The Seasons

Chapter 42

Winter hated summer more than anything; he hated how warm the temperature would rise and how lethargic he would feel. All he felt like doing was staying locked away in his studio apartment, in front of the fan, drinking away his sorrows.

And that was precisely what he was currently doing; wearing nothing but some loose boxers and socks, he sat in front of the fan with a bottle of vodka in one hand, a half-empty bottle of moonshine seated on the table in front of him with a cigarette in hand. The sun shone through the windows, and although he hated how bright the room was, he despised how stuffy it was if he kept the curtains closed. He had turned on the TV, so he had some semblance of background noise as he took a big swing of the vodka, followed by another swing of Moonshine and then took a big inhale of his cigarette.

His eyes landed on the painting he had tried to start and had left off to the side, the rough pencil sketch on the canvas, and he scowled, turning his back to it. He wasn’t sure why he tried to paint; he wasn’t good enough; they had made that clear. And somewhere, he knew he wanted to practice, to get better, so he could go back with a much better painting, but he was tired.

He was tired of not being good enough for it. For anything, really. So, he decided he would drink and smoke his sorrows away and then, sooner or later, inspiration would strike sooner or later, and he could get back into painting. But he was terrified. Were his dreams of one day having his own art gallery unreachable? It sure looked that way.

He knew he needed to sketch something to keep up muscle memory, but he didn’t know what to sketch, and whenever he tried to pick up his pencil and sketchpad, his mind would go blank. The panic would lead him to throw his sketchpad across the studio as he had done fifteen minutes ago. He stared at it where it lay half open on the ground, the pencil beside it.

There was a soft knock on the door, and he knew who it was. But he really did not want to see him right now, so he scowled. “f**k off, Aether!” he yelled.

There was no reply. Winter was aware of his crippling loneliness and should have been glad that Aether had become attached to him for some reason, but he knew. He knew he would leave him when Aether saw exactly what he was like, underneath it all. So, wouldn’t it be better to push the mer-prince aside while he still held no particular feelings for him, or well, he liked to believe he didn’t have any unique feelings for him?

A few seconds later, the door opened, the hinges creaking, and Winter groaned as he stubbed out his cigarette butt. “I told you to f**k off.”

“Winter,” Aether said, his voice soft and silvery. “I was worried about you.”

“I don’t need your worries,” he snapped, leaning forward on the white couch to grab the moonshine, and he drank straight from the bottle, the almost iridescent liquid sloshing around.

Aether came into view, and Winter dragged his eyes to look up at him; he was wearing a white cropped shirt, with some of his waist covered by the fishnets he wore under the ripped black jeans. His long black hair was tied up in a half-up style, and some strands framed his face; the black beauty spots scattered across his face looked like constellations. Anyone with eyes could see that Aether was beautiful with his androgynous looks. Winter knew that all eyes would be on Aether whenever the two went out.

Aether gently sat beside him on the couch, and since it was a small couch, the two were centimetres apart from one another. He gently pried the bottle from Winter’s fingers and placed it on the table.

“Winter, let’s go outside. The sun is out, and the skies are so blue, its lovely. It’s better than being cooped up inside.”

“No,” he snapped. “My heat is soon anyway. I’m not having it around you again. I don’t want you anywhere near me. We’re not having a repeat of last month.”

“Nothing happened, Winter. You simply fell asleep after Slaine injected you.”

“I don’t care. You’re a f*****g merman. You shouldn’t be reacting to me being in heat. Being around you terrifies me.”

“May I ask why?”

He stared at him incredulously. “You wanna know why? I knew someone, and they were an omega like me. A vampire bit them in heat; somehow, they f*****g bonded. I’m not sure how or why. But they did. Even though they had feelings for one another at the time, I think Chaos and the Moon Goddess had something to do with it. But after five years, the vampire got bored, and they left. And the person I knew couldn’t get rid of the bite; they killed themselves. So, I’m not about to let you bite me when I’m in f*****g heat. Especially when you react to it. So stay the f**k away from me.”

“But I would never hurt you, Winter,” Aether said, frowning as he stared at him.

Winter stared at him, his eyes unfocusing before he shook his head a little to return them to focus. “You say that now. I don’t trust you anywhere near me.”

Aether frowned; he opened his mouth to say something.

“And,” Winter said, slurring his words a little. “Frankly, I would rather walk on a bed of nails and swallow silver than have you be my mate. I don’t know how much more of you I can take. And I don’t know why you can’t take no for a f*****g answer.”

Aether cleared his throat as he stood up. “I think you’ve had too much to drink, Winter. I think you should get some sleep. We can go out on a different day.”

He walked to the door, and Winter heard the shuffling behind him, but he ignored it. Aether placed his sketchbook and pencil on the space beside him before walking out, closing the door behind him.

Winter sighed as he leaned forward, grabbing the Moonshine. This was the right thing to do. Aether may have been hurt by what he said, and that was the goal, but hopefully, he would stay away from him. But as he sat in his empty house and continued getting drunk, he couldn’t forget the look of hurt on the merman’s face.

~*~