He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

Adam realizes he made a mistake.

No—perhaps calling it a mistake is too much, but as he walks through the hospital grounds on the way to Damon's room, he realizes he has forgotten his own lunch.

Admittedly, when he bought the breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet, he thought about eating it for himself. He watched with eager eyes as the takeout order was handed to him, and when he drove in his car, it had been the only thing in his mind.

Now, he's regretting how he has been distracted. Only when he's nearing the entrance does he remember that he didn't buy a meal for himself.

Adam enters and the sunlight is immediately combined with fluorescent ones. The hospital is big and as always, there seems to be more staff than patients.

He greets the nurse at the reception area before heading towards the elevators.

However, a thought occurs to him once he's standing in front of the elevator. He didn't eat breakfast this morning, and although Damon is scheduled for his first therapy session today, who knows what will happen?

Wait. Will the Alpha feel better or worse? Adam doubts it will be the former, knowing how difficult it was to convince Damon to come here in the first place.

He looks at the watch on the wrist, noting the time. It's well into noon and if Adam doesn't get a chance to eat now, he may not be able to do so until dinnertime, being forced to work on an empty stomach.

The thought alone has his stomach rumbling. Even in his school days, he made sure not to skip a meal. He—or his parents, truthfully speaking—learned early on that Adam is the type that can't function properly if hungry.

Thankfully, he hasn't gotten far from the reception area. It's not too late to turn back, so he does exactly that.

With brisk footsteps, he reaches the side of the desk where the nurse in a pale green outfit is sitting behind.

"Excuse me," Adam says, a little unsure, "may I ask a question?"

At the sound of his voice, the nurse looks up from where she's looking at the screen. She offers him a small smile before asking, "How may I help you?"

Adam hesitates for a second, but with further urging from his grumbling stomach, he gathers whatever ounce of professionalism is left in his bones and throws his shame out the window. "Is the hospital cafeteria exclusive to patients?"

When the nurse blinks at his question, the shame comes back with a vengeance.

Adam suppresses the urge to hide; it's not his fault he's not familiar with hospital rules and regulations. He and his family grew up healthy and fit, and none of his friends were injured enough that he had to visit them at the hospital. Scratches and bruises, at most—all of which were taken care of at the school clinic.

To add to his inexperience, this isn't a common hospital. After all, which hospital has a garden maze and sports tournaments for their patients?

"Oh, sorry," the nurse says after they stare at each other for five seconds. "No one has asked that question before so it threw me for a loop."

Well, Adam supposes he's not the only newcomer here. That, or it is because most—if not all of the patients' family members—prefer to eat in the privacy of their rooms.

Before he can think deeply about it, the nurse says, "Visitors are allowed to eat at the cafeteria. You can eat with a meal you brought as long as it complies with the restrictions or you can purchase a meal at the cafeteria."

"Do I pay with cash?" he asks even though he hopes not. There's not a lot left in his wallet since he prefers paying with a card or with his phone instead.

Her eyes glance from the lanyard on his neck down to the badge hanging from it when she answers, "It's charged to your account."

"I see," Adam says, needing no further explanation. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

After they give each other a simple nod as a goodbye, Adam heads to the left instead of his original path. He already knows where the cafeteria is despite not being there before.

Adam understands what he needs to do without being told. He was given a visitor's badge when his boss was first admitted. They told him that for security reasons, it tracks which area he's currently in at the hospital, but it's not exactly a tracking device.

Apparently, the doorway and walls have sensors that can detect whatever it is they put in the badge. Whenever he passes one of those sensors, it sends a signal of his location to their security team.

Nothing will happen as long as he doesn't try to enter any of the restricted areas, but the badge will light up red if he attempts to do so. He doesn't want to think about what happens after that.

Of course, it's not foolproof. A visitor can simply take the badge off and break the rules, but cameras exist for a reason. With his limited observation of the hospital's security, Adam is 99% certain that there's someone going through the live feed just to check if the visitors are wearing their lanyards properly. He's honestly impressed at how strict and lax they are at the same time.

As Adam walks deeper into the hospital, he turns his gaze to the wall instead of the windows. He doesn't know what he's looking for—he's definite that he won't find anything, but maybe he'll see a green light flash every now and then.

Before he knows it, Adam has almost reached the cafeteria. With his left hand holding the paper bag by its handle, he uses his other hand to flip the badge, trying to see if there's anything noteworthy on it.

Except for the heavier weight and the gold lining on the edges, the badge is not any different from an ID card. It has his name on it, the word 'VISITOR' written underneath, and a bar code on the other side. Fortunately, there's no picture of him on it.

So, he can pay with this, huh? That's neat, he thinks, mostly because none of the expenses will be taken out of his pocket.

Adam smells the enticing aroma of food before he sees the open doors of the cafeteria. When he does see them, his steps become faster. Rumor has it that hospital food sucks, and it's time for Adam to see for himself if it's true.

However, when he's close enough to see inside, his steps falter. His instincts put a stop to his motion, trapping him in the open doorway. All but one part of his brain tells him to tread carefully, to not make any hasty movement, or to leave altogether.

Before that one rational part of his mind can process why, he tries to take in the sight in front of him.

Honestly, there's nothing out of the ordinary. People are eating at their table, smiling while talking to each other, but there's a tension in the air that pulls every strand of hair on his body to attention.

He feels eyes on him, but when he turns his gaze to figure out where it's coming from, the feeling disappears, only to be replaced by another one from a different direction. Sweat is pooling on his back as his feet burn with the urge to bolt, if not to hide or accept his fate.

Adam wills himself to calm down, to properly assess if there's danger, but he can't see much past the big bodies blocking him from seeing what's in the center. The only detail he notices is the seating arrangement—how even though they're evenly spaced, people are clustered around each other with no table to separate between them. Oddly though, it feels natural, as if they /should/ be sitting close together.

Now, Adam knows people won't hurt him here, but his instincts tell him he's an outsider, intruding on a pack activity.

He /knows/ he's safe, but alarm bells won't be vibrating through his body if it's the absolute truth.

Taking careful steps, trying to appear as harmless as possible, Adam backs away. His grumbling stomach has long been forgotten at this point.

When he's at a safe distance, Adam leans on the wall to give himself a moment. Only then does he realize how fast his heartbeat is.

Don't get him wrong, he's been nervous and anxious before, especially since working for President Lin, but it's nothing like this. One alpha brandishing his scent is nothing compared to a pack of them, even if said pack's pheromones are neutralized with scent patches. It's the difference between standing under a shower nozzle and running in the middle of the storm.

A prey being hunted by predators—he finally puts words into the feeling of danger.

Adam silently thanks his mother for constantly reminding him in his youth not to ignore the voice in his head when it tells him that something's wrong.

He wipes the cold sweat on his forehead with a shaky hand.. It's better to be paranoid than dead, after all.