𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖚𝖘𝖙

Leaving Heaven alone in that room was almost painful.

But she needed her rest, and I wasn't going to let my need to be near her get in the way of that.

I walked through the hall, my steps echoing along the hardwood floor.

Reaching the large door to my office, I swung the door open and stepped in.

"She's human." A voice said from the corner of the room.

Antonio emerged from the shadows, walking over to face me.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," sarcasm dripped from my tone.

I could feel myself beginning to pace, my anxiousness seeping through as I ran my hands through my hair.

She was human.

And so fragile.

"How does it feel?" Antonio asked, making sure to stay out of the way of my pacing, "Now that you've finally found her?"

I stopped moving for a moment, turning to face one of the only people that I could consider a friend.

"Terrifying." I whisper, my eyes unfocusing as I think back to the beautiful angel lying in the guest bedroom.

I waited so long, searching everywhere to find the other half of my soul, to the point where I had been discouraged enough to give up.

And I had finally found her.

She was so small, so delicate to the point that she looked like she would shatter if someone touched her. Yet when I looked into her eyes, I could see a fire in them. And I couldn't help but to think that her looks were deceiving.

Antonio nodded at my statement. "Well, what do we do now?"

I took a moment to think. Heaven was a human, who lived in the human world. No matter her previous statement where she said that no one would miss her, I couldn't bear the thought of ripping her away from everything she's ever known. And how would she handle the truth, that werewolves were real, and she was currently staying in a house full of them.

My usually stoic, emotionless face broke as I responded.

"I don't know."

✧ ✧ ✧

𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓

I couldn't fall asleep.

Sleep hadn't come easy to me for a few years now. I was used to it.

But right now, I had hoped that the pain in my head and exhaustion plaguing my body would wear me out, and possibly let me sleep peacefully for a few hours.

But it seemed like my mind had other plans.

I stare blankly at the white ceiling, begging my body to relax into the comfortable mattress.

But to no avail.

After quite a few more minutes of struggling, I untangle myself from the blankets ensnared around my legs, and place my feet on the floor.

As I sat up silently, a quiet sound began from outside. Raindrops began tapping along the roof of the house, sliding along the window in my room in a melancholy trail.

My lips turned up at the comforting patter, and I felt the compelling urge to be outside, witnessing yet another beautifully destructive storm.

I stepped across the room, and into the hallway, determined to find a way to get outside.

The corridor was long and wide, with smooth hardwood floors and deep red walls. I began to make my way down the hallway. I didn't know where I was going, but let my feet carry me, the sound of my bare footsteps echoing hollowly on the dark floors.

My steps became more rapid as I quickened my pace. I needed to be outside, seeing lighting as it crashed down towards earth, feeling the chilling breeze that swept through the trees, hearing the rain as it pelted onto the roof.

I staggered my way down a flight of stairs, tumbling my way clumsily through each extravagantly large room, searching for a door.

I had finally found one, a simple, dark door displayed along the wall of an oversized, simplistically decorated entrance hall.

I raced towards it, desperately throwing the door open, and stepping out onto a large, beautiful porch.

The porch was decorated minimally, containing three black-cushioned chairs and a white porch swing.

I hurriedly took a seat on the swing, tucking my knees up towards my chest in an attempt to warm myself up against the harsh bitterness of the stormy breeze.

I turned my face up towards the raging grey clouds, letting the rain soothe me as it's light mist gently showered me.

The rain calmed me, letting me take a moment to ponder the events of the past few days.

As I sat in silence, the betrayal of my 'friends' had really began to sink in. Of course I was not the most sociable one in the group, but when it came down to it, I had hoped that they would treat me like a best friend.

But their actions had not proven so, and I could hardly blame them. I was distant, cold, and often slightly dismissive of them. Who would want a friend like that?

I patted my pocket for a moment, realizing that my phone was gone, likely dropped somewhere in the forest. I sigh, realizing that it wouldn't matter anyways. The group of teens wouldn't likely be trying to contact me, probably assuming that I had somehow managed to get home.

And my mother wouldn't even be home to know if I was there or not.

I sat under the protection of the porch roof as the storm raged on, my mind now wandering towards the man that I had met earlier.

I didn't want to admit it to myself, but it had been odd when I had first laid eyes on August. Butterflies had began fluttering in my stomach, and a strange tingling sensation spread throughout my entire body. I wanted to dismiss the feelings, and convince myself that there was no connection between the stranger and I, that I was simply overthinking our interaction. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget the feeling I had gotten when he was around me.

I was tore from my thoughts by the sound of the door slamming dramatically.

I broke my gaze away from the raging storm, turning my head quickly to the source of the noise.

August is standing in the doorway panting slightly, with a wild look in his honey eyes.

His stare was frantic, flicking quickly across the expanse of the porch, finally landing on me.

Immediately, his eyes soften, losing a mass amount of the anxiety that they seemed to hold.

"Thank God," he breathed, seeming to be relieved by the sight of me, "I thought you had run away."

"Why would I run away?" I asked, turning my face back towards the rain, "This place is better than anywhere else I could go."

I frowned at the truth of my own statement. Truly, where would I even run off to? My house is empty and cold, and I don't have any good friends that would openly welcome me into their home.

I hear August shift, moving to sit on one of the plush chairs near where I'm seated.

I can feel his burning gaze on me, memorizing my features. His stare makes me uncomfortable, and I begin to fiddle with the bandages that were still wrapped around my knuckles.

August takes note of my movement, and I can sense his eyes flitting to my hands.

A strangled sound escapes his lips, sounding nearly like a growl. The noise spooked me slightly, and I jump slightly in my seat before turning to face him.

"Why are your knuckles bandaged?" August asks, his voice strained.

"Oh," I laugh humorlessly, "I may have gotten into a fight or two at school. It's not big deal."

"A fight?" he asks, seemingly curious about my statement.

"Yeah," I answer, moving to unwrap the bandages from my left hand. I peel the tape and gauze away to reveal the newly-healing cuts and bruises, as well as the older scars lying underneath from previous fights.

"What were the fights about?" he asks softly.

I look into his golden eyes, and I can see genuine curiosity mixed with a few other emotions that I couldn't decipher.

I shrug my shoulders at his question, looking back down towards my scarred knuckles.

"Nothing really," I respond, "Sometimes it just felt good to get a little anger out."

"Anger about what?" he proceeded on with his questioning.

I don't respond, instead turning once again to face the beautiful landscape. His questions were beginning to get more invasive, digging into painful memories that I would do anything to forget.

"You have secrets, Heaven," he says, and I stiffen at his words, "I'll get you to tell them to me. Not today, but eventually."

August then stands up, moving towards the door and pushing it open. The doors slams softly behind him as he moves into the house.

I remain sitting in the midst of the storm for a few more moments, contemplating his words.

He wanted to get to know me. He wanted to discover me, tear down my walls and explore everything that I was keeping hidden.

And my mind focused on another sentence:

"Not today, but eventually."

Did that mean that he wanted me to stay?

•

•

•