Chapter Text
Laurent’s eyes are closed, face turned toward the slowly disappearing sun, the heat not yet unbearable in the beginning of June. It’s one of the reasons why he chose a house deep in the forest: there, even in the crucial months of summer, it’s never too warm, always kept fresh by the trees year-round. He’s even more grateful for it today, when he’s been forced to spend not less than one hour outside, waiting for Damen, as if he wasn’t already enraged enough about the whole situation. His body is aching, begging for him to sit down, but Laurent holds straight.
Finally, his waiting comes to an end. He hears the car before he sees it. Here, in the middle of the forest, the sound of a car is unusual and too loud, a foreign object breaking through the quietness of another century. Laurent has a car, too, one he hasn’t used since his accident, his injuries preventing him from doing so, but even back then, it was different. He didn’t hear his own car, not the way he hears Damen’s one coming his way, the sound of the engine resonating through his heart.
Only a few people have visited him since he moved there: Auguste, on one occasion, Nicaise, twice, before Auguste asked him not to come anymore, and Jord, on a few more occasions, until his boyfriend, an omega, asked him to stop. Laurent always finds it funny, how little it takes to convince people to stop seeing him.
There were also the two last helpers that Auguste hired for him, of course, but the first one only stayed for two days, and the other for a month. Their cars were much quieter than Damen’s.
Damen is the worst punishment Auguste could do to him, and so of course he did. The thought of having to live with Damen until he gets better is smothering. They will have to share a home, Laurent’s home , his safe place, and Laurent cannot say no, because having Damen here is still better than going to the hospital, where he will be at the mercy of all.
Finally, Damen gets out of the car and throws his bag over his shoulder, all of his stuff for at least two months in it and yet the way he carries it makes it appear as if it weighs nothing. He has his black sunglasses on, but he takes them off when he gets in front of Laurent, placing them in his hair to hold them away from his face.
“Auguste told me your house was in the middle of nowhere, but I didn’t expect it to be this far away.”
Damen’s eyes travel to his cane, then to the way his leg twists unnaturally to the left, unable to stand straight, and finally the bandage on his hand. His face still has some marks from the accident, but last time Laurent checked, it was better than at the beginning, when he could barely recognize himself.
“You’re late.”
“I didn’t know we were on a tight schedule. Got somewhere to go?” Damen jokes, knowing damn well Laurent is bound to this place, and that way before the accident.
Damen is almost one hour late, one hour that Laurent spent outside, in the sun, dying from the heat which, although not unbearable, is still hard to tolerate with the way he dresses. At some point, he had sat on the stairs, which had been an awful mistake, given how hard it had been to get up again after. Thankfully, he succeeded in doing so before Damen arrived.
“I don’t want you here,” Laurent says.
“I just drove three hours.”
“Well, go and drive another three, now.”
Damen doesn’t move. He doesn’t even pretend to think about it or to be hurt by Laurent’s words. They’ve known each other their entire lives, Laurent has to remind himself, and it’s been years since they had a civil conversation. Damen was probably expecting this kind of reaction, and he still chose to come. He won’t turn back now.
“You think I want to be here?” Damen throws back his way. “Look, we’re not friends, we don’t like each other, but Auguste asked me for this favor and I agreed out of love for him .”
“What did he tell you exactly?”
“That your two last helpers ran away.” There’s a smirk on Damen’s face.he admission brings him some joy. Laurent has been so awful that his last helper, a nice omega lady, ended up running away. “And that he can’t find anyone to take care of you.”
“I don’t need someone to take care of me.”
“Alright, not to take care of you, then. Just to do your groceries, cook your food, keep your house tidy, clean your wounds and do some exercises with you.”
Laurent wouldn’t need someone to live with him full time if he hadn’t chosen to live so far away from any kind of civilization. When he had bought the house, Auguste had warned him that if anything were to happen to him, he would be all alone, but Laurent had told him to mind his own business. He never thought he would be in this position. Laurent was living a low-risk life, why would anything happen to him?
If he was living in the city, he could have had his groceries delivered, could have eaten take out everyday of the week, and have a nurse drop by once or twice per day. It would have been so much simpler than this.
“Look, I’m a nurse,” Damen says. “I can be professional.”
“Didn’t you get fired for assault?”
The vein on Damen’s forehead suddenly grows big and this time, it’s Laurent’s time to smirk. He only does so for a few seconds before the pain in his leg and hips starts to become unbearable. He’s been standing for too long because of that fucker.
“It wasn’t -”
“I don’t care,” Laurent says. “Your room is on the second floor. We will start tomorrow.”
A lifetime ago, Laurent would have turned around and started climbing the stairs without waiting for Damen’s answer. Now, every stair is a mountain to climb, every step a torture and more often than not, when he is tired like he is at the moment, he has to drag his body to succeed his climbing. He refuses to let Damen see him doing so.
