Mated to Morpheus

MTM.39

disappointing from a parent's perspective

Morpheus lead me through the hallway, and as much as Morph sulked at our departure, his unswerving attempts at sweet-talking his way to an invitation had failed. And, even though I badly wished that I could say he was denied easily and politely, I would be downright lying. Morpheus did not hesitate one bit to say no to him again, and then again, and then again.

On our way out from the abandoned office, I managed to squeak an apology.

Sorry!

It wasn't odd for me to be overwhelmed, especially with a topic as heavy as Morpheus. Throw some Gods into the mix. And, that was my situation. It wasn't exactly meant to be taken lightly, or at least there was no way that I—a human who was first taught to respect werewolves for their caring nature and then was promptly brainwashed into believing that they are not trustworthy because they could easily swallow me whole in mere seconds without any second thoughts—could take it lightly. There was always more than one thing on my mind, and usually, they stayed there. My head was never not full with lingering, nagging, and unabating thoughts.

However, as we headed closer towards the dining room, I had a split second of realization. But, it wasn't me discovering a secret, or even figuring out a mystery that had been bothering me. Actually, as odd as it sounds, I just couldn't shake away the unnerving feeling that I was forgetting something, or perhaps ignoring something. Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, that feeling was quickly masked beneath immense awe as I was introduced to even more unexpected living areas, ones that I thought already existed elsewhere and ones that didn't exactly seem necessary.

Two offices, but I considered that feature an uncommon one, only because of Morpheus' unpleasant attitude towards it. Two dining rooms, which seemed a little absurd, because, why not just eat with the rest of the pack? An abundance of bathrooms, littered in private bedrooms and in more than enough public spaces. They were everywhere. Excessive, that was the best word to explain it, the perfect word. It was like, what's next? A private kitchen?

The size of his personal floor was still incredibly shocking, you could describe it as a box of surprises that continued to be opened, and each time it would reveal something that I was not used to. Although, you could link that to the fact that I'm from an extremely small family, and that I've never exactly been a social butterfly.

When I was younger, I was the kid that would leave a sleepover right before the sun began setting, the kid who didn't want to host birthday parties, and the kid who always checked 'No' on the permission slips for field trips. And, to be truthful, it wasn't always like that, and it's not that I wanted it to be that way, but that's just how it was. That was reality. That was normal. But, there was reasons behind why, and I only truly understood them when I grew older. You know? My father wasn't able to pick me up most mornings because of work hours that he needed to take or because he was sleeping in from the late night before. He also really wasn't that good of a planner, nor did he want to be, and I don't think I wanted him to be one. And, he was always gone off somewhere when I needed his signature. Besides, after a while, I was no longer disappointed about missing anything. And, I became content with those aspects of my life.

To sum it up, I wasn't used to being in a big family, or many close groups, and that's what living in a pack has been like for centuries. Instead, I was used to living in a two-storey house with just enough space for our things. And, for a seemingly short while, it was just the three of us. Until, the members of our tight-knit family permanently shrunk to two.