Kind of Like

"Seriously though," Alastair says as settles against a chalkboard close to me. "How do you do it? How can you take everything I just told you in stride?"

"Hmmm… years of practice suppressing my emotions?" I smirk a little, tongue in cheek.

"No." He shakes his head, his furrow returning. "I don't think you're suppressing. I'm pretty sure I would be able to tell. You were for a little while there. You felt on edge when you were at school, like you were running on a motor. But not now."

I shrug. "Alastair… I want to help you and if… I can help you keep the noise down, then I think that's ok… but I'm not sure now is the best time to figure out why this is all happening. What I mean is:" I take a deep breath. "Take some time to heal. The coven, me, the rogue," He stiffens. "your powers… That can all wait."

He nods his head slowly, but says, "Easier said than done. I can't exactly stop worrying."

"Yeah, I guess I can relate to that feeling."

"It's just…" He bites his lip, "I don't usually get anxious. Sorry you had to see that." The tears return to the brink of his waterline. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's ok. You didn't do anything wrong."

"B—but it's embarrassing! This isn't me!"

"Hey, there's no reason to be embarrassed. I don't think any less of you."

He gives me a flat "yeah, right" look as tears start to stream down his face.

"Did you think less of me when you saw my panic attack?"

"No, of course not! But— you're— it's different."

"How you figure that?"

He bites his lip as droplets collect at the border of his slightly parted mouth. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I—I shouldn't think that."

Fuck. This is all starting to sound frighteningly familiar.

More tears break free from his eyes and now his nose is leaking too. "I'm sorry!" he cries. "I'm so—so sorry! Fuck! I'm the literal worst! You—you come here in a good mood, ready to tutor me a— an— and instead of focusing on math I just burden you with all th—this crap and no—now you're upset an—and I'm s—sorry! Wh—why is this happening?!"

I wrap him in my arms again and will my beating heart to slow. I need to de-escalate the situation fast and getting worked up will only hurt Alastair. "I'm not upset. Really. I was just thinking about how I've felt before what you're feeling now and that made me a bit sad, because... I care about you." As a small wave of affection passes from me to him, I feel him ease a little, his crying slowing.

Goddess. He is really labile right now. A leaf in the wind, anchored only to my own emotions which have been no better than a rollercoaster. Together we whirl around one another, reacting violently to the smallest changes. I feel my anxiety bubbling just below the surface. This is too much. Too soon.

But I can't let it overwhelm me or we will end up right back at square one, with Alastair ignoring me and trying to block me out. We need to find a balance, an equilibrium.

A small part of me… the very smallest part I have been ignoring… surfaces. I let the thought take hold, but try to keep it at arms length. I won't fully accept the idea. I can't. But maybe I can use the analogy to help us. Yeah, it's just a comparison. It doesn't mean anything.

I'm just comparing Alastair's powers to… his magic is kind of like… it's really similar to... mating.

I take a shuddering breath. Alastair looks up at me, curiosity peaking through his teary expression. I'm not ready to share this thought with him, lest he get the wrong impression.

But now that I have acknowledged the thought, I can work with it. Yes. Werewolves form a sort of empathetic bond when they mate, able to sense one another's emotions. How does that work? I have never really been curious enough to ask.

I know Dad is able to sense when Mom is in danger. I remember this one time, he was driving me to a volleyball meet on a Saturday morning when suddenly he flipped a u-turn and started heading back home. He looked worried, but the only thing he said was "Mom's in trouble." When we got to the house, we found it smoking. Mom had fallen asleep while baking cookies. She had made it out safely, but she was extremely distressed that the small fire had spread to a quilting project she'd been working on.

Just to be clear, Mom doesn't quilt. But she likes to try new things from time to time. Quilting was the worst of her "hobby experiments", because the only place big enough to fit the stretching table was smack dab in the middle of the kitchen. Mom was devastated when it burned and apparently Dad could sense that. But we were all secretly relieved when Mom declared she was too upset to look at another quilting pattern ever again.

I have a suspicion she wasn't too upset; just frustrated that all her tedious work was wasted. I guess Dad would know, but I never asked. Or can he only feel general, strong emotions? I don't know. Does it get stronger with proximity like Alastair's empathic power seems to?

Do mates literally feel what the other person is feeling or do they just know what they are feeling? I don't think the former is true or else Dad is the best actor in the world. He hardly ever gets angry, while Mom has a short fuse.

On the other hand, I know that Dad is completely devoted to Mom's happiness. He will do literally anything to make her happy, but is that because he loves her or because he wants to avoid negative emotions spilling through their connection? That thought is extremely unsettling. I don't want Alastair to feel like he needs to keep me happy in order to retain his own sanity.

If anything, I want to be a strength for him. I want to be stable ground for him to rely on. When Alastair helped me through my panic attack last month, he said he felt my consciousness pulling at him. Did he feel compelled to help me? But he said that he wanted to be there for me. Well, either way, now it's my turn to be there for him.

Maybe I should think about therapy, just to have someone to bounce ideas off, even if some human shrink thinks I'm crazy. I definitely should try talking to Dad about mating. I'll just have to be careful about how I ask. I don't want him thinking I've found my mate.

"What are you thinking about?" Alastair looks up at me from where he is lying in my arms.

I was absent-mindedly stroking his hair and didn't notice him shifting to become more comfortable. He's positioned with his back against my chest, his guitar resting across his lap. If I tug at my memories of the last few minutes, I can remember him fiddling with the strings in impromptu, melodic patterns as I ran my fingers through his long, black locks.

I smile down at him. "You can always find out."

He scowls and shakes his head, but relaxes back into me. "Not happening. I just thought you felt nice right now. Focused. It made me wonder what you were thinking about."

I hum in understanding.

"So what's got you so focused? Math?" he teases.

Now it's my turn to scowl. "No, but we should probably get to studying. We only have…" I turn to look at the watch I've started wearing ever since I smashed my phone. "Ten minutes before lunch?"

He groans playfully, but says, "Ok, professor. Let's get this over with."

"Don't even pretend you don't enjoy math just as much as I do." I pinch his nose.

He grins and I feel his nose crinkle beneath my fingers. Then, in an artificially nasally voice he says, "Yes, sir."

Goddess that's hot when he calls me "sir". Nope. Don't think about that. I guess there are still some thoughts I need to shut down.