The final day of the retreat bloomed golden and wild. The forest was alive with laughter, the kind that echoed through the trees and made even the birds pause to listen. Eli sat cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by friends, his cheeks flushed from sun and joy. Someone had brought out a speaker, and music spilled into the clearing — upbeat, nostalgic, the kind that made you want to dance barefoot and forget the world.
The teachers had declared the afternoon free for "unstructured bonding," which translated into chaos. A few students dragged out a volleyball net, others started a scavenger hunt, and someone set up a makeshift photo booth with flower crowns and ridiculous props.
Eli drifted between groups, barefoot and glowing, his laughter easy and unguarded. Kael was never far — tossing him a flower crown, stealing his sunglasses, whispering jokes that made Eli snort. Riven lingered at the edges, quiet but present, his gaze following Eli like a tether.
Charades began under the shade of a wide oak. Eli was pulled in, paired with Kael, who threw himself into the game with theatrical abandon. He mimed a sword fight with a stick, pretended to give birth, and did a giraffe impression so absurd Eli collapsed into giggles.
"You're terrible," Eli said, wiping tears from his eyes.
Kael leaned close, voice low. "You love it."
Riven sat nearby, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But when Eli glanced his way, their eyes met — and something passed between them. A quiet pulse. A question neither of them voiced.
Then someone called for truth or dare.
The circle tightened. The dares grew bolder. Eli sat between Kael and Riven, knees brushing both. The air felt charged.
"Kael," someone said, "kiss the person you like most."
Kael didn't hesitate. He turned to Eli, leaned in, and kissed his cheek — slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make Eli's breath catch.
The group whooped. Eli flushed, heart thudding.
Riven's posture shifted. He didn't speak, didn't react — but Eli felt it. The withdrawal. The silence.
"Your turn, Eli," someone said.
Eli hesitated. "Truth."
"Who do you think about when you can't sleep?"
The clearing went quiet.
Eli's gaze flicked to Kael — bold, grinning, golden in the sun.
Then to Riven — shadowed, unreadable, watching him like he was something fragile.
"I don't sleep much," Eli said softly. "Too many thoughts."
Kael bumped his shoulder. "Bet I'm one of them."
Riven stood up and walked away.
Eli's gaze followed him, heart twisting.
Later, blindfold tag began. Eli was "it," stumbling through the clearing, arms outstretched, laughing as he bumped into trees and shrieking classmates. Kael dodged him with ease, teasing him with whispered hints and sudden touches.
Then someone tackled Eli from behind — strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him down into the grass.
Kael.
They landed in a heap, Kael's chest pressed against Eli's back, breath warm against his ear.
"Got you," Kael whispered, voice low.
Eli rolled over, their faces inches apart. Kael's grin faltered, replaced by something softer. Something hungry.
"You okay?" he asked.
Eli nodded, but his gaze drifted — past Kael, to the edge of the clearing.
Riven stood there, half in shadow, watching.
His jaw was tight. His eyes unreadable.
Eli felt the shift in the air — the tension, the silent war.
Water balloons came next. Eli hesitated, then walked over to Riven.
"Team up?" he asked.
Riven looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded.
For a while, they were unstoppable — ducking, dodging, launching perfect throws. Riven's laugh was rare, but when it came, it was low and warm and real. Eli soaked him with a direct hit to the chest.
Riven tackled him gently, pinning Eli to the grass, water dripping from his hair.
"You're dangerous," Riven said, smiling.
Eli looked up at him, breathless. "So are you."
Their eyes locked. The world blurred.
Then Kael dumped a bucket of water over both of them.
"Teamwork's overrated," he said, grinning.
Riven stood slowly, water streaming down his shirt. Eli saw the way his muscles tensed, the way his smile faded.
Kael offered Eli a towel. "You cold?"
Eli took it, but his gaze lingered on Riven — who had already turned away.
🍽️ Dinner and the Rising Moon
That evening, they gathered around a long wooden table beneath strings of fairy lights. The forest had quieted, as if holding its breath. Plates clinked, glasses sparkled, and the air buzzed with the kind of laughter that comes from sunburnt skin and shared secrets.
Eli sat between Kael and Riven — a choice that felt like a dare.
Kael was in rare form. He kept the wine flowing, the jokes sharp, his arm brushing Eli's every time he reached for something. He leaned in often, voice low and teasing.
"Careful," Kael murmured once, lips near Eli's ear. "You keep looking at him like that and I'll get jealous."
Eli didn't answer. His gaze had drifted again — to Riven.
Riven didn't speak. He barely ate. His hands trembled slightly, and Eli noticed the way his nails looked darker, thicker. His skin had a faint sheen, like something beneath was trying to break through. His pupils were wide, almost feral. He kept his head down, but Eli saw the way his jaw clenched every time Kael touched him.
Eli's heart thudded. He knew what night it was.
The moon was rising.
He reached under the table, gently brushing his fingers against Riven's knee.
Riven flinched — then stilled.
Slowly, he turned his head. Their eyes met.
Eli didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Riven's gaze softened, just barely. His breathing slowed. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased.
Kael noticed.
"Everything okay over there?" he asked, voice light but sharp.
Eli pulled his hand back. "Just checking in."
Riven stood abruptly, chair scraping against the wood. "I need air."
He walked toward the trees, movements stiff, like he was holding something back.
Eli hesitated — then followed.
Kael didn't stop him. But Eli felt the weight of his stare as he left.