“You’re even worse than in my memories,” Damen says when he walks past him.
Laurent chooses to take it as a compliment.
-----
Laurent wakes up at six, his body aching in all different kinds of ways and his leg stuck in an uncomfortable position. He had a headache, too, which he attributes to both waiting for Damen so long yesterday, but also Damen’s presence.
Last night, Laurent had gone to sleep without dinner and hadn’t bothered showing Damen around, which was probably a mistake, since he heard Damen giving himself a tour of the house. His house is quite big and can be impressive: when he bought it, the seller told him that it would be the perfect house to have many, many children in it. There are six bedrooms, three bathrooms, a library, two offices, and a pool outside, not to mention the vast forest around it. Laurent hadn’t corrected him, knowing full well that one bad word could prevent him from getting the house. His profile was bad enough already as a single omega.
It takes ten minutes before he’s able to move his leg, and ten more before he gets out of bed. The coldness from the floor almost sends him back to bed, but he fights against it.
His cane in his hand, he gets on his way to the bathroom and starts cleaning himself. He can’t take showers alone, not just yet, although he has tried on several occasions, none of them having ended up positively. The first helper was a beta and the second an omega, and although he hated every second of it, they were able to help him take a shower or a bath. Damen is an alpha and even if he wasn’t, he is the last person Laurent would want to see him naked at the moment, let alone washing him.
There’s warm water in the sink and a washcloth in his hand. Carefully, he traces his skin with water and soap, acting extra carefully around the still visible wounds, although by now, most of them have closed or are in good condition. Because he can’t stand on his legs for too long, he has successfully moved one of the chairs from his bedroom to the bathroom to sit. It has taken him one full hour, after the second helper left him.
He still hasn’t figured out how to do his hair. He can’t bend over the sink, not like this at least, and the hand with the bandage on cannot get wet. He has to wear a plastic bag around it to make sure it remains dry.
This, he knows, he will eventually have to ask Damen / He will eventually have to ask Damen for help with this, he knows. For the moment, it doesn’t appear too oily and so he only brushes it a bit, trying to maintain a clean appearance, as if Damen would care. Laurent certainly doesn’t care if Damen cares or not.
Next step is getting dressed, something that now takes him quite some time, and even more today. He needs to prove to Damen that he can take care of himself just fine, so that Damen can tell Auguste and they can all leave him alone. It’s not that Laurent doesn’t realize he needs help; he’s well aware of the consequences of the accident and how hard life has been since coming home. But he doesn’t want to tell Auguste he was right and he certainly doesn’t want Damen’s help. He has submitted a new request through on an « omega friendship group », whatever that means, and he is in contact with an omega named Ancel, who may or may not be available to help him out.
Laurent puts on a black pants that has neither a zipper nor a button, and then a light blouse that he tucks in his pants. Putting socks on is nearly impossible and so he doesn’t even try. The doctor had told him to try and walk barefoot anyway, claiming that it would help his healing journey.
It’s 7:30 when Laurent finally exits his bedroom and he heads straight to the kitchen, where he takes his medicine, double checking the dose before doing so.
Once it’s done, he sits at the table and waits.
Damen and Auguste have been friends for as long as Laurent remembers. Damen was, in more than one way, Auguste’s little brother. Their respective second genders didn’t help either: Damen is an alpha, a fact Auguste took good pride in, although it had nothing to do with him, while Laurent presented as an omega. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Auguste loves him less because of his gender, as it is not the case. It simply added to the reasons why Auguste didn’t love him as much as loves Damen.
Yet, despite that unwanted battle for Auguste’s love, Laurent didn’t hate Damen when he was growing up. It was quite the opposite. Until he turned seventeen years old, Laurent spent every day of his life praying that Damen would look his way. Every year for his birthday, when it was time to blow his candles, he would close his eyes and wish, as strongly as he could, that his love would be reciprocated.
Then seventeen came by and Laurent realized that the boundary between love and hate is, indeed, quite thin.
It’s 10 am when Damen finally wakes up. Unlike Laurent, he didn’t bother dressing correctly before leaving his bedroom: he walks in nothing but a pair of grey underwear that leave little room to imagination, and with the summer heat, that suddenly seemed to have gone up a few degrees, he didn’t even bother putting a t-shirt on. When Damen looks his way, Laurent looks elsewhere, unable to look him in the eyes. He’s furious about how easy it seems to be for Damen to acclimate to his house. It shouldn’t be like that. He should be quiet, discreet, begging for Laurent’s approval. It’s his home, his rules, although no one seems to listen to him when he says so.
It is not the first time Laurent sees Damen’s half naked, and if Damen didn’t have his underwear on, it wouldn’t be the first time Laurent saw him naked either, a fact both of them are choosing to ignore.
