MOONLIT FANGS

Awake

Rhys woke up to two things: the dull, distant ache still sitting in his chest, and the sight of Milo asleep sideways in the world's most uncomfortable-looking chair, mouth wide open, snoring loud enough to rattle the monitor beside the bed.

"Wow," Rhys croaked, voice rough from disuse. "That's a good look for you, buddy."

Sebastian's head snapped up from where he'd been sitting so still and quiet Rhys hadn't even registered him at first, and the second their eyes met, something in Sebastian's whole body seemed to break open at once.

"Rhys," he breathed, and then he was there, arms wrapped tight around him, face pressed into his shoulder, shaking with barely contained sobs. "You're awake. You're actually awake."

"Whoa, hey.." Rhys blinked, startled, arms coming up automatically to hug him back despite the surprise. "I'm okay, Sebastian, I promise, you don't have to.."

"I'm so sorry," Sebastian said against his shoulder, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Rhys, I'm sorry for all of it, for the courtyard, for not noticing, for everything, I'm so sorry.."

"Sebastian, it's okay.."

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said again, pulling back only far enough to look at him properly, tears streaming freely down his face. "I'm so sorry, I should have been paying attention, I should have..."

"Sebastian. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Sebastian."

"I'm SO sorry."

"OKAY," Rhys said, finally, half-laughing despite himself, swatting weakly at Sebastian's shoulder. "I love you, I forgive you, we've been over this, please stop apologizing before I actually get annoyed at you for real, because right now you're using up my very limited hospital-patient patience."

That, finally, startled a wet, surprised laugh out of Sebastian, and he pressed one more soft kiss to Rhys's forehead before finally, properly settling back to just look at him, relief written plain across every feature.

The commotion woke Milo, who startled upright so violently he nearly toppled out of the chair entirely. "Wha.. is he.. RHYS!" Milo was up and across the room in half a second, throwing himself onto the bed to hug him with an enthusiasm that Rhys's still-tender chest did not appreciate in the slightest.

"Ow, Milo...you're crushing me, oh my god, do you want me dead, I just woke UP"

Milo let go so fast he nearly fell off the bed the other direction, looking mortified.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'm just really glad you're not dead, forgive my enthusiasm."

"I forgive it. Barely. Please never do that again."

The door opened again, and Rhys's grandmother stepped in, and something about the way she looked at him this time made Rhys pause. It wasn't the usual mix of exasperated affection she typically greeted him with. It was something deeper. Reverent, almost. Like she was looking at someone she hadn't fully recognized until now.

"Grandma? You're looking at me weird."

"I'm looking at you properly," she said quietly, crossing to take his hand, something like awe still lingering behind her eyes. "For the first time, perhaps."

His mother, close behind her, simply sat on the edge of the bed and gently smoothed his hair back the way she'd done since he was small, tears in her eyes that she didn't bother hiding, saying nothing at all, just holding his hand tight enough that Rhys understood, without needing the words, exactly how frightened she'd been.

Talia arrived not long after, took one look at him sitting up and talking, and immediately launched into a long, aggrieved rant about the sick bay's terrible vending machine options that she'd apparently been forced to survive on during the overnight vigil, which, more than anything else, was the thing that finally made Rhys laugh properly for the first time since waking up.

He was discharged by early afternoon, healer's orders for rest, no strenuous activity, and delivered with a pointed look at both Rhys and Sebastian no emotionally overwhelming conversations for at least forty-eight hours, an instruction Rhys privately doubted either of them would manage to follow for even half that time.

"Why am I here," Rhys asked, several hours later, standing in the doorway of Sebastian's room instead of his own. "I thought I was going back to Milo's."

"You can, if you want," Sebastian said, watching him carefully. "I simply thought after everything you might prefer not to be alone tonight. I want you here. Even after everything, even if you're still angry with me. I'd rather you be angry with me in the same room than somewhere else entirely."

Rhys rolled his eyes, though the small, fond smile tugging at his mouth gave away how little he actually minded.

"We're not married, Sebastian."

Something flickered briefly across Sebastian's face at that quick, almost calculating, gone before Rhys could fully place it and for one wild, fleeting second, Rhys could have sworn Sebastian was actually considering something.

"Don't," Rhys said immediately, pointing a warning finger at him.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it. I can see you thinking it. Don't you dare propose to me while I'm still recovering from a medical episode caused by learning I'm the reincarnation of an ancient Alpha who died of heartbreak. That is not a romantic setup, Sebastian, that is a cry for help."

"I make no promises about future timing," Sebastian said, entirely too pleased with himself, though he let the subject drop for now, settling Rhys onto the bed with careful, fussing attention that Rhys allowed only because arguing about it clearly wasn't going to work.

Once they were both settled, quiet finally after the chaos of the last day, Rhys turned the conversation to the thing that had been sitting heavy in his mind since he'd first woken up.

"Grandma," he said, later, once she'd come by to check on him properly, "if I'm really this, this reincarnated Alpha, and Sebastian's the reincarnated Vale, why don't either of us remember any of it? Wouldn't something like that leave some kind of trace?"

