Chapter Text
The tradition had begun on a Saturday in January. Will was eleven. Mike’s parents were out of town for a reason Will didn’t care to remember. All that had mattered was his triple sleepover with Mike. He’d been looking forward to it all month.
The previous night went as he’d expected. Joyce had picked them up from school, and the trifecta slumber extravaganza had begun. If he had felt extra tired that evening, it wasn’t unusual. Everyone was tired after a week of school and extracurriculars.
It was normal.
If he had stayed a little closer to his friends the last few days, pressing arms and legs against them where they sat, resting his head on whoever’s shoulder was nearest to him, that was normal too. He loved his friends.
And it was normal. For him.
Most of his class had already had their dormant presentations. All of his friends had.
Dustin, beta. Lucas, alpha. Mike, alpha.
Will, omega.
Nothing was shocking. Everything went about as expected. If anything, Will liked being the only omega in the party at the time.
And that was how things would remain. Dormant. Easy.
Their senses were there. They could smell each other now. Really smell each other.
Their scents. Emotions. Pick up on things they hadn’t before.
They would mature and become more refined as they grew until they fully presented. Will’s full presentation wouldn’t be for at least six years. Most had their full presentation when they were about seventeen to twenty when they went into their first sexual heats or ruts. Dustin wouldn’t have to worry about that.
But Will wasn’t worried either. He liked his designation and he liked his friends’ designations. Everything was how it should’ve been.
He didn’t even mind his heat. Of course, they were still dormant, which just meant lots of hugs from his friends, cuddling from his mom and Jonathan, and extra sleep. He hadn’t begun nesting yet. It was something else that would begin gradually, Joyce had told him.
He wasn’t in a rush.
When he awoke that Saturday morning, he knew his exhaustion wasn’t as normal as he had told himself. The thought brought a smile to his face. It was early. He itched to creep down the hall to his mother’s room, climb into her bed, and let her hold him for a few more hours until she’d have to get up for her early Saturday morning shift.
So he did. He’d tiptoed around Mike’s sleeping bag, his sleepy scent wafting towards Will. The scent wasn’t strong, but it would be, with time. For the time being, Will couldn’t quite place the smell. It could have been his underdeveloped nose or Mike’s underdeveloped scent glands. More likely than not, it was a combination of the two. The only thing Will was sure of was that it reminded him of a spice.
And that he liked it. It was nice.
He’d crawled into his mom’s bed. She’d held him as she always did. When she’d gotten up for work, she’d nuzzled his neck, scenting him. Despite his contentment, Will still whined softly when she returned to kiss his cheek and head out the door. The small sound had brought a soft smile to her lips.
“Go back to your room,” She spoke softly. “Mike will wonder where you are.”
When he re-entered his room, Mike had stirred.
“Will?” He propped himself up on his elbow, hair a mess, eyes confused with sleep. “Where did you go?”
“My mom’s bed,” His reply held no embarrassment as other eleven-year-old boys might have. Mike knew. He knew how Will felt about his designation. They’d talked about it. He also knew what this meant.
“Oh. Why are you back?” His face scrunched in confusion, scent fluttering near Will again.
“She left for work,” Will toed his way back to his bed, Mike’s eyes following him.
“Did she scent you?”
Will nodded with a hum. He pulled back the covers, slipping beneath them.
“Good,” Came Mike’s reply from the floor. “Do you… need anything?” His Will Voice in full effect.
Will paused on the bed. He’d been happy enough with his mother’s scenting. It was enough for now, but he could already feel the slight itch returning. The need for physical contact. Proximity. Mike was familiar. He was near enough.
He could be nearer.
“Can you come up here?”
Will moved to the side, the bed dipped, and the two were shoulder to shoulder. The itch was gone. A buzz of satisfaction settled in Will as he closed his eyes.
The rest of the weekend, Mike stayed close. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. When the evening came, they shared the bed. Will was content. Mike was, too.
