Chapter 6: Home

"Do not fear the dark, wolf cub. For when the sun leaves the world, the world fears you."

~Wolf Creations

Emerson

I slam my door shut, before releasing a huge puff of air, glad to finally be alone. I slide down the door of my bedroom, before landing on the floor with a thud. I look at the mirror in front of me, observing my reflection for a bit. I run a hand through my dark brown hair, ruffling it a little so it gets messy. I need a hair cut, but that is the last thing on my mind right now. I run my thumb across my bottom lip before stopping above my lip ring, enjoying the feel of the cold metal against my skin and how normal it feels. Normal. A word that describes the exact opposite of my life right now. At first I was ecstatic at the thought of being an actual wolf, of being more than just this. I was way in over my head. But I need to be level-headed about this, I cannot allow my crippling anxiety to seep in.

I sigh heavily, before getting up and walking over to my mirror to get a closer look at myself. No, I am not self-absorbed. I don't look at myself in mirrors to rave on about how good I look. That is River's job. But in all seriousness, I like giving myself tiny pep talks. There's something about looking yourself in the eye, that really gets your brain to listen to what your heart is trying to say. And right now, my brain and my heart seem to be at odds with one another.

Alpha.

Right after we left the cemetery early this morning, Blake explained to me what an Alpha is in a wolf pack. How she knows what it is, I'll have no idea, but I'm not surprised. That girl knows so many random facts, it is hard to keep up with her sometimes. Anyway, she told me the Alpha is the leader of the pack who makes decisions and is in charge of keeping everyone in line and safe. The funny thing about that is—I don't even know how to take care of myself, let alone make decisions for myself—how could I do that for a whole group of people? Er, wolves. Wolf people? I don't even know at this point.

Just then, my door flies open before being quickly shut closed again. I look at the upper corner of my mirror to see who it is—River, he's back from his trip. A smile replaces the concentrated frown that was on my face a moment ago, as all my doubts seem to melt away at the sight of his face. He is just who I need right now. I missed him so much and it's only been one day.

Before I can turn around to engulf him in a hug, he beats me to it hugging me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder. I lean back in to him, careful not to crush him with my weight. "Admiring yourself in the mirror again? What? All the compliments from all the girls at school don't cut it anymore?" He teases, squeezing me a little tighter, and looking up at my face in the mirror with those dazzling grey eyes of his.

I give him a cheeky wink, before turning around in his embrace to face him. "Yet, I'm all yours."

His gaze drops down to my lips, before returning to my eyes once more. "And don't you forget it." He says, before capturing my lips in a kiss. I pull back after a few seconds, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. I love this side of him. When he gets a little possessive and protective, it makes me feel loved. If only I knew that's how he really feels.

A small whine leaves his mouth at the feeling of the detachment of our lips. But I want to talk to him, and hear his voice. With everything that's going on, his voice was like the only sound decipherable in a cacophony of loud noises. "How was your trip?" I ask, suddenly curious about details of his family. I wonder what they are like, or if they would like me. If they are more accepting of our relationship than my parents are? I sure hope so.

"Pretty boring. My gramps kept droning on and on about how our generation is a 'lost cause.' And my granny kept showing me pictures of all their cats. Trust me, you didn't miss anything. Now where were we..." He attaches our lips once more, and this time I don't pull away. He links his arms around my neck, using them to pull me against him. I use one hand to run my fingers through his hair, while wrapping the other around his waist, pulling him closer, closer. I smile into the kiss, happy that one aspect of my life has stayed the same. My undeniable feelings and attraction towards this boy. My Tiger.

Things are beginning to get heated as I run my tongue along River's bottom lip asking for entrance. He opens his mouth, immediately granting it. Our tongues clash against one another, fighting for dominance before I ultimately win. I explore the inside of River's mouth—a clash of teeth, lips, and tongue. I hear River release a low moan which is music to my ears, only encouraging me to go further and lose myself in him.

He unlinks his arms from around my neck, before using his hands to explore my body under my shirt. His movements are insistent yet gentle, rough yet careful, and I feel like I'm on cloud nine right now. He runs his hands down my arms, back, and chest, before going down farther. When he reaches the left side of my stomach, I pull away quickly, hissing in pain.

"Em, what's wrong?" He asks, breathless yet worry evident in his voice.

