despite how many times you’ve killed the animal inside you only to meet it again in the morning / breathing out of your own mouth

— Natasha Oladokun, from “The Poem Climbs the Scaffold and Tells You What It Sees”

*

PRELUDE: PARFUM

Brett used to smell like rosin, varnished wood, warm cotton in the morning and bubble tea in the late afternoon. A homely scent; an omega’s scent.

Now, he just smelled like blood.

(Whether the blood was his or someone else’s, it didn’t matter at all. Eddy would paint them both red before he’d ever allow harm to befall the other.

Even unto death, and to hell with the dramatics, but it was true.)

(Maybe they belonged to each other before they ever belonged to their own selves.)

*

PART I: BEFORE

When he first met Brett Yang, all that registered in his mind was that the man was an omega.

His reputation preceded him, nevertheless, remnants of a renowned past listed down on his case file: a prodigy since his childhood, master of his craft, known in many circles of society despite his sub-orientation and the rumors of a non-traditional family unit dogging his heels everywhere he went. It was a highly extensive profile for someone so young. Impressive, even.

Eddy didn’t really give a damn, at first. As far as he was concerned, the man was just someone he was tasked to protect. There wasn’t room for any other opinion, and quite frankly, he saw the hunched shoulders and the meek eyes behind glasses and the delicate fingers—and promptly dismissed the individual they belonged to without another second to spare.

And so, Eddy thought nothing of Brett Yang beyond the meagre first impression. That is, until he stepped onto a stage and proceeded to play the most wonderful symphony anyone could ever have the pleasure of hearing, and despite himself, it reminded him of—it reminded him of—

Better things. Better days.

Shit.

Thankfully, no one saw the way he barely managed to bite back a sob; he wasted precious moments schooling his expression into something that resembled neutrality when he should’ve been protecting his charge. It was a ridiculous slipup, one that Eddy was determined not to repeat, god help him.

His mind was a blaring mess of DON’T FUCK THIS UP! by the time he finally made it backstage, through the hall and into the dressing room of the omega assigned to him. He found the man leaning against a desk, head bowed and his hands clasped together as if in prayer. If it weren’t for the way his shoulders rose and fell with the sway of his breath, he would’ve looked dead.

The first thing that registered was the scent. See, it was an altogether strange thing to even be noticing—Eddy has long prided himself on being impervious to omegas. He was trained to be resilient to the other orientation and their smells, the wafting nectar that could drive even the best of alphas mad with need and passion.

And yet.

“Sorry, who are you?” The question pierced through the silence, which had gone on far too long than Eddy would’ve wanted it to. Fuck.

His gaze flickered up to meet the other man’s eyes, and try as he might to steady himself in the face of the unknown, something in him quailed at what he saw in their depths. “Your new bodyguard,” he found himself replying.

“Huh.” Brett looked away, his jaw clenched, then burst into faint laughter, shaking his head. “That’s a pretty fucking useless job you got there.”

“Yeah?” Eddy crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t need one?”

“No, and no thanks. I don’t need nor want one.” The omega paused, turning his focus inward for a moment as he glanced at the papers littering his desk. “Did my brother send you?”

He wasn’t surprised that Brett already knew. The Yang family had long boasted a bloodline of prominent alphas. The appearance of an omega heir changed everything, however, and so it became common knowledge that he quickly became one of the family’s greatest assets—and so became worthy of pooling resources to protect. Still: “Astute.”

A harsh chuckle rang forth. The other man struck his fist against the wood beneath his arm; the wayward pens on the surface rattled with the force. “Fuck. That conniving little son of a bitch.”

“It’s for your protection.”

“Doesn’t change what he is, that smug asshole.” Brett shrugged, turning away. “But whatever. Do what you have to do and shit, but I will say this again: I don’t need nor want you.”

It wasn’t a direct rejection, nothing at all like the overt, formal refusal held between potential mating partners, but it still stung, somewhere deep down in a place Eddy refused to acknowledge. Despite being little more than strangers to each other, Brett’s wording made the declaration less of a casual dismissal and more of a knife between the ribs, and Brett knew it, by the way his spine hunched forward as the words fell from his lips.

No matter how strong they were, alphas were weak against omegas. The declaration hurt him more than it was supposed to. Fuck if Eddy could understand any bit of it.

He would’ve wallowed for a bit in the murky waters of his mind after the fact, but then—

There were quiet footsteps just outside the door. Brett didn’t seem to notice at all, distracted with his own thoughts as he was, but his own ears never lied. “Mister Yang,” he began, but then the door burst open with a loud bang, and then it was all a blur from there.

The dance of violence was familiar to him. The crimson splatters and the grit of fist against skin, against blood and bone; he was in the eye of the hurricane, untouchable. He was quick, darting through the first two men charging into the room like a viper, jabbing hard blows into stomachs and ankle bones and the hollows of exposed throats. A quick assessment of the environment proved his worries right: the assailants were all alphas, and they were drilled to be silent and merciless when going for the kill.

There was a brief scuffle somewhere beyond his peripheral vision, the sound of wood splintering, and omega scent rose above the sea of alpha mist when Brett sidled up to him. He could taste tangible fear in the air, the other man’s musk was that overpowering. “I can help,” he began, but Eddy shook his head firmly.

“Hang back.”

“But I can—”

“Hang back,” he barked, and wonder of all wonders, Brett obeyed.

(Somewhere in his chest, the alpha in him howled.)

He lost himself sometime after that, the world a haze of red. When he finally came to, there were bodies littering the floor, knocked out and bruised black and blue. His hands were shaking, and his chest heaved with the effort it took to bring air into his weary lungs, but Brett was safe. That was all that mattered here.

God, he shouldn’t have left his gun back at the front door. The concert hall’s security can go fuck themselves next time.

After a few seconds of stillness, the omega emerged from behind the green sofa, trembling fingers pushing his glasses back firmly over the bridge of his nose. They gazed at each other for a moment, as if wary not to break the sudden peace that had settled in the room. “If we’re going to do this,” Brett finally said, “don’t you ever pull that alpha shit on me again.”

Eddy stared at him confusedly for a bit, but then he remembered his breach of professional conduct: he’d given an omega he wasn’t tied with a direct order, fuelled by a spark of alpha pheromones to push it home to where there was no other possible choice but obedience. Of course Brett had no choice but to follow his instructions; it was something the omega particularly had no defense for, being unmated.

