“Yeah,” I huff with a frown, “I’m fine.”
Asher doesn’t take my word for it, for whatever reason. “If you ever need to talk, you know—”
I don’t want to hear whatever he’s about to say. I growl out the words, “Get out.” I make sure to put a bit of dominance in them, so he can’t argue with me.
With a sigh, my brother leaves my room, though he takes his damn time doing it. He closes the door behind him, and just like that, I’m alone once again. I stare hard at the door over my shoulder, as if he’s going to pop back in randomly, for at least a minute.
Am I doing okay? What a stupid fucking question. I’m… I don’t know what I am or how I’m doing. I don’t even really know why I’m here.
Fuck. Sometimes living sucks.
I spend the next twelve hours in my room. When you’re lost in your own thoughts, sometimes you ignore those hunger cues without realizing it, and that’s exactly what I did. It’s well past midnight by the time I realize I’m starving and that I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. As much as I don’t want to venture out of my room, I must.
So I head to the door and poke my head out, listening for any sounds that might alert me to the fact that someone else is awake. Seconds go by, and I don’t hear a single sound, which I take to mean that everyone else is asleep in their own rooms.
Good. I don’t feel like chatting with anyone. That little talk with Asher earlier was more than enough talking for the day.
I don’t flick on any lights. I’m a master at walking through this house at night in the utter darkness by now. Through the hall, through the main floor of the house, I eventually reach the kitchen, where I pull something out of the freezer, toss it on a plate, and throw it into the microwave. I stand there in thedarkness, leaning on the edge of the counter, as I wait for the small round pizza to be done.
Not as good as fresh pizza from an actual shop, but when you’re up in the mountains, you learn you take what you can get.
My eyes close as I wait. I don’t think of anything in particular. I just… exist. It’s what I’ve been doing a lot lately. For years, actually. Our parents thought I had an indifferent attitude about everything, which is why Asher went to college and will take over the family business, while I fucked off and did whatever I wanted.
But that’s not strictly true. It wasn’t so much that I never cared. It’s more like… why bother caring? Why bother giving a shit about things I know I’m not good at? The problem lies in me. I don’t have any natural affinities, don’t have any wants or desires when it comes to lifelong careers.
I exist, and sometimes that’s hard enough. It’s damn near impossible for me to imagine existing while also juggling an important job, a pack, a mate, and all the other things life can throw at you when you aren’t paying attention.
I’ve never met an alpha who’s struggled internally like me. We’re the backbones of society; we’re natural born leaders. We’re told we are a step above the rest, especially us über alphas.
No one ever talks about the ones who don’t fit into that perfect mold. Sure, you have the alphas who went feral and lost their minds; they get shoved into prison-like facilities, never to see the light of day again.
But what about the ones who struggle with their mental health? I don’t think I’ve ever met another alpha who’s gone to therapy or who has to take daily medication. Once, years ago, back when I was still living under my parents’ roof, I off-handedly mentioned to them I didn’t feel right inside, that I felt empty, and their response was to say it’ll all go away the moment I find a pack and claim a mate.
A pack and a mate can fix everything, apparently. At least according to them. Myself? I don’t think it’s all it’s cracked up to be. I don’t think a mate would fix me.
So I dropped it. They were good parents, still are, but they don’t really get it. They don’t get me. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what I’d be like if they would’ve had a different response, if they wouldn’t have shrugged it off.
The microwave beeps, and I take my food out. I walk through the darkness around the kitchen island, my goal the living room to put something mindless on the TV while I eat, but before I make it to my destination, I see something out of the corner of my eye through the set of double-doors that lead to the patio out back.
I stop.
Someone’s out there, sitting in the darkness. It’s a clear night and the moon shines bright, and it’s because of that silver illumination I recognize who it is.
The long hair helps, too.
Jess is out there, doing God knows what. I should let her be. It’s clear she wants to be alone, much like I do.
For whatever stupid reason, though, I can’t resume my walk to the couch. I’m rendered immobile. It’s like she’s a strong magnet, and I can’t pull away from her direction regardless of how hard I try.
Fuck.
Though I don’t really want to, I find myself heading to the doors. I slip outside, and the moment I do, Jess glances over her shoulder to see who it is. Don’t know how she can’t tell by my scent, but whatever. She sits on the edge of the patio, her feet on the first step down. She wears no jacket, just her pajamas.
I sit beside her, my plate in my lap. I gaze around at the darkness beyond the patio, at the grassy clearing and the forest beyond. The smell of my microwave pizza fills my nostrils, andmy stomach threatens to gurgle, so I tear a piece of it off and bring it to my mouth, chewing it without saying a word.
We sit like that, side by side, for a few minutes at least. While I eat, we both stare at the dark world around us. When the nighttime breeze swirls around us, I catch faint whiffs of her scent: a sweet, warm peppermint that reminds me of the holidays, of good times gone by. Her scent isn’t strong, and I take it to mean she still wears some kind of scent-blocking cream or lotion to smother it down.
I finish my food. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. I don’t feel the need to fill the air with words, and yet… I strangely want to. I don’t get it.
