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“Philip!” Alexander cried desperately through the people dawdling in the hall.
Sally was right on his tail, a 17 year old Angelica and 12 year old Rachel quick to follow.
Alexander throws open the door and sees his 19 year old son bleeding out as Martha and Thomas stood next to him, tears in their eyes.
“Philip,” Alexander whispers, rushing to his side.
The alpha boy’s unfocused gaze lands on Alexander.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” Alexander seethes.
“He….he called dad a scoundrel,” Philip rasps.
“Isn’t he?” Angelica snaps, arms folded over her chest.
“I’d say,” Rachel said stiffly.
Philip had forgave Thomas and Martha but the rest had yet to speak to them.
“I’m sorry, mama,” Philip mutters.
Alexander clutches his hand tightly.
“I forgot everything you taught me. Modesty, humility, and don’t take life for granted,” Philip murmurs. “I’ll do better in the next life.”
Alexander knows he’s crying but he can’t stop. “No, Philip, please stay with me.”
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” Alexander counts, recalling their piano nights.
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” Philip barely manages to repeat.
“Good,” Alexander says, hating how his voice wavered. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.”
Philip closes his eyes. “Un, deux, trois-”
And one broken breath leaves his body.
It was his last.
“Sept, huit, neuf,” Alexander desperately continues. “Sept, huit-”
And he breaks.
Positively shatters and the only thing keeping him sane is Sally’s arms around him.
“I’m sorry, darling,” a male voice says.
Not Sally’s arms.
“Me too,” Martha whispers, joining Thomas.
The two alphas clutch the omega tightly to their chest.
And for some reason, those sorries were ok.
It was going to be fine.
Time heals all wounds after all.