Unsurprisingly, Chief Phupha is an alpha.
Tian scoffs. Figures. Lots of posturing and ordering others around, expecting everyone to jump when he so much as raises a brow while he leans back with arms crossed on his chest. (Admittedly, yes, it’s a very nice chest but still.) Then again, the village is small and seems to be mostly traditional. Alphas guard the perimeter, omegas take care of the home and the kids, with betas making the bulk of the workforce, so it tracks.
He’s still low-key seething at the way Chief Phupha had taught him to cook and do laundry like it was his duty to do it just because he was an omega, although he might just as well man up and admit that perhaps it wasn’t about the gender roles but the fact that it was something most people know how to do. You know, the people who don’t have servants milling around to fulfill even the most ridiculous request just because they need the money and you can’t bother doing the simple stuff yourself. And perhaps he was embarrassed that at 21, he had no idea of how to peel a vegetable but that’s not the point.
But the man is hovering all the time, following Tian across the yard or the classroom with his gaze and it’s annoying. Just because Tian is a delicate big-city omega doesn’t mean he’s a useless idiot!
Perhaps that’s the reason he hisses and snaps.
Or perhaps it’s because the minute narrowing of Chief Phupha’s eyes makes something sing within him.
(Or perhaps not.)
Thing was, he’d been living like he was about to drop dead any moment for a long time. And even before he knew he was going to die young, he didn’t quite feel like himself. It wasn’t just his overbearing parents (although they definitely didn’t help) or the unfortunate fact that he was not only the youngest child but also an omega little brother to his alpha big sisters. In his family’s book, that meant he was given anything he wanted—except for the freedom to choose what he wanted to do with his life.
It was…eluding, a sense of something just beyond his grasp like he should be feeling a certain way but he wasn’t and he had no words for it. Dread was too much and anxiety too little.
And underneath it all, the nagging fact that, despite never wanting for anything, he never went to heat.
According to Mom, the reason was first because of school stress and then because of his illness. The fact that he was constantly under supervision wasn’t that big a deal in her mind. From her perspective, Tian was loved and safe, with the whole world at his grasp. Dad didn’t comment but stayed as an unflinching, silent wall, calmly listening to all Tian’s complaints and then doing whatever Mom wanted.
But in the end, his heart was just a convenient excuse.
There was something very wrong with him and he didn’t know how to fix it.
”Ha,” Dr. Nam says, waving his glass. ”He’s more bark than bite, you know?”
Tian raises a brow.
Dr. Nam huffs.”And by that I mean you two really should talk. I’m getting hives from being your middleman—I don’t even want to be here!”
Tian smirks and leans his head back a bit. ”And yet, here you are.”
”No!” Dr. Nam hisses, gesturing at his torso. A small amount of clear booze sloshes over the brim of his glass and lands on the table next to the snack bowl. ”That what you’re doing right now? That thing! That’s what driving everyone nuts!”
”Wha is?” Tian asks. ”My head?”
Dr. Nam lets out a frustrated groan. ”Your throat, you little shit. You sit in a heap and then you tilt your head back and show your throat at everyone and we are the ones who have to live with the consequences!”
”…What?” He asks, bewildered.
”Don’t give me that,” Dr. Nam huffs. ”You know exactly what you’re doing.”
…Except that he doesn’t, and that’s kind of part of the problem. A big part, it seems.
”You…don’t,” Dr. Nam says flatly after a moment of awkward silence. ”How the hell is that possible?”
Tian shrugs a bit, scratching at a dent in the table and avoiding Dr. Nam’s gaze. ”I don’t know,” he mutters and, in a burst of courage, surprises himself by continuing, ”I was on suppressants for years, first because my parents thought it would shield me, and later, the doctors thought my heart wouldn’t cope with a heat. And after…” He shrugs again and shoots Dr. Nam a stilted grin from the corner of his mouth. ”It’s not like I’ve felt I was in a safe space to…you know.”
Dr. Nam leans back, his mouth frozen in a small ’o’. ”But you are,” he says slowly. ”I mean, I can’t say anything about being comfortable but you are safe and loved. You should know that.”
”Um,” he says. ”Yeah. Sure.”
”Tian—”
”I think I’m gonna…go,” he says, pointing vaguely at something behind his back. He stands up without meeting Dr. Nam’s eyes and wraps his arms around himself as he hurries back to his cabin.
