you know." He snorted. "Guess we have a pretty good reason to hate the world, ya?"

"I guess." The bison grinned. "And look what a monster you turned out to be."

"Says the one who's tried to get me killed multiple times."

"You fucking did that too, y'know. At least I still got my mind."

"Not trying to be a truth-speaker, but," Tom stood up. "take good care of it, it's the most important thing you have."

The bison rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the advice."

"You're welcome." Wiping the snow off his trousers, he walked towards the bison. "Where're your mates?"

"What? So you can manipulate us into thinking that we win again?"

"I did that a thousand times but you still fall for it." he gave Rodrigo's foot a weak kick. "You seem to be dying."

He growled. "No, I'm fucking transcending into the fifth dimension. Do I look that stupid to you? Of fucking course I'm dying right here!"

Tom turned away. "I envy you." His shoulders sagged. "Death is a nice person, if not a bit rude. Do say hi to him from me if you meet him. Also, tell him not to slam the door on my face again, eh?"

The bison didn't answer.

He turned back at him, this time the bison was looking away. "Guess you're right. Death's a bit rude."

The wolf sighed, then he walked away. It looked like he needed a pint, maybe two. Maybe ten. Before he walked back to the main street, he turned his head and said to the bison. "If you can move your limbs, put some snow on your wound. It'll cool it down and stop the bleeding. It'll hurt like shit but at least you won't be bleeding anymore. Then you can get out of here."

Rodrigo squinted his eyes at him. "How did you know that?"

He looked away. "Personal experience." He began walking, leaving the bison to his own self. "Lots of it."

---

Why am I even here? ringed in his mind. No, it wasn't about why was he walking into a pub--sometimes he'd like a pint or two. No, the question was something more abstract.

"Heey, nice to see ya, muchacho! ¿Todo está bien?" Alejandro greeted him as he approached.

"Supongo que podrías decir eso." He said as he sat on the stool. "'Na cerveza, por favor."

"Coming right up!" and he went away.

Tom slumped on the table. Why am I here? Why do I exist?

A glass of beer was put in front of him. "Here! Una cerveza con extra."

He took a few gulps. It still tasted like shit. "You know, I still wonder how you make something taste so heavy yet so light at the same time." He smiled emotionlessly.

"Life is full of mysteries,mi amigo."

"Yep, and I'm sure the next time I'm here, you'll be a hologram."

Alejandro laughed. "Dunno if that's a compliment or not."

"Take it as whatever you want." He gulped the rest of his glass. "Rice wine please, you got some, kan?"

"Sure. That one's on the house, though. You look like someone punched you." He said and took the glass away, leaving him for a while.

Tom slumped on the table again and closed his eyes. Why did he exist? Was this all a joke? Whoever created him, they seemed to really like to mess him up. First his mind, then pain, then hope; stuff tended to leave him alone, didn't they?

Wait, he still had hope, faint it might be. He hoped he was dead.

The glass was back again, this time with a bottle. "Sorry, got some customers to handle first." Alejandro said as he poured the rice wine into his glass and put the bottle down. "I still need to handle 'em. Be back in a bit."

He just flicked his ear in acknowledgement.

What was life? Was life real? Was reality real? Was he dead?

Taking the glass in his hand, he took several large gulps. Bullshit questions, all of them. Everyone knew that life was not real. Reality was only what one wanted to believe. Truth was an instrument of manipulation. Facts were an extravagant way to give hard slaps to the face. Death was a release from the suffering.

Stupidly, he kept believing that there might be something, some sort of redemption or reboot. He wanted everything, everyone to accept him. He wanted to like the world.

He wanted to be normal.

The wolf chuckled hollowly. That was really his deepest wish, wasn't it? He wished to be normal; he craved to be normal. To have loving parents, to have supportive friends, to feel the soft caress of a mother's love, to feel the solid warmth of a father's strength. Then he wanted to have friends, to laugh with them, to fight with them, all the while without needing to think whether he could see tomorrow's sun or not. Without needing to worry if he could eat or not. Without needing to keep washing the seemingly persistent blood streaks on his clothes.

What a beautiful picture society had painted about a 'happy childhood' until he thought it was the 'normal childhood'. He didn't even know what did it mean to have parents.

He envied Martin. He envied Ellie. James. Octo. Max. Andy. They all had parents and a normal childhood. Although they might have some problems with their parents, at least they had parents. Him?

He never saw his biological parents. No one knew who or where they were. He was adopted by a couple for the first few years of his life, where he learnt compassion and love.

The last time he saw them was when they were shot dead in front of his eyes.

Since then, his life was hell. He learnt everything he knew from that period. How to be critical, how to fight, how to doubt, how to deceive, and most importantly, how to survive.

It was simple, actually, do whatever it takes. But his love, his compassion that was taught to him by his first parents had become so ingrained in him until he learnt honesty, guilt, and reciprocity. On one hand, it kept him sane, but on the other hand, it often clashed with what he actually had to do. That was when he created the Seven Rules, to do what he must without going too much out of control.

The endless fight in his mind was literally between good, his idealistic side, and bad, his pragmatic and often psychopathic side.

And that was when Lain started to appear, but that was a story for another time. They still have some patching to do, but overall they had managed to coexist within one body.

Without him knowing, his glass was already empty. He reached out to take the bottle, but it was also empty.

"Oi, Lex. Bring some more rice wine, ya?"

The bull just shouted an acknowledgement but didn't come right away.

