Our Hearts Collided (MxM)

Chapter 6

A/N: It's been like 3 weeks, and I'm extremely sorry. Wasn't too happy with how this turned out, but I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. Aside from the usual work and struggling to find time to write, I've also been writing a short story on the side this past two months I can't wait to share, so I was trying to get that finished for a contest so I apologize for the terrible planning on my part. Anyways, here's a longer chapter :) Love you guys <3

Chapter 6

Vince's POV

Saying his name felt like a crime, like it was wrong to say it this freely to someone when it wasn't mine to say anymore. And now that I voiced it, I could feel the weight of it, the sheer thought of him pressing heavily on my shoulders. The feeling lingered, lodged in my throat as Arthur smiled.

"A lovely name," Arthur commented, his pace slowing as we neared one of the doors. "Tell me about him."

Clenching and unclenching my hands, I turned to look at the pack members from the second floor as I leaned over the railing. "Well, he...he's kind."

Arthur hummed, patiently waiting for more as he stood beside me, leaning over the railing too. The members below us were so carefree, kind, and free, just like him. Taking a deep breath, I added, "honest, confident, even. And forgiving, maybe to a fault; especially when it came to me. Truthfully, he'd fit right in here."

He sighed. "There's nothing wrong with being forgiving."

"It is with the shit I've done."

With a smirk, he glanced back at his pack members before turning to open the door behind us. "We all do crazy things."

Scoffing, I turned to him. "Not like this. Unless you had your mate's family murdered, kicked him out and pushed him away for over sixteen years and then some. Not to mention that I—"

"I know what happened." He said under his breath, a melancholic tone in his voice. "With you and your mate."

"You—" I paused, staring at him before it dawned on me. "Michael, of course."

"Yes." He let out a sigh before motioning us inside. "Not everything, but the gist of it."

As I followed him into the room, it appeared to be a small office, maybe a den filled with old books and stacks of papers. "So, he's been here, Michael? Was he here the whole time?"

"He stayed with us a few times over the years. More so when he was younger," Arthur answered, thrumming his hand through books, occasionally stopping to glance at one longer than the others. "After being kicked out, left without his mate, he found some solace here."

"And he told you about me, the pack and what happened to Simon?"

Arthur leaned against the desk with an old book in hand. "More or less, yes."

"And you still don't feel like murdering me?"

He laughed before pushing off the desk, whirling around to open one of the drawers. Curious, I took a few steps forward as he fiddled through the desk, seemingly searching for something there. "Maybe a smack to the head, but no, no murderous intent."

"Fair enough." Watching as he flipped through some papers, he pulled out some old photographs from the drawer. "What's this?"

"Your father often brought Michael around on pack business. A few times he brought you along. Introduced his children to his mate as a jab." Arthur ran his fingers along the old photographs, ones I had forgotten about; we never grew up with our photos on the wall or on the fridge, most remained in boxes in storage. By the looks of them, most had been of Michael, a couple photos with me as an infant. "And once the visits stopped, he sent photos instead. To remind him of his happy family."