He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

Damon stares at the other Alpha in silence.

Dr. Tsunagi, as his introduction says, is a man in his late 40s. Most people mistake him for someone younger, especially because of his smooth skin and the muscles underneath his clothes. The only indication of his age is the slightly graying sideburns and the matching beard.

If not for the curls of black hair that are left unattended on top of his head, covering his forehead and grazing the top of his silver glasses every now and then, the older Alpha would have reminded Damon of Uriel at the Lin Manor, both with their gentle smiles and proper conduct. The longer they sit in silence, however, the longer Damon is starting to detest looking at his so-called doctor's deep brown eyes.

They've been staring at each other for fifteen minutes now, both of their pheromones filling the office. Damon knows not because he's keeping count, but because it's what Dr. Tsunagi informed him earlier they would do.

Damon's scent has been sour since five minutes ago, his inner alpha tense in the presence of another alpha, yet the doctor smiles because this is how he expected it to go.

When the fifteen minutes are up, the doctor opens his drawer and peels two scent patches for himself, attaching one to each side of his neck. Damon does the same without being told.

Damon expects the doctor to turn on the exhaust fan or open a window to let their pheromones out, but the doctor does nothing of that sort. He doesn't even turn on the pheromones-neutralizing device on his desk.

The decision confuses Damon, but more than that, his inner alpha is scratching at him because of the older Alpha's lingering herbs and lemon scent. He wants to release more of his pheromones, to establish his dominance, but he reels himself in to maintain his dignity.

"You did well," Dr. Tsunagi says, earning a glare from the younger alpha.

Is sitting still considered doing well? How low is the bar for that to be deserving of praise?

Damon discovers the answer to how low the bar exactly is when Dr. Tsunagi says, "You didn't attack me nor did you growl in warning. I would say you have impeccable control over your inner alpha."

Of course, Damon thinks to himself, he's not some animal that allows his instincts to do whatever it wants. His years of training aren't for nothing.

"We'll work on that next," the doctor says, setting their next appointment on his laptop without waiting for Damon to reply.

Now, Damon is confused. He doesn't even notice that he's growling when he asks, "What do you mean by that?"

The doctor looks at him when he hears the sound. "So you do know how to growl,"  he says with a mix of surprise and delight in his face, "but it doesn't sound like it's coming from your inner alpha."

Hearing the doctor mention it makes Damon stop. It feels like he's been caught with his hand still inside the cookie jar. A second later, after composing himself, he asks, "Why does it matter where it comes from?"

"Well," Dr. Tsunagi says as he takes off his glasses, "I'm here to guide you and your inner alpha in healing together. I can't do that if you keep suppressing it."

The news makes Damon blanch. This is the first time he's hearing that his inner alpha is included in this. Not once has he entertained the idea of letting his inner alpha have conscious control over himself. His rational mind, however, is quick to catch on to what it means.

"Is next week good for you?" the doctor asks as if he doesn't know that Damon has nothing to do but stay at the hospital.

Caught off guard, Damon doesn't say a word. He crosses his legs over one another as various thoughts fly over his head.

The following happens in a blur. The doctor explains to him step by step how he plans to proceed with the treatment, along with the importance of incorporating healthier habits into his lifestyle. He also recommends that Damon participate in any of the group activities the hospital is hosting, but only if he's comfortable with it. All of this is for naught as the doctor's words go into Damon's left ear and leave out of his right one.

When he leaves the room with his mind blank, the only thing he notices is how empty the hallway is. He doesn't know that this arrangement is done on purpose whenever a new alpha attends a session with Dr. Tsunagi, and even if he did, he doesn't have the heart to care.

He's too busy mulling over the doctor's words and the reason for Dr. Tsunagi's involvement in his treatment. It's unspoken, but the implication is there.

He'll die if he doesn't reconcile with his inner alpha.

--

Damon stares at his secretary in silence.

He's sitting on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, as Adam arranges the food on the table. The Beta's casual white shirt is clinging to his skin, his light purple hair is a mess, and his hand is trembling from where it's holding the takeout box.

Even if he wants to play ignorant, it's obvious that something happened. Although Damon isn't particularly fond of the Beta, it will be an inconvenience for him if Adam is harmed or injured. There's no one on this island that Damon knows except for him.

Thinking that way, he asks, "What's wrong?"

Adam's hand freezes mid-air where he's about to place a set of utensils. Then, all of a sudden, his whole body visibly shudders.

Damon only has a second to dodge before Adam is flinging himself to the Alpha's side.

"President," Adam cries as his body lands on the bed with a thump, "I was so scared."

Damon scoots away when Adam tries to come close, but the Beta is persistent, even holding on to Damon's elbow with a trembling hand.

It seems that his secretary has gotten brave, he thinks to himself, because Damon can't shake him off no matter how hard he shoves the other.

His other hand is needed before he manages to pry Adam's fingers off, and only then does he say, "Tell me what happened."

Adam looks at him as if he's been betrayed, reminding Damon of an abandoned puppy. When has his professional assistant turned into this? Has he been too relaxed recently?

"Talk," he orders, firmer in his tone.

Adam shifts so he's lying on his side on the bed, receiving a questioning glance from Damon, before he begins saying, "I went to the cafeteria earlier and barely made it out with my life."

If that doesn't scream danger, then Damon doesn't know what does. Still, there's no gentleness in his voice when he says, "Explain properly so that I understand."

"I don't know what happened either."

Damon says nothing as he watches Adam sniffling and wiping away nonexistent tears from the corner of his eyes.

"I just- I went there to grab my lunch, right?" he asks although Damon doesn't know what he's talking about. "When I went in, I felt eyes on me. Like I was being watched. I couldn't stand it so I left, but I'm still so scared."

It's Damon who can't stand it anymore, seeing Adam whine over something so trivial. Instead of giving Adam any more of his attention, he moves to sit on the chair in front of the table.

The Beta, however, takes this as a sign to keep talking. "I think it was the alphas who gave me the goosebumps. My instincts told me I would be attacked if I tried anything."

Ignore him, Damon tells himself. It's better to focus on the food.

"I've never seen a pack that big before. The biggest pack in my school only had about ten people."

Damon snaps the disposable chopsticks in two, the sound like a clap over Adam's voice.

"But I don't think they were a pack /pack/, you know?"

No, Damon doesn't know. He doesn't want to know, but Adam hasn't caught on to the memo.

"It looked more like they were surrounding something … or someone. My best bet is that they were protecting the omegas while they ate. It was—"

Damon drowns out the rest of Adam's word as the first bite of that breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet enters his mouth. It's good enough to satisfy his taste buds, but there's something missing. There has always been something missing since Kai—no, what's the use of thinking about it now?

"—but it smelled really good. Not the food, I mean. There was the scent of strawberries in the room and—"

Damon's attention slowly focuses back on the mention of strawberries. It reminds him of a person he wants to forget—the person he needs to forget. If he tries hard enough, Damon can still sense the pancakes on a lazy morning and the sweet pheromones that are more comforting than alluring.

It's gone now, he reminds himself as he continues eating.

Adam's droning has stopped when he notices that his boss isn't paying attention. He's surprised that Damon let him rant like that, allowing the remaining fear to roll off his skin, but he supposes that even the Alpha will change once he's been on the brink of death.

No longer afraid, his hunger comes back stronger. Adam watches as Damon slowly empties the tonkatsu he wanted for himself.. Hearing the crunch of the breaded pork, Adam internally cries.