Engineering was something he picked up because Mom thought it was a good idea. It was okay because he’d always loved figuring out things and frankly, math was easy. It was like he saw the equations and calculations dance in the air in front of him, and he usually had to test a thing only once to understand how it worked.
It was fun and it was boring because he never felt he accomplished anything. What was the purpose? To find a way to improve yet another car? To maximize the space inside yet another private jet? He wanted to do something but he had no idea what.
Mom said the ache in his chest was just his weak heart.
But what was it after Torfun? Why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe properly when he finally had a heart that worked as it should? His new heart was fluttering like a caged bird and he didn’t understand why and it was driving him nuts.
Nam’s perhaps most annoying trait is just how often he is right.
Like now.
The kids are coloring the maps they made of the village and Tian leans against the table with a small smile. He never thought he’d grow to love this: a bunch of unruly, mischievous kids who challenge him in a good way on a daily basis. He’s getting something done here, he’s making a real difference, and the feeling is heady.
As he tilts his head back, he sees movement from the corner of his eye and—wait. Has Chief always stared at him like that, leaning slightly forward, hands clenched into fists, and lips slightly parted? Tian ducks his head and blinks, biting his tongue as he tries to come up with what to do next. Should he—? But what if—? Perhaps it would—
Meejoo’s voice yanks him from his thoughts and when he glances to the side, Chief Phupha is gone.
Shit.
Really?
He tests it later that night when he’s having dinner with Chief, Yod, Rang, and Nam, nonchalantly as if he isn’t thinking about it at all. He finishes his food and then turns slightly towards Chief Phupha and tilts his head back.
Three things happen:
Chief drops his spoon.
Yod, Rang, and Nam let out a wheezing sound.
And Tian blushes.
…shit.
”You’ll meet your special someone,” Mom said almost on a daily basis, brushing his hair back and pressing a kiss on his forehead. ”I know you will.”
”What’s the point? I’m just going to die anyway.”
”Don’t say that!” She scolded. ”Just because you feel hopeless now doesn’t mean you should live your life like that.”
But isn’t that exactly what I’m doing? He thought. I’m beyond hope, right?
”How about we go shopping? Or would you like to invite friends over?”
Mom was trying. She really, really was and Tian loved her so much for that. But she was also trying to turn a blind eye to what was happening—to the fact that Tian was dying and no amount of either partying or fancy new designer clothes would make a damn difference.
He knew better than to say it, though. If there was something that made his chest ache more than his own useless desperation, it was Mom’s tears.
So, he stretched his face into something akin to a smile and said, ”Yeah. Sure.”
The shitty thing about secrets is that the longer you keep them, the more damage they’ll do when they finally come out.
The villagers are so proud of the school they’ve built and their joy rubs against Tian’s guilt, making him nauseous. He needs to tell them about Torfun, about the debt he’ll never be able to pay and that’s what he’s going to do when—
Torfun’s diary is in Chief Phupha’s hand and Tian can’t breathe.
He stares at the familiar faces he’s grown to love during these past months and sees them turn cold and disappointed, sees them turn away from him. Their collective fury slams into him so hard he wobbles on his feet and nearly falls on his knees but he forces himself to stay upright, to walk a straight line through the path that opens in front of him as the villagers part like the sea.
And most importantly, he sees Chief’s eyes turn from glassy to cold and—then he turns his back and—
He’s unaware of the small whimper that escapes his mouth and the way Chief Phupha whirls around with wide eyes and how his hand reaches out before he catches himself, forces himself to take a step back.
Tian walks away and he’s freezing.
The village is in mourning and everyone hates Tian for it.
He’s so cold he shivers even through two blankets and a knit sweater.
He’s cold when he walks to the empty class and he’s cold when he collects his things from Chief Phupha.
”Tian,” Chief Phupha says without looking at him.
”Don’t—” he whispers. Please, don’t do this to me, he wants to say. Please, don’t make me leave. Please let me stay—
”You should just go.”
Sometimes, he wondered how his life would’ve been if he’d been born an alpha. Or not even an alpha, but a beta. Would he have been as strong and charismatic as his sisters? Would he have had more freedom, the chance to decide for himself what he wanted to do and where?
Would his father have given him a solemn nod instead of an eye roll with a head shake, would he have taken him seriously?
Or would he still have been a disappointment: a weak son with a faulty heart?
He keeps being cold, all the time. As the nights grow chilly, he sleeps fitfully, plagued by strange dreams and shapes of people who walk away from him no matter how hard he tries to reach them. He wakes up cold with an aching heart, draws on a thick sweater, and plasters on a smile for yet another day as a disappointment.
