Today continues the story with Chapter 2 of A Matter of Perspective.

Please enjoy! I am curious to know how you are finding the story so far.

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Chapter 2 - Breathe

Lupus’s eyelids shot open. In his greatest need, Mister Sandman did not bring him a dream.

Typical.

The wolf drew a heavy breath; the ordeal with Mister Sinclair yesterday had weighed on his chest. His body still felt the effects, more so when he replayed the editor’s ask: ‘You will need to supply your parents’ details’. A simple task if your past and family relationships were uncomplicated.
Lupus was different.

With a shaking hand pressed to his chest, feeling his heartbeat flutter against his fingertips. His breath hitched as though the air resisted entering his lungs. Beneath the bed covers, his other hand clenched the mattress cover as he tilted his head up to meet the ceiling, and stared at the wooden ceiling. A quintessential example of British homes and a far cry from America’s E.R.A.S. (Elevated Roof Access System) mechanism.

Lying under the wooden ceiling, he imagined the click of the E.R.A.S. mechanism. The same sound he heard when his American friend lifted the roof to steal him for quality time. His breath stilled at the thought of the wood splitting open and a shadow spilling inward. Its first state, expansive, shapeless, morphed into that resembling a Vastelerian grasp. Long fingers, dark as midnight, slid through the widening gap to meet him.

Lupus’s hands raised to meet it. He longed to once again experience the weightlessness of being held by a Vastelerian. A Vastelerian, unlike most Petritans in the United Kingdom, represented refuge, not a monster. In their presence, like the morning mist fading beneath the touch of sunlight on his early morning runs, his fear melted away.

Four shadowy fingers yawned open overhead. Those fingertips hovered inches away above his bed. His heartbeat slowed when he imagined the warmth of their contact, the moment they closed around him.
Lupus’s vain hand raised to meet it.
To imagine stroking across a finger to meet their fuzzy palm and accept the Vastelerian’s invitation to whisk him away.

When his fingers met the shadow, the illusion faltered. His own hand hung there, outstretched to nothing. Lupus stayed, palm open in the empty air. A part of him still swore he sensed the warmth of the Vastelerian’s embrace, but that was the toasty air caused by the bedroom radiator.

His anchor had vanished. It was then he remembered that encountering a Vastelerian is impossible here. A thought that faded away when he closed his fingers, curling them in a fist that struck the mattress beside his waist.

A frustrated exhale left his lips. Even without the image, he held onto the feeling: being enclosed within a Vastelerian’s grasp, then swept away. He was someone who sought improvement in his life, not someone needing rescue. A life with both Petritan and Vastelerians living amongst one another.

Not in his apartment. Not anywhere in the United Kingdom. Free from seams, hidden panels, or the soft sounds of machinery. The architect did not account for a Vastelerian-Petritan society.

Just a wooden ceiling. In the centre, a lonely light bulb, for a lonely bedroom, for a lonely apartment. Lonely it was.

His apartment housed the essentials. A bed, a writing table near a window, and an aged dresser comprised the space. Bare walls held only a shelf; upon it, a few books and a neglected, covered photo frame.

Beside the photo frame, his only other item with sentimental value, a notepad. In its pages were story ideas, a half-complete to-do list with Vastelerians, and heartfelt messages from American friends

Every so often, Lupus brewed coffee, and filled more of the pages. The one of two items worth keeping in his barren apartment.

He wanted to decorate. A reporter’s salary, and London’s sky-high expenses, made it difficult. Beyond that, investment in furniture held no value for him.

He’d always had a house, but never a home.

It took him a few moments to overcome bed gravity and hoist himself upright. He glanced at the night-sky outside the window and at his alarm clock displaying five o’clock. Then, as he slipped out of the bedsheets to stand up on his wooden floor, he remembered discussing Thomas yesterday again. For years he got by without mentioning his parents to anyone.

Not anymore.

Lupus exhaled. No point dwelling on it anymore, not when he had to meet his friend from university in half an hour. He needed to calm his head first, to push away the tension behind his temples before it swallowed him.