And so it began.
Mike grew accustomed to Will’s habits. He did enjoy physical touch as an omega; that was true and normal. It was just slightly more constant during his heats. It was hard not to notice. At least, if your name was Joyce. Or Mike.
Three months went by before it happened again. They were at school. Will’s foot found its way next to Mike’s at lunch. It was easy to think it would’ve happened with any of the party. Had it been Lucas or Dustin, his leg would’ve instinctively shoved his foot in their direction. His inner ached for the connection with his pack. But more often than not, it was Mike. It wasn’t intentional. Mike was just the one there next to him.
“Want to sleep over?” Mike offered.
The boys found themselves at Mike’s that night. The sleeping bag Will usually used had stayed rolled up.
They often spent the night at each other's homes, but it happened at least every three months.
Will preferred Mike’s home. His scent was everywhere. If Mike got up to use the restroom or grab them some water, he would barely notice his absence as long as he kept his eyes closed.
It became their tradition. If Will didn’t see Mike the day his heat started, he’d call. Or Joyce would. Some days, Karen would receive a call from Joyce.
“Can Mike come over? I think Will’s going into heat soon.”
Karen would assure her and yell for Mike soon after.
As time went on, their senses refined, but things stayed the same. Will wouldn’t have it any other way.
…
The two were comfortable in Will’s room.
It was nearing the end of summer, and despite the late July heat, the cabin wasn’t too hot. At least Will’s room wasn’t, due to the AC unit that sat in the window. He had purchased it just a month ago.
As much as he hated the cold, he also hated the sensory nightmare of hot, sticky skin catching his clothes. The frugality of saving money from the job he’d gotten over the summer had come easily to him. That was good. He was going to need it for his & Mike’s apartment in a few weeks. But, even so, he had made that one exception.
Mike had been the one to suggest working together. They’d considered various jobs: camp counselor, lifeguard, door-to-door sales (offering to mow lawns), but had eventually settled on working at the movie theater. The benefits were just too good to pass up. Unlimited free movies (and private viewings at that), snacks, air conditioning, and being together while making money all summer? It didn’t take much to convince either of the two boys.
It worked well, and they were scheduled together more often than not. Mike’s parents had provided him with a beat-up-but-good-enough-first-car and though Will had his license, he had to borrow Joyce’s car. That had made getting to his shifts difficult at times. For this reason, management had quickly found that the best way to guarantee Will’s punctuality was to schedule him with Mike. And Mike didn’t mind sharing rides, even if Hopper’s cabin took him ten minutes in the opposite direction. So really, it was a win all around.
When they weren’t working or enjoying their new benefits, they bothered their friends.
Mostly Lucas. Lucas had been successfully seduced by the lifeguarding job, which led to the party often congregating at the pool during opening hours. And sometimes not during opening hours.
Benefits.
That day, however, had not been a pool day for anyone. An afternoon thunderstorm had made its way over Hawkins, guaranteeing no outdoor activities, effectively ruining Will and Mike’s plans.
Will couldn’t say he was upset. In fact, now that the two were resting in Will’s self-financed, comfortably temperature-controlled room, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be. Mike was seated at Will’s desk, scribbling away on some papers. They’d be attending the same college in just a few weeks, lucky enough to have both gotten into their respective programs of choice. Mike had spent the quieter parts of the summer just as he was now, preparing for his writing program.
Usually, when Mike focused on his writing, Will would automatically gravitate to his sketchbook. Today, he sprawled on the bed, too tired to focus on intricate lines and shading. He and Mike had recently gotten home from another shift. It had been a long week, he figured, and while he was excited to be moving soon, change never came easy for him. The stress and excitement may have begun taking a toll on him. His lids rested over his eyes as he took in the sounds of Mike’s pen.
It was comforting, him being there. The proximity. His content scent. It relaxed him. They had always stuck close to one another, but the summer had been different. It felt like they were always together. Working together, driving together, sleepovers together, and seeing friends together. Not seeing friends together, as they were now.
