bittersweet green apples, rejection, and the mediocre life of a human

Chapter 2

Ambling into the wilds of East Harlem, I actually didn't feel the need to draw on my courage to break the silence, I just started. "You know, back home it rains like this a lot," I began to trail off, but Kyle gave my hand a squeeze, letting me know he was listening. "As much as I love the rain, rain in the concrete jungle just doesn't feel quite right to me. I like the way rain actually smells, what it does to the dirt and plants."

"So do I," Kyle breathed out, as though I'd lifted a weight from his shoulders. "Not to say these lights aren't beautiful," he paused and admired the cornucopia of blurry twinkles reflected in the glossy asphalt, "but it isn't the real deal. I'll take you deep out into the preserve sometime and-," he abruptly cut himself off. "That is, if you want to, I mean. I don't know if it can measure up to home, but I want to show it to you, if you're willing." By the time he finished speaking, he was quiet, not much louder than the rain's soft percussion against the artificial landscape.

"I think I'd like that. Maybe one day I can show you what rain looks like at home," I murmured quietly, not wanting to break the serenity of the rainy paradise. Even if I wasn't surrounded by the woods, the chilly, refreshing drizzle cast a spell of tranquility over me that I had no desire to break free from. My nice clothes were definitely more than soaked, but in that moment, all that mattered was Kyle. He was drenched too, but I don't think it concerned him, judging by the way his warm gaze lingered on my cheeks.

"Where's home?" he asked quietly, letting the vibrations of the rain echo down the empty street, a rarity in Manhattan that seemed like a gift from an unknown deity.

"Home... doesn't really exist anymore. I don't really have a home. Home used to be in Michigan, but... there's not much for me to go back to, unless you count the woods." I grappled with my sadness internally, not sure I was ready to tell Kyle something like that yet, knowing I was completely unprepared for the questions that would follow.

"My home will be your home, if you want it," he shocked me. No interrogation, no pause to puzzle out my situation, only a selfless desire to change my existence for the better. Maybe a few saltwater drops mixed with the freshwater ones falling over my cheeks, but no one could tell in the storm. Kyle would, without hesitation, open his home to me. Thoughts of a pack and family warmed my belly in the chilly evening, and maybe I held his hand a little tighter, and pulled our arms taut so our steps were even closer.

"I'd love that. Maybe we can visit home together one day, even if there's no one waiting for me. What's your home like? I've always wanted to be part of a pack; it seems so affectionate and warm. I want a huge family that cares about each other like that." I trailed off, thinking of lonely Thanksgivings and Birthdays without cake or presents, and would have drowned in a riptide of sadness if Kyle hadn't anchored me to the cracked sidewalk, gripping my hand tightly like I might get blown away if the wind picked up even a little.

"They're... They really care. You're rarely alone, and when you fuck up someone will always be there to help you out. Your mistakes are your own, but they'll always push you to be a better person and they tell you when you're being an idiot. Pack isn't always easy but... I probably wouldn't be here with you if they hadn't knocked some sense into me, to be honest." Kyle's confession hung in the night air, as vulnerable as a newborn. His confession made me think about myself - if I had a pack, would they let me mope for days and drown my sorrows in ice cream? Maybe a pack would be good for me in more ways than one. "They told me I was being a moron and so did my teammates. That left me thinking about you, and I finally figured out that I didn't have an issue with you, I had an issue with myself. I've spent a decade like this. Then you come along and help me actually feel good about myself for the first time in a goddamn decade, and I hurt you as thanks."

He let go of my hand and slid his hand up my arm, hooking onto my shoulder and turning me to face him, "No more. No more sadness. No more hurt. Here I am babbling on about my pack and my own problems and I still know nothing about you. What a joke of an alpha."