Wilona's P.O.V
I could always cook first and then ask after but what if he ate in that time. I couldn't have him wait in my apartment while I cooked, hed see and I couldn't have him wait in his own, that'd be weird.
It was just hanging out. It seemed so simple yet it wasn't.
All the trouble would go away if I just told him about my eye problems. I just had to tell him I couldn't see well and all these problems would fade away.
But I knew from experience they'd only produce more.
First, the pity would tumble out, presented by silence as they took it all in and stamped me as disabled. Next would be the questions, the worse of them all being the first; What happened?
The single question over the last seven months had quickly become the two words I hated more than anything else in this world. Two words that had the ability to relaunch me into a dark abyss of my greatest failures, two words that stung almost as much as the famous 'are you okay?'.
The process was one that I'd endured time and time again, exhausting me at the thought of repeating it. Damon was no different from all the rest, he'd repeat the process and amputate the stemming friendship between us. All because I was too fucked up, too scared to just
Maybe this was all a sign. If I wasn't capable of being the first the reach out then I wasn't ready for a relationship of any kind. Plus, I was probably already getting ahead of myself by putting such unwarranted expectations based off of a single meal together.
I sigh as I drag my feet to my record player, putting in today's album and sinking into the low chair that allowed me to pet Sassy without straining to.
I close my eyes and let my mind be lulled into a state of acceptable comfort.
****
Damon's P.O.V
I place my fingers just above the tiny knob of the draw, watching them shake around the metal as they balance between touch and hovering just above it.
I lock my jaws together, trying to cage away my cowardice, shoving it deep inside of myself so it couldn't stop me. But it fought back, driving itself deeper, clawing for a spot in my chest where it gripped my heart in an unrelenting hold.
It wasn't going away, not when I was possibly making a decision that could leave me further buried inside the darkness I already inhabited.
I don't think this is a good idea Damon - Theo whispers nervously as my grip on the knob becomes firm.
I miss them - I argue, my emotions building at the admission. I just want to talk to them.
It's too soon - Theo presses, dropping his suggestions to facts. You haven't even begun to pull the hurt apart, it's too soon to dive back in.
The hairs on my arms stood at his words but my overwhelming want bouldered them down.
I missed my fucking family. Missed them more than I knew possible to miss another living thing. Missed their wildness, missed the obnoxious amount of noise they made when we were all together and the turmoil that could arise because of it. I missed their love, missed the abundant love that ran between us all - I missed that more than anything.
I'd woken up missing that, the love, more than ever before. My mind filled itself with memories of when we were all kids, when everything was easier and there was no disappointment to be forged. When there was nothing to be found but happiness and hugs when the smiles seemed eternal in those moments. Warmth and comfort invading from all angles to smother us all in joy.
I'd open my eyes wanting nothing more than to experience it all again, even if it was only once more. Not allowing myself to admit that they were memories of a distant past, the happiness long gone and replaced by the cruel distrust that'd bloomed in recent years, accompanied by poignant disappointment.
I didn't let myself think about what they'd done, how'd they'd lied and hurt me because it didn't matter when the pain was so strong. Didn't matter when I missed them this much.
I tug at the draw's knob, watching it slide open the reveal the black, forgotten system at its base. I'd kept the space empty excluding the one object, not brave enough to face it on any other occasion. Now staring at it, unease built inside but so did joy. I pick it up, the usual feather-light tool now feeling like the full weight of a pup, specially designed to drag me down.
I stuff the phone with its charger, waiting for life to return to the phone and hold my breath when it does.
Time ticks slowly, slugging along with every passing moment. The slow moments giving my mind the time it needed to remind me of the pain and the betrayal, it took the time hungrily.
The hurt resurfaces as I remember the look on my parents face when they saw the blood, the disappointment that dripped from their unspoken words as they mouths hung low in raw horror. I recalled the look in their eyes, nothing like the ones they held in the moments of happiness I'd awoken longing for.
The agony builds to a tipping point against the need to see them, the softness that's formed hardening to shields. I needed a moment to reconsider but then the entire screen shone with light and the weight increased. The tool demanding for a choice to be made, for the cowardice to be relinquished by a certain power I didn't possess.
Fear boils to a scorching heat and I tug at the charger before my data could reconnect itself. I drop the phone as if it was soaked in wolfsbane, slamming the small draw shut with a disgruntled groan. My feet scramble to get away from the device, taking me up and away from the wobbling nightstand.
I stare at the innocent furniture, chest heaving as my mind curled like my fingers, fisting to shield myself but the efforts were aimless. The undeniable cowardice had made a path for the vengeful rage and anger. It was building and fast, my skin itched at the force of it, the tameless rage that bubbled with the need to be released.
The need to shift and to hurt sparking.
I need to run. Needed to connect myself to where I was strongest and needed to blare that power loud and clear to any that were near. Needed to release the hurt to something else so it wouldn't plague me while demolishing any spec of cowardice which dear to stay
I stumbled back, talons dropping suddenly while my canines poked at my lips. I press my hands to my door, letting one search aimless for a handle, every fiber in my body needing the earth's finest soils. I manage to reign myself in enough to keep my wolf form in and swing the door open. I freeze along with the anger when my eyes land on Wilona, her hand curled into a fist just about to hit the space where the door once stood.
She stares up at me, eyes widening in surprise before she jumped back. Heat rushed up to her cheeks at the proximity we'd been at, tugging at my fingertips like controlling puppet strings, wanting nothing more but to feel that heat again them. I grind my teeth together angrily, the inability to touch my own fucking mate mixing with my emotions to create a toxic concoction.
"Hey," She says looking up at me with one of those smiles that quelled the seas of rage for a moment, a moment long enough to let me breathe. "I was wondering if m-maybe you wanted to get that dinner tonight, but I was thinking we could order some pizza. No cooking, if that's okay."
My heart galloped at the gesture, relief and delight making themselves known at the thought of spending more time with Wilona. I'd hoped she'd ask for another meal sooner than this, but she stayed away. It didn't matter now though, we'd be spending the evening together and that's what mattered.
I try to focus on that, using the calm it brought me to push down the raging need to shift before it could swallow me whole.
"Sounds good." I manage through clenched teeth, the two words allowing her lips to slip into a bright smile.
"Great!" She exclaims, seeming to make herself jump at her own excitement. "I mean, good. That's good. Seven?"
"Yeah," I agree with a mindless nod. I grit my teeth together with a greater force when my talons begin pressing against my skin, trying to escape once more. I pull my fist behind my back and force my chest to settle into a normal breathing pattern. "Got to go now, can't talk."