He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

"Don't be mad," Heath tells him from where they're cuddling on the sofa.

They sit in the dark, not bothering to turn on the lights once they collapse in the living room. As Heath snuggles close to his chest, Damon is stunned to realize that he's more annoyed than angry.

He knows he should be angry for Heath's sake—for the blatant disrespect his family showed his lover at the dinner table, yet his mind doesn't linger at that thought. It's nothing new, after all. They've shouldered heavier burdens at the beginning of their relationship.

He also doesn't think too much about Dylan attacking him despite it being apparent that his younger brother is going through something.. Dylan has his mother and father to support him anyway. If not them, there's also that idiot who has been trying to court his Omega brother for god knows how long now.

Damon closes his eyes and leans his head back on the sofa, trying to silence his thoughts.

Why does his father still not trust him to manage the rest of the Lin Corporation by himself?

He's been doing well in heading the finance group these past few years. Although he encountered several stumbling blocks recently—and huge ones, if he's being honest—there's nothing he can't fix. How much more does he have to prove himself?

Ah, that's right. His father handed him an envelope earlier.

He still can't recall their conversation in the study, but it seems that another family wants to become partners with them. Should he look into it now? Or ask his secretary to look into it for him? But he's sleepy and his body feels so heavy, maybe he should sleep first and then—

"Are you listening?" Heath's question makes him open his eyes.

Damon hums as he stares at the ceiling, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He's grateful for the darkness, unsure what expression he has on his face.

Heath, however, seems to take that as a 'yes,' pressing himself closer. Damon feels his warmth seep through the clothes, yet all he feels is irritation at the additional weight on his body.

"We can get married anytime," Heath says with no doubt or hesitation in his voice. "But if you have someone else's child …"

Damon feels his shoulders tense at Heath's words. Are they having this conversation now? Right here, when there's still a big wound on his face?

He remembers the fight they had over a year ago—Heath screaming and crying about how he's not good enough, how Damon should find an omega to help him because the Beta can't. He remembers calling his friends to drink his mind off their impending breakup, and how the next day, Heath called him first to make amends. Are they really having /that/ conversation again?

However, contrary to Damon's expectations, Heath doesn't continue with the topic of marriage or kids. Instead, he says, "If things don't work out, you can always ask your mom's family for help."

Damon's sleepiness is startled out of him. He sits upright, unintentionally pushing Heath off of him. Even though Heath's weight shifts away from him, his chest suddenly feels tight. His lungs feel as if they've been stuffed with cotton.

Squinting in the dark, he tries to see his lover's face. He needs to know if Heath is being serious or if it's just an insensitive joke—if Heath, of all people, said those words—but the moonlight from the distant window does nothing to help. He sits in silence, unconsciously revealing his emotions through the sour pheromones he's releasing.

"What's wrong?" Heath asks after Damon doesn't say a word. "Why are you angry?"

He reaches out to hold Damon's hand but the Alpha doesn't budge. Sitting like a statue, Damon does his best to make up a hundred excuses for Heath in his mind, yet every single one of them falls short.

"What did you say?" There's a chill in his voice when Damon speaks, one that he has never used on Heath before.

Heath notices it too, a shudder running through his body.

Still, he doesn't think that he said anything wrong. Damon must not have heard him properly the first time, so he says, "Ask your mom and her family for help. Aren't the Alfonsos just as powerful as the Lins?"

Heath's tone is light, truly believing that it's as easy as he says. Knowing that his lover, his childhood friend, is the one who said that makes Damon feel like his reality is suspended on a thread.

It's a thin thread that is barely hanging.

It's one thing if an acquaintance, perhaps even a stranger, mentions this in passing, but it's another if it comes from Heath. Out of everyone close to Damon, Heath is the last person he expects those words to come from.

Is it not Heath who was there with him to witness his mother crash and fall? How can Heath tell Damon to ask for help from the maternal side of his family when he knows how much she suffered in their hands?

"Was I all alone back then?" Damon asks, muttering to himself.

Elbows on his knees, he drops his head on his hands. He stays like that, trying to stop the world from spinning. Is this what the people back then felt like when they were told that it's the Earth that revolves around the Sun and not the other way around?

He feels lied to, deceived. Who is this person next to him?

A hand on his shoulders shakes him and only then does Damon raise his head. They're still shrouded in the darkness, with no noise to disturb the stillness.

Maybe it's because of desperation, maybe it's because of morbid curiosity, but he gathers the courage to ask: "Heath, why do you think they'll help?"

"They drove your mother crazy." His answer comes with no delay, unwavering in his blind confidence. "It's the least they can do for you."

The thread snaps. Damon stands up, ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" Heath asks, following after him.

Damon doesn't answer, he doesn't know either. All he knows is that he needs to go away, somewhere far away so his anger can simmer. The longer he stays, the more it threatens to boil, spilling over his throat and burning in his tongue.

Heath grabs his hand from behind to stop him. Damon takes a careful look at his lover, his childhood friend. It's the same face from his memories, albeit older, yet it feels like he's looking at a stranger.

"Go home, Heath," he says before shaking him off.

Damon doesn't look back to see whether the Beta is following him or not. He runs upstairs, for once letting his inner alpha direct his movements. It's not a surprise when he ends up in his room, aching to hold the jacket with that familiar scent close.

There are no thoughts in his head when he grabs the jacket in one hand and opens the bedside drawer with another. He breathes that fading scent in one deep inhale, hoping it soothes him again tonight.

If it doesn't work …. Well, isn't that why he's opening a bottle of vodka?