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Parts of this chapter may be uncomfortable to read. It mentions self-harm and suicide attempt.
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"Dorian, please stay calm. Tem and Eamon are most likely fated."
Dorian stared at Shiro. His whole face was filled with shock.
"Wait, just give me a moment," Dorian said in his trembling voice and dropped down on the sofa, hiding his face in his hands.
The others looked at him. Shiro's heart ached because he knew how difficult this was for Dorian. The alpha probably felt as if he had failed to protect his family again.
Eamon sat by his father's side and hated himself, and Tem was completely still on the other sofa and was waiting for Dorian to beat him up.
"I'm so sorry, Dad," Eamon started to cry, and tears streamed down his face.
Dorian's expression changed immediately, and he knelt in front of the boy. Eamon usually never cried, and the sight of the boy's devastated expression made Dorian calm down. He needed to focus on the most important thing right now, which was to take care of his beloved boy.
"Oh, pet, don't cry. Just tell me what happened."
"I was alone in the corridor and suddenly got my heath. After that, everything turned black. When I woke up, I had marked Tem."
Eamon looked up at his father, and his desperate look broke Dorian's heart.
"Dad, I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. I raped him. I ruined his life. I don't think I can take this."
Dorian put his arms around his boy and held him close to him. He felt Eamon tremble. Dorian knew all too well how Eamon felt, but he was an adult. Eamon was still a child. But before he could say anything, he felt someone's presence behind him.
"No, Eamon. You didn't rape me, and you didn't ruin my life. We can figure something out. So please, sweetheart, don't worry."
Tem sat down next to Eamon on the couch and gently took his hands. Dorian looked at him, but Tem only saw Eamon, and Dorian could see compassion in the other man's eyes. It made him feel relieved, even though it still hurt. His precious son was in pain, and as a parent, he just wanted to make the pain go away.
"I will do everything I can to help you," Dorian said. "Both of you."
Dorian's voice was steady and determined. He meant every word he said. There was nothing they could do to change the past, but there was certainly something they could do to help them cope with this.
"Thank you," Tem said, relieved that Dorian didn't seem mad at him.
Dorian looked at Tem and the friendly, honest smile that Tem showed relieved Dorian's anxiety. That convinced him. There was nothing false or evil in that man. And even if this was one of the worst things that could happen, it could have been with a genuine bastard.
The police came after a while and asked some quick questions. Tem, Shiro and Eamon had to answer more questions later, but now they needed to rest. Dorian arranged a taxi to drive them home. Tem insisted that he could go by himself, but Eamon refused. He firmly told his father that they absolutely had to make sure that Tem came home safely, and Dorian agreed. The whole thing left Tem stunned. He had never encountered people who seemed so caring about others like this. Shiro also fascinated him because every time father and son talked, he looked at them with such affection in his eyes that even Tem felt warm inside.
"Where do you live?" Dorian asked the younger man.
"Dowland Street," Tem replied, and Dorian repeated the address to the driver.
As the taxi drove through the dark streets of London, the men in the car were silent. They were all tired. Worn from the eventful day. Tem had started working twelve hours ago. First at his daytime job and later at the party. He wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and crawl into bed. Next to him, Eamon let out a loud yawn. Tem looked at him when Dorian and Shiro didn't notice. It was the first time he could look at Eamon when the boy wasn't crying his eyes out or fighting the attacker. Tem noticed that Eamon had surprisingly strong facial features for being so young. He had a strong jawline and a straight nose. Eamon's hair was thick, and Tem had never seen a colour like that in real life. It was like copper. And those beautiful green eyes. They were so clear, almost shimmering. Looking at the boy, Tem was filled with a bitter feeling. Eamon was too attractive. It would have been much better if he didn't think the boy looked so fine. This made the whole thing with Eamon being straight even more troublesome.
Tem sensed that someone was looking at him and turned his gaze away from Eamon. It was Shiro, and he had a worried expression on his face. Tem gave him a faint smile, and Shiro returned it, but Tem could see that it was forced. Tem wished Shiro could stop worrying. Everything would work out for Eamon. Tem would make sure of that.
The remaining drive home, Tem looked out the window and rested his head against the cold glass. All he wanted was to rest.
In front of a bathroom mirror stood a tired omega. Tem had finished his shower, and with only black boxers on, he stood by the sink and stared at his own reflection. His eyes were red, and he thought he looked at least twenty years older than his twenty-three years. He also thought he looked more like a corpse than a living person.
Tem was quite petite, but nothing like he used to be. A few years ago, you could clearly see his ribs and spine, and his arms were like sticks. But he had gained at least ten kilos since then when he started eating food instead of smoking grass all the time.