Will took comfort from it. He took comfort from the fact that that was the one thing that wasn’t changing. They were starting a new chapter, yes. But it would still be together.
Mike’s scent continued to drift towards Will. It had changed over time, as they had grown into themselves. What began as a simple Mike-smell with a hint of an unknown spice, had grown into a strong earthy smell. Sometimes it had hints of cinnamon, though, more often than not, it was most similar to a pine. When he thought about it, and he did, he came to the conclusion that his scents changed based on his mood but stayed within the wooden, earthy realm. Beneath it, and Will’s favorite part, was always his distinct Mike-smell.
He inhaled slowly and deeply. The scent now, as it often did, had undercurrents of pine, making its home in Will’s lungs, pheromones absorbing into his bloodstream, relaxing him from the inside out. He allowed himself to lean into the feeling, drifting in and out of sleep for a while.
He stayed that way, until he could no longer relax on his own, a familiar restlessness settling inside of him. One he knew how to satisfy.
His eyes fell on Mike.
That was another reason he wasn’t too put off by the afternoon storm disrupting their plans.
“Mike,” Mike’s pen paused its movement as he turned his attention to Will.
“You’re awake,” He stated the obvious as he took Will in.
“Mike,” Will repeated. He didn’t need to say anything else. His tone conveyed his meaning.
Mike smiled softly, understanding dawning in his expression as he clicked his pen and set it down.
“I figured it was soon.” His words were soft, attuned to the omega. His feet carried him to the edge of the bed.
Will relaxed, but only slightly. As he approached, his eyes trained on Mike, who propped a knee on the bed.
“Do you need anything?” The usual question fell from his lips.
Will patted the bed, motioning for Mike to lie down as well. Mike's face took on a teasing grin. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.”
But before he could move to lie down as requested, Will sat up with a frown.
This wasn’t right. Not yet. Mike’s presence was comforting, yes, but something was missing.
“Will?”
He glanced around the room, no longer driven by logic. Instead, allowing something else to take over.
“I need…”
The nesting had begun not long ago. Perhaps, it had been gradual, similar to his other senses slowly developing. An extra blanket he had just needed to have. Then two.
Once, El had left her crewneck on the floor in his room. It didn’t make sense to leave it on the floor. Clothes shouldn’t be on the floor. What if the floor were dirty? What if he tripped over it? It was a hazard, truly. He’d snatched it up and laid it on the bed. It had stayed there when Mike slept over that night.
Only in December had he become fully aware of what he was doing. He’d been extra touchy that day. El’s crewneck was still on his bed, but it wasn’t the same. He’d grabbed it from what had become its designated spot and had found himself in her room. Her room always smelled so soft and floral. He breathed it in. He’d opened her closet door to discard the item in her hamper, only to drop it to the floor, instead, when his hands found themselves pawing through her clothes.
They just weren’t right. The sharp scent of detergent seemed to seer into his olfactory receptors, making his nose itch and his gut twist. He’d shaken his head quickly in an attempt to clear the scent from his nose before he pulled back. When he finally stepped away, crewneck forgotten at his feet, his eyes found what his nose had been searching for. He’d swiped up a flannel this time. It was resting against El’s chair. She must have left it there when she’d returned home that day.
It wasn’t when Will had returned to his room and carefully positioned the flannel on his bed, just below his pillow, right near where his chest would be when he lay down, that he realized. It wasn’t when he repeated the process a moment later in Jonathan’s room. In fact, he wasn’t sure if he ever would have noticed it himself. Not until he’d carried himself to the living room, still searching.
“Why don’t you take the basket?” Joyce rested on the couch, watching TV with Hopper. She’d pointed to the basket full of blankets in the corner of the room.
“What?”
