Stubborn and the Mutt

twenty one | his history

Extremely long chapter ahead<3

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"Is this our new spot now?" My head lifts up to lightly gaze at his approaching being. He walks way too confidently up the rather knee-bending hill, but even as my eyes squint at it, I remember that he's a wolf. Climbing up anything should be second nature for him.

I lightly smile and glance around us. It's the very same hill I come and cry on every year to mourn for my mother and sister, and I guess low-key celebrate my mums birthday with tears. Considering he's the only person who's been here with me, I guess by force (but I'll not speak on it), it kind of makes sense that this be, like he said, our spot.

My spot with his company. Why should we share it equally, you know?

"No, it's not. But this is the only decent place we've been."

"Really?" He comes to a stand still right in front of me, so I have to raise my head up to look at him. "The lecture room? Bathroom, like, three times?"

"Those don't count."

"Today counts, though." He smirks with a knowing look, and in embarrassment, I roll my eyes before actually face palming myself.

I can hear him chuckle under his breath. "Now sit down. We have to talk and we don't even have that much time."

I watch as he finally takes a seat on the fine grass besides me. A bit too close, and he pushes the boundary by stretching his own legs out and invading my space. Before I could shift my hand, he takes hold of it and forcefully (gently, but without concern, I'll consider this forceful) intertwines our fingers.

"Ahm, didn't you get enough physical contact for the day? Shouldn't we have a limit to this?" My shoulders tense up as he places our hands on his thigh.

His blue eyes literally roll as he scoffs. "Please, Gertrude. Physical contact with wolves have no limit. Wolves can cuddle for up to twelve hours. Holding your hand is literally the bare minimum."

"Well, I think we should have a limit—"

"Don't be stubborn. This is fine. I'm not making you sit on my lap, am I?"

I narrow my eyes at his cheeky smile, ignoring the fact that my stomach flatters at his question. "Don't call me stubborn. If I call you the 'm' word, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Maybe stop being stubborn and I won't call you stubborn."

"Maybe stop being an annoying mutt and I won't call you that. Oh wait," I squint with a sweet smile. "You can stop being annoying. You can't stop being a mutt. Shame."

He instantly closes his eyes, unoccupied hand lifts to the bridge of his nose and he pinches it for a good moment. Proudly so, I hum and shrug, turning away.

"Don't call me stubborn."

"Fine. But I'm not a mutt."

"Now, before we work on each others nerves. There's a lot I want us to talk about, of which I thought over the weekend. This whole thing is new of course, and I'm sure for you not so much because you've anticipated it, basically all your life. I thought I would marry an African man ten years older than me who is stinking rich and has dogs... I don't like dogs." I look at him as he raises an eyebrow, and I chuckle. "You're not a dog, I wasn't going to say you're a dog. But my point is, you are the complete opposite. You're white, you're two years younger than me, you're... not human. Well, you're not only a human. That's different from what I want."

"But sometimes, the things you want can change."

"I get that." I nod, thinking maybe he's indirectly saying what want I or at least, what I thought I wanted, will change. "But I think this is different. This is huge."