Chapter GABRIEL #7
I cast off the line first, then we both head to the helm station. I use Veyron’s keys and start the yacht. I’m not highly experienced, but I manage to pull away from the dock smoothly enough. I don’t notify the harbor office, since Veyron rents this berth and can come and go as he pleases.
As I do all of it, my head is in turmoil, and I have no idea what just happened.
I had my little rant, my confession, and nothing came out of it… how weird.
At least he wasn't furious, like during my other attempts to get closer… that's progress, right?
Blue moves to the port side and looks out over the ocean, the wind shifting the strands of his bangs and the section of hair near his ear.
He keeps his eyes on the water, and that same faint tension is still there in him.
Ehhh, what to do?
I guess I have to ask directly, because sooner or later my confusion will become too unbearable.
"And you, umm… if there’s something you’d like to tell me, I’m listening. I’ll adjust."
"I’m still thinking it all through, but you’ll know the result of that thinking," he says.
Well.
So it has to be enough for now.
Patience!
We drift farther and farther from shore, the blue opening up into endless space, the scent of the ocean filling our lungs.
For a long stretch, we just keep moving until the marina fades behind us and the land disappears in the distance, leaving us surrounded by nothing but open water.
It grows calmer, as if the world’s problems are slipping away from us.
Eventually, I decide we’re far enough from land, so I shut off the engine, step away from the controls, and move to stand beside Blue.
We may as well use the time to have less business-like chats, since we're on a nice yacht, right? Why make it all serious? It's an opportunity to get to know each other.
So I tilt my head, watching him.
"Your name fits this place pretty well," I say with a smile, and for the first time today, Blue responds with a faint smile.
"It does."
"Did your parents name you because of your hair?"
Blue nods. "I was born as… an accident. My dad was already forty-five and they weren’t planning on having more kids.
Even Jacob, who’s four years older, wasn’t exactly planned.
When my dad found out about the pregnancy, he was pretty down about it, since he thought he was through with having children, and had health issues.
My father was quite happy though, he secretly wanted more kids, but knew my dad was done with this stage of his life.
When I was born, I had light blue hair. My dad went through what they call baby blues, and eventually they decided that the word blue kept surrounding me, so they named me that, even though they usually preferred more classic, heavier names like Jacob, Victor, or Sebastien. "
"Yours definitely stands out. But it suits you. A lot of people in your family have unusual hair colors."
"Yes, there’s a bit more alien lineage in us than average," he says, another small, almost sly smile forming.
"Same with us. Though in our case, most people have chestnut or red shades."
Blue falls silent for a moment, then suddenly asks, "Do you think your brother is a shifter?"
I blink in surprise. "No. Why would you think that?"
"He just… gave me that impression, based on what he said."
I stay silent, feeling a bit confused.
"Does he have any kind of pet in his dorm?"
"Nope, they’re not allowed. Why?"
"James was sneezing like crazy around him. He’s allergic to a lot of types of animal fur. Cats for example."
"Maybe Marlow visited someone who had pets?"
"Maybe. Anyway, it’s just something I picked up between the lines. I could be wrong. But if you have such an unusual ability like predicting five seconds into the future, then your family must have some exceptional genes."
"I once told you that my cousin Snow has a similar gift, except his is more like a powerful intuition about events far in the future, sometimes even years ahead. He’s also especially good at sensing danger."
Blue slowly nods, his thin finger placed on his lower lip.
"That’s interesting. The genetics of our population are still so poorly understood. They’ve always fascinated me."
Silence settles between us again. I look at him, the wind moving strands of his hair across his cheek. My gaze drifts to his forearm resting on the railing, his fingers curled tightly around it.
I feel an overwhelming urge to touch him, to have him touch me. It’s almost suffocating, desperate.
It's so frustrating that in that aspect we seem to be on opposite ends.
I love touch, and he hates it… or does he?
The silence stretches.
Blue keeps looking out at the ocean. I fight with myself, paralyzed by fear. Why does courage come so easily to me with others, yet disappear completely when I’m with him?
Suddenly, Blue turns and heads below deck.
Not knowing what prompted it, I follow him.