“They’ll smell like us.” It was hard to miss Will trekking from room to room, only to emerge with some soft fabric she’d recently seen on her other children. Joyce went on when he continued to stand uselessly, “For your nest.”
Then it clicked. The mild embarrassment Will felt at his obliviousness quickly dissipated when he felt a tug towards the blankets. She was right. They would smell like them. The basket was dragged into his room and had been periodically since then.
It was there now. Though Will wasn’t sure when it had arrived.
“Will? What is it?”
Mike followed Will’s line of sight. His confusion was quickly replaced by a grin again. If he wasn’t focused on the pull of his instincts, Will would’ve rolled his eyes at Mike’s teasing.
When Mike had arrived at the cabin that December day, his expression had been one of awe. He hadn’t been in a nest since he was young. And there Will was, dozing in a perfect one of his own creation, beckoning him to join him. It had been a development Mike had particularly loved, and though he didn’t say it, he didn’t have to. The adoration showed in his expression that, and every time since, without fail.
Will didn’t want for long. Mike dumped the basket’s contents before him, and he immediately got to work. Tucking and pulling, shaping and twisting. He didn’t know how long the process took him. Just that it would go on until it was right.
When he finally let himself sink back down into his bed, or more accurately described: nest, he could feel a sweat gathering on his back and under his lip. His eyes fell shut. Maybe he should time his nesting next time. How long had it taken for it to cause him to break out in a sweat?
When he didn’t feel the mattress dip, he forced his eyes back open. Mike’s eyes were already on him.
“Mike,” He raised a brow slowly.
Mike blinked.
“Are you just gonna stand there?”
That sparked Mike’s movement. He carefully slipped over the edge of the nest, adjusting until he lay facing Will, knees resting against each other.
This was how it usually was, the two facing each other with pressing knees or lying flat, shoulders pressing instead. Will needed the contact. Sometimes, Will’s head would rest near his shoulder. More often than not, it would end up right between Mike’s head and shoulder, nose lingering near, but not into the sensitive curve of Mike’s neck. His scent was strongest there. A more recent development was when Will’s nose would sometimes brush the spot. It could’ve been accidental, and though the contact had startled Mike the first time, he never pulled away.
As Will edged closer, Mike expected more of the same. And that’s just what happened. At first.
Will’s head came to rest near his shoulder, nose slightly brushing against his scent gland for a moment. Mike’s satisfied scent was so strong, it made Will feel greedy. He took a deep breath, fresh pine and Mike filling his lungs, feeling a slight vibration when Mike let out a small chuckle.
He usually would’ve mumbled something along the lines of, “shut up, you can’t make fun of me when I’m in heat.” This time, his scent was just too overwhelmingly good. The best, really. Made for him. Made just for him.
He could’ve stayed there forever, nose pressed to Mike’s gland. He liked to imagine that he would’ve, but suddenly his nest just wasn’t right again. No sooner did the feeling hit him than he found his hands bunched in Mike’s shirt, pulling softly.
Mike gave him a quizzical look, “What are you…”
Mike’s clothes had made it into Will’s nest before. Of course they had. Consistently. In fact, that may have been why the nest suddenly felt wrong to Will again. It was missing a key factor that was always there.
Only now, due to the summer heat, Mike hadn’t brought a jacket.
“Take it off,” Will continued to pull, until Mike lifted himself and pulled it over his head. It was hardly in his hands before Will snatched it away. He positioned it where Mike’s clothes usually ended up, around his pillows.
Then his nose was back at Mike’s neck, as though it had never been gone. And Mike would’ve believed that, had he still been wearing a shirt.
Will’s nose pressed further, smooshing against Mike’s scent gland. The alpha was so attentive. He always was. Getting him blankets, giving him clothes, letting him shove his face where it belonged, staying with him through his heats. He was lucky to have an alpha like him. His inner crooned. He let out a satisfied sigh.
“Better?” Will could hear his smile.