I lift up my shirt revealing a scar that I had got two weeks ago. The cut ran from my navel all the way up to my left rib cage. I think it looks pretty badass, but the story of how I got it is a less than exciting tale. I was walking home from practice one day, when four guys jumped me. They were all pretty big and muscular, if there was only one of them I would have won easily, but I was no match for four of them. They all had masks on so I couldn't see their faces. They didn't ask for money, or anything which I found strange. They didn't take anything, they just started beating me up. At first, I tried to struggle and managed to get in a few punches and kicks because there was no way I was going down without a fight. But it was no use. I did give one of them a black eye though, so there's that. At some point, after hitting and kicking me a bunch of times, one of them took out a pocket knife. That's when I started to get scared. I began to plead for them to stop, but they didn't listen, and I ended up with this. When I told River after it happened, he completely freaked out. I understand though, I would have reacted the same if it were him who had gotten hurt.

I examine the gash in my skin. All the stitches are intact, and it looks like it's healing alright. River's hand brushing it must have been what caused the pain. "It's just my cut, I'll be alright. See? All good." I pull my shirt back down, and give him a reassuring smile, but worry clouds his features once more. His eyes look extremely sad, and he chews on his lip like he usually does when he's anxious or worried. "Tiger, I'm fine. Really." I say, trying to ease his mind.

I give him a kiss of reassurance, and that's when my door opens again, revealing my dad this time. I pull away from River quickly, shocked that he caught us in this position, and scared of what he'll do next. His face is stone-like and cold which sends shivers down my spine, and he just leaves the room, shutting the door behind him without saying a word. I need to get out of this house now, I didn't even know they were home, but I can feel my anxiety starting to rise. I don't want River anywhere near them, I don't want them to make him doubt my feelings for him.

"Hey, we haven't had a date in a while." I say, trying to distract him from our interruption, "Let's go to our spot, we can pick up some food on the way?" I plaster a smile on to my face, but I know he can tell it's fake. He gives me a small smile, and puts his hands on both sides of my face, before giving me a short kiss and resting his forehead on mine.

"Sure, if that will make you happy."

"No, you make me happy River." I say. Because it's true. They say you never appreciate anything until you lose it, but I disagree. It wasn't until after River came into my life, that I realized all that had been missing from it. I always thought that because of my parents I wasn't good enough, and I would never find someone who completes me. And even if I did, I would never be able to be with them. Much less, have the courage to. But that all changed when I met River. He showed me that it's okay to be gay, and he stopped me from hating myself. I can't imagine a life without him now. "Thanks for understanding."

We stay like this for a while, before leaving for our date. After grabbing the blanket I used for our picnics, I realize that the basket for the food is in the kitchen—where my parents are. "Tiger, I have to go get the picnic basket in the kitchen. Here are my keys," I say putting them in his hands, "Can you start the car and wait for me? I'll only be a minute."

"Are you sure? I can stay with you if you want." He says, taking my right hand with his free one and searching my eyes.

"I'm sure." No, I'm not.

He hesitates for a moment, before letting go of my hand, and walking out of my room. I hear him wish my parents a good evening, I hear them say it back less enthusiastically, before hearing the front door shut close. I take a deep breath, I feel those same nerves circulate within me whenever River isn't there or Blake, and I have to fend off my parents myself. The anxiety is suffocating, wrapping its hand around my throat and squeezing all the life right out of me.

We never really talk unless we are all in the same room, but we always try and avoid each other to keep that from happening. And when they do talk to me it is polite, too polite, almost like it is scripted. It's never real. It's been like this ever since I came out as gay to my parents a few months ago before meeting River. If it wasn't for Blake supporting me the entire time, along with her dad, I may have done something I couldn't take back.

Fourteen months ago.

"E? E!" She says spotting me on the steps. "It's one AM what's going on? Is everything alr—" I can hear the clear fatigue in her voice, which makes me feel even worse that I woke her up. I raise my head from out of my lap, taking myself out of the huddled position I was in moments ago. From the way her facial expression drops, I can tell I look as bad as I feel. No, nothing could ever showcase how dejected I feel right now.

She walks over to me without saying a word and sits down next to me. I had first come out to her when we were both twelve and in middle school. She had taken it so well...I was a fool to believe my parents would too. I told her what I was planning to do before, so it's obviously clear how it went.

