Arthur blinked against the early light filtering through the blinds, the faint hum of morning air filling the silence. Beside him, Cast stirred in her sleep, her expression calm—almost childlike. For a moment, Arthur could almost forget the chaos of the night before. Then it hit him all at once.
He sat up abruptly, heart skipping a beat. Across the small room, Lash stood by the counter, pouring steaming coffee into a chipped mug. She didn’t look over right away, her gaze fixed on the dark liquid as though it might give her the answers she didn’t have.
Arthur ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breath. When Lash finally turned, her expression was unreadable—composed, but not without weight. Without a word, she crossed the floor and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, placing one of the mugs in his hands.
“Coffee,” she said simply. “I think that’s what you call it here. I didn’t know what to add, so… it’s just that.” Arthur looked down at the cup, then at her. The air between them was fragile—thick with unspoken thoughts neither dared to touch yet.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, his words tumbling out awkwardly. “So… umm… that happened.” Lash took a slow sip of her coffee, avoiding his eyes. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time,” she murmured. “Or the second time… or when—”
“I know, Lash,” Arthur cut in quickly, his face reddening. “I just meant—what do we do now?” Lash finally looked up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and guilt. “You mean besides pretending last night didn’t happen?” she asked softly. “Because I don’t think either of us are very good at pretending.”
Arthur exhaled and looked away, his gaze landing on Cast still sleeping soundly, tangled in the sheets. “Yeah,” he muttered, voice low. “I figured as much.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m used to this,” Lash said, swirling what remained of her coffee, “but… it’s not my first time Cast did something like this.”
Arthur blinked, his mind catching on the implication. “You and Cast have… before?” he asked carefully. Lash looked at him over the rim of her cup, then gave a small, knowing shrug. “A couple of times,” she admitted. “It’s not exactly rare for her when the moon’s involved.”
Arthur stared for a moment, caught between surprise and disbelief. “Right… of course it’s not,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.
“Cast herself doesn’t really prefer it,” Lash continued quietly, eyes on her cup. “She’s never really had someone to pair up with when it happens. Every time, she tries to fight it… but it always wins eventually.” Arthur listened, unsure whether to speak.
“So,” Lash went on, voice softening, “I’ve… tried to help her through it before. But it doesn’t really work when you’re afflicted with the same thing.” She gave a faint, bitter laugh. “You can’t pull someone out of the current when you’re both drowning.”
Arthur blinked, trying to read her tone. “Wait… you said you don’t mind it though. With other girls?” he asked, still hung up on that part of her words.
Lash tilted her head, thinking. “I guess I never really gave it much thought,” she admitted after a pause. “I guess not. It just… feels good in the moment, you know? Fighting it can be so hard. But if you give in…” she gave a small, self-conscious smile, “…it’s one of the best times of the month.”
Arthur’s voice was quiet. “So… how do you feel about me then… since it’s over?”
Lash looked down at her drink, swirling it slowly. “I don’t think I was in love with you,” she said, almost apologetically.
Arthur’s eyes dropped to the table, heart sinking at the honesty in her tone.
“But…” Lash continued, glancing up at him through her lashes, “there’s something about you. I find it exciting. You’re kind, you’re brave… I think I feel something.” She gave a faint, nervous smile. “I’m just not sure what. Is that okay?”
Arthur’s eyes rose again, meeting hers. It wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear—but somehow, it didn’t hurt the way he expected. In a strange way, it felt real. And that was enough.
Cast stirred beneath the sheets, her eyes half-lidded, fur tousled into a wild bedhead. She blinked a few times, the blur of sleep fading as her surroundings came into focus—Arthur and Lash sitting across the room, quietly watching her.
“...Hungry,” she mumbled, her voice thick with morning haze, and padded over toward the cold box that kept their meat chilled.
But just as her hand touched the handle, it hit her. The memories came crashing in—heat, noise, tangled bodies, that night.
Her eyes widened. She froze mid-step, then turned her head slowly toward them, face flushing beneath her fur as Arthur and Lash both looked up at her in silence.