Running had always been his solution. It allowed him to transfer distress, rage, and fear to increase his physical abilities. He’d started it when he moved to London at nineteen, back when he was a few months into university, when the stress of studying mounted, and before he met his best friend Liam.

No matter the weather. Rain. Humidity. Whenever he needed to ease his troubled mind, he laced up his shoes, and ran. Running allowed him not just to take complete control of his body, but to understand it. To notice the tightening in his muscles, the rise of his chest with each breath, and his feet striking the ground. He lacked help from a Vastelerian, but he possessed running.

He put on his gym clothes, trainers, and a second-hand smartwatch on his desk by him. Once Lupus got dressed and ready, he exited his apartment building and moved to join the calamity of London’s early morning traffic. The noise and fumes of the crowded streets and underground stations surrounded the canine as he prepared his smartwatch to track his progress.

Lupus mapped the route to the gym in his head, and with his watch ready, he set off to the gymnasium under the streetlights.

At first, Lupus wore an unfaltering smile as he jogged. He manoeuvred through the slow-moving commuters with grace and agility.

A sigh left his lips. Lupus’s mind distanced from the London streets and focused on both his pace and heart rate. Any tether to reality became malleable, and that is what he needed. To detach.

He allowed himself to reminisce. To fantasise that his shoes pounded snow, not concrete; that his arms cut through icy wind, not fumes; that his gaze fell on the arctic tundra, not a street. An innate sensation of home, unknown yet intrinsic, vanished upon hearing the vehicle’s horn nearby.

The wolf faced the red sedan that had caused the loud noise. His eyes followed it to the street and pressed onward.

Lupus never broke stride. His shoes leaped from streetlight to streetlight. He weaved through the narrow London streets with measured breaths. The frosty morning air stroked his exposed patches of fur, but it was nothing compared to the tundra he saw in the documentaries.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t recreate the fantasy. A siren song, the noise of London’s traffic and pedestrians continued to pull him back to reality. To evade the call, the arctic wolf recalled a mantra from his early running days: ‘Be faster, be stronger, be better’. He just needed to drown it out–at least until he met up with Liam.

His mind did not cooperate.

Douglas. Thomas.

It took moments for the memory of yesterday’s shift to enter his mind again, and when it did, his shoes struck the pavement harder. His running rhythm changed—longer strides, heavier footfalls, and a mumbling snarl. Although it was imperceptible to others, Lupus picked up on the switch.

At the halfway point, Lupus raised his toned arm mid-stride to have his smartwatch meet his ocean-blue eyes. As it stood, he exceeded his typical performance. He was on track for a personal best, and because he had converted yesterday’s frustration into fuel.

Lupus welcomed it. Work’s persistent stress had a purpose — to help him hit the next running milestone. His smartwatch encouraged it when it vibrated. It was a notification surpassing the next kilometre.

Except he welcomed it too much. When he rounded the corner, governmental and media posters confronted him. Unrelieved vexation resurfaced.

The closest poster to him was a silhouette of a Vastelerian looming over the skyline with long fingers stretching towards Petritan homes. At the core, a Petritan raised a defiant gesture toward the enormous beast. Below the graffiti read, ‘Keep the monsters out,’ appeared underneath, as though the posters did not offer enough.

Trembling fists hung at his waist. He’d seen versions of this propaganda before — everywhere. Bus stops, Jumbotrons, and digital screens outside stores.

Lupus forced himself to look away and to his smartwatch to end the countdown—new personal best. He should have congratulated himself, but his motives were not worthy of praise.

The smartwatch vibrated again. He thought it was his run notification, but the Thames Herald News alert disappointed him.

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THE THAMES HERALD — BREAKING NEWS: Council Considers Border Reinforcements Following Ascendant Sightings Near Burford.

“The safety of great Petritan citizens remains our top priority,” says Minister Halverson.

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He scrolled, scanning the other headlines from competing news outlets. Each had taken a harder stance.