“Have you eaten yet?” Damen asks while opening every cabinet of the kitchen, looking for God knows what.
“I don’t do breakfast.”
Damen turns around to look at him, and Laurent holds his stare, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.
“But you have meds in the morning, correct?”
“Yes, but I don’t do breakfast,” Laurent repeats, articulating every single word.
“Suit yourself. If you want to ruin your stomach and shit yourself every day, that’s up to you.”
“My digestive issues are mine and mine only, thank you.”
“So you do have digestive issues.” Damen smirks. “Alright. Let me get dressed and then we'll talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Sure you don’t, sweetheart.”
He’s so annoying, Laurent wishes he could run him over with a car.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, Laurent had been incredibly in love with Damen and Damen had broken his heart. Then, once not so long ago, before Laurent moved there, they had shared a bed together. Damen had been gone before Laurent had woken up.
Damen comes back to the kitchen dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, his laptop in his hands. He sits in front of him and gives a quick glance to Laurent’s leg, resting on the chair. Laurent tries his hardest not to move his feet, even one millimeter.
“Auguste sent me your medical records,” Damen explains.
Laurent hasn’t seen it himself. He wonders what is written in it exactly, but he can’t ask Damen, not directly at least. Unlike what Laurent likes to say, Damen isn’t particularly stupid, and he probably already knows that Laurent isn’t allowed to see his medical records. Because he is an omega and because his mental state has been judged as concerning, Auguste agreed with the doctors that the best choice was to prevent Laurent from reading what has been put in it. Laurent can only guess why.
“There’s one piece of info that is missing.”
Damen, for the first time in probably forever, looks uncomfortable. It’s not the first time, actually. The first time goes back years ago, when -
No. Laurent doesn’t want to think about that now.
“Well, speak.”
“I’m asking for medical and security reasons,” Damen explains carefully.
“ Speak ,” Laurent says again.
“When was your last heat and when will be your next one?”
Ah. They did ask him that too, back at the hospital, and Laurent imagined Damen will have the same reaction as they did, too. Auguste had been mortified, which was the only good thing that came out of it.
“I don’t have heats.”
“What?”
“Are you hard of hearing? Surely you’re not that old.”
“Is it because of the accident?”
“No.”
Damen wants to press, Laurent can see it written all over his face that he knows too well. A small part of him wishes that it was worry that was pressing Dament to ask for more, but just like at the hospital, he knows it’s curiosity. Omegas are supposed to go into heat and if they don’t, they should seek medical advice as quickly as possible. Laurent didn’t do such a thing. He had one heat, when he was twelve, and the memory of it is still bright in his mind, keeping him awake more often than not. After that, his heat never came back. It was gone, just like that, and he wasn’t going to complain about it.
“Alright,” Damen says, because he doesn’t really care about Laurent’s health, especially not his intimate health. “So, how have you been?”
“How have I been,” Laurent repeats slowly, unable to comprehend the question.
“Yeah, I mean, we haven’t seen each other in what, two years? Surely I must have a lot to catch up on.”
There’s a knot forming in Laurent’s stomach, and he wonders if he should have listened to Damen and actually ate something before taking his meds.
It’s been two years since they saw each other, and the update on Laurent’s life would still take less than a few seconds: two years ago, they slept together, and the very next day, Auguste freaked out because he found out that Laurent had an alpha over, kicked him out, and forcedLaurent to buy this place. Six months ago, he got run over by a car. The first part, he can’t tell Damen, even if he doubts it’s a mystery to him. Auguste must have come crying to him, telling him how, once again, Laurent had disappointed him, and Damen - how did Damen feel? Not guilty, given the fact he never, not once, reached out to Laurent or returned his calls. It may have something to do with the fact that back then, Damen was already seeing Jokaste.
“I was run over by a car, how do you think I’ve been?” Laurent snaps.
Damen smiles, as he always does, and focuses back on his laptop.
“Should we work on a weekly menu together? I’ll go grocery shopping today. I don’t even know what you’ve been eating since your helper left.”
Pasta and rice, mostly, with a bit of butter the first few days, then nothing. His freezer is empty and his helper left in such a hurry that she didn’t even offer to run one last errand for him. She couldn’t bear to see Laurent longer than necessary, and Auguste had told her not to worry anyway. He said he would come and take care of Laurent himself, a nightmare probably worse than Damen, in Laurent’s opinion, but then his wife surprised him with a trip to France and Auguste followed, leaving Laurent behind alone with no way of getting food.
They work through a menu together. Damen is here for work, Laurent tries to keep in mind, and because of that, part of his employment involves him getting three meals a day. Damen and his big muscles need a specific amount of protein everyday, and Laurent has his own demands around food: chocolate, sweets treats, cake, and lots of frozen food, in case Damen leaves. He doesn’t say the last part out loud.
