I didn't acknowledge my mother when I got back two days ago. It's Tuesday now and I still haven't seen her. I usually wait until she's gone before I get some food, then just go back to locking myself into my room. I don't want to meet anyone, let alone have a conversation. I first have to deal with the situation myself. Figuring out what's going on and how to make it normal again takes priority.
My phone is so full with unanswered calls, unfortunately none from Raphael, that at some point I turned it off. I won't answer anyway, so there's no need for it to be disturbing me constantly.
I haven't really been doing much, even thinking rarely goes beyond how much of an idiot I am. I'm empty and I don't know what to do about it.
What my instincts tell me to do, what Zach told me to do, I don't dare follow through with. I can't.
So I wait. I sit in my room and wait for a revelation that is likely to never come.
What does come however, is a decisive knock on my door, obnoxiously loud and seemingly unending. So I give in and open my door.
In the doorway stands Mary, the woman that has dubbed me her best friend with a name starting with a D.
I don't have time to not let her in as she lets herself in immediately, pushing past my much larger frame and just plants herself in the middle of my bed. Rude.
'So.' she just says, blinking at me with wide eyes, while I still stand holding my door in my hand as if to close it. Sighing, I do just that before moving myself over to my chair to sit there instead of my bed. Sitting on the bed would make it seem as if I actually want to have important conversations with her.
I don't answer her question that didn't sound like one, instead opting to just ask an unspoken one myself by raising an eyebrow.
'You didn't show up yesterday.' she opts to inform me.
'I didn't? Thanks for letting me know, I wasn't aware.' my tone is so snarky, I'm surprised myself.
'You are in one piss pour mood, mister.'
'You don't say.'
She laughs then.
'I kind of like you in piss-poor-mood-state. It's kind of adorable.'
I don't really know what to say to that so I just keep silent. This woman rarely makes sense, so I fail to see how beneficial it would be to entertain her weird ideas sometimes.
'So how was your weekend then?'
My head whips towards her faster than I ever thought possible, only to look into her curious stare.
'How do you know about that?'
'Oh, so it was the weekend then. Do tell.' she grins then. Evil.
She played me.
'Come on. Don't be angry now. It's not that hard to figure out. You were your usual broody self on Friday, so something must have happened over the weekend to make this out of you.' She widely gestures in my general direction as well, to emphasise her point.
'How is that any of your business exactly?' I opt to ask, since I don't really want to talk about it in the first place, let alone to her.
'It's not. But I thought you might want an open ear.' she says, dead serious this time. It makes me pause for just a second. Do I want to talk about it? Probably not. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't.
'Not really. But you're right. It's none of your business. So if you could leave...' I leave the sentence open, letting her interpret the almost command herself.
But of course, she doesn't.
'Nah it's fine, I just might stay for dinner or something. I'm actually starving. Can you cook?'
I only groan, already over her again.
She drags me out of my room and to the kitchen, where she proceeds to make a mess all over the place. Somehow, in between throwing everything everywhere, she actually manages to make some decent food as well, some spaghetti and a sauce.
I sigh when I take in the resulting chaos but choose not to say anything as I see her put an extra plate away for my mother.
By the time we actually manage to sit down and eat, I have to admit that I am feeling slightly better. Not even remotely good, but slightly better.
'I talked to my best friend over the weekend.' I eventually choose to tell her. Not because I think she'd be especially interesting, but because it's something to tell of what happened without having to reveal every single shameful aspect of it.
'Oh? Pretty girl or hot man?' she grinned mischievously, 'I don't mind either.'
That has me pause for a second. 'You're bisexual?'
She only nods, happily munching on her spaghetti.
'Sure am. It's kind of a waste to only look at one half of the gorgeousness right?'
The statement makes me smile. She's right through. There's not a lot of humans that are bisexual, at least not of the ones I have met, so it's refreshing. Even though I would still pray for whoever ends up with her were I religious.
We end up in the living room, watching our collection of Miranda when mum comes home.
'Who do we have here?' she asks with a smile as she interrupts one of Mary's obnoxiously loud laugh attacks.
'That's Mary. She's at my uni.' I say, gesturing to the small human now rolling on the floor.
Mum only chuckles, and disappears to get changed out of her work clothes to, I'm guessing, join us in watching Miranda.
Three, or maybe four, hours later, Mary leaves, having made friends with my mum immediately and refusing to leave until I literally pushed her out the front door.
'She's a good girl.' mum says when I come back.
'She's annoying.' I return.
'You like her though.'
'Sadly.' I can't even deny it anymore, she's good for me and there's not a lot of people I would say that about of my own free will.
Mum turns off the TV and reaches for her hot chocolate on the little coffee table.
'So Zachary called me.' she starts, staring me straight in the eye to gauge my reaction. It isn't very hard though, as I just groan and throw my head back to rest on the back of the sofa.
I keep forgetting that the people I make friends with have the tendency to actually get along with my mother.
It's gotten to the point where Zach and my mum had lunch dates more often than I did with either of them.
'Don't listen to him. He's crazy.' I try, even while knowing it's absolutely futile.
'That may well be true,' she admits, because really, anything else would be lying, 'but he's worried, so I'm worried.'
I swear, if I didn't know better, I would think they're long lost twins.
'Tell me what's wrong.' she urges, calmly taking a sip from her mug while waiting.
After a few minutes, I sigh and give in.
And I tell her. I try to leave out the details, but it's hard when they're all that's in my head.
When I finish she still doesn't say anything. She's still waiting and I know exactly why. I told her what happened, but not why I'm suffering so much.
'I want him close, mum.' I finally admit, not wanting to look at her at all. She's lost her mate, so me telling her I cheated on mine and can't even find it in me to truly regret it is making me feel so unbelievably ashamed.
'And it's scaring me.'
She puts her mug back on the coffee table and stands up. I close my eyes, not wanting to see her disappointment, nor her retreating back. Both I would not be able to handle.
Instead, I feel her arms wrap around my shoulders, one of her hands pulling my head to the crook of her neck.
She's shooing me, rocking me like when I was a kid still. It's then that I realise I am crying. Not a lot, but just a few tears making their way down my face.
I hold on to her as if she's my life line and the longer I do, the more I start to shake.
This isn't alright, none of it is.
'Don't feel bad about this on my behalf. You can't help what you feel, even and maybe especially when it comes to the mate bond. We don't know what it really is, so how can we judge how anyone feels about it. Don't beat yourself up. Follow your instincts. You're a wolf, don't forget that.
I can't help but laugh at that.
'You truly are like Zach. It's scary.' I say weakly, not even trying to make my voice shake less.
She ends up sending me to my room and follows me a few minutes after with a peppermint tea. She knows it's my weakness and it actually works with sending me to sleep quickly.
I'm woken up by the feeling of fingers softly caressing my face. I hum under my breath, slightly nuzzling the hand and urging it to continue.
That evokes a chuckle from whoever the hand belongs to.
It takes me too long to realise how masculine the chuckle is and only then do I open my eyes.
I feel my heart beat pick up as I look into a smiling face, marred with nervous anxiety, but radiating positivity none the less.
It's when the hand starts moving again even after we're both fully aware of the situation that something changes for me.