The den felt... different.
Not lighter.
Not healed.
But quieter in a way that didn't hurt.
Outside, faint laughter drifted in—Kael's sharp bursts, Ryn's determined little noises, Lior's softer hums.
Eirik's voice followed.
Calm.
Steady.
Keeping them busy.
Keeping them safe.
Inside—
Aiden sat close to the furs, knees drawn slightly in, fingers loosely tangled together.
He wasn't shaking anymore.
But the weight hadn't left.
Theron stayed nearby.
Not too close.
Not too far.
For once—
He didn't push.
Silence stretched between them.
Not empty.
Just… waiting.
Aiden spoke first.
"...I saw something."
Theron's gauze shifted to him immediately.
"A dream," Aiden continued, voice quiet but steady. "No… a memory."
A pause.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"...our first meeting."
Theron didn't interrupt.
Didn't question.
"You knew me," Aiden said.
Not asking.
Without doubting.
Just stating it.
"...yes."
Aiden let out a slow breath.
"I couldn't move. Couldn't speak unless… it already happened that way."
His gaze dropped slightly.
"...but I felt everything."
Theron's expression softened.
"You said I'd remember," Aiden added.
A faint, almost bitter exhale leaving him.
"...you sounded so sure."
Theron looked down for a moment.
Then back at him.
"I was."
Aiden huffed quietly.
Not amused.
Not angry.
Just… tired.
"...I don't," he said.
A beat.
"Not like you do."
"I know."
That answer came too easily.
Too calmly.
Aiden's eyes flicked up.
"...doesn't that bother you?"
Theron didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Honest.
Immediate.
"But it doesn't change anything."
Aiden held his gaze for a moment.
Searching.
"...it does for me," he said.
The words settled heavily.
"I'm trying to understand something that already owns part of me," Aiden continued. "Feelings, instincts… you."
A pause.
"…and I don't even know where it started."
Theron shifted slightly closer.
Careful.
Measured.
"Then start here," he said.
Aiden frowned faintly.
"...here?"
"This life," Theron clarified.
A softer tone now.
"…with me as I am now. Not what I was."
Aiden went quietly.
Thinking.
Outside, Kael's laughter rang again.
Bright.
Alive.
Aiden's shoulders eased just slightly at the sound.
"…I almost lost one," he said suddenly.
Theron stilled.
The words came softer now.
Not breaking.
But fragile.
"I didn't even get to meet him," Aiden continued.
His gauze dropped to his hands.
"…and I still feel him missing."
Silence filled the den.
Theron didn't speak right away.
I didn't try to fix it.
I didn't try to soften it.
Instead—
He moved.
Closer.
Slowly, he reached out.
No grabbing.
Not pulling.
Just—
Resting his hand over Aiden's.
Aiden didn't pull away.
"He was ours," Theron said quietly.
Aiden's breath hitched.
"Not just yours to carry."
That—
That broke something softer this time.
Aiden's fingers curled slightly under Theron's hand.
"…then why does it feel like it is?" he whispered.
Theron's grip tightened just a fraction.
"Because I didn't take enough of it from you," he said.
No excuses.
No defense.
Just the truth.
Aiden closed his eyes briefly.
"...I need you to," he said.
Theron didn't hesitate.
"I will."
A pause.
Then—
"…even when I don't know how."
Aiden let out a small breath.
Almost a laugh.
Almost.
"That's better than not trying."
Silence returned.
But this time—
It didn't press.
Aiden shifted slightly closer.
Not fully leaning in.
But not far off either.
"…what about now?" he asked quietly.
Theron's gaze softened.
"...now?"
"The future," Aiden said.
A small pause.
"...do we ever get it right?"
Theron didn't respond immediately.
Because that question—
Spanned lifetimes.
"…we get closer," he said finally.
Aiden opened his eyes.
Looked at him.
"Every time?"
Theron approached once.
Aiden studied his face.
Longer this time.
"…then don't fall behind," he said quietly.
A challenge.
A request.
A warning.
Theron's lips curved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
"I won't."
Outside, the pups' carried laughter again.
Louder this time.
Closer.
Aiden's gaze shifted toward the entrance.
Then back.
"...we should go to them."
Theron.
But it hasn't moved yet.
Just for a second longer—
He let his hand stay over Aiden's.
And Aiden didn't pull away.
Not fixed.
Not whole.
But no longer breaking alone.