Once the list is done and both are satisfied, Damen cooks a brief lunch for Laurent with a pack of pasta he had brought with him, and then he immediately leaves to go to the grocery shop, eager to get away from Laurent.
The house is silent, all of the sudden. Laurent grew up in a silent house, where their parents barely allowed any breathing, and once they were gone, he had moved in with Uncle, and that time it was Laurent who did his best to stay silent. When he lived in France, he was alone, and when he came back and lived with Auguste, they had barely talked to one another.
Silence should be Laurent’s best friend, but it is his worst enemy. Silence makes you think. Silence forces you to spend time with yourself. That is the last thing Laurent wants.
He tries to keep himself busy until Damen comes back. It’s harder than it seems, given how long he takes to do anything these days. He lives in a three-story house but for the past six months, he hasn’t gone upstairs. He could, if he wanted to, but that would take hours and he is too scared of falling down. When the second helper left him alone, he accidentally fell down and he had to spend an embarrassingly long time on the floor of his bathroom, unable to move.
There’s a big difference, Laurent understands now, between being lonely and being alone. Before his accident, he would have thought the two were the same things, but he can see now that it isn’t the case. He used to be lonely, with no one to talk to, no one by his side, bored as hell in this too-big house, but he didn’t realize he was alone until he came back home disabled. Until Auguste had to run ads to find him a helper, because Laurent doesn’t have any friends to come and help him out. Until the second helper left and Laurent was alone, truly alone, paralysed with fear because there, in the loneliness of his house, he understood that he could die and that no one would know. No one would care.
Because he doesn’t know what to do with himself, Laurent goes to his room and sits down in front of the laptop that he still hasn’t touched since he came out of the hospital. He should be working on his next book, although his agent assured him he could take all the time in the world, but he can’t find the motivation, even less the inspiration.
He hears Damen return at some point, but he stays in his room, eyes glued to the inert object.
He has six books to his name, something his younger self never thought was possible. Writing has been a way for him to get away from reality for as long as he can remember. Knowing that he gets to make a living from writing should be fulfilling, but it’s not. Quite the opposite: : the one thing that he used to love now feels like a chore and no matter how much he wants to go back to it, he can’t find a way to do so.
After one hour of doing nothing, he closes his Word document and starts a movie, to which he doesn’t pay attention either. Instead, his mind goes back to Damen, who’s currently working in the kitchen, and although Laurent tries to suppress the memories, they all come flying back, the good and the bad - mostly bad, if he’s being honest, and although it shouldn’t impact him anymore, it still does. He doesn’t want Damen in his home. Knowing that he is only a few feet away from him is causing him physical pain. After having been run over by a car, he doesn’t need any more of that.
It’s six when Laurent finally decides that he has had enough of staying in his bedroom and when he opens the door, the smell hits him right in the face. His mouth waters and his stomach aches from hunger.
He keeps a straight face as he sits around the table, waiting for Damen to arrive.
When he does, it’s with hands filled with a plate of burning homemade lasagna.
“That’s…” Amazing, Laurent wants to say. The smell alone is enough to make his stomach rumble. “Adequate.”
“Adequate,” Damen repeats, a smile on his face.
He serves Laurent an overly too big slice and fills his glass with water. It’s stupid. Laurent is more than capable of doing all of that, but a small part of him enjoys it and so he stays silent, watching Damen try his hardest to do the job right. If he lies to himself, he could pretend that Damen is doing all of his willingly. He could pretend that they’re a regular couple, getting ready for dinner, and maybe afterward they would watch a movie, Laurent lovingly cradled in Damen’s arms.
The picture enrages him.
After everything Damen has done to him, all the pain and the shame he brought onto him, Laurent still fantasizes about him, still seeing him as a potential romantic partner. How desperate must one be to think this way?
“You can leave everything on the table and I’ll clean it later.”
Damen is not eating with him.
Here is Laurent, creating an entire little movie in his head about the two of them, when Damen isn’t even sharing a meal with him. It’s pathetic. Laurent is pathetic. He tries to hold still, to keep his composure, but the omega inside of him is on the verge of tears, yearning for Damen’s love, enraging Laurent even more. If only he had a bit of self respect.
“You’re not eating with me?” Laurent says, disinterest showing in his voice.
“I didn’t plan on it, no. Do you want me to?”
Damen’s eyes are screaming at him to say no, and that’s exactly what Laurent does.
“Why would I?”
“Alright, perfect. Call me if you need something.”
Last time Laurent had called him, he had been kicked out of his house by Auguste after he found out that Laurent slept with an alpha. Laurent had called Damen, tears running down his face, and had left voicemail after voicemail, begging Damen to help him out. He just needed a place to stay for a few days or at the very least for the night. Damen never answered his call and never called him back. He received one single text, one week later, a simple “ Are you good?” to which Laurent had never replied.
