Page 102 of Incompatible

Bay comes up on my other side and takes my hand.

"I make enough from my videos that we’ll have everything we need to live," he says, trying to calm me, his eyes searching mine to make sure I’m ok with it.

"Thank you," I whisper, "You’re my family now."

"We are, sweetheart," Lake says, wrapping me in an arm, and Bay wraps me from the other side.

We stand like that for a moment, and I feel a little relief, but I also know this is only the beginning of coming to terms with everything that crashed down on me yesterday, but I’m grateful they’re both here with me.

BAY

I decide to postpone my surprise for a few more days because I want to give Alex time to pull himself together.

I can see how badly he wants to escape his thoughts, he throws himself into preparing my clips, and it has to be said that he’s getting better and better at it, the videos he makes for me are no longer just static recordings of me playing the guitar or other instruments. He puts his whole heart into making sure the light and sound are perfect, he adds more elements like footage of melancholic fields, forests, and mountains when a song calls for it or colorful lights that drift over my figure when the song is one of the brighter ones.

The whole week passes quietly, Alex is absorbed in editing, and we don’t talk much about his dad or about the revelations surrounding his parentage. From time to time, when we lie curled up in bed, he sniffles softly, but when I hold him tight and stroke his head, he calms down, and sometimes I even allow myself to purr because I know Alex doesn’t mind and it soothes him even more. We lie there wrapped around each other, and his head resting on my chest vibrates slightly with the rhythm of my purring. I can see how much it helps him energetically.

After a week I finally see some kind of acceptance in him, he begins to understand that his life has changed forever.

This is also the first time I am seeing Alex nest not only for me, but for himself, for both of us. Trying not to be obvious about it, I buy colorful pillows, tapes, and braided wool cords in small batches and quietly smuggle them into the house, tucking them away in closets and drawers. Alex finds them. It almost turns into a kind of Easter egg hunt. He doesn’t comment on it, and I don’t ask, because, of course, nesting is a deeply intimate topic for omegas. I just give him as much safe space to nest as I can.

From what I remember of my occasional visits to his place back then, Alex only had what could be called the beginnings of nests. Long scarves coiled into circles, mimicking the shape of a nest. Yes, he used to build those little safety circles of pillows for me, but his own bed had much simpler arrangements, and it’s interesting that now all of that is changing. As an adolescent omega, Alex’s instincts hadn’t fully kicked in yet. Now, though, they seem to be growing stronger and more pronounced with each passing day, and I don’t interfere. I don’t comment. I don’t create awkward situations.

Every now and then, when he finishes another stage, I casually toss out a remark into the air, like, "This room is starting to feel really cozy," or, "There’s a nicer atmosphere in here now." And I see a blush bloom on his cheek.

Harmoniously, day by day, Alex blossoms in his nesting. And my role as an alpha, quiet and nonjudgmental support, offering space, unfolds exactly as he seems to expect. After the first month, we’re sleeping in a pleasant nest, not very tall but pretty solid, and I’m deeply satisfied.

Living together works out for us effortlessly, which isn’t surprising, because Alex and I always function like a perfectly oiled machine.

We go to school together, study together, even try to cook something together in our tiny kitchen, even though neither ofus is very good at it, but we learn a little more every day, and we finish the rest of the setup in the little house that is now officially connected to my underground gym through a drop-down hatch in the floor.

On the second floor of the house we keep a large open space without dividing it into any rooms, there are instruments there and our small studio where we record.

About two weeks after Alex moves in, Eric Garin calls me unexpectedly.

"Hey, I’m calling because even though we didn’t manage to come to an agreement about working together, if you’re interested, one of the artists I manage is sick and can’t take part in a music event that’s going to take place in the downtown."

He lowers his voice slightly, as if he wants to give his words a bit of ceremony, then adds,

"It’s Sound Fest."

I freeze because it’s the biggest music event in the south of the country, and getting a spot there is an instant badge of honor.

"Seriously, you’re calling me with this?"

"Of course, and don’t worry, I’m not expecting a cut of anything, this is just friendly, think of it as a free sample."

Alex, listening on speaker, widens his eyes and nods hard.

"Well, I’d be an idiot to turn down an offer like that, I’ll contact my band and ask if they’re willing to join me, and even if they can’t, I’ll find other musicians…"

"There isn’t much time, you’ve got a week and a half left, but if you want, I can email you all the details and the contract from the event organizers."

"S-sure…" I manage to get out in disbelief. What just happened is incredible, this is a huge event featuring stars with national and even international fame. Something like this couldlift me from a local village-event musician and minor YouTuber to the next stage of my life.

Eric adds, as if he senses my disbelief,

"Of course you’ll be performing during the intro while people are getting seated, but that doesn’t mean you won’t show up in the concert coverage, you’ll appear online right next to them." He tempts me with it.