He supposed he should apologize for it.

“Sorry,” Eddy mumbled.

(He wasn’t feeling apologetic about it at all, if it meant it ensured the other man’s safety.)

There was silence, then, thoughtful and thick. Brett blinked at him once, twice, and let out a long, dragging sigh. Somewhere in the midst of it rang the sound of surrender. “Brett Yang,” he said, extending his hand in Eddy’s direction, his lips drawn tight. “I still don’t like this whole situation, but thank you for being here.” He paused, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth before continuing. “And I’ll keep thanking you as long as you keep doing your bodyguard shtick.”

And oh, how about that. He hadn’t thought it would take this short a time to gain the omega’s cooperation.

“Eddy Chen,” he answered Brett, reaching out to meet the outstretched hand halfway.

His skin tingled where their hands joined together. Eddy bit back the whine rattling around his throat and smiled.

“Now, how about calling security, yeah?”

*

Life went on after that debacle, as it was wont to do.

Brett and Eddy found themselves in a fast friendship, despite their initial differences. Maybe it had something to do with the way Brett made breakfast for two everyday without fail or played sonatas like lullabies at night or smiled more every once in a while, or the way Eddy bought innumerable cups of bubble tea or cleaned apartments every now and then or made sure his gun was ready to fire at his charge’s defense. Maybe it had something to do with their circumstances and the unshakeable trust they had to have for each other, in an environment where a prized omega needed someone to protect him from all the scary shit in the world.

No matter how it happened, it still happened in a way that made it seem like there was no other possible route for the universe to move the way it did the day they met, like their friendship was destined to occur one way or another.

And hey, Eddy liked the whole idea of that, of destiny. A childish notion, but it was made of good things, built from hopeful things. No matter how difficult the lives they chose to live, no matter how odd their lifestyles were, at least they had each other to lean on.

Having someone like that, someone he could trust and believe in—it was worth all the sleepless nights spent trying not to breathe in and savor the scent of an untouchable, delectable omega just a flimsy door away from him. It was worth ignoring the way his friend’s shirt hiked up to reveal a flash of skin whenever he reached up for something, the way he swayed to the music in his head entranced, the way he touched Eddy like something worth knowing.

For someone like Brett Yang, Eddy could look the other way. He could control his urges. Losing himself to what would be a brief moment’s spark of pleasure wasn’t worth losing a man that was slowly becoming his everything, no matter how brilliant and scorching that moment would be.

And so, he diminished himself into something comforting and safe in Brett’s presence, hiding his fangs behind fond smiles and retracting his claws before they came into sight. A domineering alpha taking advantage would be the stuff of nightmares for an omega. Eddy was determined never to be the cause of fear in his best friend, no matter how tempting it was to just give in.

And so, life went on.

But then.

*

PART II: RAVAGE

Only omegas could turn, was the first piece of information anybody really heard at the start.

When the outbreak started, it was pandemonium. The radio and television broadcasts shouted from every street corner, frenzied heralds scattered to the farthest corners of civilization as fast as the wind could carry them. The unraveling of the world rolled through the news feeds, an endless scroll of yellow tape and blurry ambulances and warnings dripping with blood as omegas fell ill to a strange disease. It twisted them, ravaged them. It tore up their insides and killed them, only to bring them back to life: the mindless undead.

This was the law of the land: every alpha was to defend an omega, regardless of whether they were mated or not. It was in their instincts, that surge of protectiveness coupled by unstoppable bloodthirst. A disease, however, was beyond an alpha’s capacity to deal with, and for all the advancements mankind had achieved, the bond between alpha and omega still proved too difficult for even the wisest of minds to understand.

And so, when the virus proved more potent than any desperate sort of cure, deadlier than any other sickness to plague the earth, and then the most precious and prized of humans had been lost, rising up as the undead omicrons—the alphas, the protectors and their other halves, had gone down to the ground with them but never came back to life again, their particular genetic code breaking down under the weight of the virus.

It was a death sentence for two. Everyone knew if one half of a pair fell, the other would follow soon after.

Everything changed, then.

*

When the world went to hell in a handbasket, Eddy received a mission.

“You will bring him here,” came the authoritative voice from the other end of the phone line, the voice of Brett’s brother and the alpha scion of their family line, “where he can be safe.”

The Yang estate was on the other side of the country. The directive was a tall order, even for the most prepared of soldiers. Crossing the country alone as a lone alpha would just be asking for trouble; crossing the country with a susceptible omega to take care of would be just as good as declaring themselves dead before they even make the long trek.

And yet, despite all that, he found himself agreeing.

“Good, Mister Chen. My brother will be of great use to the goal we are all working hard to achieve. We will find a cure for the sake of the world, but we cannot do it without Brett’s help.” The idea of a cure to the omega disease was an altogether strange notion to entertain, almost impossible to fathom. Still, the confidence dripping from the man’s words sparked a hope in Eddy. A fragile sort of hope, but hope nonetheless. “Protect him with your life, Mister Chen. Please—bring him home.”

Those last instructions? Eddy could and would do them, no questions whatsoever. He could do them even in his sleep.

“I will,” he said, and then the line went dead. It was then that he knew that was the last chance he would ever get to speak to anyone else beyond the here and the now. Communication channels must be crumbling slowly but surely; sooner or later, there wasn’t going to be any way of figuring out what was happening beyond what they could see right in front of them.

Well. He had Brett. That was all he would ever really need.

*

And so began their so-called grand adventure into the turbulent midst of the crumbling urban jungle and the wildlands beyond.

Brett called it such, but Eddy wasn’t quite as keen about spouting all sorts of dreamy nonsense. Nothing about their journey was going to be grand or adventurous or noble. It was all about surviving; there wasn’t any room for anything else.

“What, you never tried streaking through an empty supermarket before?” Brett chuckled to himself as he surveyed a toppled tower of tomato paste cans. “C’mon, don’t be such a downer and indulge me a little. I'm already going with you over there even though that's the last thing I want.”

He still had no idea how he’d managed to bring Brett around to his way of thinking when it came to the idea of escorting him to his family. If the omega had his way, he would probably rather disappear into obscurity, all ties to the outside world be damned. Though he wasn’t trying to look too much into it lest he get it all wrong, Eddy figured his presence must be at least one reason why Brett hadn’t jumped ship into the unknown so far.