His grandmother considered the question carefully. "The prophet explained it to me while you were still unconscious. The full memories of that first life are sealed away deliberately, by the moon goddess herself, according to old tradition. They surface only once the bond between two souls is fully, permanently completed. Marking each other properly the ceremony you mentioned wanting to do, before all of this happened, that's what would finally unlock it. Not before."

"So we won't actually know the full truth of what happened between us between them, I guess until we complete the bond."

"That appears to be exactly how it works, yes."

Rhys sat with that for a long moment, something both nervous and strangely hopeful settling in his chest. "That's a lot of pressure to put on one ceremony."

"Welcome to being an Alpha," his grandmother said dryly. "Pressure appears to be baked into the job description."

Across campus, under considerably less sympathetic circumstances, Grier had spent the entire day trying, unsuccessfully, to get any information at all about Rhys's condition, running headfirst into the same wall of restricted access every single time.

"I just want to know he's okay," Grier said, frustrated, cornering Talia outside the dining hall. "That's all. I'm not asking to see him, I know I can't, I just need to know he's alive."

"He's fine, Grier," Talia said, not unkindly, though her tone made clear the boundary wasn't up for negotiation. "He's awake, he's recovering, and no, that doesn't mean you get an exception to the restrictions. I know it's hard. It's supposed to be hard. That's the whole point of the consequence you agreed to."

Grier's shoulders slumped, frustration and old, familiar longing tangled together in his expression. "I know. I just hate feeling this useless whenever something happens to him."

"That's the cost of what you did," Talia said, gentler now. "I'm not trying to be cruel about it. But you don't get to insert yourself into his crisis just because you still care. Caring from a distance is the whole deal now. That's what you signed up for."

Grier nodded miserably and walked away, and Talia watched him go with a complicated mix of sympathy and firm resolve, entirely unmoved from the boundary regardless of how genuinely sorry he looked.

Meanwhile, in the east library, Isla sat alone at what used to be her and Sebastian's usual table, staring at a phone that hadn't buzzed with a single message from him in over a week.

She'd texted twice. Both had gone unanswered. She'd tried approaching him directly once, only for him to walk past her without so much as a glance, all his attention consumed entirely by Rhys's recovery, by the reincarnation reveal, by everything that had nothing at all to do with her.

"He's ignoring me completely," she muttered to herself, anger and something more wounded tangled together underneath it. "After everything. After years of friendship, one mistake, and he cuts me off entirely."

She didn't let herself examine, not yet, whether "one mistake" was really the honest way to describe deliberately shattering someone's fragile peace at the worst possible moment. That kind of honesty, for now, still felt like more than she was ready to face.

That evening, in an attempt to lighten the mood after what had objectively been one of the most emotionally exhausting weeks either of them had ever survived, Milo showed up at Sebastian's door holding a stack of poster board, markers, and an expression of deep, unwavering seriousness.

"What," Rhys said flatly, staring at the supplies, "is happening right now."

"I am starting an official betting pool," Milo announced, settling cross-legged on the floor with all the gravity of someone launching a major corporate initiative.

"Regarding when Sebastian is actually going to propose. I already have three people signed up. Talia says within the month. Coach Danvers, surprisingly, says before the semester ends. I personally am putting money on the reincarnation ceremony itself, because it would be, and I cannot stress this enough, extremely on brand."

"There is no proposal happening," Rhys said, shooting Sebastian a warning look.

"None. Zero. We just established this literally two hours ago."

"I said no promises about future timing," Sebastian said mildly, entirely unbothered by the accusatory glare aimed his way.

"Betting pool is officially open," Milo continued, undeterred, writing "PROPOSAL WATCH" across the top of the poster board in enthusiastic, oversized letters. "Five dollars a guess. Proceeds go toward replacing Kevin, since apparently my shark poster got water damage last week and honestly, the man deserves a proper memorial."

"Kevin," Sebastian repeated, looking genuinely lost. "The shark. He has a name."

"Kevin was a good shark," Milo said solemnly. "He deserved better than a leaky ceiling."

"You named your poster."

"You named your inner biological function talker," Milo shot back, entirely unbothered, gesturing vaguely at Rhys. "Don't act like this family is unfamiliar with naming inanimate or metaphysical things."

"Fenn is not inanimate," Rhys protested. "He's a whole personality."

"So is Kevin, in my heart," Milo said, taping the poster board proudly to the wall. "Five dollars, gentlemen. Place your bets. I already put myself down for the reincarnation ceremony, so factor that into your odds accordingly."

Despite everything the exhaustion, the lingering ache in his chest, the enormous, still-unprocessed weight of learning he carried the soul of an ancient, heartbroken Alpha, Rhys found himself laughing properly, warm and unguarded, for the first time in what felt like weeks, Sebastian's hand finding his and squeezing gently as the sound filled the room.

"For the record," Sebastian murmured, leaning close, "I have no intention of losing that particular bet quickly. Some things are worth doing exactly right, whenever the moment actually comes."

"Don't you dare," Rhys said, grinning despite the warning in his own voice. "I mean it. Not yet."

"Noted," Sebastian said, entirely unrepentant, already, quietly, beginning to plan.