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“The Big Heart Foundation Exploits Petritan Sympathy, Say Experts.”

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“What Do They Want? New Footage Suggests the London Riots were a Vastelerian test to study Petritan law enforcement.”

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Lupus kept his fists clenched until he reached the other curb from the gym. The tension lingered beneath his fur coat while he tried to keep his eyes forward, but the posters mocked his efforts. He urged himself to ignore it. Not now, when he couldn’t use running as an outlet until his friend arrived.

He stopped beside a lamppost, pressing his palm against the icy metal. Lupus forced himself to breathe. In. Out. Again. To unwind, he moved from newspaper content to his fitness applications. Should something divert him, he prioritise searching for his friend.

After he looked both ways across the empty street to spot the jaguar, he glanced at his watch again. Five to seven. Lupus and Liam met at quarter to seven. It held no surprises for him.

The wolf headed towards the entrance before one called, “Lupy!”.

If the familiar-sounding voice wasn’t enough, his nickname sealed it. Lupus turned to his left to spot the jaguar. “Oh, there you are, Liam!”

“What’s that supposed to mean, mate?”

Because you were always late for lectures. You’re as reliable as the British rail network at rush hou. Those words were Lupus’s intent but the delivery varied. He just snickered out, “Nothing.”

The black-furred jaguar’s eyelids narrowed. Liam was twenty-four too, tall and toned, and an inch taller that he always lorded over him. He dressed in similar gym attire to him, with the exception that he exchanged trousers for shorts to combat the icy air.

Liam huffed; his breath came out in a puff of white air. “Look, I got held up,” he said. “Traffic was hell.”

“Why didn’t you run here to keep warm?”

“It’s freezing. Unlike you, wolf, I don’t have the fur coat for it!”

Lupus’s smile grew. “Uh, huh? Dude, you’re the one who wanted to take part with me in next year’s marathon. You aren’t having second thoughts, are you?”

Liam shot him a glare. “I want to enter, but I didn’t agree to this. It’s freezing!” The jaguar growled, folded its arms against its chest, and rubbed its hands along his arms to keep warm.

“Six degrees is warm,” Lupus snickered, aware of his biological advantages in handling the chilly climate.

“You’re an Arctic wolf. Your species thrives in this weather!” he fired back in a tone that bordered on exasperation. “I don’t.”

“Skill issue.”

Liam snarled out, “No, what’s a skill issue is you being one inch shorter than me.”

Lupus exhaled and gave the jaguar a deadpan look. “Ya know, sometimes I hate you.”

“Love you too, dude,” Liam smiled back. “Is this the gym?”

“Yeah, it was the cheapest and closest for both of us.”

The building did not appear to be a gym; it looked abandoned.

Streetlights provided light for the beige paint and anti-Vastelerian graffiti. Suitable given the cost of membership.

His nose wrinkled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Still, he understood. This choice proved optimal given his wages. He wasn’t bitter—it just reminded him of what he could not afford. Lupus knew Liam could afford more with his parent’s wealth; he had more options that Lupus couldn’t access. That was the paradox of their friendship; the jaguar’s selfless sacrifices for him always came with Lupus feeling guilty for accepting them.

Lupus refused to showcase any such guilt. Afterall, Liam picked this place for Lupus, not himself. He knew if the roles were reversed, he’d do the same for Liam.

“I thought you didn’t go off assumptions. Come on, let’s head inside before I freeze,” Liam snickered and nudged Lupus with a shoulder.

Lupus smirked and nudged him back until he felt the jaguar’s goose-bumped shoulder.

Yet, what struck Lupus more wasn’t the nudge, but the comfort in Liam’s demeanour. He provided neither comment nor jest about the choice of gym. He arrived, behaving as if it were ordinary. As if he grew up in the cheaper parts of London, instead of the ivory tower of The Spire London.

“Alright,” Lupus agreed and followed Liam inside the building
As they pushed the door open, Lupus detected several voices in the corridor, leading him to ponder how many others were in the gym.