“I don’t see the point in joking around at the moment, sorry.”

“Well, the world’s sad enough as it is right now.” Brett turned back to him with an unreadable look, bathed in fading sunlight, and then he shrugged, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. “Might as well find something to smile about, yeah?”

And when Eddy really thought about it—fine. The other man had a point.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Brett smirked. “I always am. Now come on, let’s get a move on. Take this bag of groceries so I can go running off into the sunset, minion.”

Eddy obeyed, watching his friend break off into a howling run, and god help him, but he really did fucking smile, then.

*

The chaos of an overrun landscape aside, the first few miles out of the city were smooth sailing. Eddy had managed to obtain—steal, rather, but he wasn’t about to argue semantics—a working vehicle for the both of them, and Brett had managed to find food enough to last them a month, maybe two.

Time passed, and the world grew darker. More lifeless, more despondent. The once bustling streets of great cities lay silent and desolate, save for the faint groans of the omicrons. Survivors learned early on that masking their scent and keeping their distance was the best way to deal with the undead, but there still remained the underlying threat of getting infected by the virus, whether it be through inhaling infectious pheromones or through an omicron’s bite.

All they could do was hunker down in the confines of their vehicle and hope for the best, with the road stretching ever so distantly before them.

With the dangers of this new reality came the unavoidable need to defend oneself, no matter the cost. Killing people was something he would always have qualms about, in whatever circumstances, but these undead omegas, they weren’t really people anymore, right?

And so Eddy wielded his gun like the protection that it was, resorted to devoting some time every other night to clean the blood stuck under his fingernails.

In the end, he realized: it wasn’t that much different from back then, before the outbreak and the undead and the turning point of madness, if it was in the name of keeping Brett safe.

*

They encountered people who begged them to stop the car and save them for the very first time.

Eddy’s opinion: “We should keep a move on. Someone else will come along to help.”

Brett’s response: “That someone could be us, you heartless fuck. We can help them.”

And for all that he thought he was in the right, Eddy decided that fine: for once, maybe he’d do things Brett’s way.

*

They introduced themselves as Edwin and Patricia Ling, doctors from a small deserted town someplace up west. They were a mated pair, together long before the outbreak. The balanced picture of alpha and omega they presented was a stark contrast to the strange tableau he and Brett presented, but that wasn’t really something he could afford to care about, not with all the shit happening around them.

It irked him, though. Just a little bit.

“Hey,” Edwin tilted his head, opting not to pat Eddy on the shoulder to get his attention in respect to his mate sitting right there beside him. Alphas never really did appreciate sharing their partners, some moreso in greater aspects than others. “Won’t you smile just a little, man? Lighten up?”

“Ignore him,” said Brett, chuckling from where he’s seated riding shotgun. “He reserves his energy for grander things, not silly nonsense like smiling and shit.”

And, well, it was Brett speaking, so Eddy deigned to give a reply. “God forbid I do.”

“Hah, so you do have a sense of humor!” Patricia grinned wide, baring her white teeth like a perfect textbook alpha. Eddy turned his gaze back to the road ahead of them and reminded himself that something as petty as goddamn jealousy had no place in his life at the moment nor any time soon.

“He’s not a robot, at least.” From the corner of his eye, he quietly watched his friend’s mouth curl into something that could almost be called fond, and god, just like that, the tension uncoiled in his throat. “That’s good, hey?”

In an oblivious show of disparity, Brett got along well with the pair. Extremely well, in fact, that he completely took over all duties in playing host, chatting away with the two like he was back at the concert hall charming the pants off his potential patrons. That left Eddy in the sullen, silent role of driver and sidekick for this portion of their journey.

To be fair, Eddy knew he wasn’t really exerting that much effort to give his acquaintances the benefit of the doubt; he was raised to be polite but cautious, wary and thoughtful and alert. Let them know him as the stoic, impassive protector if it helped further his agenda of keeping himself and his best friend trucking along. Travelling with more people, for all that the situation made them even more of a beacon to omicrons with their overlapped scents, wasn’t all that bad for scavenging supplies and boosting overall morale.

And besides—Brett smiled more, now. He always loved being in the thick of things, whether it be in the midst of a grand symphony or a whispered conversation at the back of a worn-down minivan. Furthermore, he seemed to feed off the luminous dynamic between Edwin and Patricia like a particularly persistent leech, gazing at the two of them from across the empty gasoline station even as he stubbornly positioned himself by Eddy’s side.

Omegas were more susceptible to the desire to cling to comfort, or a safe haven to run to. Alphas, on the other hand, well. They were built for strength and violence, resilient no matter the circumstances. Being untethered wasn’t something Eddy was losing sleep over, but when the one person he was tethered to thrived at the mere thought of having a bond like that—

It messed with him a little, to say the least.

At the end of the day, Eddy didn’t think he was ever going to have something like what a mated pair had, but it was nice to let the thought drift along his mind every now and then, a lazy kind of daydream as distant as the lonely stars above his head.

(And if his thoughts ever turned to a bespectacled man with a smile that could light a forest fire, no one else had to bear witness to it.)

*

Brett seemed to have taken upon himself to make Eddy open up more, or whatever kind of nonsense went through the omega’s head and spilled out through his mouth when he cornered his friend while the doctors were out on a supply run.

And so, when the omega unveiled his hidden stash of alcohol and a giant bonfire in the middle of the cavernous McDonald’s they were staying in for the night, Eddy wasn’t all that surprised.

But that night: it ended up being a good night. One of the best they had so far since the outbreak began.

After a few shots, Brett and Edwin had begun to dance drunkenly around the fire, laughing wildly but quietly as they twirled around each other on the cold tiled floor. Patricia had chosen to sit by Eddy as he stayed warm near the campfire, her arms pulled up to her chest as she smiled at the omegas’ antics.

The sight of her apparent happiness, the act of taking joy from something so simple as looking, made Eddy blurt out a question he didn’t really mean to ask. “How do you do it?” The woman turned her head, her attention caught, and, well, he’d made it this far. Might as well see the query on through. “Keep yourselves happy?”