I look up at her, and I can feel the tears leaking out of my eyes and sliding down my cheeks. Too fast for me to even wipe them away, yet I had no energy to do so, nor did I want to. I had cried for an hour before texting her. I spent that hour alone, replaying the events that just happened in the living room. Nervous chuckles, disbelief, shouting, anger, betrayal. All from my parents. And all that while I just stood there. Not totally understanding what was happening, not fully processing it. Because that wasn't what was supposed to happen. This was all a huge misunderstanding...a mistake.

It has to be.

I came to my senses after I heard the sound of glass breaking which brought me out of the haze I had put myself in. My mother ushered me outside, tears in her eyes, before locking the door and telling me to find somewhere else to sleep that night. She'd figure it all out in the morning. Everything would be better in the morning, she said. But she couldn't even look me in the eyes.

As the events that just happened come rushing back to me, the feelings return as well. My eyes begin to burn as more tears flow out of them, and a sob rattles my entire body. Snot drips out of my nose, and I cover my mouth trying to keep the sobs in since I don't want to alert them that I am still here. But it doesn't work, keeping them in only reminds me of why I have to, which only brings more heavy tears to fall out of my eyes and whimpers to escape my throat.

I turn my head to look at Blake, forgetting for a moment that she is even there. It's hard to see her through my cloudy vision, but I can tell she's debating whether to go in to the house and strangle my parents or cry herself. But I can tell she's staying strong for me. She takes my other hand, the one not muffling my sobs, and intertwines our fingers and gives my hand a squeeze. She uses her other arm to wrap around my shoulders bringing me closer to her so my head is resting on her shoulder. She doesn't tell me to stop crying because she knows I need to get all of my emotions out. So she holds my head while I cry, and cry some more. I absolutely hate myself. I hate myself for liking guys. I hate myself for not being the son that they want me to be. I hate myself for never being enough.

After a couple of hours, I stop crying. It had to be at least three AM by now. I lift my head from off her shoulder and look at her. Her expression is solemn and her eyes hold unshed tears which she quickly blinks away. "Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks gently. I take a deep breath, before nodding.

I can feel my eyes threaten to burn again, but I'm able to keep the tears at bay. Too tired to cry anymore. "They didn't take it well. My dad thought it was a joke at first. When he realized I wasn't lying, he got really angry. Started yelling about how he never asked for a son like this, and if he knew I'd be such a burden, they never would have taken me in. He said if I continued down this path, I would be no son of his. As for my mom, she just looked so disappointed. Which was honestly worse than any words my dad could have thrown at me. Seeing the way she looked at me, then didn't want to look at me afterwards, made me want to die in that moment." I finish, tears threatening to spill again.

Blake looks livid. I can tell she is contemplating breaking in to the house and smashing my dad's face in. I'd do the same for her if the roles were switched. But right now, that wouldn't do anyone any good, and I don't want to see her get in any trouble. "Blake, don't." I whisper, and she takes a deep breath before looking at me and nodding.

"E, what he said was terrible and I'm so sorry. The fact that he can't accept you for who you really are just shows that he's the real problem, not you." She says, taking both of my hands in hers and looking me straight in the eyes. "We don't choose who we love, our hearts do, and it's completely out of our control." I can tell she is talking about Sam because her voice falters a bit, but I don't want to drudge up old memories and I'm too broken to comfort her right now.

"We also don't choose who we are attracted to. Right now, it may seem hard to ignore their words. Their words may feel like shards of glass creating deep wounds all over, but soon they'll become paper cuts. And after that..." She trails off, giving my hands another comforting squeeze, "the glass won't have the power to hurt you anymore. Just give it time, I know in my heart that you'll find someone one day who will make all this heartache worth it. Someone who will love all the parts of you, and nothing less. Your parents may be assholes E, but you'll always have me, never forget that." She stands up, before offering her hand to pull me up before saying, "Now let's go home."

I walk out of my room, and then to the kitchen. It is pretty modern, unlike the rest of the house since we had just renovated it last summer because my mom loves to cook. The countertops are made of granite, pendent light fixtures hang from the ceiling, and the entire place looks effortlessly spotless, curtesy of my mom no doubt. I brace my hands on the marble island in the middle of the kitchen, and look up expectantly at them waiting for the torment to start.

"Hello Emerson." My mom says her whole body rigid, "What are you doing here?" She asks, eyes nervously darting between my father and I.