“Since you’ve done your run, Lupy, do you wanna hit the weights?” Liam asked back to the snow-furred canine behind him.

“Don’t you want to hit the treadmill today?” Lupus queried. “That’s why we’re doing this, right? The marathon next summer.”

“That’s too much. You ran here, remember,” Liam explained and tilted his head. “Plus, I thought the agreement was that you help me with running, and I help you with weightlifting.”

“Don’t worry, I have energy to spare,” Lupus shot back with a knowing smirk. “I’m tired.”

Lupus did not realise how true his words were until he stretched his arms and legs. There was no tightness or lingering aches in his muscles, not even sluggishness in his lungs from exertion. He had energy to spare. While Lupus questioned it, he focused on capitalising it to outdo Liam at the gymnasium.

He looked back at Liam, smirking again. “You’re right for once; it will be best to hit the weights first,” Lupus replied and cracked his knuckles.

Liam nodded and turned around the corner.

Inside was huge—much bigger than Lupus had expected. Liam’s comments about the gym’s resources painted it as cheap, with a few weight machines and the odd treadmill. Befitting the fourteen - pound - a-month membership fee.

It was nothing of the sort. A two-story gym, with weight machines upstairs and bikes/treadmills on the ground floor. Illuminated by industrial-grade lights scattered across the ceiling.

Lupus looked up and back at Liam. They headed straight for the weight machines on the second floor. “You want to go first, Liam?” Lupus pointed to the closest vacant machine. “It will keep you warm.”

“Yeah, sure.” In that instance, the jaguar settled before the device, void of comment.

Lupus asked Liam as he raised both arms to grip the bar. “So how is studying going?” he added.

Liam grasped the bar. “Tiring as usual,” he admitted and pulled the bar level with his chest. “It will be worth it when I get my sports science degree,” he exhaled.

After the metallic clang of weighted, Lupus said, “It will,” in agreement

“Yeah, I can’t wait to graduate next year. But I miss our library study sessions,” he said up to the wolf.

Lupus’s ears flicked, and for a moment, nostalgia washed across his face. “Yeah,” he confessed in a softer tone. “I miss them too.”

“How are you feeling? How was work?” Liam asked with a grunt.

Lupus drew a breath. “I…”

Then, as if someone flipped a switch inside the jaguar’s head, his visage softened. “That bad, huh?” Liam queried, followed by the sound of weights clattering.

Before Lupus mumbled, “Yeah, you could say that,” Liam stood, allowing the arctic canine to take his spot.

Liam’s black furred ears flicked as he hissed, “Douglas, again? Dude, I’ve told you, don’t give him the time of day.”

“No,” Lupus started, fur bristling, and added, “they want information on my parents.”

Liam couldn’t find the words to speak. His expression shifted from concern to disbelief. Before he realised what was coming out of his maw, he blurted, “But, you’re a–”

“I know what I am,” Lupus interrupted with a sigh. “That’s the problem,” he added.

Liam’s ears flattened. “Why do they want that?” He inquired.

“To gain permission to interview somebody at—” The wolf grasped the bar and lowered it. He timed the word “Brackemoor” with the weight’s clang, so only Liam heard.

The jaguar took a step back. “What? Why, for goodness’ sake, interview someone there?”

Lupus responded: “To show people the truth.”

Liam crossed his arms, stepping forward to stand beside the weight machine. “Lupus, you’ve guarded your secret for so long, why risk it for an interview?” He spoke with a gaze that pierced through the wolf’s nonchalant facade.

As the wolf tightened his grip on the bar, he muttered out, “I’ll find a way around it to keep it my secret.”

“If you don’t,” Liam challenged. “What then? Your secret will be at risk. Is that what you want?”

They exchanged no words. The clang of weights plus the humming machinery gave them company.

“I’ll think of something, I always do,” Lupus replied, his tone rougher than he intended. “Trust me.”

Liam’s sigh came. “I trust you. Be cautious. I know how much your secret means,” he replied, his piercing gears softened into one of sympathy. “Can you back out?”

