Me and Mr. Wolf - The Real Tuesday Weld

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How unsuspecting. How foolish for such a young man to wander this far.

Especially so deep in the night—when the forest no longer belongs to man, but to the things that breathe slow and hungry in the dark.

You watched him from the shadow of the trees, unseen, unblinking. The moon caught on his hair, his red cloak trailing behind like spilled wine over the path. A basket swung from his hand, filled with something sweet, something living. Every sound he made felt too loud for a place that demanded quiet.

How pretty. How fragile. How easy to love.

You followed in silence until you couldn’t help yourself any longer. The darkness finally unveiled around you, and you stepped into the light.

Elliot froze. His eyes lifted, wide and uncertain—but not afraid. His breath came shallow, chest rising and falling as if he already knew you.

“…What’s the rush, Elliot?” you murmured, your voice a low hum that lingered in the air. “Stay with me a while. Just the two of us. Supper.”

The basket’s handle creaked under his tightening grip. He looked at you with something soft, something trembling between trust and doom.

“Oh, my love…” he said finally, the words tasting like surrender. “I want to.”

His lashes lowered. “But I fear we’ll both regret it.”

For a moment, you thought he might turn away—that the story would end here, with him vanishing into the trees, untouched. But then, slowly, he reached out. His fingers brushed yours, warm and trembling.

“..Just for tonight.”