“Shut up.” The teasing finally caught up to him. His voice was muffled by Mike’s shoulder.
“Go to sleep.”
And he tried for a while. He really did. He lay still, breathing in Mike’s calming scent. It exuded safety, protection, comfort, and contentment. It felt nice. It always did.
It’s not that he wasn’t comfortable or satisfied, it was just that… something was still missing.
For the first time, having unlimited access to the source wasn’t enough. He needed Mike’s scent closer. He nosed his neck in an attempt to do so, inadvertently scenting his best friend.
“Will,” Mike’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Can you scent me?” He didn’t stop his movements, arm resting against Mike’s bare ribs, where he attempted to pull him closer.
Scenting was done between family and mates. Not friends. Not even best friends.
But Mike had been allowed to stay with Will through his heats, and friends don’t do that either. He was basically family. And it’s not as though he didn’t know where this was heading, them spending heats together for six years, but still, it may cross a line. It was something they were supposed to talk about first. Mike had imagined they would make the courting official first. Because what else was this if not unofficial courting?
“Please?” Will’s movement at his neck paused.
The word on Will’s lips was enough to convince him. They would have to talk later. Will had already scented him anyway, and it would likely leave the omega in a state of distress if Mike denied him now.
He propped himself on an elbow, still facing Will, who finally tore his nose away to open the space below his chin to Mike. The sight of Will in such a vulnerable position, needing him, opening his throat to him, sent a jolt of desire through Mike.
He stared.
He stared where Will’s eyes were trained on him, eyes wide and pupils dark. He stared at the point of his chin, raised slightly. His eyes fell to his neck. They fell to the gland there, currently releasing Will’s needy scent.
Finally, when it seemed like Will might be growing impatient, he leaned down. He pressed the tip of his nose to the spot, inhaling. It was Will’s turn to laugh, but the only sound he made was that of a small sigh. It urged Mike to continue. He turned his head slightly, his cheek rubbing the spot. He continued the motion, satisfaction pooling in him as his inner buzzed with contentment.
When he finally pulled away, he settled on his back. Will’s eyes were closed, but the blissful expression was unmistakable, at least for a moment.
Then he was back at Mike’s neck, for the third time. Sniffing, rubbing, nuzzling, taking. He couldn’t help it. Mike just smelled so good. And now that that scent was on him, he could finally relax.
But he didn’t. He was closer now, hand on Mike’s side again, pulling at him. His leg fell atop Mike’s. His front pressed to Mike’s side. He continued his nuzzling, lips sometimes grazing the spot. Once, so much so that the flavor of salty skin and Mike teased his tongue for a moment. He liked it. He needed more. He let his bottom lip drag over the spot.
He didn’t notice Mike still completely. He couldn’t. Not when he’d progressed to licking the spot, Mike’s scent pooling around him. The taste of Mike on his tongue was something he’d never even thought to imagine. His inner sang with pleasure, the familiar scent of pine and, now, hints of cinnamon wafting around him. He didn’t notice his hips pressed so tightly to Mike’s either. He just knew this was right. His instinct had taken over completely, and he was hot.
So hot. Why wasn’t his AC unit working?
His shirt was off before he knew it, not set meticulously within the nest, but completely discarded to the side. The nest was no longer his concern. The alpha beside him was.
His alpha.
He continued his movements, scenting, nuzzling, licking, hips moving where they were pressed against the alpha. His teeth began to ache.
It wasn’t until they grazed Mike’s neck that Mike was pulled from his stupor. He sat up in alarm, pulling himself from Will’s desperate touch.
“Will, you can’t,” Mike’s breathy words cut through the air.
Will might have sat up, too, if he could think clearly. Instead, he became aware of the ache that had settled into his core, weighing him into his nest—the desperate need for something that hadn’t accompanied his previous heats. The only movements he maintained were those of writhing and squirming where he lay.
“Mike,” he'd meant it to be convincing.
Come back. Rest like we always do.
