. . .
""There is no light without shadow, just as there is no happiness without pain."
— Isabel Allende
. . .
With a startled yelp, Alastor dodges out of the way. His body moving on pure reflex as the blade very nearly scraped on the skin of his cheek, the feeling of silver too hot and to the touch. Like poison.
Like acid.
"KID!" he rages, "What the f–?!"
From the corner of his eyes, Alastor can see the thin blade stuck on the chair just right behind him, glinting meanly against the soft, morning light. Then, his eyes darted back to William who has already turned away to rummage through the fridge... like he hadn't just very nearly made a dartboard right out of Alastor.
"The thing is, I don't generally like people who go after my sister," William begins, after taking out a carton of chocolate milk from the fridge, inspecting its expiration date, "...but you make it hard not to."
Then, he proceeds to chug it down.
This time, it was Alastor's turn to scowl.
"Well?" William prompted once he's done.
"Well, what? Look, I don't know, okay?!"
"That's not an answer," William mutters to his drink, "...but since she's letting you tag along all the way here and for as long as you are doing, no less..."
"...What?"
"Nothing," he shrugged, but at the look on Alastor's face, William quickly relented, "...w-well, I just thought you guys were already dating by now. I mean, aren't you two practically live-in partners at this point? You literally share the same space!"
"Wait. Wait a minute. W-We looked... like a c-c-couple... to you?" Alastor swore he tried not to blush or grin like a kid high on a sugar rush at that, "Dude, you know what your sister is like, and you've been around us for weeks and that's where your brain goes? Seriously?!"
"Yeah," was the simple response.
If only it was that simple though.
"Wait," William blinks, "You mean you guys aren't...?"
This time, Alastor is officially sure he's blushing, "...I thought you don't like me for her," he manages to say, at last.
"I don't like anyone for her."
Okay, first of all... ouch.
Alastor tries not to physically wilt at the rapid-fire way William said it, "But by the end of the day, that's her choice to make, not mine. And..." William suddenly went quiet for a while, only staring down at his milk carton, eyes glazing over, looking almost lost in memories.
Huh.
Winters has that look on her face, too.
"And...?" Alastor prompted, quietly.
"I think she likes you too."
Alastor tries not to feel hopeful at that.
On one hand, he's seriously happy the kid thinks that (William's probably the only person who really knows Alastor's mate so well, after all) but on the other hand, he also doesn't want to get his hopes up... only for it to crash down all over him again.
Besides, while Winters actually talks to him on a much normal basis now compared to how the two of them first started (and from time to time, would even initiate such frustratingly sweet mixed signals—that he couldn't help but think was her twisted way of spiting her little brother at times, not that he's really complaining because William kind of deserves it for being such a brat), she doesn't really show concrete signs of being romantically interested on him.
