Page 114 of Knot All is Forgiven

"Which lowered your inhibitions, Simon," I say as I run my hands through his white blonde hair. "That doesn't mean the underlying desire wasn't there. I care for you."

"I know," he gulps, the motion nearly pressing his lips against mine, "and I care for you too, but this isn't what a pack is supposed to be." He rolls off of me and stares up at the shitty popcorn ceiling of our apartment. "We're supposed to be like brothers, centered around our Omega."

"Who says? Who says that's the only way to be a pack?" My eyes water, and I bite my tongue to stifle the frustrated tears that threaten to spill over. "Three of my dads-"

"And that's wrong!" he nearly shouts. "That's not what packs do."

"Fuck you, Simon!" I'm off the bed in a moment, pacing around my tiny room. Our apartment is shitty, but it's all the three of us can afford. We're still in school, and while we all have small amounts left over from our scholarships, it's not enough to pay for anything nice. We work our asses off to keep a roof over our heads, and it shows in the shitty, water-stained walls of this place.

"I'm serious," I snarl. "Fuck you. There is nothing wrong with the way my dads love one another. You think you'd know that. You have two moms. How can you condemn my dads for the love your moms share?"

"They're not a pack! Packs are centered around their Omegas. Two Alphas together? It doesn't make sense." He buries his face in his hands, shoulders heaving with frustrated breaths.

"Doesn't make sense? What about the way our bodies fit together doesn't make sense? How is the way I melted underyour touch confusing, Simon?" I bite my cheek to stave off the angry, hurt tears that want to spill from my eyes.

"There's no one way to be a pack, Simon."

Silence stretches awkwardly between us. It never used to be this hard to be around one another.

Is everything ruined between us forever?

"What about Cyrus, huh?" He challenges. "This would make him uncomfortable as hell."

"You don't know that! We've never talked to him about it. He may surprise you."

Why am I working so hard to convince him to be with me?

This is embarrassing.

If he doesn't feel the same way about me, I should move on, right?

But how can I?

He's my best friend.

When we lost Jordan, I held him as he sobbed, and Cyrus shut down. When his mom, Momma Lucy, died, I was the one he turned to.

He clutched my hand so tightly at that funeral I thought it'd bruise. But I didn't pull free.

There isn't a world in which I ever would.

Because I love him.

I love him in every way that you can.

But he doesn't care about me, does he?

Not in the way I care about him.

Not in the way I long for him to.

"Never mind," I say,my throat thick with the grief of memories that I buried deep below the surface. "I don't know why I bothered bringing this up."

I slip out from under Jordan, careful not to wake my sweet, tired Omega.

I have to get out of here.

I can't look at him when my heart is breaking. When I'm hanging onto my sanity by a thread, and emotions that I have hidden for almost a decade have decided that they're tired of being forgotten and threaten to drown me.

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