Bab 26: Chapter 25
"A mother and a brother and someone you know, smile at each other and realise you don't. You don't know what happened to that kid you raised. What happened to the father who swore he'd stay?"
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Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is one way to justify our tastes, to cover up for the fact that none of us are truly beautiful to everyone.
We all have our preferences, be it in facial hair, height, or colour. Beauty is not stagnant, not fixed, not consistent. The concept of beauty is always changing, as is the concept of love, of home. Beauty is always out of reach, yet portrayed to be so close it almost seems tangible.
The concept of beauty changes as suddenly as the direction of the wind. It flutters by us, leaving us to feel only the breeze.
Beauty is a dream we yearn for, an intangible reality we can never reach, a concept that ruins us from the inside out, turns the most pretty and gentle ambitious hearts ugly.
I don't believe in beauty, nor the search for it, yet Kyle's wolf is beautiful as he stands before me, with his golden fur and dark, dark eyes.
Perhaps it is because Wolf is also Kyle in a sense, or because I have a soft spot for animals, that I smile at Wolf and reach out a hand to run through his fur.
I have a strange attraction to animals, a sort of respect for the way they listen to their base instincts, present themselves as they are without trying to be something else.
You will rarely see a fish out of water, an elephant trying to fly, a cat trying to camouflage.
Chris was an animal enthusiast and I guess that too rubbed off on me, as did everything else. He studied hard for his goal of being a veterinarian, to foster his love for animals, but gave up on that dream days before receiving his acceptance letter into college.
Animals, on the other hand, value their lives for as long as they are required to. Animals are created, specialised for their own means of survival. They will fight to their last breath, and yet they know their own limits.
Animals are honest, and maybe they can be a little sly, but they will never be able to make empty promises, to make something out of nothing, and so they make better company.
Wolf barks at me excitedly and nuzzles his head against my hand before pouncing on me, trapping my body beneath his as he licks and sniffs and rubs himself over my torso. A chorus of giggles bursts past my lips as I try to hold the large wolf in place.
It is still strange to think that this beautiful wolf holds the basic instincts of Kyle.
They do bear a resemblance, of course. Both Kyle and Wolf are beautiful, perfect in their own way, with their golden hair and dark eyes but while Kyle is restrained, more understanding and tame, Wolf throws all caution to the wind and shows his emotions like an open book.
Both Kyle and Wolf have their frustrating ways of invoking the sparks, of clearing my mind of anything that isn't them.
Or is it just that my mind refuses to stop thinking about them?
---
"You should stay for dinner, Nick. You know you're always welcome." Kyle says as he walks me out of the pack house back to mine.
I shake my head.
"I'd rather not be a bother. There's enough food at home for me."
"By food, you mean leftovers from last night."
I shrug.
Maybe I just want some time alone to myself, to see the world for what it is without Kyle to brighten it up for me. A part of me wonders if I miss the pain, the hurt, the constant bangs and thumps that bounce off the walls.
I guess my house is home in a way, for it houses the worst of my memories, yet I cannot ever escape it.
Kyle slips his hand in mine as we walk, and I feel my face heat up. It is a simple gesture, holding hands, yet it brings to the surface so many emotions I am at a loss for words.
It isn't a problem, though, for no words are needed as we walk the rest of the journey in comfortable silence.
---
"I'll text you tonight?"
Kyle is uncertain again, testing the boundaries of our newfound relationship. I nod in agreement as he leaves me at the front door, and I enter the house alone.
I am grateful to finally have some time to myself, although spending time with Kyle is an experience I never want to end.
It seems to me, however, that I am not alone in this house as footsteps echo from the top of the stairs, coming to a stop just behind me.
"Nicholas."
No.
He isn't supposed to be here, I don't want him here.
"Where is your mother, is she out? Surely she should know better than to leave her children alone in the evening."
He is curious, confused, and I feel nothing but resentment towards him.
Mom relied on him, as we all did, and he left us to fend for ourselves, expecting us to survive on our own.
"Mom's at work. How did you get in?"
I don't turn around, don't wish to see him, in fear that the very sight of him will cause me to break.
"Chris left a key in our secret spot," his voice is filled with the fondness of a father, "speaking of Chris, where is he? His room is in a mess, and looks like it hasn't been tidied up in months. This isn't like him."
I fight the urge to punch him, to push him out the door.
"This isn't like him."
Surely he knew better than to expect us all to remain the way we were when he abandoned us over a decade ago.
I try to remind myself that he is no longer my father, that I do not owe him anything, that I shouldn't show him any weakness, but his words echo in my mind like a broken record.
"His room is in a mess."
I feel my fists clench, my body start to shake in anger and I am now on autopilot as I feel myself losing control.
Chris' room hasn't been touched since the incident, yet Leo entered the room, dirtied it with his presence, as if he had a right.
Just who does he think he is?
Hadiah
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