Someone knocks against the glass door.
I forgot Marcelo is staying in the attic. He must have left this morning and just came back.
I look at the clock. It's almost 2 am.
Once I gather up all the energy, I open the window.
Marcelo hops inside with the hood on his head. "I'm glad to know you're the type to lock up your window at night." He brushes off the snow from his shoes. I hope he's planning to clean that up later.
I click on the night lamp. I was ready to ask him why he came back so late until I saw the bruise near his lips. "What happened?"
He grabs the string for the stairs, "Oh. Nothing," he says. "I ran into an idiot."
It didn't take much to put the pieces together. Marcelo must have heard what happened today and got into a fight with Cole. He probably used some other excuse to punch him.
"You didn't have to do that," I said.
Marcelo scoffs, "I never said it was for you." He walks upstairs.
I shuffle through the cabinet and grab the ointment. Werewolves heal faster than humans, but it doesn't mean it goes into immediate effect.
When I reached the attic, Marcelo had his shirtless back turned towards me. He threw the dirty shirt into the corner beside his duffle bag. He surely made himself at home.
I watch as he throws himself on the futon and covers his face with his arms. When he finished, I sat beside him. "Here," I said.
Marcelo didn't respond.
I open the tube and squirt a little on my finger. When I inch it closer to his wound, he grabs my wrist. "Don't."
"Then, you shouldn't have done that earlier." I applied ointment on his bruise.
"I told you. It wasn't for you."
"Sure it wasn't."
He sat up, "It wasn't!"
"Then, why did you do it?" Although I haven't known him long, I can see Marcelo is a levelheaded guy. Someone as level headed and surface peace-loving like him wouldn't bicker so outrageously with another pack.
Marcelo ground against his molars, "It's none of your business." He stood up, grabbed another shirt, and opened the window on top of the roof.
I grab his arm and prevent him from escaping. "We said there wasn't going to be anything between us." I tried my best to continue whispering. "But then you have to do shit like this!" My eyes went teary, "Why do you have to do shit like this!"
Marcelo faced me at a rapid speed, "Because I care!"
"Because of the bond?"
"Because of you!" His voice was no longer low.
I can hear a knock at my door. "Julia?" That's mom's voice. "Is there someone in there with you?"
Marcelo inches back until he was at the bottom of the window. He jumps once and reaches the edge. I watch as he climbs out of the house.
"Julia?"
One step after another, I walk downstairs. I closed the staircase and inch closer to the door. When I opened the door, I could see mom in her pajamas.
"Oh. Julia. What happened?" She wipes off the tears from my cheeks and holds me close.
After I calmed down, I found myself sitting on the bed with my mom.
She hands me the box of tissue. I grabbed one and blew my nose.
"So, it's a boy?" She asks.
I nod, "Yeah."
"Should you be telling me this?"
Of course, it's not normal for a daughter to tell her mother that a boy had been sneaking into her bedroom.
But she probably already knows, so what's the point in lying? From what I learned during my teenage years, lying only gets you into more trouble.
"Shouldn't you be giving me advice instead of questioning my honesty?"
You lie, you get punished.
You tell the truth. They question your honesty.
There's no winning.
Mom eyed me, "I swear you got that smart mouth from your father's side."
"Advice?"
"Honey, I can't give you advice when I don't know the full story."
"Can you give me typical advice?"
She places a hand on her chest, "Follow your heart."
"That is some bullshit advice," I said.
"Julia."
"That is some bad advice," I rephrase my comment.
"Look-" mom holds my hand, "whatever it is you're going through. It's temporary. That boyfriend of yours-"
"He's not my boyfriend," I interfere.
"It's complicated?"
"Well, we established more on the line of fuck friends."
Mom lowers her head towards her palms and exhales dramatically. "I'm glad your dad isn't here."
"Alright," she said. She got back into her mom's mood, "But, are you two really just that?"
"We're more than that." We're soulmates.
"As in, you both have feelings for each other?"
"Well, me-" I exhale, "I do like him. More than just for his body," I said. I do like Marcelo. Especially his sarcastic responses. It irritates me and amuses me at the same time.
"And him?"
"He-" I pause and allow my mind to wander, "He...He's forced to like me?"
Mom stares at me for a long moment before she gasps. She got off the bed, closed the door, and said: "That boy is mated to you!"