Except that was not what he had been doing, and his voice came out as more of a whine.
“You were gonna bite me,” Mike started, more to himself. His hand rested on the side of his neck where, if Will had continued to have his way, a mark might have been placed.
Bite.
The word pulled at Will’s inner.
Yes. Bite. Mate. Knot. Breed. Mike. Alpha.
“Alpha,” The single word on Will’s lips brought Mike’s attention back to the boy. He squirmed, his arm reaching for Mike’s. “I need…” What did he need? He couldn’t decide what to request first. It didn’t matter. Mike would take care of him. He always did.
His head tilted for the second time. His neck bared, his chest heaved, core ached, hips squirmed. His arm pulled Mike’s.
When Mike stilled again, the hand that was resting on his neck now dropped to his side. Will’s voice carried. “Bite me,” He whimpered. “Please, Alpha.”
And Mike looked like he would do it. His gaze, though one of surprise, also held a longing that mirrored Will’s. But then, he pulled away. He pried himself out of Will’s grasp, feet landing on the floor, backing away towards the door.
The movement sent an alarm through Will. He couldn’t leave him now. He wouldn’t. Mike would never leave him. Not when he needed him more than he ever had before. Not when he was so close. When he smelled so good. When they’d scented each other, and his inner needed more. Needed him.
His heart pounded in his chest. “Please. Mike.” He begged. Maybe a more articulate request would’ve made him stay, but Will couldn’t seem to form the words.
He couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped his lips.
“It’s okay, I’m just gonna get your mom.” Mike continued to back away. “I’ll be quick.” His voice was soft as he tried to calm the omega. His scent was stronger, though, and it was one of concern and fear. It struck Will deep in his chest, adding to his rapidly magnifying distress.
He felt the ache deepen. His door shut as Mike hurried from the room. Hurried away from him. Mike’s denial made everything suddenly feel wrong again.
It would be alright, only when he returned. It would feel right again when he was back.
Lying on his side, Will held his knees to his chest, fully aware of the deep pain in his gut now. Pain, that was soon accompanied by another in his chest. He rocked himself in a manner of self-soothing.
Mike wasn’t quick. In fact, he didn’t return at all. When the door finally opened, it was Joyce who entered.
“Will, honey?” She approached the bed, eyes full of concern.
“Where’s Mike?” His head lifted slightly, face still contorting in pain.
The concerned look in Joyce’s eyes morphed into one of compassion. “He left, honey. I sent him home.”
Left.
Mike left.
“Why?” He let out a strangled sob. He needed him. Mike’s scent in his nest wasn’t enough. His scent on his neck wasn’t enough. He needed him there. Why didn’t they get that?
She was near the bed now. “You’re having your first full heat, baby. He can’t be here.” Her hand brushed his forehead where wet hair clung to his skin.
“No, I need him,” Will sobbed again, still rocking himself. “Tell him to come back.”
But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She didn’t understand.
She tried to help him where she could. She brought him water. Stayed with him some. It didn’t help much. Everything was still wrong. She just didn’t understand that Mike could fix this. He just needed Mike to come back.
Or maybe, he didn’t understand. He needed Mike. That much was clear. But did Mike need him? No, he needed to leave, Joyce had said. Will’s vulnerable state had been too much for him to bear. He couldn’t reciprocate. He had to go. He had to get away. It’s not that he couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t.
His neck throbbed where Mike scented him. Where a bite should have been. He pawed at it.
He’d begged Mike to scent him. Forced him, really. Mike didn’t want to scent him, but he had. Had Will not been so adamant, it never would have happened. His scent lingered everywhere Mike wasn’t. Remnants of an alpha that was no longer there.
Will’s own scent had been turned bitter with distress some time ago. It stained the room, mixing with Mike’s still overwhelming scent. He wasn’t aware when it happened, but the two seemed to become so intertwined that he couldn’t tell them apart. What was acrid, and what was Mike?
