Howls burst through the night, like a rowdy mob into a Sunday service. Unlike said rowdy mob, however, they did not apologize and leave immediately. Instead, they lingered.

These howls sounded throughout the darkened streets and dimly lit pubs. They shook the paving in some areas, where it was loose from the last winter, and woke up many a pensioner that had been tucked into bed. They sounded from the railroad tracks in the old industrial district, occupied of late by hipsters and the homeless, to the freshly built dorms of Dorman University, where they came closer and closer as time passed. It was in one of those very dorms that Thomas called home, much like those howlers outside.

“Of all the mascots to have, why is ours the wolf?”, Thomas Stone grumbles, head buried beneath his pillow. Nobody is there to hear him; the dorm is near empty. He stayed home from the big game this evening, hoping to get an uninterrupted writing session in before the crowds came back.

“Awoooo, hoo, hoo.”, went the fans outside. The forerunners had just about reached the border fence around campus, and their howls grew from annoying to intolerable. Thomas let out a sigh and slipped out from between his green and white covers and put on a pair of boxers and pants.

“Grrmm. Might as well get some kind of work done tonight” Thomas said. He stooped down and lifted his laptop out of his backpack, where he had placed it scant minutes before in preparation for the coming day and sat down at his desk. Among old bottles of energy drink and loose papers full of notes, he set to write, howls itching at the back of his mind.

“Therefore, entropy is equally possible to work backwards, there is not a logical contradiction in its doing so, but merely an attraction towards greatest entropic- “, the door slams open and cuts off Thomas’ musing.

“Thomas! How it do, my bro! Did you see the game!”

The other resident of this room burst in with all the energy of a crack addict and the elegance of a mule. His name was Obadiah but insisted that he be referred to as ‘Obi’, as was natural for any man unlucky enough to have been named Obadiah. Thomas scooted back in his chair and accepted his stinging high five before responding.

“Nah, man. I’ve been doing some of my physics work. Besides, I need to get up early for my intro to medieval class.”

“So you didn’t see the best thing to happen to this school since-“, Obi paused for a moment, visibly thinking, “- This might be actually the best thing to happen to this school ever.”

“That’s a bold claim, didn’t one of our alumni win the Nobel prize last year?”

“Yeah, fuck that. Jack Turner scored 50 points on Clemson. 50 points! We smoked them, and they won the tournament last year! That’s way cooler than any kind of Nobel prize.”

“If you say so, man.”, Thomas shrugged in surrender. Obi didn’t care about discovery nor saving lives, it was all too abstract and distant for him to appreciate. Basketball is real. Appreciable. Thomas, however, felt differently. Just because something isn’t right in front of your face doesn’t mean that it isn’t important nor worthy of attention. Of course, immediacy has a way of demanding one’s attention.

A scream rang out from the hallway, high pitched and shrill. Thomas rushed out the door and down the hallway. Obi not far behind, they made it all of a dozen yards before finding an unusual sight. There, posed like two boxers on a promotional poster, stood a large man and a small. The larger man was polished and smooth, much like a sculpture of a gym bro. He was staring at the smaller, eyes tight and lips pursed, with his arms out ludicrously wide like a gorilla balancing on a high wire. The small one Thomas knew, they had shared classes in the previous semester, but he had always struck Thomas as timid. Evidence to the contrary lay in front of him, as Zach held his ground in front of a girl with reddened eyes and a bruise over her eye. She looked fierce and worried, somehow simultaneously, as Zach’s reedy frame interposed itself between her and the larger man.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Step off, man. You don’t want none of this?”, the larger man said at Zach. “Mia’s just a ho, and a cheater too.” He looks angry, yet wary of Zach’s own ferocity.

“Like fuck I don’t. I’m not gonna let you hit her.”, Zach slurs out defiantly. A trickle of blood makes its way down from his mouth and onto the floor.

“Please, Nathan. Don’t hurt him, walk away. We were just studying!”, the girl pleaded with the larger man. She was trembling and her eyes were wide.

Nathan looked at her and spat. He put his hands up in a classic boxing stance and swung. At the same moment his hand flew, he hit the ground. Unbeknownst to him, Thomas had circled around behind him while the drama was unfolding. Once the impending violence was obvious, Thomas hugged the larger man around the middle and fell backwards, throwing Nathan past his hips onto the beige carpeting of the dormitory.

“Ooof.”, Nathan grunted. He tried to posture up and get to his feet, but Thomas grabbed his hips and pulled him flat onto the ground. Thomas then straddled him around his midsection, putting all of his 180 pounds on Nathan’s stomach.

“You fuckin’ shit! What kind of man…”, screamed Nathan. Thomas dropped his weight onto his diaphragm, cutting off Nathan’s verbal assault, which, he noted to himself, was exactly as effective as his attempts at a physical one. A small crowd had formed around the struggling pair. Obi and Zach were among them, the former eager, the latter drained of his earlier bloodlust.

“I’m going to let you go, as soon as you promise to leave this alone for a night.”, bargained Thomas.

Nathan looked around and struggled some more, but his hips were controlled, and his hands couldn’t reach anything delicate. He relaxed and assented, “Fine. Tomorrow though, I’ll be getting some revenge.”.

“That’s fine. I’ll be here, waiting.”, Thomas replied. He was unscathed, apart from a few bruises taken in the fall. His heartrate, however, had mimicked the Rocky Mountains in incline and general shape. It had been years since he had last fought, and the adrenaline rush was new to him once more.

Nathan crawled to his feet, before scowling at the original object of his anger, Mia. He left without much event, but his spine was a straight as it had been before the ‘fight’. Thomas turned around to see his friends’ reactions, turning back from his fighting self into a civilized man once more.

Zach walked up to Thomas and tilted his head to meet his eyes.

“I’ll give it a 6/10, not enough blood.”, Zach said sarcastically. The other dorm members expressed their amazement and boasted of how they could have done better, in the manner of people who had never thrown a punch in anger. Thomas smiled and told jokes with the rest of them.

Mia slipped between Obi and Duane, another dorm member, to stand at point blank range in front of Thomas. She had calmed down some since Zach’s standoff, and her brow furrows as she approached.

“Why did you do that?”

“Someone had to. Either Zach was getting beat or you were. Nothing good would have come of standing still.”, Thomas replies. He watches her carefully. She is small and petite, with a dancer’s frame and light brown hair. The crowd starts to disperse, leaving the two of them alone in the hall.

“You’re not like the rest of these men, are you?”, Mia looks up at him, quizzically. “They would have walked away or watched. You took a stand.”

“Nah. Zach took a stand. I just helped him out.”, Thomas stands taller and gestures with his chin down the hall, towards Zach’s room. “He did something special, that skinny little bastard.”

“I, I guess that’s true.”, Mia looked taken aback and flicked her eyes down to where Zach and Obi were talking and laughing. She looked speculatively up at Thomas and pursed her lips. “Still, thanks. I’ll go congratulate my hero then.”

The night had come to a close and the earlier cheers and howls had died with it. Thomas felt the energy drain from him with the dregs of his adrenaline. It was long past his bedtime, and he dragged his body to bed, passing his friends with a hollow, tired smile on his face. Thomas knew that fights like that one never end as simply as that. He falls to sleep dwelling on old lessons. Grudges are held and petty offenses are traded. It’s nothing to regret, really. Nothing to regret.