“I can’t.” Lupus let out a slow breath. “I can’t afford my boss joining in Douglas's concerns for my loyalty to Petritans.”

Liam’s hand ran through his hair. “Douglas knows you sympathise with Vastelerians,” he replied in a comforting tone.

“That arrogant fox might complicate matters, dude. I have to be cleared,” Lupus retorted. “No one with Vastelerian genetics works in the media. The same with the military or government,” he countered with a blunt tone.

“Yeah, but you got the job without your parents’ documents,” Douglas questioned.

“That was because it was a genetics test,” Lupus responded, his left hand drifting to clench his left wrist—an old, unconscious habit. “Which I passed, obviously.”

Liam crossed his arms. “I don’t see a problem with dropping the interview then,” he insisted. “Why are you risking your secret for a story?”

Lupus did not turn toward him, exhaling after releasing the bar. “If I drop the interview, I’ll lose my job,” he muttered, looking in the mirror opposite to stare at his reflection. “I will find a way around it.”

“I don’t doubt that, but it’s perilous,” Liam replied. “If Sinclair finds out—”

“He won’t,” Lupus interrupted. “I know what I am doing. This interview is my best chance to capture the truth of the Vastelerians that the media and government hide. This must happen, as others in the media refuse to represent them.”

Liam’s eyes studied the wolf. He exhaled, his resistance leaving with the next breath. “If that’s what you want to do, I’ll support you,” he drawled. “How can I help?”

“I’m not sure how you could help,” he admitted under his breath. “Should I discover something, I’ll tell you—”

“Wait, didn’t you need to prove you’ve got no Vastelerian genes when you started your job? And when you flew to America?” Liam projected back in excitement over his own realisation. “Is that not enough evidence?”

“The guards don’t accept passports,” Lupus sighed. “Genetic tests for Petritan passports are less detailed than those for clearance.”

“You’d think the government prioritised better genetics tests for passports,” Liam rolled his eyes. “Nope, they’d give contracts to their oligarchs.”

“People will catch on, especially when people see Vastelerian-Petritan relations in America,” Lupus replied.

“Oh,” Liam whispered, his posture deflating against the weight machine. Yet, his smile remained as he diverted the topic. “That reminds me, do you know how envious I was of your trip to the States?” He added with a lighter tone, but it did nothing to soften the mood.

The wolf acknowledged Liam’s try at humour with a feeble smile; it did not sedate his concern.

“I see,” Liam said, rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s going to be okay. I get it.”

Lupus inhaled and forced himself to look at the floor. “I hope so, but can we talk later tonight?” He spoke in a quieter voice and stepped off the machine.

“Alright,” Liam responded and grasped the bar handles. “Remember, you don’t need to go through with it if it risks the secret of your parents.”

“Please leave it.” Receiving another caution from Liam worried him, yet he needed to end their chat. “Thank you for caring, mate.”

“Of course, mate,” the jaguar insisted with a growing grin. “Someone’s gotta look out for the l
lil' guy.”

If it weren’t for their earlier conversation, Lupus would have defended himself, but there was truth behind Liam’s words. That was true at the university. From keeping him company during his late-night studies to lending an ear during the tough times, he was always there for him.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

An hour and a half later, Liam was still there for him. Throughout the session, Lupus could sense that he checked on him between sets. He appreciated it, even if he didn’t acknowledge or talk about it. He discussed two topics with the jaguar: university and their workout routine.

Lupus let out a deep breath. “That was great,” he muttered to his workout partner. “But damn, I’m going to be sore in the morning.”
“I’m with you there. That last set did me in,” Liam panted and wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow. “Worth it, though.”

Lupus chuckled at Liam and grabbed his water bottle from the bench. “Ready to go?” he asked as he rolled his neck to loosen the stiffness that attempted to settle.

“Yes, I’ve got my dissertation,” he responded. “I wish the University accepted VastelerianVision footage for evidence.”

