Page 2 of The serpent-beast despises me as a weirdo

I arrived home, my eyes swollen raw, like bruised fruit.

Peter was sitting on the sofa, his expression impatient and chillingly cold.

"What took you so long? Do you know I'm starving?"

I sniffled, my emotions, just barely controlled, surged up again.

"I'll order you some takeout later, I'm a little tired."

He scoffed, "Ha, you want me to eat takeout?"

Not wanting to argue, I sighed.

My foot, already stepping towards the bathroom, changed direction, heading to the kitchen instead.

I usually cooked for Peter. He never lifted a finger in the kitchen. Even with a fridge full of ingredients, he was too pampered to dirty his precious hands.

Once before, I'd come home late, and Peter had thrown a terrible fit because he was hungry.

I thought he was specially waiting for me to eat, and, filled with guilt and a tiny bit of joy, I cooked him a huge meal.

But as I pulled out a chair, about to sit down, he threw cold water on my hopes.

"You reek of cooking oil. Go take a shower."

Snapping back to reality, I placed the prepared meal in front of him, but Peter didn't touch it.

"Why do you smell like another shifter?"

I raised my arm and sniffed. It was probably from the clothing store earlier.

I suddenly remembered when I was little and had no money, I had to hike up the mountain to hunt wild rabbits and pheasants to feed him.

He'd grumble, chewing on the tough, stringy meat.

He'd complain about the mud on my face and the scent of other shifters on me, always keeping his distance.

"I'll go shower now."

I set the cutlery on the table and walked towards the bathroom, but Peter swept the cooked meal onto the floor with a single arm.

"Nina Katharine, aren't you going to explain yourself?"

A shard of ceramic from the shattered bowl cut my calf, and the pain instantly sharpened my mind.

Some people are just so strange. They don't love you, but they still want to possess you. They give you the illusion of being cherished, of being cared for, when all they truly want is to extract more love from *you*.

Peter was exactly like that.

For the first time, I looked at him with a cold face.

"Explain what?

"It's fine for you to smell like other people, but I can't?"

A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

But it was quickly replaced by anger.

"You're doubting me?

"Don't forget who presumptuously saved you?"

I didn't answer, stepping past him to get the first-aid kit.

I brushed past his arm, and he immediately flinched back, the sharp edges of his scales scraping me.

His voice was colder than his expression. "Don't touch me."

Right. He barely let me touch him even during bonding training.

Outside of training? That was a pipe dream.

I gave a self-deprecating laugh. I used to think he was just a cold-blooded creature, too hard to warm, too wild to tame.

Turns out, he just didn't like *me*.

Twelve years of sincere companionship from a freak meant nothing compared to his instant infatuation with a 'normal' person.

I took a dissolution of adoption agreement from my bag.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for presumptuously saving you, for intruding into over ten years of your life without permission, and for making you unhappy.

"So, let's part ways amicably.

"May you finally achieve everything you wish for, and live a life filled with joy and ease."

Peter ground his molars together, a sound of pure rage, his face dark as he asked, "What do you mean?"

I said calmly, "It means we're breaking up."

I then pulled out a property transfer deed and a bank card for him.

"I sold the house. We'll split the money evenly, and with this bank card, you'll have enough to buy a small studio apartment for yourself."

His face grew even darker. "You're abandoning me?

"Didn't you say you loved me?"

Did I love Peter?

I had wondered about that myself.

I had never truly received love, so I wasn't entirely sure what love felt like.

I just thought that love meant being good to someone.

I looked up at the small house filled with our memories.

I had moved out with Peter after I came of age. At first, he was reluctant.

Back then, I had to both study and work to support him, so I was always out early and back late, with little time to spend with him.

He'd be all alone in that cramped rental apartment, his snake tail sticking out from the folding bed with nowhere to go.

I thought that was why he was reluctant.

So I worked seven or eight jobs, saving up to buy a house for him.

Even then, he still didn't want to touch me, locking his bedroom door even though we each had our own room.

But I still wanted to melt his icy demeanor.

He was my responsibility, the one I had saved and raised. I couldn't just abandon him.

Yet, I had seen how others in my family interacted with their shifters.

My childhood friend, Jessica, had a snow leopard beast-man. That snow leopard had been very arrogant when first adopted, but Jessica's gentle persistence eventually melted his icy heart.

He'd affectionately rub against Jessica's neck, and gently lick the back of her hand.

Like a mouse in the gutter, I watched, craving a beauty that wasn't mine.

I searched for shifter vlogs online, learning their preferred ways of care. I spoiled him rotten, never letting him do any chores, giving him whatever he wanted.

I never thought that what was my sweet gesture was his bitter poison.

I also thought that one day I could truly enter Peter's heart, but his heart had long been occupied by someone else.

Perhaps I had loved Peter once, but those feelings had slowly eroded over the years.

Until I saw him wrapped around Monica that was when the melting snow mountain of my hope finally crumbled into dust.

"I don't love you anymore."