He stared at nothing. Since he was adopted and lived in an orphanage, his life started to become better. He no longer had to worry about food or shelter anymore. He no longer had to steal and hurt anymore. But it was too late for his personality. He had been aggressive, or when he wasn't, he was cunning. He was not a good guy. He secluded himself, often stared at blank space while thinking about death. What if that bullet were a little bit more to the left? What if that knife were a bit sharper?

He remembered that moment when he had his first suicide attempt. Should I kill myself before the world does? Who would miss me, anyway? He didn't know where to slice, so he sliced the side of his wrist. What followed was a cacophony of silence, his vision a colourfully faded rainbow. It had been one of his close encounters with Death. Yet, his first parents' words ringed at him, when you feel down, remember that everyone out there will miss you.

After that day--which he spent in his room afterwards, half-consciously patching the cut because it annoyingly refused to kill him and just wouldn't stop bleeding after a few hours--he tried to open himself more. When he went to high school, he tried to no longer act like everyone hated him. There were still some bullies who looked like they hated him, but he defeated them easily enough. Their fighting skills were no match against him.

Sometimes, he still felt like shit. He even attempted suicide a few more times before deciding that it wasn't worth it. Death didn't seem like a very nice person, inviting him for tea only to slam the door when he was right at the doorstep.

Staring into his empty glass, he saw his reflection there. Now, he was almost normal. He had friends, he had food and shelter, he had money. He even had a crush, homosexual it might be. Compared to his childhood, his life now was a lot better.

He should be thankful.

Then why did his past keep haunting him?

"Sorry, amigo, I had a lot of patrons." The bull was back and put another bottle in front of him, making him look up. "Looks like they're served now."

The wolf didn't answer, he just poured himself some more rice wine.

"So, wanna talk about it?"

He took a gulp and wiped his mouth. "You ever thought like you're the worst person ever or no?"

Alejandro laughed a little. "Everyone does that, Luis. Don't worry, it's okay to feel down."

He eyed him from the corner of his eyes.

"'Sides, life's gonna turn the wheel upside down. You'll get your chance."

Tom sighed. "Mate, how I wish I were dead."

"Haha, nice one, amigo."

"I'm serious." He said, looking at the bull expressionlessly.

The bull stopped smiling and let out a small sigh. "Luis, better call the emergency line. Suicidal thoughts ought to be taken seriously."

The wolf gulped his drink again. "Did that, didn't work."

"No, Luis, really, you need to--"

He put the glass down forcefully. "Lex, do you ever shut the fuck up? I said I did that, it didn't help."

Alejandro was taken aback by his sudden burst.

"Sorry for that." Pinching his muzzle, he sighed. "Besides, it's not a big problem anyway. I just need to vent for a while."

Approaching him cautiously, the bull took a glass and poured himself some rice wine from Tom's bottle. "Luis, I know you got lots of problems, but don't you think it's too much?"

"Yep, sure do. They're a pain in the arse." He put the glass up, signalling the bull to pour him some.

"No, I mean the suicidal thoughts, amigo, the suicidal thoughts."

"When you had a life like me, you'd embrace death more openly than you otherwise would." He sighed and looked around. There were a lot of people in the pub, some dancing to the music, some just enjoying a conversation with their friends, some flirted with the workers.

A wolf in one corner of the pub caught his eyes.

Said wolf was laughing with his friends, one of them happened to be a German Shepherd. They looked at ease with each other, pouring themselves some drinks and throwing jokes now and then. Some of his friends laughed along and even made fun of them.

Tom looked away. There were a lot of people who made him envious, but that wolf over there... life now was different from back then, as if the fact were slapped hard into his face.

See? Facts were just an extravagant way to give hard slaps to the face.

Now, he had friends. He had mentors and tutors. He had brothers. He had love, and he... he had a crush.

He was no longer alone. He should be fucking thankful.

What Max said in the summer festival now dawned upon him. I am not alone. I will find someone. Now he had found someone. It was up to him to chase him or not. As the old saying went, you had to let the love go, and if it came back, then it was yours. He had let Max go, and the dog came back.

It hurts. Loving you hurts. He remembered those words. Love hurt, but he had withstood everything and still survived. Like he said, pain only riled him up even more.

He downed the drink in one go, then wiped his mouth. This was just yet another episode of his depression, he knew that, but now he had hope, he had people, and he actually had someone who wanted to help. Yet it was him who closed himself off. He should start trusting people; it would be hard, as experience taught him that the only one he could trust was himself, but he was a quick learner.

"Luis? You getting dizzy?"

"Yes, but actually no." Tom burped a bit. "I've _sih_been dizzy ever since I came here."

"You got an amigo or someone? I don't think I'm gonna be able to bring you home." Alejandro said with concern.

The wolf chuckled a bit. "What're you taking me for? You kan saw me drinking 3 bottles of this stuff." he pointed at the rice wine bottle, "I still managed to be sober enough to go home."

The bull laughed. "Sí, que loco eres. But really, don't drink too much."

"Of course I will." He said with a small, this time honest smile.

Fuck Death for inviting him for tea only to slam the door at his face when he attended the invitation. Reality was only what one wanted to believe. Right now, he believed he had a chance.

---

Notes

I know this is cruel but it's just the way Tom is wired. There is going to be a more detailed explanation about his past in later chapters.

It's chapter 33, huh? :')

_Muchacho = kid/boy

¿Todo está_ _bien? = Everything's good?

Supongo que podrías decir eso = I guess you could say that

Na cerveza, por favor = One beer, please

Una cerveza con extra = One beer with extra

Sí, que loco eres = Yeah, how crazy you are_