When Damen leaves the room, Laurent starts eating, although the lump in his throat makes it hard for him to swallow correctly. The lasagna, no matter how good it is, keeps getting stuck in his throat.
The table is big and empty. Around him, there’s only silence. He wonders how long he could spend like this, without a word in his direction, without anyone listening to him. He doesn’t have a lot to say anyway, but maybe he would if he wasn’t alone.
Back when he was younger, when his parents were still alive, he and Auguste were not allowed to talk during dinner. Their parents thought that children talking during dinner was improper and unnecessary. Children don’t have anything interesting to say anyway, they said, and so Laurent and Auguste remained quiet, barely allowed to listen to their parents' conversations.
When Auguste reached adulthood, he joined them in their conversation and suddenly, Laurent was alone. His brother was an adult, and even better, Auguste was an alpha. He was allowed to talk with them, to give his opinion, to tell how his day went and what not. Before, Auguste would always make sure to smile or, when he was feeling reckless, to grimace at Laurent to make the dinner less of a chore. He didn’t even spare him a second look,once he moved to the adult side of the table, he didn’t even spare Laurent a second glance.
Then their parents died and Laurent moved in with Uncle.
Uncle let him talk. Better even, Uncle encouraged him to speak about his day, about his troubles and his feelings. For the first time in his life, he had felt heard and seen. He wonders if he would have been able to fight against Uncle, if his parents and Auguste hadn’t set such a nice scene for him to enter. If he had been born into a loving family, where he mattered and was loved, would Uncle have had so much power? Because Laurent went, willingly, into Uncle’s bedroom. He went, not knowing what was going to happen but knowing that for once, he was special to someone.
That’s probably why it hurt even more, once he learnt about the other boys. He hated what Uncle was doing to him, but if it meant he was loved, he could still accept it, somehow. But he wasn’t even that special and it only lasted for a while before Uncle got tired of him, too.
He gets up, leaving behind him a half-eaten plate on the table.
_
When he was younger, Laurent used to love being naked. One of Auguste’s favorite stories to tell is how three year old Laurent would make their nanny run after him in the house, the poor woman losing her voice calling after him, while Laurent did nothing but run and run, ass naked and without a care in the world. Their parents would have hated it but they were rarely around during nighttime and so every night, Laurent would chase after his freedom, not a care in the world for his own nudity.
Then Uncle happened, and Laurent refused to do so much as show his ankles. He got in trouble for it at school. His physical education teacher wrote a note to Auguste, telling him that Laurent was refusing to wear shorts during practice, but Auguste stood by Laurent, for once. Another time, Laurent was invited to a birthday party and there was a pool in the backyard, and when they tried to force him to go in, he started crying and would not stop until they had no choice but to call Auguste. Auguste collected him and once again, he didn’t ask Laurent anything. He drove him back to their Uncle and told Laurent to just say no to the birthday party next time, then he drove off and Laurent was alone, once again.
Sometimes Laurent wonders what he would have told Auguste, if he had asked. Would he have said the truth? Would he have told his brother that wearing shorts made him scared his EP teacher may want to touch him the way Uncle did? Would he have told him that he didn’t want to go to the pool because there was blood in his underwear and the chlorine in the water would have hurt his already sore body? Would have Auguste listened, if he had told him all of that?
Auguste didn’t ask and so the questions stayed unanswered. Laurent was just trying to protect his virtue, something deeply important for an omega, Auguste told people, not knowing that Laurent’s virtue had been long gone. Their own Uncle ruined him every night without a second thought for it.
Since the accident, Laurent has had to work to accept letting people see his body naked and worse, touch it. Somehow, no matter how many times it happens, it never gets easier.
Even now, in front of Damen, who not only has already seen him naked but had also been inside of him once, in the deepest, most intimate part of his body, Laurent stands uncomfortably, his towel tight around his chest. Under it, he’s in nothing but his underwear.
“Do you need help to get on the table?” Damen asks, barely looking at him.
Laurent wishes he would. Damen had been drunk, they both had been, when they had sex together. He had told Laurent again and again how pretty he was, so much that by the end of the night, Laurent had believed him.
When he had woken up alone the next morning, he had understood that it was just a way to get in his pants.
His reaction today only confirms it, and yet, even though he knows Damen didn’t find him attractive back then, Laurent can’t convince himself to take the towel off.
His body had been pretty that night, even if Laurent had a hard time believing it at the time, with his Uncle’s words echoing in his mind over and over again. It was pretty, back then, but it isn’t anymore.
He wishes Damen would say something to make him feel better.
“Come on, Laurent,” Damen says softly, so soft that Laurent feels his face reddening. “Don’t be scared. I would never touch you, you know that.”
Laurent holds the towel even tighter. A sharp pain stabs athis heart. Damen had touched him, that one time. He had made love to him, slow and intense, and had showered him in kisses from head to toes. He had worshiped Laurent until Laurent camefirst, and then Damen had followed.
