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| Jackson |
As Jackson approached the guarded room where Wilson had been put, his heart started beating faster. He felt anxious, dismayed, and a little angry; he didn't know what would come of the conversation he needed to have with his friend, but he hoped that he wouldn't have to cut ties. Despite everything...Wilson was still his friend.
"What do you want?" the man guarding the door asked when Jackson, Tokala, and Damon stopped in front of him.
"Uh...to see Wilson," Jackson answered. "Sebastien told me where to find him."
The man's sights shifted between the three of them but quickly locked on Damon. "Not you."
With an irritated huff, Damon turned to face Jackson. "I'll just be down the hall," he said and kissed his lips.
Jackson smiled and nodded, and as his mate headed back down the hall, he did his best to calm his racing heart. "Can I go in?" he asked the guard.
"Why are you here?" the man questioned Tokala.
"To make sure that Wilson doesn't harm Jackson," the orange-haired Zeta answered.
"Hmph. Make it quick," he said and then pushed the door open.
Jackson nervously fiddled with his fingers, stepping past the guard and into the room.
Wilson, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a gloomy, hopeless look on his face, sat up straight the moment he set his eyes on Jackson, and a surprised but wary expression contorted his face.
When the door shut behind him, Jackson flinched, and while he tried to work out what he wanted to say, he gawped across the room at his friend.
"So..." Wilson started, "are you here to tell me to pack my bags...go back to Dawnward?" he asked despondently.
Jackson frowned. "No," he said, moving closer. "Well...I hope not," he corrected, stopping a few feet from the bed.
Wilson scoffed and looked over at the window. "Right. That's why you've got a bodyguard, right?" He turned his head and glared at Jackson. "Afraid I'm gonna attack you or something?"
"No," Jackson said as his thrown thickened. "He's here because Damon's worried for me."
"Damon," Wilson snarled.
Jackson sighed deeply and shook his head. "Look, I wanna talk so we can move past this. I don't want to send you back to Dawnward or wherever; I want you to stay, but only if you calm the hell down!" he exclaimed. "I told you how I feel, and if you can't accept that, then you can't stay here. All this fighting with Damon isn't helping anyone and one of you is gonna end up killing the other."
Wilson went to say something, but he hesitated and glared out the window again.
Unsure whether Wilson was taking him seriously or not, he moved closer to the bed and sat on the edge. "Wilson," he insisted.
His friend slowly set his gaze on him.
"Do you get what I'm saying?"
The muto scoffed. "Yeah. Stop trying to save you from that narcissistic piece of—"
Jackson shot to his feet. "This is what I'm talking about! Damon hasn't done anything to harm or manipulate me, ever! And if you can't see that and get over this stupid hatred that you have for him, then we can't be friends anymore."
A look of utter astonishment slapped Wilson's face. "Why are you letting this guy get between us? You've known him for like a month, Jackson. What the fuck is a month next to our years?" he questioned, resentment in his voice.
"Because Damon's my mate!" he answered frustratedly. "How many times do I need to tell you?"
"Right, your mate," he grumbled and looked away again.
Jackson could feel his frustration evolving into anger. He wanted to snap, and something inside him was urging him to snap, but the last thing he wanted was to lose his temper. He exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself and calmly said, "Wilson, if our friendship meant nothing to me, I wouldn't be here trying to work through this. I love Damon, but I also love you—like a brother, okay? You're my brother; you always have been, and always will be. I don't wanna lose you, especially not now, but I can't...have you trying to kiss me or convince me that you're better for me than the guy I imprinted on."
Wilson didn't immediately answer. He looked like he wanted to interject several times, but he held back, and now that Jackson was finished, it seemed as though he didn't know what to say.
But Jackson waited. He stood there as the seconds ticked by, letting his friend process and think. However, he started to worry that he might have been too harsh, or that Wilson would think he didn't care, or that he just wanted to get rid of him to make his life easier. But that wasn't the case at all. If he could keep both his mate and best friend around, he would. The rest was up to Wilson.
The silence grew thicker with uncertainty, but after a few long moments, Wilson looked up at Jackson and frowned sullenly. "Why him, though? What did he do that made you decide you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him?" he asked hopelessly.
Jackson sighed and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Because he just...I don't know. He gets me. Unlike everyone else around me, he didn't judge me for being who and what I am. He protected me, saved my life, and he came back for me when I was banished from his territory. He came back for me a bunch of times, actually. He helped me learn how to survive out here, and he makes me feel safe. He doesn't make me feel like all I'm good for is sex. He loves me, and I love him, and nothing you do or say is going to change that," he explained, and the more he said, the more he realized how much he really did love Damon; it made him realize how much his mate meant to him, and how much he'd done for him. And if now was the moment where he had to choose...he wouldn't hesitate to tell Wilson that it was and always would be Damon.
