He grew distant, even hostile toward me at times, and I had no one to turn to for help. He didn’t want to talk to therapists or the school counselor, and if they finally forced him into a conversation, he dodged questions, promised he would improve, then nothing changed. The lies and excuses started ramping up.
That shy, frightened, good boy who stood in my doorway the day I was about to unalive myself was gone. His place had been taken by someone gloomy, bitter, distant, and at moments arrogant.
Though I knew that under the surface something gentle was still in him, that most of it was just the top layer, rebellion and hurt he hadn’t healed… The problem was that I had no idea how to help him. I was suffering myself. Sometimes I had the impulse to talk, but then I realized I would only drag him down into my own hell and misery.
There was only one moment when I tried, saying something about us both needing each other. What I got in return was that I simply needed to get a life and stop grieving, since it had no point in Jared’s eyes.
"He’s not coming back, Alex," he said almost coldly, and walked out of the room.
But I knew it could have taken a different turn if I had been willing to listen more carefully to what he tried to tell me about his own feelings, but I guess I was just bad at being stable for him. And he could not feel safe on the shaky, depressing ground he found in my house.
Now, I am already dozing off when I hear the door downstairs open and the entrance panel beep.
I drag myself out of bed and step into the living room.
Jared smells like cigarettes and alpha’s cum, the downside of having an omega nose… We smell everything, sometimes things we definitely do not want to.
His eyes are shadowed and he is still a bit drunk.
"Jared, it’s one in the morning."
"Don’t start with lectures, Alex, I came to tell you that I’m moving out in the next few days."
I stop cold.
"Jared, what are you talking about, this is a really stupid idea."
He avoids my eyes, walks to the fridge, takes a sip of juice and says over his shoulder,
"I met some people, I have a chance at a modeling career, I’ll give them my ass and they’ll give me gigs."
"What? For heaven's sake! Who are these people, they sound like pimps, that doesn’t seem safe, Jared! You’re seventeen, you shouldn’t make impulsive decisions, at this age it’s hard to see what will work out in the long term."
"That’s not true, Alex, people make binding decisions at exactly this age when they choose college majors, right? Most already know what they want to do with their lives," he shoots back, turning toward me and folding his arms across his chest, the smell of alcohol and alpha fluids clinging to him, those men must have already taken a free sample of Jared.
I close my eyes for a moment.
"I was attacked today, Jared," I say.
Why do I even say it, what could he possibly care, and yet I see some small shift appear on his face.
"What do you mean, what happened?" he asks in a slightly more uncertain tone.
"The Tanners were waiting for me in the park."
Jared goes a little pale.
"Wh-wh-what do you mean?" he stutters, "I thought they gave up a long time ago."
"They gave up on you, but they still hold a grudge against me."
He stares at me, his face a mix of guilt, fear and defensiveness.
"You think it’s my fault?"
"No, please, there you go, straight to defensive, Jared. No! What I mean is only that I barely escape, some guy shows up and beats them up."
A huge wave of relief washes over Jared’s face.