If she was surprised by the question, she didn’t quite show it. “It’s easy, darling,” Patricia hummed, her voice barely audible over the loud crackle-snap of the firewood. “You just keep the thing you love most in the world in your arms, tucked close to you where no one can take it away.” She placed a hand to her chest, her gaze straying for a moment to her mate grinning in the firelight and back to the alpha beside her. “And then you can smile through anything.”

“That’s an all-too simple motto to live by,” he couldn’t help commenting.

“Well, if it helps you get by,” she fired back, her eyes bright with barely-concealed laughter, “and keeps you going, then why overcomplicate things?”

God, but she did have a point there.

*

Their little ragtag group and the growing sense of happiness that had begun to sprout between the four of them was nipped at the bud entirely too soon.

A series of mistakes occurred, miniscule ones that wouldn’t even have mattered in the long run. Brett forgot to double check the perimeter, Eddy and Patricia left their weapons back at the car, Edwin had wandered off alone to scavenge food. In the end, in the darkest hour, there was no space left for condemnation or guilt.

Only shock. Only grief.

The worst part wasn’t even seeing the bite mark through the holes of Edwin’s torn trousers, or witnessing the haunted look in Patricia’s eyes. The worst part was that they had to watch what happened after.

“No, no, please, don’t leave me,” she begged her husband, fingers leaving scratches on Edwin’s skin like all she wanted was to crawl inside him and never come out, “don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me,” she cried and wailed, watching in despair as her mate’s eyes turned bloodshot dark, “don’t you dare die on me, please, I’m begging you, don’t leave me here,” she sobbed into her omega’s chest as she listened to the slowing heartbeat encased within, and Eddy remembered the words Patricia told him on that wonderful night that seemed so long ago now.

How do you do it? Keep yourselves happy?

You just keep the thing you love most in the world in your arms—

Eddy’s grip tightened on Brett’s shoulder, his knuckles white.

—tucked close to you where no one can take it away.

Was everything worth losing it all in this one unbelievable moment?

While the alphas kept their ear to the sound enclosed in the dying omega’s ribcage, Edwin’s heart stopped. Patricia looked about ready to throw her own heart for him to use, if only for one minute more, one second more, one heartbeat more.

Silence. No words left to say. None would’ve been worthy to stand in the thick of the mist.

While the one remaining omega watched the proceedings in anguish and horror, Edwin’s heart kickstarted back up, but with a strange thud-click-thud measure that made Eddy’s own organ beat double time, made the hairs at the back of his neck stand taunt in attention.

When the first odd growl came out of Edwin’s mouth, Patricia wordlessly raised her pistol to her husband’s head, stroked the greying hairs there, and then pulled the trigger.

Silence.

“P-Patricia?” Brett’s voice was weak.

Silence.

“Take care of each other,” she said.

“Don’t let go of him like I did,” she said.

And then she took her gun and placed it against her temple and—

Eddy had turned his eyes away just before that, gritting his teeth down as the shot rang clear through the area. Brett began to shake uncontrollably beneath his grasp, his face hidden away behind his hands.

The salty taste of tears mingled with the copper tang of blood in the air. Sooner or later, the scent of death was going to attract the omicrons. They had to get the hell out of there. “We have to go.”

“But—”

“We have to go,” Eddy told him, voice dipping down to a dangerously low register, alpha pheromones simmering in the air. He might’ve promised never to take advantage of Brett in this manner, once upon a time, but the situation called for desperate measures. “Get up and start running now.”

And hell, but Brett knew exactly what he was doing, if the outraged glare was of any indication. Nevertheless, he stood up stiffly, trailing behind Eddy’s retreating form like a puppet getting dragged by the strings.

He could manage dealing with his friend’s anger. It was better than dealing with the danger that might catch up to them if they lingered any longer.

And still, unheeding to sorrow and loss, the rain fell and fell and fell.

*

PART III: ALIVE

“What are you going to do if I turn?”

That was not a question Brett would ever need to ask, not with Eddy Chen.

“I go where you go.”

Brett stared at him coolly, not a single speck of stray emotion in his gaze. “You’re not my Alpha.”

You’re not mine, he could hear lingering underneath the surface, you’re not mine. You’re not mine and I’m not yours.

But when, Eddy was fast coming to realize, had that ever mattered?

Belongingness wasn’t something he particularly gave a damn about, not when it came to the biological sense. All he cared about was the overall wellbeing of one Brett Yang, and really—that desire went beyond any kind of orientation or physical dynamic, as far as he was concerned.

“You’re my friend,” Eddy said, with the kind of hardened surety he hoped his best friend would hear in his words. “I think that counts for some sort of bonding here, yeah?”

Brett stared at him for a few moments more, a wild windswept look in his eyes, and then he nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

He didn’t get a reply back this time, but with the way Brett’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the way his spine curved towards the wall like a question mark finally resolved with an answer, Eddy figured his message got through.

We’re in this together.

*

After the incident, his best friend wasn’t quite the same.

Eddy had faced death and decay for so long, he’d eventually grown accustomed to them. Brett, on the other hand, wasn’t as used to the true horrors that lurked in the dark wretched corners of the world, despite the edge to his persona and the bite in his talk. He put up a good facade of joviality, sure, but it didn’t take much to see that the effort was grating on him.

And that was fine. They were allowed to grieve for however long it took them to.

He would be there by his side in whatever way Brett wanted him.

*

They ended up meeting several more groups making their own ways in the world in their journey forward. A young woman and her son finding a new home for themselves. A disheveled group of college students making their way back to their old stomping grounds at the local uni. A ragtag pack of looters on the other side of the highway they both agreed were best left alone. Since they went with Brett’s way last time, Brett conceded to Eddy’s way this time around, and then the time after that, and so on.

Sometimes, they accompanied these strangers. Oftentimes, they ignored them. And everytime, they never stayed too long. After the Lings, there just wasn’t any common interest between the two of them about getting attached to someone new and then going through the same cycles of mourning when it would inevitably all go wrong.

But then: they met Leopold Chen, an old gentleman biker who shared Eddy’s surname, to Brett’s hidden amusement. Leopold had formed a gang of young alphas before the outbreak ever started, and now, they had established a safe perimeter around their neighborhood to keep the omicrons at bay. Their tiny town was safe, if not flooded with leather jackets and ratty old shotguns.

It was strange, seeing something a little bit normal again, but they weren’t about to let the odd feeling get in the way of gaining some goodwill. Leopold offered them safe passage and some supplies and shelter, and hell if they rejected something so wonderful right off the bat.

