Too Much

One Door Closes, Another Opens

Your first prey, as innocent as they were sweet to you. Try as you might, you never truly forget your first love.

The first time you gave your heart over to someone, so willingly, so preciously. Your heart, untattered and unblemished— unlike those who moved it from bust to bust so unceremoniously— weighs so delicately in the palm's of your beloved. It's a childlike feeling that can turn winters into spring.

Though, blind faithfulness; a disastrous effect due to love sickness, is a common product of that benevolent yet youthful ignorance.

Because that's what love rightfully does to you.

Love is a disease meant to revert your brain to mush and your heart to when it would rattle your whole body.

Love is a toxin that effects the lungs and the soul. It coerces your sprite out, only to rip open your eyes and forces you to see that maybe your muse wasn't so perfect for you. That maybe, there was something wrong with the way the world worked and the gusto you felt when thinking of them was all a mistake.

You had to be mistaken. Shit, you wish it were all a dream and that you were as uncaring as they came.

Because if it weren't— if you weren't— those unresolved feelings, those leftover spindles of heart strings, would tug ever so slightly once night came.

And in the silence you'd remember everything.

Every unrequited gesture, every giggle, every shroud, every hour of the day spent next to them.

You'd keep pushing this bittersweet feeling of nostalgia away, keeping it locked in the farthest caverns of your mind. Building up these walls of stone and concrete around it, like a dam trying to hug the water.

But even dams have fissures.

You crack and you crumble, no matter how reinforced your walls may have been.

You always remember your first love. They set the standard, no one truly amounting to your every expectation as much as they had.

So try as you will to find your way, a part of you is always lost with them.

And it's up to you to decide whether or not to locate it again.

Kaleb steps out of the borrowed car onto a gravel path that lead to a quaint porch with an open second story window above it.

The curtains were drawn back as well, Kaleb wondered if his mother never went in his room to close them in all the time that he'd been away. He huffs in annoyance, worrying about the possible water damage caused because of his mother's negligence.

Kaleb makes his way onto the wooden flooring of the plain porch with ease and steps up to a screen door. Opening it up with a creek he grabs the handle to the large wooden door and twists the knob.

His mother had left the door unlocked and told him to come right in over then phone when he landed in the airport.

It's like I never left, he thought.

The dim hallway that was lined with old family photos, still opened up into a wood and yellow flower wallpaper styled kitchen. Not a thing was out of place, just how momma liked it.

He started opening the cupboards, saddened to see only one of every dish. He's left his mother alone for far too long.

Every once in a while this feeling of unease would bubble up and resurface within Kaleb while he was away. His mom was all alone in this two bedroom house. The memories of her first marriage and her and Kaleb's happy years together as a family must have been hard for her to manage all by herself.

A sudden need to curl up somewhere cozy and snuggle into the scent of his moms detergent washed over him.

Kaleb walked past the dining room and bathroom on his way to the living room where the same decade old leather couches lay in a familiar pattern, although more deflated and worn than he remembered.

He sat down at his spot, near the entrance of the living room, where he had a perfect view of the TV and front door at the same time.

He noticed that there were more photos propped along the mantle, photos he recognized as images from the album up in his room.

There were pictures of him and friends, his mom and his father, family photos, some with the whole pack, and few just of places his mother must have gone on her travels.

Kaleb made a mental note to ask his mother about her adventures when she came back. He smiled at the thought of being able to see her bubbly self again.

Though, as soon as the smile flickered on his face, it disappeared.

He was only there for a week. A whole week filled with nothing but bobbing and weaving one specific person, the one he left behind all those years ago.

Kaleb wasn't weak. Years in the city made for thick skin. He wasn't the same scrawny teenager from seven years ago. He was built—but not massive—he had a sturdy and muscular frame sculpted atop wide thighs. He wasn't bodybuilder-size but you could tell he worked on himself. 

He knew how to defend himself, knew how to use the inhuman strength of his kind to his advantage. He was smarter, quicker, all around better than the kid who left his home behind.

But he knew as soon as he held the gaze of those cutting jade green eyes, all of that progress would go down the drain.

It wouldn't be seven years in the future anymore, it would be the day before Dimitri's 18th birthday, where the goodbyes never left their tongues and where secrets stayed suspended in the air.

Kaleb knew he wouldn't last longer than a second if he saw Dimitri now. He's been successfully keeping himself safe for all these years, but he couldn't keep lying to everyone and saying he was over his mate. Kaleb knows exactly what will happen when he lets Dimitri rule his day and night again, and that scares him shitless.

He'll make Kaleb smile, he'll lick his wounds, he'll forgive and forget, because that's the kind of wolf Dimitri was. No matter how rude, arrogant, or selfish Kaleb was, Dimitri always sacrificed himself.

That was the whole reason why Kaleb left, the whole reason why Kaleb thought he had to protect him. He didn't want Dimitri to stoop himself so low and throw away what he could have just to make Kaleb happy.

Kaleb didn't want that.

And he knew Dimitri didn't want him.

First loves rarely end the way you want them to, but sometimes, on rare occasions, the universe knows when a bond is too beautiful to lose hope on.

Kaleb was never one to believe in fate, he said it was too predictable, and one thing he hated, without fail, was predictability.

But there was always this one mutt who seemed to defy all expectations so predictably.

And that was Kaleb's first love.

"Ms. Myers?" a door opened.