Page 28 of Knot All is Crystal
It’s been a week since I met my Omega, Queenie, and she almost immediately rejected me.
Not just rejected. She acted like she didn’t know me. Like I was nothing to her.
“Mav,” Tilly starts softly as she kneels beside the bed, “is it possible you were mistaken?”
I shake my head emphatically. I know what I smelled. That wasn’t the drugs. There is no way drugs can make someone smell like one of my favorite memories from my childhood.
Tabby leans against my bedside table. “When was the last time you ate?”
I can’t answer her because I don’t know. Eating is too much work. It would require getting out of bed, picking out a meal, and chewing.
Chewing is exhausting.
“I’m tired. Let me sleep.” I pull my pillow over my face, trying to block the daylight.
Of course, they don’t give up that easily.
“Have you been taking your meds?” That’s Tilly, the first to assume I’ve gone off my meds any time my moods change.
“Yes,” I hiss. “Unfortunately, I don’t think my mood stabilizers are rated for being rejected by my scent match.”
I have bipolar disorder. It’s fine. It’s not like the media makes it seem. Medicated, the most I get is, like, a little bit of baby mania that I can stave off by taking a pill and sleeping through it.
But the lows still come. Just not as frequently as they used to.
It’s hard to tell if this is a “my brain chemistry is fucked” low or a “my life is falling apart” low.
But, as my psychiatrist said when I asked her two days ago, it doesn’t matter which low it is. It’s still a low, and I need to treat it.
But I’m not strong enough.
Not this time.
I pretend that I am normal for everyone who knows me. When I was onLunarcrest After Dark, a reality TV show that followed the club scene of Lunarcrest, I developed a relatively large fan base, and my DJ career took off.
Maverick Reilly, the fuck-boy of Lunarcrest City. Women were all over me, begging for my attention, and I happily gave it to them.
If they knew how much I struggled before my meds got sorted, would they still support me? Would they buy tickets to my sets and pay the cover charges at my clubs?
I doubt it. So, I’ll hide out until I’m a little stronger. Until I can recognize the man who stares back at me in the mirror. Right now, the effort it would take to get up and shower, change my clothes, wash these sheets, and eat something is too much for me.
No, I would prefer to melt into this bed and never move again.
“Mav…” Tabby’s voice is squeaky with pain. “At least eat a little something.”
“Just go, girls. Try again tomorrow.”
* * *
At this point,even I can recognize that this has gone on too long.
“Young man,” my mother growls from my doorway. “Get the fuck out of bed.”
I wince at her tone. “Mom,” I whine like a child. “Please.”
“No. No more. I’m done. It’s been ten days.” She strides across the room, the slight bark in her voice stiffening my spine. “You tried to get her once, but it didn’t work, so you’re just going to give up? You’re going to pine over her but not do anything to earn her affection? You would let all the progress you’ve made in your mental health flush down the drain? I don’t think so. No son of mine is going to wallow in filth when his Omega needs him.”
“She doesn’t need me!” I bolt out of bed in anger. “She rejected me! She pretended she didn’t even know me.”
