Chapter 11

Saturday, past two in the morning. The phone screen shone brightly in the dim room before the screen flickered off. It was quickly tossed to the nightstand after being used.

The room was dim, bathed in pale amber light from the hallway. Damian hadn't moved from the chair. His coat was folded neatly beside him; his sleeves rolled to the elbows. He sat with his hands loosely clasped between his knees, watching Theodore's chest rise and fall beneath the covers.

Theodore's fever had eased, but the flush remained on his cheeks. His lashes fluttered against his skin. the faintest hitch of breath—sensing something was wrong, Damian leaned forward, brows furrowed.

Theodore was murmuring something again, the barest twitch of lips. His fingers curled at the edge of the blanket, clutching at nothing. A low whimper slipped from his throat. His body arched slightly beneath the sheets, a soft tremble running through him. His scent surged again—unstable, strained, heavy with instinctual need.

Damian's hand twitched. His glands pulsed faintly beneath the skin of his neck. It had been so long. Years since he'd felt the instinctual urge. Carefully, he stood and approached the bed. The moment he got close, the pull of Theodore's scent hit him again—sickly sweet, ripe with vulnerability and suppressed desire. Damian gritted his teeth and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Closing his eyes, he carefully guided his pheromones to envelop Theodore. Damian's scent stuck to him like a stain that refused to disappear, slowly, Theodore's twitching eased.

Damian watched, unmoving, as the lines between his brows slowly faded. His breath steadied, the tension in his jaw loosened. His body relaxed inch by inch, until he melted into the pillow once more, like a string finally allowed to go slack.

Still asleep, but no longer in distress. Damian didn't speak. He simply remained there, watching. He loved how beautiful Theodore looked like this. Peaceful, lips slightly parted, hair mussed and damp against his cheek. His gaze locked on his rosy lips. He clenched his jaw, his heart aching with longing.

He leaned close, his breath ghosting over the tip of Theodore's nose. He caught himself, stood up and straightened his back. Damian became wide eyed, he covered his lips with his palm. "Damn it." The instincts that came with his glands made him want to carve his glands out again.

He struggled to quell his instincts before sitting back down the edge of the matress. Damian had already applied the pheromone patch on his glands, yet it felt like he had applied nothing. His mind recalled the meeting with his parents, then he thought about the time. He sighed. Fueled by exhaustion, he didn't care about heading out of Theodore's bedroom.

Damian laid beside Theodore and blinked—he didn't open his eyes again, having succumbed to slumber, his breathing was calm and even. The next morning, Theodore's eyelashes fluttered awake. The sensation of someone embracing him tightly woke him up.

His eyes widened at the sight of Damian, the closeness immensely unfamiliar. His arms around his curvatures made his eyebrows furrow. What happened last night? His eyes took in the sight of his bedroom and he sighed in relief. At least not in the tutoring center.

Surprisingly, his body wasn't sore, most notably the area between his legs. He sighed, whatever's done is done. He pushed away Damian and planned to get up, only for his grip to tighten around Theodore. "..Stay." He murmured, his morning breath hitting his sensitive nose. Theodore frowned, repulsed, yet a warm feeling sprouted in his chest.

He immediately swatted it.

"Let go of me, Damian." He said through clenched teeth. He was met with calm breathing and silence. Initially, he thought Damian was awake and was messing with him, but he wasn't. "Theo.." Damian murmured in his sleep.

He was calling his name in his sleep. Theodore bit his lip, his ears flushed red. This situation is strange, Theodore felt uncomfortable.. but that didn't mean he hated it. Damian's arms around him tightened. Nevermind, he hated it. So uncomfy.

But even so, he couldn't muster up the strength to push him away. "Damian, wake up." He said softly, his gaze holding some grievances. "Wake up." He repeated until Damian's eyelashes fluttered awake.

Immediately the flushed ears, slightly red cheeks disappeared. Replaced with a cold look. He looked at Theodore with half-asleep eyes. "Let go of me." Damian's eyes widened and he let go of his waist, sitting up to look at the light seeping through the curtains. He grabbed his phone on the nightstand to check the time.

Damian's jaw clenched, damn, he had barely enough time to shower and eat breakfast. Beside him, Theodore wondered what he was looking at his phone for, whatever. It wasn't his business. He was going to get up and take a shower.

Theodore stiffened as Damian gripped his wrist, stopping him. "Theo. Make me breakfast.." He said lowly, it was almost as if he was... shy? Damian felt ashamed, he was the one who wanted Theodore to stop cooking for him. <refer to chapter 1>

The auburn haired omega raised an eyebrow and cast Damian a cold glance before standing up and walking out of the room. Damian, whose hopes crashed down into the ground sighed. If he was him, he definitely wouldn't cook for him too.

Dejected, he went to shower. When he was done, he spotted Theodore in the kitchen. He had showered too, his hajr was still glistening and he changed into fresh clothes. Damian didn't know what to do, Theodore was occupying the only stove the large mansion had.

He had to cook for himself quickly. From his memory, his parents were strict about time and if he was a hour late, they would nag him. Damian resolved his heart, shoulders sunken. Counting the bleak years he'd survived through the apocalypse, his mind had long since crossed the age of fifty. Even so, his body was that of a 23-year-old. And despite everything he had endured, some part of him still flinched at the thought of facing his parents.

Whilst Damian was sinking further and further into the abyss, Theodore moved with quiet focus. Eggs, rice, green onions, a bit of leftover pork he found chilled in the fridge. His hands knew what to do, even if the rest of him still felt half-disjointed.

The pan sizzled softly as he stirred the rice, watching steam curl upward, catching the faint glint of oil on the edges. The scent filled the kitchen quickly, Damian looked up, his stomach rumbling. Theodore finished plating the rice, just as Damian was about to look away, their eyes locked.

Theodore slid a plate towards his direction, "Eat before it gets cold." He said, looking away. Damian blinked, then walked over and took the seat. He picked up the spoon slowly, like he wasn't quite sure it was real.