Her ears twitched. Slowly, she turned her head to look back at them. Arthur sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, coffee untouched in his hands. Lash, beside him, wore an expression that was half calm, half unreadable, as if she’d been expecting this moment.
Cast’s throat went dry. “...Oh.”
Neither of them said anything.
“Right,” she mumbled, her ears flattening as she quickly shut the cold box door again. “Guess… I’m not that hungry after all.”
She awkwardly tugged at her fur, realizing it was a mess, then shot them both a wary look. “So… uh… we’re just gonna pretend that didn’t happen, or—?”
Cast yanked the T-shirt off over her head and bolted back to the bed, diving under the blankets and burying herself in the pillows and fluff. A muffled scream escaped from beneath the pile. Lash chuckled, glancing at Arthur. “She was incredible, wasn’t she?”
“SHUT UP, LASH!” came a panicked voice from under the blankets. “STOP—she was all over you—AAAAAHH!”
Before anyone could react, Cast lunged through the bedding and tackled Lash to the ground.
Cast thrashes atop Lash as she lays beneath the blankets, clawing and wriggling as she tries to pull Lash up, tears pricking the corners of her eyes from a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. Lash, meanwhile, is laughing uncontrollably, her amusement only fueling Cast’s flailing. Arthur sits nearby, cheeks flushed, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips—red-faced but quietly relieved that the chaos has finally settled back into a familiar, playful rhythm
Laughter still lingers in the air—Lash barely catching her breath, Cast red-faced and fuming, Arthur trying—and failing—to hide his embarrassment.
Lash glances toward Arthur again, that same dangerous grin creeping back.
“Oh come on,” she teases, nudging the moment right back to the edge. “She was incredible, wasn’t she?”
“SHUT UP, LASH!” Cast’s voice cracks as she scrambles upright from the blankets, panic flaring all over again. “STOP—she was all over you—AAAAAHH—!”
Before the words can finish, Cast lunges.
They hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and blankets, Cast on top, thrashing and clawing as she tries to drag Lash down with her. Lash only laughs harder, the sound loud and unrestrained, which somehow makes everything worse.
“Worth it!” Lash manages between laughs.
“YOU’RE THE WORST!” Cast snaps, her voice wavering between anger and humiliation, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.
Arthur watches for a second—half-stunned, half-amused—before pushing himself up.
“Alright—hey, hey—break it up,” he says, stepping in.
Lash, still laughing, gives one last wriggle before Cast shoves off her. There’s a beat—just enough space for things to settle—
—and Lash, without thinking, gives Cast a small shove.
It’s light. Playful.
But Cast isn’t ready.
She stumbles backward—straight into Arthur.
He catches her instantly.
The moment his hands steady her, she freezes.
All the fight drains out of her at once, her body going tense in his grip, like she’s suddenly aware of everything at once. The room, the silence, the memory hanging unspoken between them.
Arthur notices immediately.
His hold softens—but his voice sharpens just enough as he looks past her.
“Lash. Stop.” A beat. “She doesn’t feel okay talking about it. Drop it. Can’t you see this isn’t her?”
The words land.
Lash’s grin falters, replaced with something quieter, more aware.
Arthur’s attention shifts back to Cast, his tone lowering again.
“Hey… it’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to talk about it. We can just… forget it. Last night doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re alright. I won’t say anything.”
Cast’s breathing falters. A small tremor runs through her shoulders.
Behind them, Lash exhales, rubbing the back of her neck.
“…Yeah. Okay. That one’s on me,” she mutters. A pause. “Sorry, Cast.”
The room goes still.
Cast hesitates—then, slowly, instead of pulling away, she leans forward.
Her hands clutch lightly at Arthur’s shirt as she presses into him, uncertain at first, then tighter. She’s still shaking, just a little.
“It… wasn’t unpleasant,” she admits under her breath, voice fragile. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” Her grip tightens. “I can’t control myself when the full moon is out. So… please. Just don’t.”
Arthur doesn’t hesitate.
One hand lifts, gently brushing through her hair, smoothing it down in slow, reassuring strokes.
“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
Cast exhales, just slightly.
And this time, Lash says nothing—just watching, quieter now, as the moment settles into something softer than before.