Somehow, at some point in the night, Laurent had done something so wrong that Damen had disappeared before the sun came up, and had never talked about it with him again.
Laurent doesn’t care. But then what is this feeling inside his chest? Why is it that he hates Damen, yet the moment Damen says something like that, he wants to crawl under the cover and hug himself extra tight?
He takes his towel off in one go and without looking at Damen’s face, he lays, face down, on the massage table.
“Relax,” Damen orders him.
“I’m relaxed.”
“No you’re not.”
“I’m-”
Damen’s hands are on him. He must have rubbed them together first because when they touch his skin, they’re not cold, although not totally warm either. It smells like oil and a quick look to his right proves Laurent’s right: Damen is rubbing some plant-based oil on his body, starting from his feet and slowly getting up to his knees. He’s wearing underwear, thankfully, but it doesn’t help shutting the shame down.
He wonders what Damen thinks of his body. The last time he had seen Laurent with so few clothes was two years ago, when his skin was still unblemished and his body intact. Now, there are scars and bruises everywhere, and his leg barely looks like one anymore. There are days where Laurent can’t even look at it. He’s never been one to pay attention to his looks, but he understands now that it was because he used to be pretty without having to do anything. Now, his body is transformed and his face is marked by the lack of sleep and the trauma from the accident. He knows it’s probably all in his head: his first helper, Marta, told him that he was the prettiest omega she had ever seen, although he refused to believe her.
“So, you’re working on a new book?” Damen says.
Laurent’s heart skips a beat but he tries to hide it and focus back on the way Damen is massaging his leg.
His books, Laurent knows, are a forbidden subject. Auguste hates them with a passion and even tried to convince Laurent to use a pseudonym, which Laurent refused to do, despite his brother’s insistence. The books are not great, but they’re not that bad either, or at least Laurent thinks they’re not. He doesn’t really know. He has a deal with a publishing house, but he suspects they only agreed to publishing his books because they needed a certain number of Omega writers. At least that’s what Auguste told him.
No one ever talked about his books with him. The sales are great, but it’s like his readers are ghosts: there are no comments, no reviews, silence. His books are just as alone as he is.
With a bit of excitement in his voice, he asks Damen, “Have you read them?”
“No, sorry.”
It’s fine. It’s Laurent’s fault for wishing in the first place. Of course Damen didn’t read his books. No one does.
“Not much of a reader. I would have guessed that.”
“I do love to read. They’re just not my style.”
Ouch .
“I heard about you and Jokaste,” Laurent says.
He briefly hopes that Damen won’t ask him how he knew, exactly, because Laurent is too proud to admit that he’s regularly stalking Damen on social media. He could pretend that a friend told him, but Damen wouldn’t buy that. Saying that it’s Auguste would be even worse.
“Who hasn’t heard of it, right?” Damen says with a fake laugh.
“Right.”
Damen moves his hand, higher this time, so close to Laurent’s thigh that he can feel trembling in the most intimate part of his body.
“You’re supposed to say you’re sorry,” Damen says.
“Why would I be? She slept with your brother and got pregnant. You should be grateful it was before the wedding and not after.”
“I loved her.”
Jokaste and Damen had been seeing each other back when he and Laurent slept together. They were not a couple yet, but she was there and Damen supposedly loved her back then already. So why sleep with Laurent, in that case? It’s bullshit. Damen didn’t love her. If he did, he would have never done that.
“Did you, now?”
“I did, yes. But I guess you don’t understand that, do you? Never been in love, never been loved. Must be very lonely.”
Laurent frowns. He has been in love and Damen knows that all too well. Laurent had been seventeen when, with trembling lips and shaking hands, he asked Damen to go to prom with him. Damen wasn’t in high school anymore, but the school allowed non-students to attend, and Laurent thought it was the perfect occasion to confess his love to Damen.
He didn’t care about prom in the slightest. But if Damen would only agree, then Laurent would have understood what it was like to be a real teenager, for once in his life. He had already pictured the faces of everyone in attendance at the prom, seeing the guy they all hated in the arms of the most handsome alpha to ever exist. But Damen refused his proposal without so much as a second thought, as if his words didn’t act as knives, cutting deep into Laurent’s skin and to his heart. If only he had stopped there, maybe Laurent would have been able to recover.
“I would rather be alone forever than get cheated on. Tell me, do you think you ever enjoyed your brother’s sloppy seconds? You thought she was wet for you when she was still dripping Kastor’s cum.”
It happens too quickly for Laurent to react, although he should have expected it. One second Damen is holding his leg in the air to massage his calf, the next he’s dropping his leg violently, letting it hit the massage table with a loud noise.
Laurent screams, the pain rushing over his body, through his legs to his torso.
“Fuck!”