"Just need the picnic basket. River and I are going on a date." I say, trying to keep my voice as nonchalant as possible, but I can feel some venom slip through as I utter the last word, just daring them to react.

My mom's eyes almost pop out of their sockets, as she idly turns the pot of soup on the stove, but by the sour smell of the air I can tell it's already burning. "Well that's a lovely friend you have—"

"Boyfriend." I correct through clenched teeth, but I hesitate for a moment. Why do I allow their words to have such a big effect on me?

My dad slams his fist on to the island right next to my hands, and I back away startled, and my mom just stays there—turning her soup like in some sort of trance. "Margaret, get the boy his picnic basket." He says, without turning to her eyes glaring at me with enough poison to kill a giant. "I thought we'd been over this, but it seems as if the words just get lost in that thick skull of yours. So I'll repeat this once more. Listen here, and listen well," he started voice full of ice, "The only reason I'm allowing you to leave this house to be with that boy is because I cannot stand the mere sight of you." My mom places the basket in front of me, not meeting my eyes, before walking away. I take it, but I can't feel the wood beneath my fingers, it's as if they've gone numb.

He takes a fist full of my hair, and twists—hard. I release a yelp of pain almost dropping the basket, and he smiles—a rotten smile, before using his other hand to hold on to my shoulder, nails digging in to my flesh. "But understand one thing," he says through clenched teeth, "No son of mine is going to date a boy, you hear me? I don't care if your twisted brain is telling you to be attracted to men. As long as you live under my roof, you will not act on those feelings with that puny boy outside." He pushes me away hard, before spitting on the floor. "Your kind disgust me. Now go, you are upsetting your mother."

Blake's words from a few months ago seem far, far away. My skin prickles beneath my varsity jacket, like a million jagged edges of glass just sliced into my skin simultaneously. Their words will always have the power to hurt me and make me bleed. I begin to walk away, feeling the basket brush against my side with every step but not processing it. This only confirmed my doubts. How can I expect to lead a pack, if I can't stand up to my parents? How can I make decisions, if I can't even stand up for what I want and how I feel? I just stood there while he made fun of River, I'm such a coward. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I can't just stand by while my parents tear me away from the person that I love.

I-I love him.

I have been denying these feelings for so long. Pushing them down, and failing to acknowledge them, why? Because I was afraid of falling for the type of person that I've always wanted to fall for, and the thought of that being possible scares me more than I'd like to admit. Or for fear that I would fall in love with the right person and not be able to commit to them. I've never been a dedicated kind of person. I shrink under pressure, and when I fail I give up and don't try again. It's hard to get back up, to give something, someone, your all. It just increases the chances of getting hurt, of getting your heart broken.

It's easy to dip your toes in the water, and tip toe around certain situations because it's safe, there's no risk. For the first few weeks of dating River that's all I did—I allowed myself to live in the moment, but I never allowed myself to let go, to free myself of these annoying chains shackling my wrists and ankles—fastening me to the ground because I didn't want to start a race that I knew I couldn't finish. But being with River has made me dive in head first. It's a good kind of drowning. He makes me want to love him so much that I don't care about the consequences.

I can feel the eyes of my parents staring at me on the back of my neck, making the hairs spring up. But all of that uneasiness fades away, the moment I picture his face. His warm, brown skin that is as soft as a feather when I caress it with my fingers. His grey eyes that remind me of the color of clouds right before a powerful storm hits. I smile to myself when I remember how we remedied my fear of storms, and showed me the unspoken beauty I was missing out on. Maybe that's why I adore his eyes so much. The dimple beside his mouth and the crinkles in the skin around his eyes that appear whenever he smiles big, suddenly become as clear as day behind my eyelids. He is unconventionally beautiful. Not like the inherent beauty of a bright meadow of flowers. No, like beauty that you have to first uncover before appreciating it. Like rain droplets sliding down a window on a cold, spring afternoon.

He makes me so happy, yet I don't deserve him. And as I reach the front door trying to plaster a smile on my face that I know he'll see right through, I grab the brass, cold door handle and come to a terrible conclusion—I'm going to lose the boy I love.

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What did you think of this chapter? I know it was all about Emerson and not much happened concerning the pack, but I wanted to give some insight in to who he is, and the hidden fears he has. Do you think him and River can get through this? Also, will he ever be able to heed Blake's words? Please like and comment! 💕 Stay golden:)

~Fallen Rose🥀🖤