Was it their scents mixing? Or was it just Mike’s? He suddenly couldn’t tell. The scent surrounding him was still Mike, just wrong. It was repugnant, the scent he had taken such comfort in over the past six years. It surrounded him. He was confined by it. It weighed down on him. It suffocated him. His core ached for the source of the scent. His heart, his inner, ached for it to be gone.
He rolled back and forth in his nest. It was supposed to be a source of comfort. It once was. Now, like everything else, it was wrong. There was something specific to the wrongness. Mike’s scent seemed to infiltrate every corner of it. It wasn’t just that it wasn’t right anymore. He needed it gone.
He pulled Mike’s shirt from its place near his pillow, slightly wet from his pooling sweat, and tossed it away. He rolled more. His movements had already caused the nest to lose most of its structure. He kept moving. Legs kicking, arms pushing. He didn’t stop until it was just himself atop the bed, all pillows, clothes, and blankets gone.
When all that was left was himself and the half-sickening scent that still clung to him, he’d reached for the water Joyce had left on his nightstand. He poured it over himself, hands clawing at his skin, particularly his neck where Mike had scented him so attentively. He needed a shower, but his thoughts wouldn’t allow him to grasp the thought clearly, and his body wouldn’t allow him to sit upright.
Only when he’d run out of water could Will take a moment. The moment couldn’t be called one of relaxation or solace. It was instead a moment of less wrongness. Everything was still not as it should be. But at least it wasn’t shoved directly in his face. His sheets were wet, soaked with sweat, water, and another substance he wasn’t cognizant enough to grasp the source of.
He was hot. He was wet. He was alone.
The rejection still hung in the air. His wolf had retreated into himself.
No nest. No mate. Just gut-wrenching agony. Ache. Desperation. Needs unfulfilled.
He didn’t drink, though Joyce attempted to get him to periodically, and he definitely didn’t eat. He begged Joyce to wash the remnants of his nest pooling his bedframe. When she’d tried to bring him new supplies, one of Jonathan's flannels, her softest sweater, he refused them. The comfort didn’t feel deserved. How could it be when his alpha had refused to tend to him?
He spent three days that way. It was late Monday night when his body finally released him from the ache deep in his gut. The memory of it lingered. So did the ache in his chest.
He showered that evening, his body finally allowing him some respite. He’d scrubbed and scrubbed, paying close attention to the slope of his neck.
When he returned to his room, his movements were slow. He tugged the sheets off his bed and replaced them with fresh sheets from the linen closet. They smelled of detergent and a distinct storage smell. The scent wasn’t comforting. It didn’t make him feel safe or loved, as the scents of his family and friends, whom he had grown to depend on. The neutral scents also didn’t make him feel worse. The blandness numbed him. His room no longer felt right or wrong. It just was.
He’d been lucky enough to have only missed one shift at the theater. Joyce had called for him; he hadn’t been in any state to. When she’d told him Mike had called, he couldn’t bring himself to form a reaction.
He finally drank. She made him. She forced some food in him, too, pleased when he finally yielded.
He spent Tuesday and Wednesday in his room, skipping his Tuesday shift. Less writhing, but still in bed. He didn’t sketch. He tried to sleep and wasn’t successful. Joyce said it was normal. A first sexual heat would take a lot out of an omega. He didn’t pick up on the concern in her eyes when she’d spoken.
…
“Mike’s here.”
Joyce’s voice came through a crack in the bathroom door. It was Saturday. She had allowed him to skip his Thursday shift, on the condition that he finally return today.
“Coming,” he responded, drying his hands on a towel. He didn’t look in the mirror.
Mike was leaning against his car, parked on the dirt path. He pushed himself up when Will emerged from the porch and made his way over. His expression was soft as Will approached, as though he was unsure of the state he would find him in.
They hadn’t seen each other in over a week. It was the longest they’d been apart, probably since the summer prior, when Mike’s family had gone to visit relatives.