Fucking Damen. Fucking stupid shitty Damen!
“I’m sorry,” Damen says in a hurry, rushing over to him. “Shit, sorry. Are you okay?”
Laurent slaps his hand away and tries to get back up despite the shooting pain in his body.
“Fucking leave me alone! Fuck of a nurse you are!”
“It’s not my fault! You fucking pushed me to the edge!”
“I was just telling the truth. It’s not my fault if you’re so stupid.”
“You know,” Damen says, anger rising through his voice. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely if you weren’t such a dick all the time. I’m not surprised Auguste had to beg me to come because no one else could stand you. Just being in the same room as you is a fucking torture!”
“Then leave!” Laurent screams. “No one is forcing you to be here. Just leave, you’re good at it, aren’t you? ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Laurent wants to throw the truth in his face and reminds him of their night together, but he’s still half-naked on the table and his leg and hips are on fire. He needs to take the painkillers, yet he avoids taking them, because he’s afraid they won’t have any effect anymore, and he will need to take more and more, just to make the pain go away. He will massage his own leg and cuddle himself to sleep because he never, ever needed anyone.
Especially not Damen.
“Leave, Damen. Just fucking leave.”
Damen hesitates, torn between the knowledge that he is getting paid to help Laurent and the fact he can’t stand him, even after all those years. Laurent doesn’t blame him and if he could, he would have gotten up already and left the room, but he can’t. His body's failing him, not for the first time in his life.
Finally, Damen leaves, slamming the door on his way out. Then, Laurent is alone, once again.
---
Every time Laurent closes his eyes, he dreams of the accident.
It shouldn’t be a surprise: it was a traumatic episode in his life and Laurent’s sleep has always been quite sensitive to day to day events anyway. After he slept with Damen, he dreamt of their night together for the following six months. It wasn’t always the same dream. Sometimes they were pleasant, the rest were nightmares: Damen leaving him behind, Damen calling him names and making fun of him, Auguste entering the room and beating Laurent up, a thousand other scenarios that made Laurent wake up in a trance, shaking from how real they felt.
It’s the same with the car incident, only a bit different. He doesn’t have to alter the reality for this one to look like a nightmare and most of the time, it’s the same thing: he’s on the road and the car is coming. He feels his body flying through the air, crashing onto the ground, the pain and the confusion. Sometimes he dreams that Auguste is driving the car.
After the massage incident, he went to his room and tried to take a nap, still naked in his underwear. He didn’t sleep, unable to keep his mind from racing back to the event.
This is why he didn’t want to have Damen here. Over the years, Laurent has learned to maintain his composure in front of everyone, no matter what is being thrown in his face, but the second Damen is on the other side, none of this matters anymore.
At 4, he decides that sleep will never come.
At 5, his phone lights up.
Auguste: Hi Lo, how is it going with Damen?
Auguste: I transferred you some money BTW.
Auguste: Hope you’re doing better.
Auguste: I’m thinking of you.
He pushes his phone away. Replying to Auguste is the last thing he wants to do.
Damen isn’t home anymore. He heard him leaving right after their altercation, heard the loud sound of his car and the gate closing behind him. There’s a chance he won’t come back; the two last helpers didn’t. They left because Laurent was too hard to manage, too stubborn and too insolent. It’s only worse with Damen: it would be logical that he does the same as them, maybe even worse.
Slowly, he gets up and walks to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror that he tries so hard to avoid lately, he stares at his body. There’s a bruise on his leg, where it hit the table when Damen let go of him. The impact hadn’t been that hard, but between Laurent’s fair skin and the medication he is taking, his body tends to react with more intensity to pain these days. It’s just another bruise, one more in the vast blue ocean that has made its way on Laurent’s body.
Laurent lets his fingers travel on his skin, the sensation barely there, and when he reaches one of the bruises, he presses on it until he can feel the pain spreading in his body.
The loneliness, the silence - it’s all too much. Humans are not made to survive without touch and love, and it’s even more true for omegas. When the rumors around Laurent being a free use for every alpha and beta in town were at their peak, Auguste had Laurent sent away to an omega boarding school. Laurent had been seventeen but thanks to his good grades, he was able to enroll in the college program of the school. There, omegas were taught how they were supposed to act, to behave, and what they needed to become perfect omegas.
Most of it was garbage and as soon as he was able to, Laurent left the program, but some parts were true. The ones about their physical needs weren’t made up, and Laurent is starting to understand it. They taught omegas that not only did they need physical touch, but also that being near an alpha would make those needs stronger.
Laurent had never felt this way. He could have been locked with an alpha and wouldn’t have done so much as look their way. But if the alpha was Damen - then, everything that he had been taught in school came back. He had no choice but to agree with them. He can feel his omega screaming every time Damen is nearby. Today, his omega is crying, feeling abandoned and unwanted.