*

Eddy had never gone feral. He was as calm and controlled as any good textbook alpha when he wasn’t running for his life, for all the good that did him in a world where losing control was in fact considered a good thing, if it got him the physical bolster alpha pheromones would provide in spades.

He had never gone feral. And yet.

One minute, he was tired and stressed out and wandering through the ruins of the town looking for a place to sit down and commune with his own thoughts, and then the next minute, he caught a glimpse of Brett mock-roughhousing with some of the alphas, bare skin and laughter and leering eyes all twisted up in a blur, and then—Eddy’s composure broke down.

(There was an underlying chant of mine mine mine through his brain, through his bloodstream, and despite the logical part of his mind berating him for even thinking about something he had no right to think, the chant continued. Mine mine mine.)

Fire sparked in his chest, limbs becoming unbearably hot as he flew into a rage, feeling brick and mortar crumble under his fingertips, the strength of his hands making the world around him bend to his will.

Alphas usually lost themselves whenever they went feral, as if taking a vacation from their mind for a brief moment. Eddy took a vacation from his mind and blacked out for a brief moment.

And then he was—

“Calm the fuck down, Eddy.”

—done. The animal in him quieted, sheathing away its velvetine claws as he slowly wrenched his consciousness out of it, coming back to himself.

The world was blurry, and the omega was the eye in the storm. Eddy reached out and took Brett’s wrist, a thundering heartbeat felt within the pit of his pulse point, and fuck, did he scare even his best friend with the stunt he pulled? It was a thought that horrified him. “Brett?”

“No, it’s Madonna in a sack cloth. Of course it’s fucking me.” Brett pinched his cheek. “Are you okay now, or do you wanna fuck up another wall again?”

He was vaguely aware of rubble littering the floor near his feet, the worried-entertained-frightened gazes hovering just at the edge of his peripheral vision. “No—no, I’m fine,” he wheezed, grasping blindly at his friend’s sleeve. “I’m fine.”

There was an amused curl to the omega’s mouth, despite the tumultuous heartbeat under Eddy’s fingers. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” God, Brett was never going to let him live this down. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry.”

“It’s all fine,” the omega huffed, and then his fingers plunged into the unsuspecting strands on Eddy’s head, and it was all Eddy could do not to arch his back and whine. Fuck everything. “Oh, you alphas. You guys are fucking nut jobs.”

“Careful, you—you might hurt my feelings.”

“Who really gives a shit about your feelings,” Brett snorted, but his fingers were still carding through Eddy’s hair all gentle and soft, and the action settled him, and it saved him.

*

They bid goodbye to Leopold and his gang after a week. Eddy apologized two, maybe three times to everyone who witnessed his stupid tantrum, but he didn’t feel quite as bad about it as he would’ve been if he personally knew these people. Nevertheless, the thick river of shame still flowed through his veins.

It didn’t help that Leopold approached him personally just as he and Brett were about to leave.

“You went into a whole fit about him getting close to one of my boys. They told me they were just teaching him how to fight, defend himself.” Shit, now he really did feel bad. Leopold tilted his head and hummed thoughtfully. “Are you sure you two aren’t—”

“He’s not my mate,” Eddy interrupted him, and then immediately felt bad about interrupting someone who had done nothing but show them kindness. Still, the insinuation that they were—but that they weren’t actually—god, it was a shit thing to even think about.

The elder alpha pinned him with his steely gaze in silence, gazing at him as if he were a puzzle in need of completion. “I figured, son. I can smell the truth on you.” He tapped his nose and grinned to punctuate his declaration. “You want him to be, though.” Eddy didn’t say anything, but the corner of his eye twitched. Leopold did notice. “I’m not wrong, and you know it. See, when you’ve been living this long, and then whatever god up there drags you into a whole ‘nother hellhole, you get to know more things. You get to know.” The man folded his hands together and smiled willfully at Eddy. “And we both know what we know.”

God, if he could only sink through the ground right about now. Eddy grasped around blindly for something to say to that too-revealing statement, and then he settled for shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. “Maybe.”

Leopold’s gaze sparkled. “Well. You take good care of him now, yeah?”

Eddy opened his mouth to respond, but then a hand curled around his shoulder, a musician’s hand he knew all too well, and shit, shit, shit—

“I’ll take care of him, sir, don’t worry,” Brett declared cheerfully, basking in the glow of Leopold’s laughter and his friend’s apparent humiliation.

“Oh, you children are delightful.” The old man slapped his knee and extended his weathered hand out for the two men to shake firmly. “I hope I will see you both when this is over. Or you come visit me again after you finish what you need to do, whichever comes first.”

“We’ll see,” Brett smiled and then clasped Leopold’s hand between both of his own. “Thank you for everything, truly.”

And just like that, they were back into the wild open world.

He wasn’t sure how much of their conversation Brett actually heard, but then the omega slung his arm around Eddy’s shoulder and half-dragged him to the car, and the thought of inquiring began to sound less and less appealing the longer he did nothing. If he never got to ask, if Brett didn’t broach the subject at all, then the topic was better off untouched.

For now, there was the horizon to conquer before them, and Brett’s smirk as he made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Where to, now, mister Chen?”

*

It was bound to come sooner or later, but when it finally happened on a sunny day picking through the remnants of an abandoned countryside house, Eddy was by no means prepared for any of it. Not for the sight of Brett shaking and gasping against the wall, nor for the heavy wave of fragrance that washed over him then, setting his skin aflame. He was not fucking prepared at all.

“You’re going into heat,” Eddy said distantly, like that tiny shard of information was enough to unravel him right then and there. Fuck, this was not fucking happening right now. He could feel the hairs on his arm standing up in attention, liquid fire racing through his veins. He was salivating already like the animal that he was, and Brett’s scent wasn’t even as strong as it could be in the height of omega heat yet.

But fuck it all, it was the most wonderful smell in the world, and Eddy wanted to wrap himself around it and never let go.

(Easier to think of a smell rather than a man, in this regard, because fuck, fuck—)

“No shit, Sherlock,” Brett replied, but his face was already pale, his hands shaking where he’d clutched frantically at the fraying hem of his sweater. He sunk down like his knees just spontaneously decided to become jelly, tumbling downward fast.