Outside the glow of the fairy lights, the forest was silvered and still. Eli found Riven leaning against a tree, head bowed, hands clenched.
"You shouldn't be out here," Riven said, voice rough. "Not tonight."
"I know," Eli said softly. "But I didn't want you to be alone."
Riven looked up. His eyes shimmered — not with tears, but with something ancient. Something wild.
"I can feel it," he whispered. "Under my skin. Like fire."
Eli stepped closer. "Let me stay."
Riven shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
Eli reached out, fingers grazing Riven's wrist. His skin was hot, pulsing.
"I trust you," Eli said.
Riven closed his eyes, jaw tight. "You shouldn't."
But he didn't pull away.
Above them, the moon broke through the trees — full, bright, merciless.
Riven's breath hitched.
Eli stood his ground.
🌕 The Full Moon Calls
Eli stepped forward. "I'm not leaving you."
"You don't understand," Riven said, turning away. "I can't control it. Not tonight. I could hurt you."
"I'm not afraid of you," Eli said, voice trembling. "I'm afraid of losing you."
Riven moved fast — too fast — vanishing into the trees like smoke. Eli ran after him, heart pounding, branches slashing at his arms. He stumbled, fell, cried out. His knee hit a rock, blood blooming.
Riven froze.
Then he was there, crouched beside Eli, his hands — clawed, trembling — hovering over the wound. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving. The moonlight caught the sheen of his skin, the way it shimmered like something beneath was trying to break free.
"I told you not to follow," he said, voice breaking.
Eli reached up, cupping Riven's face. His skin was hot, rough, but his eyes — those eyes — were still Riven's.
"You're still you," Eli whispered. "Even like this."
Riven shuddered. "I want you so badly it hurts. But I don't know if I can be gentle."
Eli leaned in, lips brushing Riven's jaw. "Then don't be gentle. Just be real."
Their mouths met — desperate, raw. Riven's body trembled with restraint, every muscle taut. Eli's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, wild and aching, and Riven groaned — low, animalistic, but still tender.
Eli straddled him, pressing their bodies together. Riven's hands gripped his waist, claws grazing skin but never breaking it. Eli gasped, the pain and pleasure blurring. The moon bathed them in silver, and the forest held its breath.
"I'm yours," Eli said, voice hoarse. "Even like this. Especially like this."
Riven buried his face in Eli's neck, breathing him in. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I do," Eli said. "I want all of you."
And in that moment, beneath the full moon, with blood on his skin and fire in his chest, Eli kissed the monster — and the monster kissed him back.
🌲 Aftermath: The Shift
The kiss broke, but the silence between them held — thick, sacred, trembling with everything unsaid.
Riven's body convulsed — a ripple beneath his skin, like something ancient waking. He staggered back, hands clutching his chest, breath ragged.
Eli didn't move. He knelt in the grass, watching — not with fear, but with something deeper. Reverence.
Riven cried out, low and guttural. His spine arched, bones shifting with a sickening crack. His nails blackened, lengthened. Fur bloomed along his arms, his jaw elongating, eyes glowing gold like twin moons. His clothes tore at the seams, falling away in shreds.
The transformation was violent. Beautiful. Terrifying.
Eli's breath caught — not in fear, but awe. The air around them shimmered, charged with something primal. The forest seemed to lean in, trees creaking softly, leaves whispering.
When it was over, Riven stood before him, fully shifted. A creature of moonlight and shadow. His chest heaved, claws curled, eyes wild and wide. His body was massive, sleek with muscle, fur catching the silver light like frost.
But when he looked at Eli — really looked — something softened. The wildness didn't vanish, but it bent. It made room.
Eli reached out, slowly, his hand trembling. "It's still you."
Riven stepped forward, then sank to the ground beside him. He curled around Eli, massive and trembling, his body a shield against the night. His breath was hot and uneven, his claws twitching in the grass.
Eli leaned into him, resting his head against Riven's furred shoulder. The texture was coarse, warm, alive. His fingers traced gentle patterns along the creature's arm — circles, spirals, a language of touch meant to soothe.
"I used to tell stories to myself when I couldn't sleep," Eli whispered. "Want to hear one?"
Riven didn't speak — couldn't. But he pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating through his chest. It wasn't a growl. It was something softer. A yes.
Eli began to speak — soft, steady, his voice threading through the trees like mist.
"A long time ago, there was a boy who loved the moon. He watched it every night, even when it disappeared. He believed it could hear him. That it was lonely, too."
Riven's breathing slowed. His claws dug gently into the earth, anchoring him.
"The boy met a creature who lived in the woods. Everyone said it was dangerous. That it would tear him apart. But the boy saw something else — a sadness in its eyes. A longing."
Eli shifted, curling into Riven's side. The creature's body curved around him instinctively, protective.
"So the boy stayed. Even when the creature changed. Even when the moon pulled at its bones and made it howl. He stayed because he knew — deep down — that love wasn't about taming the wild. It was about walking into it."
The forest listened.
The moon watched.
And Eli stayed — through the night, through the shift, through the silence — not because he wasn't afraid, but because love meant staying anyway.
Hours passed. The moon climbed high, then began to fall. Riven didn't move, except to pull Eli closer when the wind stirred. Eli whispered more stories, half-remembered dreams, fragments of childhood. He spoke until his voice grew hoarse, until his eyes fluttered shut.
And when sleep finally claimed him, Riven stayed awake — watching the boy who had kissed the monster and called it beautiful.