He finally accepts that sleep won’t come tonight and so he gets up, still in his pajamas, and walks to the living room. He sits down on the couch, puts a pillow on the table for his leg and turns the television on. He doesn’t try to find a program that will suit him. This isn’t about finding a distraction but just a way to fill up the silence.
If it had been before his accident, he would have been writing right now. It was always his loophole. With his stories, he was never alone. He never self-inserted himself in them, but he didn’t need to. Every one of his characters is part of him, the good and the bad, the omega, beta and alpha: in all of them, is a part of his own personality, his own life.
He hasn’t written a single line since it happened. He isn’t sure why. He blamed it on his hand at first, and then on the meds and finally, on how tired he was, but all of these are excuses. His accident forced him to face a reality he was hiding from. He stopped writing, just for a minute, and now it’s like his magical world has vanished.
It’s almost midnight when Damen comes back. Laurent has fallen asleep in front of the TV.
“Hi.”
Damen sits down on the couch next to Laurent. He smells like alcohol and cheap perfume. He had sex with someone, Laurent concludes.
“Hi.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t, but it’s not important. He is used to skipping meals, and has been for as long as he can remember. Even when he was just a child, he would often claim a tummy ache or too much homework to get away from dinner with his parents.
The TV is still on. He ended up on a true crime program and although he should feel wide awake, given the content on display, the guy’s voice is soft and barely higher than a whisper, and Laurent feels his eyes closing back on their own accord. He can’t help but feel lighter, knowing that Damen is back. He had thought he was gone for good this time.
“I can’t stay with you all the time,” Damen says. “I need some time out of the house. You don’t need as much help as Auguste made it out to be.”
Does he not? Damen’s words should feel validating but Laurent feels like crying again, and he wonders if his medication is messing up with his hormones because he has never been much of a crier. He didn’t even cry at their parents' funeral. He didn’t feel as lonely as he does now, back then. Auguste was distant, but he still loved him. Uncle was giving him attention.
“What are you offering?” Laurent asks. “This isn’t a hotel. I’m not going to allow you to sleep here without doing anything.”
“Of course not. I’ll still make your food and help you out when you need it, but just - not as much as Auguste wants me to.”
“So you’re taking Auguste’s money without even taking care of me.”
“Since when do you care about Auguste or his money?”
Auguste’s money belonged to their parents. It is not more his money than it is Laurent’s, but Auguste is the firstborn and an alpha, and so by the law, the money and their dad’s company belongs to him. Auguste giving money to Laurent is a generous act, something that everyone, Auguste included, likes to remind him of.
Auguste, that everyone loves.
Auguste, the perfect alpha, perfect brother, perfect every fucking thing, taking care of his good-for-nothing omega brother.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I went too far.”
“I don’t give a shit about what you think about me, Damen.”
“I know,” Damen says. “I always wondered how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Not caring about what the world thinks of you. It’s really brave.”
It sounds like a compliment but it isn’t. Laurent is an outcast, has always been, and Damen is rubbing it even more in his face. He didn’t choose to be like this and his “brave” behavior is only a survival instinct. And he does care– a lot, maybe even too much (for his own good).
When Damen turned him down and told Auguste, and then everyone proceeded to make fun of him for it, Laurent did care about what they were thinking. He had been so humiliated that day that for weeks, he wasn’t able to put his feet outside without thinking all eyes were on him. He feigned being sick, until Auguste’s laughs turned to anger and he forced him to go back to school. Then things got even worse.
“I think I’m better than everyone else. It makes things easier.”
Damen smiles, believing every lie that spills from Laurent’s mouth.
“The whole thing with Jokaste…It was hard for me. Still is.”
“I didn’t know you loved her that much.”
“I didn’t. She wasn’t the love of my life and we both agreed on that. We weren’t even going to mate. But we were good, and we did love each other, in a way.”
“Then why are you sad? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t sound like a great loss.”
“It’s the humiliation ,” Damen admits. “Everyone knows my own brother slept with my fiancée. You can’t imagine what it’s like.”
But Laurent can imagine it. Auguste and Damen had laughed at him, can’t Damen remember that? An omega asking an alpha to prom. Worse, an omega like Laurent, asking an alpha like Damen. It was pathetic, Laurent had realized too late. He was pathetic, and Auguste had ensured that he was well aware of it, as if Laurent hadn’t already lost all his self-esteem after the rejection.
“If you say so.” Laurent gets up, his cane supporting most of his sleepy body’s weight. “I’ll have breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Damen smiles and Laurent’s knees almost give in. That damn smile. Why did Damen have to be this pretty?
“Will do. Need help going back to your room?”
“No. I’ll stay there a bit longer.”
If Damen wants to argue, he doesn’t. He leaves the room and Laurent stays in the dark, the TV playing in the playground, feeling a little less lonely this way.