Be Whatever You Need

I trail after Alastair who storms out of the classroom. When we are alone in the empty hallway, he turns on me. "I don't need your help. I'll get my grade up on my own," he tells me curtly. "Just tell her we studied together and get your extra credit."

After weeks of ignoring me, this is the first thing he decides to say? "If you were going to lie to her anyways, why not just use your magic to cheat on the tests too?" I retort hotly.

His mask of annoyance is covered momentarily by surprise, before returning to indignation. "I would never be dishonest for my own benefit."

"Well, neither would I, so if you want to retake those tests, it looks like you are stuck with me."

He huffs slightly. "Fine. Let's go to the library." Then he spins on his heels and begins to walk away from me. I grab his wrist. He flinches under my grasp, and I pull back as if burned by hot coals.

"Wait, Alastair. I've been trying to give you space, but if— if you're mad at me…" He folds his arms across his chest, closing himself off to me. Goddess this is hard. "If I did something wrong, please just tell me what it is."

"You want to know what you did wrong?" he whispers before chuckling mirthlessly. "Fine. Werewolves and witches are natural enemies. One of your kind killed my sister. I was wrong to think we could ever be friends."

For a moment, I'm transported back in time, and I can see Alastair the way I once did: as an aloof snob who couldn't be bothered to look down to wipe a bug off his shoe. The bug being me as he crushed me underfoot. It hurts me to see him so detached and cruel, but a part of me knows that isn't the real him. "You don't mean that," I whisper.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Yes, I do." I take a step towards him. "I know you're trying to push me away right now by saying we shouldn't be friends. I know you try to understand and help others even when you're in pain. I know you believe in peace and the treaty—"

"The treaty is flawed!" He steps away. "Apparently allies don't help each other bring justice to murderers."

"Ross." My expression darkens.

"That's right, Ross," he spits. "And guess how much your mate is doing to find him?"

"He's not my mate!" After so many weeks of not having to hear that bullshit anymore the mere mention of it sets me off.

Alastair draws back, surprised by my outburst. Did he genuinely not know? What is going on with his powers? Is he too overwhelmed to process everything right now or is there something seriously wrong? I don't think he would answer any of my questions right now, so I push those anxieties to the side, focusing on what he needs to hear.

"He's not my soulmate," I say a bit more softly, reaching for him. "So, please Al, stop pushing me away."

He doesn't pull back when I touch his arm, but his hands are trembling. "C— Cam... I— I can't. We can't—"

"I know. I'm not asking you to." I take a step towards him, begging with my eyes for him to listen to me. "I just want to be your friend, to help you in any way I can. Read my thoughts if you don't believe me," I test gently.

Alastair searches my face, hesitating. I can see a battle warring in his dark violet eyes right now, but, without their light lavender glow, I don't think he is reading my mind. Is he trying? Testing? Finally he says, "I— I can't. It took me so long to dig myself out, I can't go back there right now. I'm sorry."

Something clicks in my head at his words. I think I understand what's going on.

"Hey," I gently guide his chin up until he is looking me right in the eyes. "Didn't you once tell me you can feel what I feel?" I play my one trump card. "Can't you feel how sincere I'm being right now?"

He pulls away. "That's the problem, Cam!" I blink rapidly, surprised. He paces the hallway, continuing to speak lowly. "Whenever you're nearby I can feel you. All your guilt, anger, and pain. Why do you think I'm failing precalc? Why are your feelings so intrusive?" A single tear rolls down his cheek.

I'm stunned just as much by his outburst as I am by the extent of his powers. Before, he only hinted that sensing my emotions was a passive ability, just like hearing the thoughts of his coven. I can't help but feel incredibly guilty for the weeks of grief he must have experienced through me. Not to mention dealing with the thoughts of his coven on top of his own thoughts and emotions. No wonder he appeared so defeated—so crushed— every day.

"I'm so sorry, Al," I whisper.

He laughs bitterly. "I know."

"But then… you should also know how worried I've been about you." I take a careful step towards him. "You should know how much I care about you."

"That's— That's what you were feeling when… then too. It was so overwhelming, feeling how concerned you were for me when all I wanted to think about was…"

I nod. "I know and I'm so sorry. I was in denial and trying to avoid my real feelings. I realize that now. But I'm not anymore and maybe it's selfish of me, but I still want to be there for you. I want to do whatever—be whatever—you need."

I am surprised by my own admission. What I feel for Alastair is miles away from what I felt for Davy. Not in a sexual or even romantic way, but in a deeper, more emotional way. While the thought of changing for Davy, fulfilling his needs, terrified me, I feel no fear when I'm with Alastair. Somehow, I know that he would never ask anything of me that I wasn't willing to offer.

On the contrary, I think he might even... bring out the best in me. Just being near him, listening to his music last week, talking to him again, it's calming. The past few weeks I've been like a boat tossed on a stormy sea, flipping through emotions faster than Dad flipping through TV channels. But he gives me stability. Clarity. Purpose.

"You won't want that once you know who I really am." His quiet admission amplifies the distance between us. My chest squeezes at his words. It pains me to hear how little he thinks of himself. I think it's the guilt talking and I want to tell him it isn't true. I want him to see himself the way I see him: so pure and kind. I want to tell him, but I suspect my words alone won't convince him.

"Please, Al, believe me. You refuse to read my mind, so instead trust in my feelings for you. I care about you. I promise… I'll be better—stronger—for you. I won't be a burden anymore."

"Oh Cam," He touches my cheek tenderly, hurt filling his expression. "Please don't say that. You're not a burden. I'm the prob—"

"No. Stop. You can't say I haven't been a burden. This past month, I've only thought about myself and I've let myself drown in negative emotions."

"You're just grieving," he whispers. "It's normal. Believe me, I would know.

"Yeah, but I hurt you in the process, and for that I'm sorry. But I promise, I'll be stronger from now on. I want to be stable—reliable for you."

"Cam… disregarding the fact that you shouldn't have to be strong—or whatever it is you think you are doing—for my sake, you can't possibly control what you will think or feel all the time."

"This conversation feels familiar," I smirk. "But you were right then and you're right now. I can't control my mind all the time, but... I was also right, then and now. When I'm with you, I don't need to try. It's easy, as long as you don't push me away."

He pulls back slightly, but I gently keep him close with a hand on his forearm.

"I know you don't believe me right now, and I don't have the best track record, but I'll prove it to you, if you let me." I take a deep calming breath and focus my thoughts on my concern for Alastair, my tender feelings which help keep the anger and resentment at bay. "Let me help you, even if it's only with precalculus."

He nibbles his lip.

"After all, I'm told there is no tutor more qualified than me," I joke.

Then I see it. It is so fast, blink and you'll miss it, but just for a moment…

He smiles.