In a Heartbeat (MxM)

Chapter 43

A/N: Sorry it's a bit late, lol. I'm super pumped about writing chapter 45 so I kinda dragged out writing this chapter. Anyways, thanks for all the support, it means a lot, even if most of the comments are about hating Vince LOL.  Enjoy, and don't forget to comment, vote, follow, etc. 

Oh, and if you're living in the U.S., and are able to, please VOTE vote. Like honestly, it's super important given the financial,  environmental, social, and basically everything ending in -al situation. Go to them polls, do them mail-in absentee forms! Just VOTE! We're less than two weeks away, so it's super important to get them in ASAP. Thanks for listening to my quick TED talk ;)

Trigger warning: Mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts.

Chapter 43

Vince's POV

There had been, at one point in time, a moment in which I had thought about what my life would be like with Simon as my mate. Of course, I had been completely drunk off my ass, and although I don't remember all the details, I do remember the intense emotions I felt that night.

Father had been spouting his incredibly high and bullshit expectations for the alpha role again for the umpteenth time since I turned eighteen, insisting that I'd need to follow so I wouldn't end up like Michael. Meanwhile, I just wanted to celebrate my birthday like anyone else, with friends, and some under-aged drinking. Sarah had been out on a trip with her parents to one of the southern packs, so I had planned on drinking with Lucas and the boys. But instead, I had to listen to my father's tirade, as they all went out to watch a movie without me.

So after I finally got father to stop talking about how much of a disgrace Michael was, I decided to party by myself, in which I planned on getting completely wasted so I could forget about alpha duties for the night.

It hadn't been the first time I drank underaged, but I was a lightweight in comparison to what I could tolerate nowadays. I don't remember how many bottles of alcohol I consumed, but I do remember sitting on the steps of the packhouse, tossing the empty ones into the bushes.

I couldn't have been on such a high prescription of suppressants at the time, because although not being able to feel the bond between Simon, my wolf was definitely still around, scolding me every now and then when we passed by him or his family. He had definitely gotten weaker since we turned sixteen, but I could still feel him, urging me to approach Simon.

And maybe that was my mistake that night. From the very first bottle, my wolf had been begging me to see him, and after indulging in numerous bottles, I guess he took the lead, pushing past my blurry and stumbling mess of a conscious to walk himself there without me holding him back.

I don't remember the trip there, or how I possibly got there without busting my ass or passing out. But I do remember Simon's home. His home was still lit, the yellow glow of lights like a lighthouse amongst the rest of the dark neighborhood. I remembered the sounds of his family there, celebrating someone's birthday, and the sound of children's laughter. The smell of homemade pizza was so strong that I could almost taste it from there.

I remember how creepy it seemed of me to be standing by their fence, my wolf taking in the same sights and sounds, watching through their kitchen window as our mate held the newest addition to their family, Stephen, with one of those cheap cone hats that was amusingly oversized for his head. It must've been his first birthday, one of the younger boys shoving cake into his face.

And maybe it was my wolf, but I could've sworn that I could feel the same happiness that Simon was feeling from the kitchen. The sounds of his laughter reverberated as if he was standing right next to me, the feeling of warmth washing over me as if I was a part of their family's party.