Mateless: A Short Story

Five Years Later

"Rony."

I looked up from my desktop, my laptop long since asleep with my notebook open with a few plotlines jotted in pen. I'd spaced out again.

Robin nodded to the side. "The show's on," she said softly, dressed warmly in her lazy clothes.

I nodded, too tired to even mumble a reply. Looking back at the dark computer screen, the soft locking of the door sounded clearly in my ears. It was early in the morning and, as habit dictated, Robin and I were up to see the media's review of my concert last night. I looked at my tired reflection for a moment longer before, piqued, closing the laptop. I shut my notebook and shoved it aside. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to look at my writer's block in the eye right now. I wanted to feel something...but five years was a while and I didn't want to write anything for the sake of it.

Despite the screeching of my fans, and the wonderful news of the rising advocacy in various socio-political circles across the Continent, I wasn't an impulsive type. I was an artist. I made masterpieces. So, if I felt nothing, even if the world has to wait another year since Beckoning, they'll wait. With that, I grabbed my tea mug and left my study for the living room. By the time I reached, I saw that I'd missed the beginning of the show.

Robin didn't turn to look at me. "You haven't missed much. Just the OP."

"'K. How's our cover?"

"Clear," she replied as usual as I sat by her.

My identity was still in the clear after yesterday's concert. Despite it being five years since I came out to the world as Elrond Moon, no one knew what my face looked like. Starting two years back, Mateless, the musician, was born and I didn't hide that Moon and Mateless were the same person. It got a bit more challenging to keep my skin on me, but we survived. And, as it was, no one had yet to know who I really was. Being an Omega sometimes had its benefits.

The ratings were good and the album was selling well. There was the usual yelling of those who couldn't host my concerts in their regions due to their leaders' stand on my ideals, and yelling from the haters themselves; and there was the love. Love, love, and more love. On the show, to my surprise and happiness, a gay couple actually had the honors of sharing how my work- especially Beckoning- had influenced their lives. It made my morning.

I opened my Twitter; posting my response.

"Oh- look at this! Elrond has posted a response on Twitter!"

The show had my post put up on the overhead screen with the show's logo in the background of the lounge setting and the couple beamed, applause arising from the audience and hosts.

I smiled.

After our reviewing was all over, it was lunch time. I looked over to my manager, Robin. "I'm going to train some then eat. You can go ahead."

She nodded. "I need to pass by the office anyhow. Any break-through?"

I shook my head, frowning at the reminder. I loved to write- more than I did making music- but I couldn't write just then. "I just can't right now. Maybe it's not time."

"Maybe you don't have enough inspiration. That's it." She sprung up from the couch and marched to the kitchen with new-found vigor, both of our mugs at hand. "We're going out for dinner. Maybe you'll see something- or someone- that'll give you succulent ideas."

I drily eyed her insinuating tone and expressions. "Robin. It's too early for this."

She raucously laughed. "Come on Rony! When was the last time you weren't rehearsing for a concert, working on your album, and/or hiding from the public eye? Weeks! It's been weeks! I'm not surprised you can't focus."

As much as I'd like to overlook it...she had a point. As lovely as the story ideas I had were, they were lifeless. Copycats. Hurried. I deeply sighed, shutting my eyes. I need a vacay. Badly.

"You're still in recovery," she said gently as she worked about the kitchen to serve her combination of our dinner leftovers. "This is your third CD. If you suddenly go quiet, no one will question you. At best, people will be brainstorming your plotline."

Another valid point. Nodding, I turned to leave. If I wanted a break-through, I needed to break through the wall myself. "I'll be in the basement."

"I'll be in the office by the time you get out," she shouted after me as I got further away since we couldn't use the mental link. Those who could use the link were related by blood, mated to each other, or were leaders of their pack and hence could contact their pack members. "Call me if you need anything."

I opened my bedroom door. "'K!"