Morning crept in slowly through the tall windows of the London hotel suite, the pale gray light diffused through gauzy curtains like a soft apology for the night before. The city buzzed beyond the glass — honking taxis, distant bells, a street cleaner humming by — but inside, it was the sacred hush of morning-after survival.
Gabriel stirred first.
He was sprawled half-off a velvet chaise in the main room, fur mussed in all directions, one leg on the floor, the other tangled in a throw blanket. His leather jacket lay draped over a lampshade. The empty glass in his hand clinked gently as he shifted, groaning like the ancient beast he was.
“Thane…” he mumbled into the void. “I think I swallowed a dart.”
No reply. Just the sound of a distant shower, a muffled cough from another room, and the comforting clink of dishes being wheeled down the hallway.
Gabriel sat up slowly, clutching his head. “Ow. My brain is trying to chew its way out.” He glanced toward the kitchenette. “Coffee. Save me.”
But when he dragged himself toward the smell of something warm and caffeinated, he found Mark already sitting there.
The older gray-furred werewolf sat at the edge of the room’s little balcony, coffee mug in hand, staring out at the skyline in contemplative silence. His thick fur was still damp from a quick rinse, the darker natural tones more visible in the soft morning light. He didn’t look hungover. He looked… still. Like a monument that hadn’t moved in hours.
Gabriel hovered near the doorframe, coffee in both hands. “Hey.”
Mark gave a small grunt that translated loosely to ‘Mornin.’
Gabriel took it as permission to sit.
For a while, they didn’t speak. They just sipped, watching the slow waking of London — delivery vans navigating tight streets, pedestrians in long coats clutching paper cups, a couple of fans with Eclipse signs already staking out the sidewalk below.
Mark finally spoke.
“You ever think we’d get here?”
Gabriel blinked. “Here as in… Europe? Or here as in ‘massive rock band with screaming fans and nightly chaos’?”
“Either. Both. All of it.”
Gabriel let the question settle between them. He took another sip of coffee, savoring the warmth as it chased away the ache behind his eyes.
“I used to,” he said softly. “Not ‘cause I thought we would, but because I had to. Dreaming was kind of my escape plan. I didn’t grow up with a lot of… belief, y’know? I told myself all kinds of stories just to make the days feel worth it.”
Mark nodded, slow and steady. “Same.”
Gabriel glanced over. “Really?”
The old wolf gave a tired chuckle. “Kid, you think I got this gray from a good retirement? I been clawing through life a long time. Lost more than I’ve won. Thought I’d end up alone. But then… soundboards, lighting rigs, tour buses. You lot.”
Gabriel’s expression softened. “You’ve always been the anchor, y’know? For all of us. Especially Thane.”
Mark looked at him. “And you’re the chaos he holds onto. Don’t think he’d survive this without you.”
That hit hard. Gabriel blinked rapidly, then looked down at his cup.
“I love him,” he said quietly. “Like… it’s not fireworks or poetry or whatever people write songs about. It’s just — he’s home. He gets me. Even when I’m being an idiot.”
Mark’s brow lifted slightly. “Especially then.”
Gabriel huffed a laugh. “Yeah. That.”
The silence returned, but this time it was thick with warmth instead of awkwardness.
Mark looked back out over the city. “It’s not about being perfect. Or having the biggest shows, or the loudest fans. It’s about… having people who show up. Who stay. Who don’t let you fall apart, even when you’re trying damn hard to.”
Gabriel’s voice was barely a whisper. “That what happiness looks like to you?”
Mark nodded once. “Close enough.”
Gabriel let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair, the sunrise catching in his fur and lighting his icy blue eyes just enough to make him look like something out of a storybook. Not a cursed creature. Not a monster.
Just a soul finally at peace — for now.
They sat that way for a while longer. Quiet. Grounded. Still part of the chaos, but no longer lost in it.
And down in the lobby, the hotel staff were arguing about whether to deliver another five dozen croissants “just in case the wolves were still hungry.”