He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

Disappear? What happens then?

Damon flips the rest of the pages over and under, trying to see what the Omega's plans are after he disappears. His inner alpha paces back and forth as his fingers move fast, frantic, but no matter how much he searches, he doesn't see it. There's not a single clue.

It says 'Kaiden's special notebook' but there's nothing about the Omega. There's nothing that can give Damon information. Even the diary entries are about him, about how Damon reacted and how his mood was that day. All Damon gets are snippets, Kaiden's ghost during his time at the Lin Manor.

No, he must've made a mistake. Perhaps he skimmed too fast and missed a page or two somewhere. Convinced himself of this fact, Damon starts reading from the beginning again.

He skips the schedule and the lists, feeling his chest ache the longer he looks at the bullets of 'don'ts'.. If there's anything that's valuable, it will be in the undated diary.

Too engrossed in carefully reading each entry, he doesn't notice how or when he has climbed up on the bed. His headache is forgotten as well, overwhelmed by the apprehension thrumming through his body. Damon doesn't stop to think why he's doing this—why he feels the oppressive need to comb through every word and every letter. He doesn't question it, not when his inner alpha has been baring his fangs at him since they saw that name.

His eyes stop when he comes across a peculiar entry. There's no mention of him on this one, merely five sentences long.

"It's okay," the first one reads.

"This is nothing new." The words are smearing from this line to the next. "I've been through worse before."

"I can do this."

Then, as if the writer was persuading himself, the last line repeats, "I'm okay."

While staring way too long at the splotched ink, Damon is reminded of that one time Adam forgot to shield his files from the rain. The pages then and this page now look alike, and he briefly wonders if the Omega wrote this while under the drizzling sky.

He turns to the next page, unconsciously pulling the source of that fading scent close. He doesn't notice that the suit jacket is there, nor does he see the bedroom door open.

He does, however, hear a loud, "What are you doing?"

Damon jumps. Caught off guard, he hides the notebook and the jacket behind him, and in the process, the wooden box falls to the floor.

Two pairs of eyes—one amethyst and the other teal—watch as a thick, black choker tumbles out from that box. Neither of them moves for a minute.

Damon continues to stare at the floor as Heath walks over. He holds his breath when Heath picks it up, inspecting the device the same way he did.

"Is this—?" Heath tests the weight in his palm, confirming what he already knows. "It is."

He looks at Damon with narrowed eyes, and Damon stares right back at him. Waking up hungover doesn't make him forget the words his 'lover' spoke last night. Heath's casual indifference has branded itself into the corner of his mind that doesn't know the word forgiveness.

"What are you doing with this?" Heath asks, breaking the silence around them.

Damon, stubborn in his pride, neither moves nor speaks. There's no reason for him to answer.

However, who is Heath if he's not equally as stubborn? Louder this time, he says, "Answer me, Damon."

"It's none of your business." His voice comes out gruff, his dry throat scratching to say his first words of the day, but the iciness in his tone is ever-present.

"It is my business." Heath's voice becomes quieter the more he speaks. "I'm your lover. I deserve to know."

Damon watches as teal eyes flicker over to the jacket peeking behind him. He expects Heath to ask whose it is, or why he's holding it, but the Beta says nothing.

They let the silence ferment around them.

Heath isn't stupid. He knows whose room this is, whose bed Damon slept in last night, and whose item he's holding in his hand. When he came in earlier, bypassing the butler without a greeting, he didn't expect to find Damon's room to be empty. He only searched the study before he gave up. He didn't want to— and /goddamnit/ he still doesn't—but somewhere deep inside, he knew where to find the missing Alpha.

Now, here they are, proving him right.

Naturally, he knows what the jacket is for. His beta nose can't pick up the scent, but he's certain Damon's alpha senses have been sniffing it out. Seeing as it's not the one Damon wore to the Lin family home, it's obvious to anyone who knows anything about alpha behavior why Damon is protecting that piece of fabric like it's his treasure.

Heath isn't going to snatch it from him, but the longer he stares at Damon's protective posture, the more he's tempted to shred it to pieces.

There's a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to ask.

(Why is Damon pulling away? What changed? Does he not love Heath anymore?)

Every day that he refuses to face reality is a reminder of how they're cracking, years of intimacy and familiarity crumbling right before his eyes, so Heath does what he does best. He aims for where he knows it will hurt the most.

"Why," he begins asking, voice soft, "why are you holding on to him?"

Heath can't recognize himself from how quiet he's speaking, a stranger to the hesitance in his speech. Yet, there's no stopping him, not when his body has gone cold, his heart rigid.

He dares Damon to look away while he says, "You know regret won't bring back the dead."

--

Uriel waits by the foot of the stairs. He prepares himself for the sound of glass shattering, of furniture breaking, of yells and screams that echo around the Lin Manor whenever Damon's lover has that look on his face.

He braces himself for the clean-up he has gotten used to over the years. Because of their tempers clashing, there's no domestic destruction that he hasn't seen before.

Even so, nothing comes. He waits and waits but nothing comes.

After about an hour since Heath arrived, Uriel sees him rushing down the stairs. Like earlier, he doesn't look nor greet Uriel before he leaves. The old butler pays him no heed when he's already rushing up the stairs.

He doesn't hesitate to follow the dirty footsteps in the hallway, tracing down the pot of plants that is toppled across an open door. When he arrives at the room, he sees Damon kneeling on an empty bed, suit jacket and a notebook in his hands.

The Alpha slowly turns to him then. Uriel is taken aback by the look on his face—how there's no light or life behind them.

Before Uriel can speak, Damon beats him to it.

"Is it true?" he asks, eyes dull. "Is that Omeg—no, Kaiden. Is Kaiden dead?"

There's a lump in Uriel's throat that he can't swallow. He can't speak so he nods instead.

"Car accident?"

Uriel nods again.

"Leave," Damon orders him as the Alpha turns his gaze away.

Uriel doesn't forget to close the door on his way out, not knowing that after his back is turned, Damon collapses on the bed.