He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

It's peaceful.

The sky is clear. The air is crisp and clean. The sun is out but it's not hot. Damon can even say that the day is perfect.

He hates it. What's the use of a perfect day when the person who deserves it the most isn't around to appreciate it?

A slight breeze ruffles the leaves of the weeping willow nearby. It's a pretty thing, with its drooping branches that greet him every time he visits. This time is no exception.

As he stops before the tree, Damon silently thanks the weeping willow for watching over his mom all this time, protecting her and shading her from the sun.

"I'm here, Mom," he says but it's not him speaking. The words are coming from his mouth but it feels distant.

He looks to the right when he feels that his hand is being squeezed, and then he sees Heath standing by his side.

"I'm here as well, Auntie, " he greets the grave below them, a small smile on his face. "How have you been?"

The Beta looks young, baby fats plumping his cheeks. He's shorter as well, standing barely past Damon's shoulders in his white, high school uniform.

Damon looks at himself and discovers that he's wearing a uniform too. It's then that he remembers that they shouldn't be here. It's the middle of the day and they have classes, but Damon knows his father won't reprimand him. Even his homeroom teacher won't ask where he has been.

Damon watches as Heath crouches down, placing the bouquet that they bought earlier on the ground. Heath proceeds to talk to the grave as if she's actually there, listening to how Damon is doing well in school or how he continues to get along with his friends. The Beta only talks about the good things, conveniently forgetting to mention how Damon got into a fight again.

"I'm sorry, Heath," Damon says to the boy who is still holding his hand, "We'll celebrate your birthday properly next time."

Heath smiles at him, saying, "It's okay. I like spending it with Auntie like this."

It's not okay, Damon knows that. He also knows that next time will never come, for they'll spend every single year in the same place, sneaking out or cutting classes until they become too busy to visit. Even then, knowing that it's his mother's death anniversary stops him from fulfilling his promise.

Damon blinks.

He's no longer standing in front of his mother's grave. Now, he's on top of an empty bed, surrounded by beige walls in a room that is familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

The hand he was holding is replaced by a suit jacket, but it's not the same high-quality cloth he kept underneath his pillow. The fabric is worn and tattered, shredded pieces hanging on by a thread. The tears come when he sees its poor state, but before he can question why he feels heartbroken, a shriek pierces through the air.

He raises his head and sees Heath again. The Beta is older this time, resembling his recent appearance more, but instead of the smile he had earlier, there's a blank look on his face.

He's saying something. Damon knows he's saying something. He sees Heath's mouth move but he can't hear the words.

Damon tries and tries but it's futile. It's as if he's trying to listen to someone talk while he's submerged underwater. Then, without warning, everything becomes clear.

"It's over. I'm done," Heath says without a change to his expression. "Why will I compete with the dead when I know I'll never win?"

Heath leaves, toppling a potted plant on the way out. Damon doesn't follow after him. They both know this is it; this is the end. They've known for a long time, so why delay the inevitable?

Is it because of the years they invested in each other? Is it the false hope of returning to how they used to be? Or is it the stubbornness—the pride that refuses to admit that they've failed despite doing their best?

Damon doesn't know; he's tired. He wants to lie down, but instead of feeling the soft padding on his back, he feels the cold ground.

Shocked, he sits upright. The weeping willow tree is in front of him again, his mother's tombstone between them. There's grass underneath his legs yet it feels so cold.

Damon moves to leave but stops when he catches sight of a large mound of dirt next to his mother's grave. He is paralyzed upon seeing the new addition, not knowing how or when it appeared.

All of a sudden, the perfect day changes. Clouds cover the sky and the gentle breeze turns into a harsh gale. The air is becoming too humid, the threat of a storm hanging atop him.

Then, something even more bizarre happens. Damon sees a man with a face identical to his, kneeling in front of the unmarked grave. The man's dark green hair is a mess, his clothes even more so. There's no life behind his doppelganger's eyes, yet tears continue to stream down his face.

Damon wants to ask who that man is but the words are stuck on his throat. He watches in silence as the man claws at the mound, dirty fingers leaving a bloody trail on the soil.

"He's not dead. I can feel it. He's not dead," his look-alike mutters over and over, a desperate song that only a madman sings.

He stands to stop the man from hurting himself further, but he shocks himself back to the ground when the man abruptly turns his head.

"You," Damon's twin growls at him, blank face morphing into an ugly scowl. "This is your fault."

Damon's doppelganger grows larger, amethyst eyes turning black as he transforms. When the man crawls into all fours, back hunching to that of a beast, Damon knows he's no longer looking at a mere look-alike.

No, he recognizes this man—this creature. It's him at the same time it's not. Damon knows he's facing the personification of his instincts.

"STUPID!" his inner alpha yells at him. "We found the perfect mate. PERFECT!"

Damon can't move. All he can do is watch as the man—in the shape of a wolf, he notices only now—bares his fangs while stalking closer.

"Why did you let our Omega go?" There's anger in that question, but the agony is stronger.

Damon's mouth is full of soot. He can't speak when he doesn't have an answer.

His inner alpha growls again,  "This is your fault!"

It's all the warning Damon gets before sharp teeth devour him into darkness.

--

Damon opens his eyes.

His body feels heavy, he can't move his limbs, and there's sweat clinging to his hospital gown. It feels like he ran a marathon, his lungs burning from working overtime.

The heart that is beating loudly in his chest proves that he's alive, at least.

As he's trying to even out his breathing, he sees two faces hovering above him, both with a frown on their faces.

It takes a minute more for him to realize that he's staring at his friends, and they're staring right back at him.

"Man, you scared me there," a Beta with short, red hair—Gino—says, "thought you weren't breathing for a second."

"Yeah," the blond Beta next to him agrees. "You were gasping like fish out of water. It would've been funny if you weren't in a hospital bed."

"Wh—?" Damon's question is cut off by how dry his throat is.

Felix, the blond, hands him a glass of water. When it becomes apparent that Damon can't hold the glass himself, the two of them help him without a word. Gino props him up while Felix holds the glass to his mouth.

When it no longer hurts to speak, Damon asks, "What are you doing here?"

How come two of the three idiots know that he's been hospitalized when only his family was informed? He can forgive Heath knowing about it since no one can stop that bulldozer once he's angry, but he left strict instructions not to let anyone else know.

"Collin told us," Gino says, and it's all the answer Damon needs.

That third idiot must be sticking close to his younger brother again, so naturally, if Dylan knows, Collin will know as well.

"Edgar came too. He went downstairs with your secretary to fetch our food," Felix says while taking off his rimless glasses and wiping them with a small microfiber cloth. "Were you aware that they knew each other?"

Damon shakes his head, only receiving the news now.

Both of the Betas express their disbelief with a loud, "Wow!"

"That flirt will really hit on anyone," Gino says at the same time Felix is saying: "Even your secretary isn't safe."

Then, after a brief silence, Felix says, "Let's all eat together once they return. We've been waiting for you to wake up since lunch."

At the reminder, Damon looks outside to see the orange glow of the setting sun. He must've missed a meal again, yet his stomach hasn't complained at all—no surprise there.

"You slept like the dead," Gino says, earning an elbow to the stomach from the blond. "Too soon?"

No, Damon thinks, it's not too soon. He has an inkling that the next time he sleeps, he won't wake up anymore.

Unless, of course, his inner alpha is right and that Kaiden is still alive.