Eddy caught him in the nick of time before he hit the ground, but then he all but shoved the other man into sitting on the floor after that, snatching his arms back towards himself and turning away before he could do something untoward or worse.

God, he needed to leave. Right now.

When Eddy looked back at the other man, Brett’s eyes were dark pools, the white swallowed by hungry black, and god, Eddy thought, or prayed, more like, oh my god.

It took every inch of his willpower to resist.

“I’ll—I’ll leave you alone, now. A few days, yeah? I’ll leave you alone and get some blankets or something to keep you warm, and then some food and water, whatever I can manage to scrounge up in this hellhole, and then, uh, I could scout the perimeter so you can be alone and at peace doing your, uh, thing.” He was fully aware that he was babbling, jittery words slipping out unbidden from his mouth, but that was fine, that was acceptable. Anything to keep the words mine, please, yours stuck at the bottom of his throat. “Right. So, I’ll, uh. I’ll go.”

He was halfway through the door when the whimper comes, lowly and needy, and—

“Wait.”

Ah, shit.

Eddy risked a look over his shoulder. Brett wasn’t looking at him anymore, thank fuck, but he was slumped down gasping against the wall, and the sight of him drove a spear through Eddy’s chest. “Stay by the door sometimes, at least? I’ll feel safer with—with knowing you’re there.” And then out came a word he knew was rarely if ever associated with one Brett Yang: “Please?”

And oh god almighty, but he was nothing more than a mere alpha. A mere alpha weak to an irresistible omega, damn the consequences.

And yes, above all that: he could do this much for his friend. He could be respectful; he could control himself. He could close his ears to the caged beast screaming wild and rattling the iron bar rungs of his ribs.

“Okay,” he said.

The door closed with a creak of finality, like something giving way slowly.

*

The next few days were a nightmare to both his senses and his teetering willpower, and Eddy never wanted to think about them ever again.

*

Daybreak on the fifth day. Eddy felt like he hadn’t slept in fifteen.

He had resorted to stuffing his nose with cotton balls, if only to stifle the scent wafting out from underneath the front door of the house. He was a starving man just barely within reach of a scrumptious, splendid feast. It was torture on a whole other level, but within the hour, he realized the smell was beginning to wane.

Another hour or so after that, the doorknob rattled, and god help him, but he jumped like two feet into the air, because what the fuck? When Brett’s head poked out into view, though, it was a gasp of fresh air after time spent too long in a vacuum.

“Hey,” Eddy greeted him, his voice creaking after a few days of disuse. He began to make his way closer to check on the other man’s wellbeing. Despite the paleness of his skin, Brett’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes looked clear. Thank every god still living. “All good?”

Brett coughed once into his sleeve, and then he shot Eddy a tired smile. “Yeah. Thanks. For, y’know, everything.”

“No worries.” It was the least he could do, really; he didn’t need any thanks at all. “Feel any better, you big baby?”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eddy grinned, slapping the other man hard on the back, because the heat had passed, and he was probably, finally allowed to touch his friend again. “And no thanks, bro. That’s disgusting.”

Brett promptly showed him a very rude gesture with his free hand, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything other than laugh and laugh and laugh.

*

When his rut came along, Eddy chose a bank vault to lock himself in.

Despite Brett’s unimpressed gaze and all his complaints about it being unfairly easier when it was Eddy’s turn to go under, he wasn’t at all sorry about picking the place. The choice of location was a bit overkill, maybe, but it did the trick well; he could do many things, but breaking down a metal door three feet thick into a room with Brett in it wasn’t something he could accomplish, at least not with bare hands and a high fever.

He emerged four days later feeling like he’d been dragged through a cheese grater multiple times but altogether hale and whole. Brett gave him a considering glance and a thumbs up, looking him up and down like he was checking for signs of ill health. “Well? Feel any better?”

“Fuck you,” he replied, and the warmth in his chest shone brighter than any sun up there in the sky.

*

PART IV: BRINK

There were strange howls in the night. It echoed through the empty streets, through the carrions of metal littering the cityscape.

“Let’s take another route,” Brett suggested, his face queasy as he stared out the mist-hazy car window, the faded roadmap shaking in his hands. Eddy wordlessly steered their vehicle in the direction the omega pointed him toward, his lips drawn in a thin line.

God, they were so close to their destination, and yet the danger—invisible as it was, for now—seemed to be mounting.

*

It wasn’t until they found a deserted spot on the banks of a river to do their laundry that Eddy realized something: he didn’t smell the same anymore.

His own scent, as described by friends back then when asked by a curious, younger him, was something like apricots, coffee, a cold autumn day. It was certainly distinct, growing up in a neighborhood where people really only smelled like flowers, body oils, or dumplings. He would know if anything changed out of the blue.

When he thought more about the subject, he realized their scents were mingled. That meant one thing: Brett had been scenting him, somehow.

Maybe he was doing it while Eddy slept, unaware of everything and anything around him; maybe he was nudging Eddy moreso than usual as their clothes rubbed together. It had a valid reason: omicrons tended to shy away from alphas with an omega’s scent on them. Either way, if this was the way Brett could protect him, if this was the way he wanted to go about it, then Eddy didn’t mind a single bit at all.

(And if he ducked his head every now and then to press his cheek up against the juncture of his collarbone and his arm, it didn’t really mean anything strange. He was just resting his head there, so.)

*

“What if we just—never show up at your family’s place?”

Brett glanced up at him from where he was seated taking stock of their canned beans. “You’re kidding me,” he replied after a while, his face aghast. “You’d give everything up—the entire reason for this trip, that idea of some sacred mission you’ve been hanging over my head this whole time to keep me going—just like that?”

Eddy shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking out to the shattered concrete skyline high above them. He didn’t have it in him to look his friend in the eye when he continued. “If it meant you were happy.”

Brett continued to stare at him wordlessly, his mouth hanging open like a flag in the wind. Eddy continued to stare elsewhere, lest the heart in his eyes decided to jump out from his throat.

A soft touch to his hand, and he struggled not to show that the tiny gesture broke something inside of him as Brett entwined their fingers together, warmth cradled in warmth. “I am happy.”

Really? Are you?

Those words never made it out of his mouth, stayed by fright and anxiety.

