Chapter 1 - Ambrose
March wasn’t his favorite month, just like Thursday wasn’t his favorite day, but as always he’d do his best. April was just a few weeks away, he could resist.
“So, if we subtract x from y we can get…”
Ambrose was taking notes, huffing as one of the colleagues in his row was in a clear crisis, scrabbling on the paper and erasing the pencil immediately after. Weren’t cats supposed to be smart?, he thought, looking at the pointy ears and slim tail. What was so hard to understand? Wasn’t it just a matter of formulas? He solved one problem after the other even before the professor finished explaining the process. Outside it was raining, so much so one couldn’t see anything besides the thick wall of water. Whatever. He moved the closed notebook on the spot next to his, empty as usual, and began doing some self-studying.
The mathematics faculty was one of the hardest, and for the most gifted students. As a matter of fact, they were only 75, but someone had probably paid their way into it –like the guy who was not even paying attention anymore.
The professor dismissed class after half an hour, and Ambrose decided it was a chance to study under the willow tree. If he was to be the first to arrive, then no one would bother sitting next to him. One of the perks of being of a scary species.
He quickly collected his things and bolted, the other students doing their best to avoid even just touching him. Stupid cowards.
The stairs to the garden felt endless, especially under an umbrella that limited his vision. The college’s shadow, usually looming on the ground, couldn’t be found. In the distance Ambrose caught sight of the willow disappearing into the dome, assuring him that inside there wouldn’t be any rain.
His steps fretted and finally, after a couple of minutes of an eager pace, the dome’s automatic doors opened for him. Ambrose put the umbrella in a locker, right next to the entrance, and walked inside the closed garden, where students were already roaming and chatting. There were bushes full of flowers, colors everywhere, and several kinds of bugs minding their own business and buzzing around. It was fascinating to watch, especially for the ones that belonged to those species. Not Ambrose, however. He didn’t want to see his insect.
He glanced at the bench all around the tree’s base, wanting nothing more than to relax under the lovely sound of tapping rain, but there was someone already.
He groaned, disappointed, until he realized that the student would probably leave once he saw him approach. That’s how it was–how afraid of him they were.
So Ambrose began walking. He couldn’t see his face very well -the student was a male one- or his species, because he was behind the tree trunk. The student didn’t move, even if his shadow was showing on the ground. Weird.
Maybe he wasn’t looking down? Ambrose cleared his throat, loudly.
Nothing.
Ambrose caught his breath. It had never happened before.
“I… Uh… Is it okay if I sit here?” It felt strange to ask, but he wanted to avoid any possible fights. He loved that place and didn’t want to be banned from visiting.
No answer.
Oh my God. Please be asleep and not dead. Ambrose took a step forward, sweat beading on his nape. If this guy was dead, then no doubt he’d be blamed like usual when something bad happened.
Up close, this guy was… pretty. The hair was a fiery red, freckles decorating his mocha skin, and his scent reminded him of honey and chestnuts. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling, a sign that he was asleep. He was clearly an alpha, but not for his looks: he had delicate features, not at all angular or muscular like others of his kind. Only his pheromones gave away his class.
His nose was tilted upwards, and his lashes were long… Ambrose found himself mesmerized by the stranger, which was more rare for the fact that he got the chance to be this close to anyone, really–
“BOO!”
Ambrose choked down a shriek, but still fell on his butt. He heard a soft laughter, and when he looked up he saw two lemon yellow eyes checking him out.
“I’m sorry, are you okay? I couldn’t resist.”
His voice was just like he’d imagined: smooth, slightly high-pitched but still with a manly undertone.
Ambrose frowned, because even if this guy was cute he had still got scared as heck. “Are you nuts? What if I’d gotten hurt?!”
“I would’ve taken you to the infirmary. But I said sorry, I didn’t expect you to trip.” He smiled gently and offered Ambrose his hand.
“What are you doing?” Ambrose asked, blatantly confused by the gesture. He looked around, making sure no one noticed, or the stranger would’ve gotten marked too.
“Uh… helping you out? You’re still down there, it looks like you’re sunbathing or something.”
“No, I–” Ambrose got up on his feet, quickly, and dusted himself off. “I have to go. Sorry I bothered you.” It was nice to know there were still nice people around him, but he couldn’t expose them.
“Finnian.”
“What?”
“My name. Finnian Corber.” His eyes were twinkling, and no, no, Ambrose needed to go because he knew that look. Shit, he knew it, he’d seen countless men looking at his mother that way. “And you are?”
“No one.” He walked away so fast, as if the floor was becoming lava by the second, students parting for his passage. Outside the dome, the rain started to pour once more. He didn’t care, he continued walking rapidly, with his calves burning and his eyes stinging.
He was so angry. Why did he have to deprive himself of happiness? It wasn’t fair! The hair was sticking to his forehead, and he had begun sniffing. If he were to catch a cold, he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his mom. Stomping in puddles, between tears in his eyes and getting soaking wet, he reached the bus stop. Sheltered from the rain, he wanted to check if the book had gotten wet. He reached to grab the familiar keychain of the bag, but he found nothing instead.