”But why didn’t you tell us the truth from the start?” Longtae asks on the day he takes Tian to the waterfalls and makes him tell him the whole, sordid story. ”You made yourself sound like a heartless monster when you didn’t even kill Torfun!”
Tian hugs his knees against his chest and the heart that isn’t his stutters in his chest. ”Because it’s true,” he whispers. ”I might not have been behind the wheel but I handed out the weapon and told my friend to use it.”
Longtae scoffs. ”And did you tell him to hit someone? No? Then shut the hell up.” He wipes his cheeks angrily and gives Tian a narrow-eyed look. ”You are an idiot, you know?”
Tian is so, so tired.
”Yeah,” he whispers and presses his forehead against his knees, just trying to breathe.
Something rustles and then he feels Longtae grip his shoulder. ”You should at least tell Chief Phu.”
”Sure,” Tian mumbles. ”As if he didn’t hate me enough already.”
”What? No, he doesn’t,” Longtae retorts. ”Even I know that and I’m a beta.”
Tian lifts his head and gives Longtae an incredulous look.
”For an omega, you’re unbelievably blind,” Longtae says, almost awed.
”Wha—uh, never mind,” Tian splutters, turning his head to avoid seeing the look in Longtae’s eyes. He bites his lips and then says, ”Anyway, could you take me to the Pha Pun Dao cliffs? I want to go there to fulfill Torfun’s wish and I don’t remember the way.”
Longtae frowns. ”Right now? It’s getting pretty late and the woods will be dark soon.”
”Please?”
”Your big, pretty eyes shouldn’t work on me but…” he sighs. ”Whatever. Wait here, I’ll go get my flashlight.”
Tian lets himself smile a little when Longtae dashes down the path.
Perhaps everything won’t end up in a disaster.
Perhaps he’ll get to fulfill Torfun’s wish after all, even though he doesn’t know what it is.
The whole going-into-heat-when-you-feel-safe thing was a remnant of more archaic times when biology played a more dominant role in the continuation of the human race. Back when it was necessary the omega felt completely safe and comfortable to descend into heat that would first swallow them into a hormonal storm and then render them vulnerable when they were pregnant. Nowadays, bonding and pregnancy was possible both during and outside the heat cycle but the biological imperative stays.
In some neo-traditionalist circles, heat—and especially the first bonding heat—signified a sign of the True Calling of The Omega which to the more sane people sounded just a convenient way to control a part of the populace. Tian never thought about it much, first because he was so young and then because he was going to die soon, but also because the mere thought of ending up in a state where he lost even the small amount of control he had in his life was terrifying.
Why the hell would anyone want to voluntarily put themselves through something like that?
Tian was an independent, modern omega. Weak heart or not, he didn’t need any stupid alpha’s stupid posturing.
(He was a broken vessel put together with staples and thread and he had no idea what the total sum of his parts was.)
Staring down the barrel of a gun is the most terrifying moment of his life since his heart attack in the casino.
And then Chief Phupha is there, shooting his attacker with cold fury in his eyes and reeking of protective aggression and Tian feels light-headed with relief that turns into inexplicable warmth as Chief checks him with frantic hands and wide eyes. He smiles a bit as Chief gently helps him up and cups his cheek to get a better look into his eyes, speechless by the soft curve of his lips. He lets himself go pliant and sag against a firm chest as Chief tucks an arm around him, and the next thing he knows is that Chief shifts suddenly, jerks, and slumps, bringing Tian down with him and—
There’s blood.
There’s so much blood.
There’s blood on Tian’s hands where he presses against the bleeding wound on Chief’s stomach and there’s blood on Chief’s lips when he coughs out Tian’s name and no, this is the most terrifying moment of Tian’s life, this is his worst nightmare, this is—
Someone is screaming but all he can see is the way Chief’s eyes go glassy and then close.
When Tian was a kid, he had this dream where he would lie down on a grassy hill and count the clouds that slowly sail across a blue sky.
Turns out, he still has that dream, except that now he isn’t alone.
Chief lives and it makes Tian desperately happy.
Chief lives and confesses he’s been working for Tian’s dad and the betrayal morphs his happiness into a bitter sting in his chest. He extracts his hand from Chief’s hold, thanks him politely, and then turns and walks out of his room, the dull roar in his ears covering the way Chief calls his name. He closes the door and in a daze, walks out of the hospital and into the garden overlooking a lake. It’s a pretty place and he sees none of it, staring into the horizon with eyes filled with tears.