Brett didn’t give him much of a chance to respond anyway, tugging him down to crouch over the stack of cans near them. “C’mon, help me pack these all up. You don’t want to keep my brother waiting. He always gets a giant stick up his ass when he gets impatient.”

*

They shouldn’t be making any more mistakes, not after everything they had lived through. A single error could cost them everything; they already learned that the hard way back when they were travelling with the Lings.

To start with, he hadn’t brought his gun. Bullets were too scarce to come by, and he would’ve been too tempted to employ them on the omicrons if he did bring his gun along, and so he only ever saved them for use in formerly crowded places, like shopping malls and academic institutions. A small grocery store wasn’t the kind of place he thought needed such firepower, so he’d brought along a metal pipe to match Brett’s baseball bat.

He didn’t notice the shadows lingering in the darkness surrounding them, so immersed in his task of checking cupboards for supplies was Eddy. The only hint that something was wrong came about when his nose picked up the stench of decaying flesh. But then it was too late—all too soon, the omicrons were upon them.

Eddy had never run so fast to get to his friend in his entire life. The spark of going feral was there flickering in the adrenaline rush coursing through his limbs, trying to catch fire. The undead were fast, but he was faster, grabbing ahold of Brett and dragging him out into the open, trying to get them both towards the car.

The parking lot was deserted, save for the sparse minefield of shopping carts and crashed vehicles and trash. Eddy’s focus had narrowed down into tunnel vision, and so: oh fuck, you clumsy fuck, and his foot got caught on a stray wheel sticking out from under a metal cart, and down he went.

Bloody hands raked themselves down his clothes as he stumbled to the ground, but he only had concern for his companion.

“Brett! Run!”

And here he was: forfeiting his life without a second thought, and he would’ve been content with that if Brett lived on even without him, but then—

“I’m not leaving you, you fucker,” came the enraged scream, and before Eddy could even so much as take a breath, Brett whacked the omicron off of him with the baseball bat, a wild look in his eyes.

He could taste the feral madness on his tongue, renewed strength. With a sudden burst of speed, Eddy disentangled himself from the fray and threw himself forward. If he could just get to his gun in the car, he could free himself and Brett from these monsters.

“Come on, Brett!”

Brett kicked his heels against the pavement, scrambling away from the horde as Eddy turned his back on him for a few seconds, fingers wrenching the car door open and blindly groping around across the front seat to get ahold of his weapon. Oh god, he just had to get to his gun, he just had to get to his gun—

“Eddy!”

The bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the parking lot.

Brett fell to the ground with the omicron’s teeth clamped to his neck, and Eddy thought to himself: oh god, I’ll die with him, I will.

*

PART V: OURS

But then Brett woke up.

*

This wasn’t real, Eddy thought. Surely it couldn’t be real at all, whatever hallucination was causing him to see his friend’s chest rise and fall, causing him to hear lungs taking in air and heart thumping away, wild but alive.

Omegas turned into the undead within mere hours of getting infected by the omicron virus. He had been prepared for it, even, albeit with his gun shaking uncontrollably where it was clutched tight in his hand like a lifeline. This thing happening before him wasn’t real; it couldn't be. Maybe he really was losing his mind.

But then: Brett was sitting up and hissing a little in apparent pain and then he was touching him. Brett was touching him, and he was tangible, and that meant he wasn’t just a figment of Eddy’s imagination. Brett was touching him, and his skin felt warm.

That left the truth, unbelievable as it was: Brett Yang was alive.

Eddy clung to his hand so tight, he was probably crushing it in his grasp, but Brett didn’t care and neither did he, because oh my god, Brett Yang wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

“You’re immune,” came tumbling out of his mouth in a hurried rush of disbelief, and was it even true? Was this real? He still didn’t believe any of it at all. “You’re alive, and you’re immune, and you’re alive. What—what does that mean?”

Something twinkled in Brett’s eyes, then: an untamable, furious kind of hope. “It means I get another chance.”

*

The sight of the bandage, ragged and worn as it was while plastered high on Brett’s neck, made something in Eddy shudder every time, a flickering light sputtering off into nothing but darkness. It didn’t matter that Brett was immune and therefore was not about to die anytime soon—Eddy had failed him, back there when Brett first got bit.

He had failed him the very second he let go of Brett’s hand in that desperate attempt to save him.

“Hey.” Eddy’s focus was pulled back to reality, and he met Brett’s eyes with a wordless question making a home in his own. “Stop thinking about bullshit.”

“The hell do you mean?”

“You’re beating yourself up over my death—which, as you can now see, was more of a non-death after the resurrection shit I pulled, so please, just stop blaming yourself.”

Oh god, but Brett had seen right through him. Fuck. “If I had just—”

“Stop,” the other man snarled, and it was as if Eddy was suddenly the omega here, his teeth clattering as he shut his mouth quickly to obey the command. Brett sighed and closed his eyes. “You tried to save me. You did save me. You stayed even when I was already—already gone, just so you could be there if I turned. Remember what you told me when I asked you?”

He did remember: I go where you go. I’m not leaving you.

All the words had left him. All the air on the planet had left him. Eddy couldn’t speak a word in reply.

“You saved me. You keep on saving me.” Brett raised his hand, left it there suspended in the air, waiting and alone in the empty space between them. “Now, let’s just finish this and then go home, wherever that is out there.”

Go home. Now that was something he could look forward to.

Eddy took his hand, shakily but firm. Unyielding.

I promise I’ll make it up to you. I promise I will never let go.

And so they continued on.

*

They approached the high-fenced walls of the Yang estate—it had grown to a veritable mini-city standing on its own might, bright lights in the sky a beacon to all who were looking for a safe haven to survive and thrive—and Eddy began to believe, just a little bit, in miracles.

*

As they entered a structured state of civilization once more on the back of a pickup truck manned by private escorts, Eddy leaned against Brett’s lean form and took a deep breath; it seemed like it was the first real one he had since the outbreak began.

Brett smelled more like blood than anything else, now. He smelled like blood, but then he also smelled like the morning dawn, petrichor, a new beginning. The scent of a home found within a person; the scent of an omega protected and safe and loved.

And that, Eddy thought, was exactly right.

*

CODA: SACRIFICE

(Brett was always going to help others or die trying.)

