One year. Mateo was unaware that it was precisely a year to the day since he'd spoken to his brother. He had muddied memories of that day, in the apartment he'd never meant to stay in forever, feeling like a caged animal. Fresh off a shift he'd done with Ingrid, instead of Iago. How he'd come in to do him the favor of telling him the information he'd failed to, at the behest of Ingrid, and not because he wanted to.
He barely remembered what he told him. Vampires, maybe. Something about animals, mind control. About getting stuck when you shift, Remembered getting mad about... well, everything. About not being warned. Iago making some excuse about Mateo being suspicious. It didn't fucking matter anymore. Didn't matter if he knew what the fuck was coming or not. It was going to happen, eventually. No way around it. Either they'd fight, and Iago would have shifted, or Mateo would have found out too much and gotten turned to keep the fucking secret. Either way, he didn't think there was anything that could have changed what happened.
That didn't mean there wasn't another way it could have gone. If Iago had just owned up to it, had tried to help, then maybe things would be different. He still didn't really get it. On a basic level, yeah, maybe. It was a big thing, he knew he wouldn't know what the fuck to do if he turned someone himself. Knew it would be fucking hard. But that wouldn't stop him from trying, would it? Especially not if it was his brother. But not Iago.
Mateo wasn't saying he was perfect. He was fucking far from it. And he knew he could be trouble. But he didn't think it was enough to go radio silent for a fucking year. He remembered what his brother told him. Call if you need anything, as he was placing a boot against his back as he pushed him at the door. Only to never say another word to him. Knew now that it was probably Sokol that Iago'd moved into the apartment. Sokol, who was apparently the leader of the Pride, but didn't give two fucking shits about a stray lion staying in the middle of the city with no fucking guidance. Only cared enough to come to his house and judge him for not having his life together.
He didn't want them. He didn't care to be in the fucking debt of people that didn't want him. But he needed them. He had a life that he was trying to fucking move on with, and the only thing getting in the way of that was himself. His inability to handle the lion, who was miserable in the solitude. Mateo didn't think being in the Pride would magically fix everything, but he remembered the way he felt during the shift with Hei Ryung, how the lion was so settled around her. Knew that if the lion could feel that more often, then maybe he could figure out a way to sort shit out with it. Be less on edge when he got home to Lora. Something.
Maybe it was all bullshit. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe it was all in vain. But the theme of the year was fucking making an effort. So here he was.
The safest bet would have been to just ask Hei to shift with him on occasion. He bet she would have said yes. But that felt fucking weirdly scandalous. Another safer option was Ingrid, but she'd already told him he was on his own. She couldn't help him. Told him to prove it that he could be worth it. He hated having to prove it, hated having to fucking grovel. But he knew he had to. He could swallow his pride for the sake of making things better.
The only thing left to do now was send the text. He didn't even know if it was the right number anymore. Or if his number was blocked. Even if it went through, there was doubt he'd even get an answer. But he had to try.
Stone cold sober, determined to be clear, he constructed the text to his brother carefully. Took about an hour.
hey. hope ur doing ok. want to talk to you new year was hard. thanks.