"I get you," Wilson mumbled despondently. "I never judged you. I protected you. What did he do different? What did I do wrong? I don't understand."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Wilson," Jackson said, shaking his head. "It's just...different. I told you; I've always seen you as my brother, and I still want you in my life...just not in the way you want."
A look of despair covered Wilson's face as he looked away again.
Jackson knew that look. He knew that his friend was trying to hold back tears. He wanted to comfort him, but he wasn't sure if Wilson would appreciate it right now, so he waited for him to reply.
"I'll never be good enough," Wilson lamented, his voice breaking. "And I guess that's gonna have to be okay, isn't it?" he sniffled, gradually turning his teary face to look at Jackson. "I mean I've already spent our entire lives watching you love other people, haven't I? It's nothing new. I'll get over it—I don't really have a choice in the matter."
As Wilson's despair grew, Jackson began to feel guiltier than ever. But he had to resist the urge to tell him he was wrong; he had to resist the urge to comfort him with lies. This was how it was, and he couldn't change that. "I'm sorry, Wilson," he said sadly, slowly moving his hand over his friend's shoulder. "But I really mean it; I still want you here."
Wilson dragged his hands over his wet face and laughed derisively. He didn't say anything to match his chuckle, though. With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat and looked at Jackson. "Yeah. I mean what kind of friend would I be if I left you out here in zombie land, huh?"
Jackson wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or trying to shift to a less depressing atmosphere, but he suspected it was the latter, so he smiled a little and said with a small laugh, "Not a very good one."
The muto cleared his throat again and slapped his knees. "So...when do we go to this lab now that this Kane shit's out the way?"
"You heard?" Jackson asked as he took his hand off Wilson's shoulder.
"Yeah. I might be locked up, but I still have that lycan hearing. Did Cyrus really tear him in half?"
Jackson grimaced when he remembered the gory sight. "Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna throw up."
"Would've been cool to see," Wilson said with a shrug.
"It wasn't pretty," Tokala chimed in.
Having forgotten that he'd been standing there the entire time, Jackson looked over his shoulder at him and said, "At least it's over, though." He set his eyes on Wilson again. "We're leaving for the lab first thing in the morning. Heir Zephyr, Amos, and Elias are coming with us."
"Great," Wilson muttered. "I guess Raphael's better than Lucian, though."
"Definitely," Jackson agreed.
He smiled and glanced around. "Do you have to go back to Damon?"
Jackson stifled a sigh and said, "Yeah. He's kinda waiting down the hall. And I mean it's late...and we should get as much rest as we can before tomorrow. We'll be heading to the lab, and hopefully, we all find the answers we're looking for."
A despondent frown flickered across Wilson's face, but he didn't argue. "Yeah. Maybe I'll find out where my parents went."
"I hope so," Jackson said. "And hopefully we find something there that can help the Nosferatu find a cure for the virus."
"Here's hoping," Wilson said unenthusiastically.
Jackson could feel the atmosphere growing awkward. He didn't want to let it get any worse. "Okay, well...thanks for understanding...and for not screaming at me and calling me an asshole."
Wilson laughed a little and looked away.
"I'm gonna go get some sleep, so...I'll see you in the morning, okay?"
"Yeah. Night," he said dismissively.
Jackson wasn't going to argue with him. He was certain that his friend needed space, so he was going to give it to him. He stood up and headed for the door, and when he looked back over his shoulder, he watched Wilson turn to face the window, sitting with his back to Jackson.
"Let's go," Tokala said as he opened the door.
With a nod, Jackson left the room, and as the guard closed the door behind them, he headed down the hall to where Damon was waiting.
The Alpha immediately stood up from the couch he'd been sitting on and asked, "How did it go?"
"Fine, I guess," Jackson said with a shrug. He still felt guilty, and he was worried that his and Wilson's friendship wouldn't be the same—he already knew that it would be different...but not so different that Wilson couldn't even look at him for longer than a few moments anymore.
Damon shifted his sights to Tokala, who nodded.
"He's gonna back off," Jackson told Damon. "And he's gonna come with us to the lab."
His mate didn't look very happy about the last part of his sentence, but he didn't huff or snarl; Damon exhaled deeply in what looked like an attempt to stay calm.
"He gets it," Jackson added. "I told him that it's always gonna be you, and he kinda just...backed down, I guess."
"Hmph. Well, what he says and what he does are two very different things," Damon muttered irritably.
"I believed him," he insisted.
Damon sighed and said, "We'll see. We should get some rest."
Jackson nodded in agreement. He was exhausted more than anything else, and sleep was exactly what he needed right now. He just hoped that Wilson wouldn't decide to change his tone overnight; the last thing he wanted was to wake up to him and Damon fighting again. But as guilty as it made him feel, Wilson did seem to understand; he sounded defeated, and he looked utterly heartbroken, but he hadn't fought with Jackson, which he took as a sign that maybe he finally accepted everything Jackson told him.
But the only way to be sure would be to see how he acted tomorrow, and Jackson couldn't help but dread what the morning would bring.
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