It's incredible how she could come to that conclusion by a simple sentence. Then again, maybe I should've rephrased my sentence to something less obvious.
She says back down, "Is he a werewolf?"
"No. I am."
Mom flicks my head, "Smart mouth me one more time, I swear, I'll ground you."
"That's some dictatorship right there."
"My house. My rule."
"I didn't choose to be brought into this world," I responded. "You're responsible for me until I'm fully grown."
"Yes. And you're under this dictator's protection until further notice." I wonder if mom knows I didn't get my sass from dad, but her.
Mom exhales, "How are we supposed to tell your dad?"
"We don't," I responded. "We agree that we would part ways at the end of the school year if he can't win my heart. And to be honest, I don't think he wants to win it."
"What makes you think that?" Mom asks.
"Well, he has a history with hunters."
"Oh." I'm pretty sure mom can piece together the story. Having a history together back then generally means one side killed the other side's beloved one.
"And the only reason why he wants to even be near me is because I'm his soulmate. He doesn't really want to be with me."
Mom exhales, "Look," mom says. "I think you're right."
I didn't expect that.
"Back when I was younger," she started, "I've always thought when werewolves find their soulmates, it means they have to be together. That's not true."
"It's not?"
She shook her head, "Soulmates can be many things, Julia. It doesn't necessarily mean both of you have to be together. You can always just be there for each other."
"I'm not sure where you're going with this."
"Soulmates are merely someone who gets you. It's not the same as someone who's meant to be with you."
"You're trying to tell me-"
"Don't push the relationship into a complicated position. You two see it as something romantic. It doesn't have to be romantic."
It doesn't have to be romantic?
"There's many types of love. Not just romance," she says.
I stay quiet.
"But, if we are taking the romance path. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah." I shrug, "I mean, I do like him, but it's not like I can't live without him. If he chooses to leave, then he leaves. I can't do much except move on."
Something broke.
Mom and I look outside to see a broken pot plant. "Those neighbors' cats," mom grumbles. "Well, mom is always here to buy you ice cream." She kisses my forehead, "I don't want to be a grandma. Not now, at least."
Mom knows her hands are tied. Whether she likes it or not, I probably would need ice cream at the end of the school year.
After a few days, Marcelo shows up again. I know he's been around because I could hear light footsteps above my room once in a while. I choose not to confront him until he's ready to face me. Sometimes, it's better to give the person some space.
"Hey," I said.
Marcelo hands me a yellow envelope.
I opened it to see the court date.
"You're probably going to hear about it on the news soon," he says. I know we agreed to set up a date for Kai, but I didn't think it would be this soon.
It's set up to be in late February.
We have about a month.
"I just thought you might need the time to be prepared."
I fall onto the bed.
"And it's probably best to tell your parents before they find out for themselves."
My hands crumble the papers, and I exhale sharply.
Marcelo sat beside me, "It'll be fine."
It's odd. A few days ago, we were fighting about whatever it is that's going on between us. But now, he's comforting me. His arms rest over my shoulders, and he soothes me with a light rub.
"When will the public find out?" I ask.
"About two weeks from now."
"How do you know they aren't going to find out sooner?"
"My dad knows someone high up in the government," he responds. His dad got some damn good connections. "He is personally processing the paperwork."
"Can we trust him?"
"Yes."
"How are you so sure?"
"He's my uncle."
"Oh...That's nice."
"Just relax."
I look at him, "You got this?"
"Julia."
"Right." I stood up, "You're neutral. This is where you tap out, and I tap in."
He exhales a breath, "Julia. It's not like I don't want to help. Its-"
"Your pack is neutral. Your pack comes first."
"Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Guilt trip me."
"I'm not?"
"You're not?"
"No," I responded. "I understand. It's your responsibility."
"So-"
"So...nothing," I said. "Just sit back." I don't understand why he thinks I would guilt-trip him. He helped more than enough.
He nodded and sat down, "Right."
I puff my cheeks, "Yeah. I'm going to go downstairs now," I said. "Make yourself comfortable and...chill. Alright. See ya." After that fiasco with Marcelo in the attic, it feels a bit weird to talk to him.
"Do you want to have sex?"
I stop walking and look at him.
"I mean...I mean...just...you know...have sex."
"Now?"
"Now is okay."
I stare at him.
"Unless it's not okay."
I didn't respond.
"Or...later?"