The Sight (bxb)

Chapter 86 - The Truth - Part 1

Even though he knew the state of his room, he looked around it again as if trying to see it through his mother's eyes. She was right. His room did reflect what was going on in his mind.

"Being a teenager is stupid," he finally replied. He didn't want to go into details, knowing that his mother would hardly sympathize with him, so he opted for the universal answer.

"I suppose that's the point," his mom laughed shortly and sat on the edge of his bed, carefully stepping over all the things on the floor.

Evan gave her a look that suggested she hadn't helped his case with her assertion, and it brought another amused smile to her face.

"Don't look at me like that. It's the truth," she argued and continued, "Everyone has to experience it. Otherwise, you would never be able to learn that you can learn from your own mistakes."

"I never said I made a mistake," he reminded her. He'd never confided in her, and though she'd comforted him after his breakup with Kieran, she still had no idea what had really happened.

"You're young, it's to be expected. You may not have made some huge mistake, but it's obvious you've done something when it weighs on your mind so much you can barely see the floor," she countered.

"Fine," he decided not to argue with her for once. "What if I'm struggling because of some mistake, and now I don't know what to do?"

He never thought he'd be seeking advice from his mom, but here he was.

"You know, people think werewolves are powerful because we have claws and sharp teeth and can run faster than a car. In reality, our greatest power is our nature," his mom began, and Evan looked confused. He had no idea how that related to his situation, but before he could point it out, his mom continued. "We're social creatures. Our family, pack, and of course, mate are our biggest strengths. Whenever you're feeling down, you have someone to save you and won't let go of your hand, even if you're drowning in the deepest lake of guilt. Plus, we wolves make relationships last forever, and I'd say that makes us good judges of character."

His family, his pack, and his mate.

Evan paused after her explanation, not realizing his fangs had involuntarily come out until the pencil in his teeth broke.

"If you were hungry, all you had to do was say so." His mom was clearly amused while he spat the piece of pencil out of his mouth, hating the aftertaste it left.

"Oh, and I've got one more piece of advice." Evan looked at her expectantly, still wearing the grimace on his face that came from the taste of graphite on his tongue.

"What?" He asked when she didn't answer immediately.

"You've got one more advantage on your side. You're a wolf. Any problems your head can't solve, a good long run will," she advised him.

He pondered her words for a moment, considering them, but finally shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll finish up here first." He nodded his head towards the canvas, which still lacked any colour other than black.

"Okay, but no more eating pencils," his mom warned him, her tone still light, which Evan hadn't heard often from her. Not wanting to ruin her good mood, he refrained from rolling his eyes.

His mom obviously considered this conversation over and perhaps like her son, not wanting to spoil the sweet moment between them, stood up, and her footsteps headed for the door. Just before them, however, she stopped and turned to her son one last time. "One more thing, if you get anything stained, it's on you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Even as the door closed behind his mom and he heard her footsteps sounding fainter and fainter, his words still resonated in his head. Even when he finally traded the pencil for a paintbrush, only three words kept repeating in his head - pack, family, and mate.

He hated to admit it, but his mother was right, even if his reality was an adapted version of her statement. His family was mostly Riley, though only his past version. His pack had no official name or alpha, and it definitely had too few wolves to even be called a pack, but to Evan, it was his little pack, nonetheless. And his mate...

Unconsciously, a soft smile appeared on his face, and the end of the paintbrush came to rest against his closed lips.

His eyes finally focused properly on the image in front of him, and now there was no denying that the wolf on the screen was Ryan. His black fur, piercing eyes, and slender limbs were all perfected in detail as if Evan was afraid, he wouldn't do him justice.

Evan was really lucky to have him, and he was finally fully aware of it. Maybe that was why he was realizing that he was becoming more and more accepting of himself as a wolf. Though he'd never planned on staying in a pack after high school, Ryan made him wonder if that would have been a good Plan B at least. Evan didn't want to admit it out loud, but if Ryan asked him to do anything, he had a feeling he'd oblige without missing a beat.

His wolf felt the same way, as just the thought of his mate alerted Evan to its presence in his subconscious. He was restless, and Evan made the exceptional decision to listen to him.

Leaving the canvas and the mess on the ground where they were, Evan stood up and, stepping over the paints, made his way to his door. He didn't bother with his jacket, since he didn't plan on wearing clothes for long anyway, and ran down the stairs to the front door.

"I'm going for a run!" He shouted, waiting with the door open in his hands for a response.

"Have fun and be careful!" echoed from inside the house.