“That’s perfect for your Vastelerian biology paper.” Lupus replied to the jaguar, who flashed him a toothy smirk.

“Eh, I’m still gonna use it, for fun and my paper,” Liam said as he nudged the wolf’s shoulder. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

Lupus drank a large sip of water and replied, “I’m meeting Tyler for a cup of coffee,” as he descended the steps towards the exit.

“Tyler, huh? Isn’t that your friend from work?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Lupus confirmed, adjusting the strap of his smartwatch as they walked along the corridor. “I have to tell.”

That made Liam stop mid-step. His ears flicked, and his gaze darted toward Lupus, sharp with worry.

“Wait,” he said, his voice lowering. “Is he joining you too?”

Lupus’s tail gave a small, uneasy flick. “My boss ordered that he should join me,” he admitted.

Liam frowned, his growing concern deepened in the crease between his brows. “Does he know?”

Lupus was quiet.

“Listen, I know you said you didn’t want to have this conversation–” Liam paused, noting the wolf’s blank stare, “But, if you aren’t gonna drop it, at least tell him.”

Lupus raised an arm to stroke his left forearm. “I’ll consider it,” he muttered.

“Look, I’m not trying to push you, man.” Liam reassured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re gonna go ahead with this interview, then I won’t stop you. I want to know you’re alright.”

Lupus’s hand withdrew from his forearm to meet Liam’s hand on his shoulder. “I know, man,” he whispered. “I said, I'll consider it.”

He delayed his reply, then withdrew his hand from Lupus’s shoulder.
“Alright,” Liam sighed and continued walking to the gym exit.

He pursued the inquiry; telling his colleague the truth today is easier.
At least it’s on his own terms and not after he spent a week scavenging for any potential documentation that detailed his parents, whoever or wherever they were.

They both went through the automatic door to greet the morning light. By now the sun cut through the chilly air and raised the temperature, much to the jaguar’s delight, joined with his post-exercise buzz.

Liam took a deep breath and stretched his arms above his head.

“Yes! It’s warmer,” he sighed out as his arms lowered. “That’s why I love exercising at the gym during daylight.”

Lupus rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining,” he remarked and took another sip of water. “Maybe instead of going to Brackenmoor, I’ll see if I can drag you to the Arctic tundra.”

The jaguar’s ears sagged. “Uh, what?”

“I’m messing with you,” Lupus snickered for a second until he leaned in with narrow eyes to whisper, “or am I?”

“Whatever!” Liam laughed as he nudged the wolf back. “I’ll see you later, dude.”

Lupus nodded. “Yeah, text me after your shift.”

“I will! Are we hanging out at my place tonight?”

Wolf hesitated. He remembered the first visit during his first year, noticing his unique presence within the neighbourhood. He never cared for his or Liam’s lifestyle, not always, but being in that apartment and around his parents made him hyperaware of the contrast of their social classes.

“Uh,” he started, “will your parents be there?”

Liam shrugged. “They’re gone.” Just a simple fact to the jaguar.

That left Lupus conflicted over whether to respond with words or a hug. Though he knew Liam wasn’t one to have sympathy for his parents, he focused instead on the jaguar’s offer. “Alright, then I’ll see you later,” he said with a smile.

“Fantastic! See ya then, dude,” Liam replied and walked along the street.
Lupus waited until the jaguar disappeared around the corner before he prepared to reach for his phone.

That was until his smartwatch buzzed with a notification. He turned on the screen.

That was not the only notification.

Multiple alerts had come through on his smartwatch with the same message: ‘Unusual biometric fluctuation detected. Recalibrating sensors’.

He blinked in surprise and opened his smartwatch app. This was new.

His watch had proved unreliable, but not with biometric data. Even during the most intense cardio workouts, the kinds that left him drained and gasping for air, he’d never seen that notification.

Annoyed, Lupus emitted a soft growl, and switched off the watch.

Resigned, he made a mental reservation to assess his smartwatch later.

That’s not everything that preoccupied him. There was a question: How long can I hide this secret?