He thought—
He doesn’t know what he thought.
He’s distantly aware of the erratic beating of his heart, the way the wind paints his bare arms with goosebumps, and how the hems of his hospital pajama pants slowly drink up the water left behind by a garden hose. He has no idea what to do now. Return to the village where everyone despises him? Return to his parents to be their living doll to parade around in dull charity events? To leave somewhere where no one would find him?
That’s a thought.
”Tian!”
He sways slightly as he turns, slowly cocking his head as Chief stumbles across the garden. He shouldn’t be up and moving yet, his gunshot wound—
”Tian, just—listen to me, please?”
He lets out a noncommittal hum and turns again. There are birds in the water, too far away to get a better look at the breed. Are they also monogamous like the Hornbills? He doesn’t know—he’s never really been that into ornithology.
”I’m sorry,” Chief says. ”I’m sorry about so many things. About not telling you your father reached out, about treating you so harshly in the beginning, about making you feel like you weren’t enough.” Chief’s words collide with each other in his hurry to get them out, making him sound desperate. ”But most of all, Tian—” he pauses and hesitantly touches his arm. ”Most of all, I’m so sorry I was a coward. I kept Torfun’s death from the villagers because I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. I never told them and they turned on you when you—”
”Stop,” Tian says quietly. ”You don’t have to do this.”
”Of course I do!” Chief protests. His breath hisses, prompting Tian to take a look at him.
And Chief looks terrible. He’s barely staying on his feet with sweat on his forehead and lips pale and drawn. He looks like he’s in pain and it makes Tian’s heart clench. ”Why are you here?” He asks. ”You’ve been shot!”
”I had to—you left and I didn’t know—” Chief swallows and sways slightly. Worried, Tian grabs his arm and hisses when Chief’s sudden weight shoots a flare of pain through his fractured arm. ”The look on your face—I hurt you, Tian,” he says. ”Back in the village—I didn’t know, Nam is so angry—and back in my hospital room—Tian, I’m so sorry.”
Tian is growing alarmed at the babbling. This isn’t like Chief Phupha. He’s stoic, sparse with his words, and he stumbles neither on his feet nor in his speech. And now he’s doing both. It takes him way too much energy he doesn’t really have to spare to wrangle Chief to sit down on a bench, and then he sits right next to him because Chief is still whispering his apologies and Tian is really, really tired. He checks around to see if he can call a nurse—because there’s no way Chief is in any shape to walk back to his room—but there’s already a familiar figure hurrying toward them.
”Phu, you absolute moron!” Nam barks. ”What the hell are you doing out here? You’ll tear your stitches, you dumb man, and ruin all my hard work!”
Chief shakes his head. ”I had to, Tian—”
”Yes, yes, I know,” Nam sighs. ”You had to rush to make sure your omega was safe, right, alpha? But you realize you can’t protect him if you’re bleeding out.”
Tian lets out a small meep because, what?
”Watch me,” Chief says mulishly.
”I’d rather not,” Nam says dryly and raises his hand to wave. ”I’m hauling your ass back to your room and yes, I’m dragging your omega back with so that you can continue this…” he twirls his finger in a vague motion, ”whatever this is.”
”I’m not his omega,” Tian says quietly.
Chief’s head snaps around so fast it must hurt. ”You—I’m sorry, that was out of line—”
”Oh, shut up, both of you,” Nam says and pinches the bridge of his nose. ”Tian, Phupha has been enamored with you since the moment you fainted in his arms and he informed your father on day two that he wouldn’t accept his money.” He points a finger at Chief. ”And Phu, Tian is young and he’s nearly died several times and he’s scared and your behavior hasn’t exactly been helping.” He shakes his head and glances up to the sky like he’s praying for strength. ”You are so into each other that it’s ridiculous and painful for everyone else around you. And why am I explaining this to you? You’re alpha and omega, I’m just a beta!”
Tian is glad that this is the point when a nurse pushes a wheelchair next to the bench and helps Chief into it because he has no clue of what to say to any of Nam’s claims.
As the nurse starts to wheel Chief back into his room, Nam nudges him gently.
”Tian,” Nam says quietly as they follow Chief and the nurse. ”Did you know you’re going to pre-heat?”
For a moment, all he can do is stare. ”What?”
