Rise.

"Walker, please!"
Medin was sobbing openly now but no longer resisting, hands clenched tightly to the edges of the bedsheet and eyes shut tight against the scene in front of him. His wolfe was betraying him. Walker was betraying him. He couldn't comprehend this fact. Walker grumbled something incoherent and came in a quick burst, twitching a few times after. Medin sucked in an uneven breath that was equal parts relief and horror and curled immediately onto his side.

Walker lay basking in his own satisfied afterglow, undisturbed by Medin's distress and close to dozing until a low sound and movement woke him. Medin was rolling quietly off of the bed, looking around for his clothes, dressing -

"Where do you think you're going?"'
Medin looked up at Walker, eyes miserable with hurt and futile anger.
"I want to go home."
Walker growled, shook his head.
"That's stupid. Come back over here. You're not going home."
Medin ignored this, continued to dress, wiping occasionally at his face with the back of one hand.
"Medin, I said you're not going home. You'll Change here. I'll watch you."
Medin put his shoes on.
"Medin," Walker rose, shifted to a position where it would be easier to come after his boyfriend, "I said come back over here. You're not going home."
Medin only mumbled something in response, but evidently Walker understood it.
"Say that again, little one." his voice was pure threat, but the darkness hid his face and the moonlight made Medin bold.
"I said you're not my alpha, I don't have to do what you say."
Walker raced him to the door, threw him against it, clamped one hand down over his mouth.
"Don't you make a sound, Medin. Not one sound. You just listen. Listen to me when I tell you that what I did was for your own good; for the good of both of us. Listen to me when I say that you will not disrespect me and you will not disobey. Listen to me when I say that your precious Marik will never be half the alpha I already am. Do you understand what I am saying, Medin?"
Mouth still covered, Medin nodded, the action rubbing his cheek against the door.
"Good. You will learn to listen, because I, also unlike your Marik, will not tolerate a disobedient mate."
Walker released him, pushed him away and moved back towards the bed, looking for his own clothes. He found them in a pile by the foot of the bed, and he went through them, rifling through his pockets for a moment before he pulled something out, then thrust it at Medin.
"It's for the morning."
Medin looked down at what was in his hands, and sure enough, it was a med packet from the infirmary - painkillers. For the morning. Medin swallowed, looked back up to where Walker, half clothed, was sitting on the bed. His wolfe looked sharply up at him.
"Get the fuck out."

Confused but grateful, Medin opened the door and practically threw himself out into the hallway. He didn't stop running until he was in the final hallway that led to Marik's quarters - home.

~:~

It was nearly four. Róan rolled away from his mate, who slept deeply beside him, and towards the window. The moon was still bright in the sky, casting a silvery glow over their bedroom. Nearly four. He could go to the early meal. It wouldn't wake Marik if he left; he had learned in the few short weeks he'd been here that his mate slept like the dead.

He might, however, be angry to learn that Róan had left their quarters without his permission in the night. It might seem like sneaking out, and Róan was not in a mood or position to anger or even annoy the wolfe.

A shuffle in the hallway brought his thoughts back to center, and he remembered the same fear he always felt when his mate was gone and there were strange sounds in the night.
"Marik." he whispered, not really wanting to wake the wolfe, but willing if he, perhaps, were sleeping lightly. Marik didn't even stir.
He heard the shuffle again and suddenly felt silly for his fright - it was probably just Medin again, restless or hungry or just up in the middle of the night like he was. The shuffle changed into the dull slide of a door opening and Róan decided that it was most definitely Medin. Maybe the boy would feel like talking; he could keep Róan company until they both fell asleep, and, after all, this may be the only time they would have to talk, away from Marik's watchful eyes and ears.

Róan slipped out of bed, resting his feet silently on the floor by the bed before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the hall, sliding the door gently shut behind him. He made his way down the near-lightless hallway; he was used to navigating in the dark, had had to do it plenty of times in his clan, when torches ran low or danger was nearby, or nighttime raids went on. Feeling for the panel to open Medin's door, he slid it open. Dim light filtered out.

Medin was sitting on his bed, staring at something in his lap. He jumped when he the door slid and Róan saw him look frantically around before seeming to give up, shaking his head and sitting back on the bed. Medin was fully dressed, but his hair looked mussed, the usually only mildly unruly waves flying wispy from the clasp he'd put on it. His eyes were red and his breathing seemed uneven, even for someone who had been recently startled. Róan was worried immediately.

"Medin, what's going on?"
the boy looked up at him once, desperately, and began to cry.
Róan came over to hold him, and Medin collapsed into his arms.
"Is this about Walker?"
Medin stiffened immediately, pulled away.
"Wait, I didn't mean - Medin, what happened?"
Róan was sincerely bewildered.
Medin wouldn't meet his eyes, only continued to cry, clinging tightly to the satchel in his hands. Róan pried it from him, let the boy go on sobbing.
"Painkillers? Why?"
Medin took several deep breaths, pulled himself together enough to speak.
"Walker. He did it. He took me; he Changed me."
Róan looked back at the satchel in his hand. He opened it and recognized the odor immediately. This was the same chew he'd been given on the second day of his Change, when he refused to swallow anything but water. He would know the smell anywhere: it was like ginger with a thick, gritty, soapy flavor. Róan took in the tears, the meds, began to put pieces together and suddenly realized what this all meant.
"Oh, Medin."
Medin began to cry again, moved to lay flat on the bed, and Róan listened for the next half hour as, between tears, Medin told him everything.

~:~