He goes straight to the bedroom.
Without warning, he lies down on the bed on his side, facing the wall, his back to me.
Standing there, staring at him, I blank out.
What is the meaning of this? Did I do something wrong?
I don’t understand a thing, and then… he starts speaking.
"When I was fifteen, during one of our family gatherings, my father asked me how I saw my future."
I realize that Blue wants to tell me about something from his past.
Quietly, I lie down on the bed behind him, but without touching him.
He still faces away from me.
"I told him I wanted… a family. Children. Preferably several."
Wow, I didn’t see that coming, family? That was his dream?
Not in a million years would I have been able to guess that.
There is a short pause, and only now does it start to sink in just how much the shooting range incident must have affected him, maybe even more than I suspected.
Blue continues, his voice even, almost devoid of emotion.
"My father got irritated. He asked what that was supposed to mean. Did I want to be a househusband? Sit at home and change diapers instead of doing something important, building a career, growing the family empire?"
I have no words. I don’t know what to say. But I low-key tremble, because Blue does not say all of this without a clear purpose and I can only guess what it is.
"I told him that, to me, that would be something equally important. And that he, himself, wanted a big family. But he ignored me and kept ranting about having a great career. I decided not to bring it up around him again because I didn’t want to listen to his lectures." Blue lets out a quiet sigh.
"A few months later, I was at a shooting range with Victor. There was a group of people there learning how to shoot. One of them fired badly, the bullet ricocheted, and it hit me… in the abdomen."
I see his hand resting against his side. I want so badly to take it, but for now I only manage to gently stroke his shoulder blade. Like a very light touch.
A moment of silence. He doesn't move, doesn't react to my touch.
"They thought I wouldn’t make it. The bullet tore through my uterus and internal gonads.
I spent two months in the hospital, going in and out of comas.
I looked like a corpse. My parents were already preparing themselves for the possibility that I wouldn’t survive.
They brought in the best doctors, and eventually one of them really took charge and pulled me through the worst of it.
Unfortunately, sepsis attacked my glands. They had to be removed."
"I’m so sorry, Blue…"
"That’s the past. It can’t be changed. You don’t need to say that, those are just the facts," he says, dry, almost defensive.
I open my mouth to say something, but he's quicker.
"The recovery was long, and my psyche… fell apart. Slowly, the consequences of what happened started to sink in. That I would never be able to have children. That I wouldn’t develop like other omegas, that my hormone levels would be low.
That I would never go into heat, or build nests.
That I might have trouble using AO vocalizations, that my sense of smell could be weaker, and I wouldn’t be able to sense others’ Allure or find my True Mate that way…
that entire world was lost to me. And it was a lot. "
Gathering courage, I gently trace my fingers over his shoulder blade again. The touch again, very light, although a bit more palpable than the last one.
Blue stays silent for a moment.
"Then came rebellion. Anger. Like my brothers, I was homeschooled, but I became a nightmare for my teachers.
Disrespectful, refusing to learn, ignoring them.
Then I got close to two omega teenage sons of our butler, who would sometimes come into the kitchen in our mansion.
Cigarettes, alcohol, then weed. I did all of it.
After that, they brought me stronger drugs… "
I hear that in a certain state of shock. This part of his story I would never have suspected.
"Wow. It’s hard to imagine you having… a phase like that. Looking at you now."
"I had anger in me, Gabriel. Immense. My parents noticed everything, of course. They were furious and, in despair, tried to forbid it, but I didn’t care.
I found ways around their rules, sneaking out, meeting those omegas, getting whatever they had.
One day I went too far. I woke up in the hospital. "
"An overdose?"
"Yes. I almost died again. Maybe that was the turning point."
"I’m sorry… that you were hurting. So much…" I have an upsetting feeling that my words come out too flat. He deserves more.
"Still, even after I woke up, I told my father I hated him. That his fucking wish had come true, that I would never be an omega sitting at home with children…"
I need to do something, show him more compassion, but I struggle with finding ways to do it within the boundaries he set for us. I only gently stroke his back again, greatly shocked by the whole situation, that he’s opening up like this.