Nam rubs the back of his neck. He looks tired. ”Yeah. Back at the clinic, I set your arm and took your vitals and when I saw you were running a slight fever, I took a blood sample just to make sure you didn’t have an underlying infection on top of everything else. Which you don’t.” He gives Tian a serious look. ”Instead, you’re going into heat.”
”I—” Tian opens and closes his mouth. ”I’ve never had a heat before,” he whispers. ”What does it even mean?”
”I think you know exactly what it means,” Nam says, not unkindly.
He swallows. ”Do you really think he likes me?” He asks in a small voice.
”No,” Nam says bluntly. ”I don’t think he likes you. I know he’s head over heels for you because I know my friend. I’ve never seen him like this. Phupha has an iron control on his baser instincts but you wormed your way through immediately. Actually, I think it’s kind of a wonder you haven’t gone into heat earlier.”
”Oh,” Tian says.
Nam sighs and stops at Chief’s door. ”Look. There’s no delicate way to say this, so I’m just going to say this: You can’t be on suppressants, not anymore, and especially not now that your cycle has already started. It would be way too big a risk to your heart. For now, you should stay with him, it’ll make you both feel better.”
Tian bites his lip. ”Is that your medical opinion?” He quips. It comes out a bit wobbly but Nam is a good friend and doesn’t comment on it.
”Hell yes. Now, get back there and get some sleep. You look like shit.”
Chief is already in bed and the nurse is cleaning up bloody bandages, tutting like an overly worried aunt. She nods her head at Tian points at a clean shirt and Tian hands it to Chief. He dresses in careful, slow motion before settling slightly on his side.
”The bed is wide enough for both of you,” the nurse says with a wink as she fluffs a second pillow and sets an extra blanket on the chair next to Chief’s bed. ”But only for sleeping, young man! And no pressure on his left side, is that clear?”
”Uh,” Tian says and stares wide-eyed as she takes one, critical look at the room and walks out, leaving them in a slightly bewildered silence.
”Tian—”
”Chief—”
They fall quiet, awkward. Tian wraps his healthy arm around his stomach and looks away, unsure of where to go from here.
”Are you scared of me?” Chief finally asks.
”No!” Tian says. ”Yes. No. It’s.” He huffs, frustrated. ”It’s not you, it’s what you represent.”
”What I—” Chief starts slowly. ”Ah. I’m an alpha.”
Tian shrugs, uncomfortable. ”Sorry.”
”No, don’t be. It’s not like I haven’t given you a reason.”
”That’s not it,” Tian scoffs. ”You don’t scare me, it’s…” He trails away and frowns, dropping his gaze to the floor. ”It’s just…I don’t know how to be a proper omega. I’m an inconvenience. A trouble-magnet. And—”
”Don’t you dare continue that thought,” Chief interrupts him vehemently. ”Have I ever said I’m inconvenienced? And I have no clue what a proper omega is in your mind but if it’s something else than you, I don’t want that. You are…” He stops to shake his head. ”Do you have any idea how wonderful you are? You are fierce and fearless, and you give so much of yourself that it frightens me.”
”But is that enough?” Tian whispers.
”My star, you are so, so much more,” Chief says and then turns bright red at his own words.
Tian blinks and then bites his lip to keep from smiling. My star? He had no idea Chief was even capable of saying something like that. He feels warm all over and he knows he’s blushing but after feeling so cold for so long, it feels welcome.
”Sweet talker,” he murmurs.
Chief clears his throat. ”Get in before you fall over and hit your head,” he says gruffly and scoots back a bit to make room on the bed.
Tian doesn’t give himself time to fret. He rounds the bed and climbs in, settling carefully against Chief’s chest. They share a pillow and Tian uses the second pillow to prop up his left arm, letting out a small sigh as Chief pulls the blanket over them.
”I’ll make this up to you,” Chief vows in a low voice as he brushes his fingers along Tian’s cheek, and he turns his head and presses a kiss on Chief’s knuckles, feeling suddenly shy when the alpha lets out a small gasp.
”Goodnight, Phupha,” he whispers and smiles.
It’s not like their problems will vanish overnight.
It’s not like they won’t have so much to sort through, so many conversations, so many apologies to each other, to the villagers, to themselves.
But for the first time in his life, Tian feels like home and safe and content.
There’s joy in his heart and warmth in his belly, and Chief’s solid bulk cradling him feels like he belongs.
And just like that, Tian isn’t scared anymore.