As sluggish as he’d felt, he’d been looking forward to seeing Mike. He was ready for things to go back to normal. His scent would envelope him and finally bring Will the comfort he’d been denied and craving during his heat and every day since. Things would go back to normal, and he would be able to take comfort from familiar scents again. He could stop attempting to neutralize any scents clinging to his belongings. He would deserve the comfort again when Mike had satisfied what he denied.
His heart beat faster as he approached him, but his inner, that usually released a hum of satisfaction when he was near him, stayed quiet. A certain vacancy took its place. Confusion lingered throughout him at the noticeable lack.
“Hi,” Mike smiled awkwardly.
He hadn’t caught his scent yet. That had to be the problem.
“Hey,” Will gave a small smile. He didn’t slow his pace, even when Mike didn’t make any move to get back in the car. He passed him, rounding the car and pulling the handle. A rush of Mike-scented-air flowed against his skin. He inhaled deeply, prepared for the relief his scent so often brought, only to let out a strangled cough.
It was strong, overwhelmingly strong. And though it still smelled like Mike, there was a rotting sensation that accompanied it. His chest tightened while his face scrunched in confusion. It didn’t make sense. His scent had always been so nice. Embarrassingly nice to Will. It was supposed to fix everything. Why was it revolting?
He turned his head, greedily breathed one last gulp of fresh air, and slid into the passenger seat, closing himself in.
He rolled down the window.
“It’s a beautiful day.” He justified, aloud.
Mike gave him a quizzical look at the odd behavior. “Yes,” He paused.
Will turned his head. The window helped.
A moment passed before he heard Mike shift the gears, putting the car in reverse.
“Your mom said you had a hard time last week.” Mike began.
Will tore his attention from the window, forcing himself to face Mike. “Oh, yeah. It wasn’t… what I expected.” His gaze fell to the road ahead.
“She said you asked for me.”
Will could’ve given himself whiplash from the speed at which he snapped his head toward the alpha. “Yeah, um, I’m sorry for… all of that. I shouldn’t have–”
“No, it’s okay. I would’ve stayed if I could. But– you know.” Mike smiled.
“Yeah.” Logically, Will did know. He knew that Mike would’ve stayed. He had proven that numerous times. So why didn’t his wolf seem to understand that? Why had it retreated so far within him that all he could sense was its vacancy?
“Still, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t really thinking.”
Was now an acceptable time to stick his head out of the window?
“Will, don’t apologize. It’s normal.” He could hear the smile in Mike’s voice. “Honestly, it’d be weirder if you didn’t react that way.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Will hummed out, face still turned.
“Did my scent help?” Mike slanted him a glance.
Will stilled.
Sensing his discomfort, he continued, “I just mean, when I had my first full rut a couple months ago, yours helped me.”
“It did?”
“Yeah,” he continued. “Yeah, it was comforting. Even though you couldn’t be there, I at least had part of you. And it reminded me that you were waiting to see me when it passed.”
That didn’t make any sense. Will had tried and tried to find comfort in his scent, in anyone’s scent. The only time he had a moment's rest was when there weren’t any scents.
Will couldn’t help the small frown that settled on his face.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I think for me, it did the opposite.”
“What?” Mike repeated dumbly.
“It felt like a reminder that you weren’t there,” Will continued slowly, “You could have been, but you weren’t. And it kinda felt like it made it worse.”
‘Kinda’ was an understatement.
Mike seemed to ponder on it.
“Maybe it’s because I scented you?” He guessed. “I know Lucas scents Max before her heats sometimes, though. Maybe I did it too late since yours had already started.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll ask him later. We need to know for next time.”
Will’s gut twisted at the thought. He’d always loved being an omega, but the reminder of going through what he had last week every three months? Feeling restless, alone, anguished, and abandoned.
He tried to ignore the pit that formed in his stomach.