Haven (Paul Lahote Fanfiction)

Fears

This morning, Paul answered all my questions and cleared all my doubts about this wolf stuff. I still didn't understand why he shook so much.

Now it was late afternoon, the sun just beginning to hide behind the horizon. All the snow had melted away, nothing left to indicate last night's freezing temperature. I had an undesirable cold, but I know it will be gone in the next two days.

I was feeling a little lazy today. I was working in my bed, papers sprawled in front of me, my laptop propped against my thighs, my back pressed to the bed. Paul was supposed to be back any moment now. He had said this is when his 'patrol shift' got over. It was still shocking to know that I already had someone who I would spend the rest of my life with. It was reassuring to know that you had something permanent in your life.

Paul returned after fifteen minutes, wet and soaking, only in a pair of shorts and crocs. I heard his heavy footsteps thudding up the stairs. "Hey." He said, when he cracked open the door to my bedroom to find my awake. He came forward and leaned over me, his lips brushing mine. I inhaled deeply. "Ew." I whispered unintentionally, the word just slipping from my mouth when we broke apart.

"What?" He asked, clearly offended. "Umm, nothing." I shook my head. "You don't just say "ew" and then say it's nothing. Tell me." I swallowed. "No offence, I love you, but you stink right now." After a moment of silence, Paul burst out laughing. "Okay. I'm sorry. It was so muddy and everything in the forest was wet. Mind if I take a shower?" He asked. "No of course not." I answered.

"I have a concern." I paused when he turned to look at me. "Regarding you." I added. "Yes?" He asked. "Why do roam around on the street half naked?" I asked. "I'm fairly sure every other person turns to look at you."

"Well, I can't help how attractive I am." He replied cockily, tilting his head to the side, flashing a brilliant smile, whilst spreading his arms wide. I pressed my lips together and nodded, suppressing my smile. "Yes, but the least you can do is wear a shirt." He walked forward, coming close to me. I held my arm up, and my other hand covered my nose. "Stand back." I said in a commanding tone. "Seriously, I'll die." I supplied. He held up his hands. "It's hard enough to carry pants with me on patrol, you want me to carry a shirt too?" He asked. "Oh." I said as I understood. "Alright, fair enough. But do me a favour and ignore if someone looks at you and giggles."

"Hmm." he said, rubbing the back of his neck, pretending to really think about it. "Okay." He grinned and winked, before walking to the bathroom. My heart skipped a beat.

Paul was lying next to me, stroking my arm as I gazed at his face. His hair was wet from the recent shower, and was sticking to his forehead. The rings around his eyes had faded, the hollows under his cheekbones shallower. His lips were parted, his warm breath blowing gently on my forehead. "I have been meaning to ask you this." He spoke softly. "Why did you break up with me in the first place, if you liked me all along?" I tensed. Suddenly I could hear my heart beat in my ears. I stayed silent for a short while before responding.

"My mom used tell me that there was nothing in the world that she loved more than me. She would say that God had been very kind to her and blessed her with an angel. I believed it. Naturally, I believed all of it. Secretly, I think I felt superior to all the kids in playschool because I felt none of their mothers loved them as much as mine loved me. I was four at the time. She started saying it so frequently, it hummed in the back of my head and I began to say it back just as often. I would be going off to school and she would say, "Je t'aime." She would be returning from the hospital and I'd be giving her one of the drawings that I made her, she would lift me up and kiss my cheek and tell me she loves me."

"She passed when I was five and a month later, we moved to the U.S. Now, instead of staying in my mother's family house, we stayed at my father's. It was him, my grandmother, and I. My father thought it would be better for me to forget and move on. He also felt that since I had only one parent now, he had to love me for the both of them. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know my mother wasn't coming back." I began crying, tears streaming down my face in uncontrollable dense waves. "My grandmother told me all this, what my father was feeling, what he was trying to do to shelter me from her loss."

"My father brought more women in my life. He knew no one could replace my mother, but he... you get it. Mandy and I grew closer then. My father would take me everywhere, leave work in the middle to pick me from school. We would go to diners and he would give me all the quarters in the world and I would play random songs on the jukeboxes kept on our tables."

I was crying my eyes out now. I thought Paul must be wondering how my sad life story was related to why I broke up with him. He just pulled me closer, my face pressed to his chest. He placed a kiss on my forehead and rubbed my back gently. I could feel his heat warming my skin. "He became sick, mentally sick, after a year of my mother's death. He passed a few months after my sixth birthday. He was trying so hard to make me happy, to make sure there wasn't a thing I didn't have in the world. I wish I could tell him I was happy already." Memories flashed before my eyes. I was at his funereal, Rick had me in his arms and I had buried my face in his neck.

"Then I moved back to Strasbourg. My grandma and I lived there, alone for the first two years and then Mandy and Rick moved in with us. Mandy, Rick and my parents, they met in college. They all were together, studying business." I wiped at my eyes and sat up, away from Paul, looking at him. His eyes were sad "Anyway. Don't love anyone because they die." I said in a hoarse whisper. This is what held me back, tied my stomach in awful knots when someone came to close.

"So, you have a fear of death?"

"No, not a fear of death. Death happens all the time." I shook my head in a slow manner, my hair bouncing around my shoulders. "Fear of attachment. Cause everybody I love dies. I experienced it thrice."

"Thrice?" He asked.

"My parents and my grandma."

"Oh."

I nodded my head. "But I trust this," I gestured between us with my hand. "Because you are immortal and stuff."

"Not totally immortal."

"So does your wolf-ness wear off? Is it the moon?" I asked tiredly.

"I'm immortal, until I stop phasing, by choice, for good."

"Then I hope you never stop phasing." He chuckled and reached for my hand, I let him take it. "Anyways, I broke up with you because I didn't want you to die. Because of my stupid fear." I let out a humourless laugh. "I could have just told you that instead." He tugged on my hand and I was pulled forward, my face pressing into his chest. "No. I'm glad you told me. And it's not stupid. Everybody has their own thing. But I just want you to stop blaming yourself, its nowhere near your fault that your parents passed."

"Thanks. Let's talk about something else." I didn't want to take this further.

"Of course. We can talk about anything you want." He whispered into my hair, his warm breath tickling me.

"What's going on in your head?" I asked, as I looked up at him from under my lashes. My lips reached his jaw, and I fought the urge to kiss him.

"All my thoughts are of you. But you already knew that, did you not?