*

TO: DIRECTOR ████

FROM: ██████ █████ ██████████, PHD

SUBJECT: OMBY

13 DEC 24

An initial examination of Subject █ was conducted on 9 DEC 24, to great success and findings. His brain activity is astounding. Despite the bite on the juncture of his neck and right shoulder (External report 2A shows an in-depth clinical assessment of the wound with added data on levels of omicron infection), he continues to function with higher mental capacities and exceedingly good physical health.

Upon closer inspection of his cerebral cortex, it was determined that Subject █ is only partially infected by the omicron virus, and that the mesh of acetylcholine and serotonin working with the neutron structure in his brain has led to his particular brand of “immunity” (External reports 4A-1 and 4B-1 show brain scans taken on 9 DEC 24, approximately two months after initial contact with the virus via infectious bite).

We request an immediate full examination of Subject █ as well as the approval of the board to extract the infected portions of his brain matter in hopes of establishing a potential cure to the omicron disease (External reports 6A-1 to 6A-6 detail the entire surgical operation as planned and penned by myself and Drs ████ and ████████), provided that Subject █ is compliant and understands what needs to be done.

His alpha companion may pose a hurdle to this plan. Nevertheless, I am sure he will see reason once the implications of our work and what it can achieve are explained to him.

We may yet save the human race, with this.

*

(Brett took the news of the request with a considerably unperturbed expression, keeping his cool composure on the entire time. He was even a little surprised by his restraint, funnily enough.

Eddy, on the other hand, did not take it well at all.

He didn’t flinch when the alpha slammed the door on his way out, because that would just be too telling, now, wouldn’t it? Brett clasped his hands tight to hide the way they shook minutely and levelled his gaze at the doctor standing in front of him.

It struck him that the medical man didn’t look like he wanted to even broach this topic with him either, but in this world, your feelings didn’t matter—only the choices you had to make did. People have taken greater sacrifices upon their shoulders; perhaps it’s time he made his own.

“So? Will you do it?”)

*

TO: DIRECTOR ████

FROM: ████ ████

SUBJECT: DON’T DO THIS.

11 JAN 24

Don’t allow him to go through with this madness. Don’t give your approval.

I did not risk my life and especially the life of your brother’s a million times over to reach your home where I thought he would be safe - just for you to kill him now.

I beg of you. Please.

There has to be another way.

*

(“You don’t get to do this,” Eddy yelled at him within the safe confines of their shared quarters, “not for the people here, not for your family, not for anyone.”

Not even for you? The question was about to come tumbling gracelessly out of his mouth, but then Brett gazed into the eyes of the one person on earth that made his world turn, staring at the barely-hidden despair and grief there, and he understood.

Oh god, but he understood.)

*

TO: DIRECTOR ████

FROM: █████ ████, SUBJECT █

SUBJECT: Fuck you, but lovingly.

27 FEB 24

I’ll do it.

Can I least turn one year older before we go through with the operation?

P.S. You’re still a selfish asshole like the rest of our family, but I’m trying to be better. See that? I’m trying to be better.

Just - please take care of ████. Stop him from doing anything drastic. That’s all I’m asking from you, dearest brother, and then I’ll be out of your hair.

When the world gets better, tell them I said hello. . . with a resounding fuck yeah.

*

(He didn’t say the words.

They were always there, on the tip of his tongue. Always watching, always waiting, always biding their time. Still, on the day of the operation, hospital lights blinking in his eyes and his best friend trembling a few steps away: Brett didn’t say the words.

“Take care of yourself,” he said instead. “Don’t let go like I did,” he said instead, and if he bit his lip to keep the tears from slipping out, then fine. It was all fine.

Eddy would know what he meant.)

*

TO: ████ ████

FROM: █████ ████, SUBJECT █

SUBJECT: Happy birthday!

TO BE OPENED 23 MAR 24

Happy birthday, Mister ████! You’re getting old, you fuck; I don’t even have to look at you to know middle age isn’t suiting you well.

Who knew you would survive this long? I bet you never really thought about it, huh? You spent so much time worrying about me, you never really thought much about yourself and what you would do after this whole mess.

And now you can.

To get to the elephant in the room -

I know you tried to talk me out of going through with the operation. Heaven only knows just how long you spent trying to get me to change my mind.

But did you know? I did this thinking of you.

I’ve always been a selfish brat before this all happened. I didn’t used to care all that much about others; only the music, only the applause. But then you came along with your stupid smile and your trustworthy hands and your alpha shit, and I just thought to myself - maybe people weren’t so bad after all. Maybe people were worth saving. Maybe some people were worth dying for.

You weren’t my alpha, but I know you would’ve been, if we had more time. I wanted more than anything to be yours, but I thought - no. If I was going to do this, I didn’t want to bring you down with me. You deserve better than that.

Still, I - I wanted to go travel with you again, outside the wall, see whatever else it had for us to offer, the sights and wonders no one was going to appreciate now that most of the world is gone. I wanted to go see Leopold and his gang again, visit the Lings’ grave and pay respects. I wanted to give you a hug, because god knows we both needed one. I wanted to maybe steal a kiss from you, because god knows I needed one. I wanted - god, I wanted so many things.

But this, the little time we had together, the things you did show me in our great wild trek across the face of this country: they were perfect. You were perfect. And really, at the end of the day, you alone were enough for me.

Thank you for everything. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done in my name.

My best friend, my protector, my wonderful alpha - live your greatest life for me, darling. You deserve it. Live out the adventure you’ve always wanted to have.

And I promise, I swear I do - I’ll be there at the end of the road, waiting for you.

Don’t take too long.

*

(His best friend died on the operating table, his brain used as the stepping stone for the creation of a vaccine to combat the omicron virus. The news of a cure spread like wildfire across the country, broadcasted out to all who would listen, and suddenly, it was okay to have hope again. It was okay to dream again.

The world was beginning to restore itself, brick by painstakingly-placed brick, and when Eddy Chen disappeared into obscurity, no one thought much of it.

But if you ever got to ask him whether it mattered to him or not, he would tell you he was fine with it. Brett Yang was the one with the story worthy to be told and retold throughout history, not him. Nevertheless, if he were ever to be included as a footnote, he would want his story to be written out like this:

I protected him, I lost him, I loved him. And now, I’m going home to him.

And so he did, leaving behind a world that would live on beyond the two of them. A world that was safe, a world that was saved.

And so he came home.)