Oh no. Please no.
Ambrose began checking the bag with rising anxiety, inside and out. I must’ve dropped it. I can’t go back, he might still be there and… and…
The shriek of the bus took him back to earth, and he fitted in with a knot in his throat. Sat down, cold and shivering, he wondered how he could’ve lost the charm. A small cat plushie with angel wings, a gift from his father that he would move from bag to bag, was one of his -if not the- most prized possessions.
Maybe the chain got loose, he wondered looking out the window. Even in that case, he’d still feel guilty. Outside the world was gray, or was it just his mood that made him see things that way? The plants hanging from the buildings weren’t as green, the posters on the bridges weren’t as colorful; it reminded him more of a dark futuristic novel than an ecologic and bright town.
Ambrose stayed up until the very last stop, out of town, out of the countryside. If Nightingale was a town for ‘everyone’, Ravens’ Bay was for only a handful.
The driver stepped on the gas the moment Ambrose went out, leaving him in the middle of a steep road. It wasn’t raining.
At least.
He huffed, but welcomed the familiar path with a lighter heart. There, no one would avoid him like the plague, because they were all the same, in some way or another. The houses were modest, small buildings with only a couple of floors, colorless but drawn over by the local artists; the strings to hold the laundry connected houses from one side to the other, giving a bigger sense of unity. Kids were playing in the streets, some using chalk to draw and others just running around. Despite everything, he liked living there: they all knew each other, were always there to help, and didn’t judge. From time to time a new face would pop up, usually a young mother with a child: it was in those times that the community would really come together, helping them settle.
He lived in a six-apartment building, on the second floor, and he wanted nothing more than to shower and cry. Later, though. He couldn’t let his mama see him sad, or she’d worry and feel guilty.
Ambrose opened the door, and there she was: Deborah was sitting on the sofa, her blonde hair reaching her knees and her eyes were a deep forest green; her red lips stretched in a smile as soon as she saw him. She was always perfectly put, never too comfortable or in disarray. Even now she was wearing a beautiful green dress with a bell skirt.
“You forgot your umbrella?” she asked, getting up. “Hold on, I’ll bring you a towel.”
“No need, I’ll go take a shower. But thanks, mom.” Ambrose took off his shoes and put them out to dry.
“Okay. You want to eat something?” His mother always tried her best and was cheerful, so he didn’t want to put the blame on her for what they were. Maybe it was his fault, his personality.
“I think I’ll wait for dinner.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked away before she could see the sadness in his eyes. Not that the house was that big anyway, but he closed the bathroom door pretty quickly.
He leaned against the wooden surface and sighed. How was he to tell her the news? Only the keycharm one, of course, not the fact that someone had talked to him. God, no. She’d be overjoyed, encouraging him to find this guy again.
As if he could do that.
Ambrose took off his clothes and turned on the shower. In his mind, as the stream washed over his body, he could still see Finnian’s eyes, so lovely and -seemingly- kind. I wonder if he’s as funny as he looks. I wish… I wish I could’ve taken his hand. I bet it was soft.
He took a deep breath and squeezed shampoo into his hand. C’mon, it’s nothing new. You’ve been through this and accepted it. Don’t fall for it again. He ignored his thumping heart and his stinging eyes. No crying, or mom would notice. He decided to think about the math lesson instead, focusing on numbers and letters. It was an old trick he’d learned back in high school. Slowly, his anxiety diminished and his breathing evened.
After the washing, he got dressed and went to the living room. The apartment was rather small, but big enough for two people. His mom was cutting vegetables in the kitchen, humming to herself.
Ambrose took some courage. He didn’t like making his mother sad, but he had to tell her. “Mama.”
She jumped a bit. “Oh! I didn’t hear you!” She chuckled as she put down the knife and cleaned her hands. “What is it?” Her smile disappeared when she saw his serious expression. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No, no. I… I lost dad’s keychain.” He couldn’t even look at her. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, baby, no.” Deborah took his face in her hands. “No, it’s okay.”
“I know it was important to you,” his voice started trembling. “And I still lost it. I am so sorry.”
She kissed his cheek and hugged him. She smelled like vanilla. “I was worried someone had tried hurting you. I can make a similar charm, it’s alright.”
“No, dad made that one for me, it won’t be the same.” Now he was fully crying, even if he had promised himself not to. “I lost his gift…!”
“I’m sure you have something else of his that you can bring along.” She smiled softly, but her eyes were glossy. “I’ll check. Don’t worry, he wouldn’t be mad at you, and neither am I.”
“But I…” Somehow Ambrose felt he’d just lost the only connection he had with his late father.
“Do you understand?” She looked him in the eyes. “Nothing bad happened. You are okay, and that’s what counts for me. Your father is in my heart, as he’s in yours.”
Ambrose sniffed and nodded. “Okay.” He knew that, but it still hurt like hell. The guilt was devouring him from the inside, and little mattered the words of his mother. He probably wasn’t going to sleep well that night.
His mom caressed his face. She could read him so easily, but didn’t push it. “C’mon, help me prepare dinner. Let’s take your mind off those ugly thoughts, hmm?”