Tattoos filled Tem's body with tattoos, all of them in black and white. In addition to the winged cat that Shiro had seen on his chest, Tem had both his upper arms covered with tattoos. And his back, stomach and legs. Most of the motifs he had chosen as a tribute to his Egyptian heritage. Nefertiti on his back, several Egyptian gods on his arms and legs, hieroglyphs on his sides and stomach. Except for the places he couldn't reach, Tem had done a lot by himself. He was a tattoo artist and a really good one, specializing in realistic motifs and shadowing. It was a profession he started working in when he was fifteen years old. So during the day, he worked in his studio and on the weekends, he worked extra as a bartender and on special occasions as a waiter.
Tem was planning to get more tattoos, but there was a part of his body that he would never touch, which was his forearms. They were covered with scars. The old self-inflicted cuts had faded through the year but were a reminder of what he had overcome. Many people had asked why he didn't want to cover them, but Tem didn't understand why he should. The scars were a part of him, just like the tattoos. He didn't want to hide or forget what he had done in the past.
On a shelf above the sink stood four medicine jars and a large glass of water. Tem opened the first jar and took out two white pills. Lamatrogin. He swallowed them with a mouth full of water. He then proceeded to the next jar and did the same thing - 5 tablets of lithium. The next pill was his antidepressant. He took one and a half. Last was the medicine he really needed the most that night. Imovane. He really wanted to sleep, but his thoughts swirled around in his head like a whirlwind. There was no chance in hell that he could fall asleep without his medicine.
When he finished his evening routine, he looked at his reflection again and took a deep breath. It was three years since he had been diagnosed as bipolar. He still had ups and downs, but he was much more stable now than before he started with the medication. During his manic periods, he had partied like there was no tomorrow, did drugs, gambled and fucked around. When he was depressed, he isolated himself, didn't want to eat, could barely get out of bed and cut himself. Not deep enough to seriously injure himself, but merely to transfer the screaming pain inside him to a physical pain instead. This went on for several years until he had enough of it all and took enough sleeping pills so he wouldn't wake up again. Fortunately, his roommate at the time found him and called for an ambulance. At the hospital, they pumped his stomach, and thanks to the doctors' hard work, he survived. Tem then admitted himself to a psychiatric hospital and got a doctor who was determined to help him. After a while, Tem decided to contact his parents, with whom he hadn't had any contact since he was fifteen, and left home in the middle of the night. They were now trying to become a normal family, but they were all struggling to make it work. They didn't approve of his job, his lifestyle, and they had a hard time accepting his illness. Tem didn't care so much. He only kept in touch with them because he knew it would calm them. He didn't want to bother anyone anymore.
Tem left the bathroom and went straight to the bedroom. He threw himself on the bed and grunted as he did. Everything hurt. His head, his neck, his arms, his nipples, his legs but most of all, his ass. He didn't even want to think about the next time he would have to use the bathroom. It would hurt so much.
He had only had vanilla sex for the past two years and at most every two months. Sex didn't interest his fiancé at all, so they rarely had it, and as a result, Tem's body wasn't used to it anymore. And the way the boy had done him was like nothing Tem had ever experienced before. Not even during his most crazy period. The boy had no control over what he did and no experience at all. He just hammered away. Tem didn't remember everything, but he remembered that much. And it had felt so good.
Tem groaned again and rolled over on his back. Poor kid. He had been completely devastated. What a shock and Tem really felt sorry for him. Not only did Eamon not remember his first time, but he also had sex with someone other than his girlfriend and with a guy! Tem started laughing, but it ended with a new groan, and he put his hand over his eyes. How could he have such much bad luck all the bloody time? He must have done something terribly wrong in his previous life to deserve to be constantly unlucky. Had he not gone through enough shit in his life already?
As he lay there, waiting for the sleeping pill to kick in, Tem could feel that even though he had just taken a shower, the scent of Eamon's pheromones hadn't washed away by the water. He still could smell the woody scent. It was as if he were walking through a pine forest, and he smelled the damp moss, covered with morning dew and the scent of lovely wildflowers. Tem had never felt anything so soothing before. It was as if he was embraced and held tightly by strong, safe arms. Tem already loved that smell, and it made him groan even louder. Why, oh, why did that cute boy had to be a minor and straight? Eamon was already so handsome, and Tem was one hundred percent sure that he would be incredibly hot when he grew up. On the way home, Tem had found a picture of Eamon's other father online. And discovered that both his fathers were very attractive. But Tem knew he didn't have a chance in hell with a straight guy. It never worked out. Tem had learned that the hard way. So many times had he got his heart crushed, falling for straight guys. He didn't want to go through that again.
Tem suddenly remembered that he had Eamon's jacket out in the hallway. Before leaving the room where they had spoken to the police, Eamon had without a word taken off his jacket and put it over Tem's shoulders. Tem had smiled and buttoned it to cover the torn shirt. A wave of heat had passed through him. Not only was the boy adorable, but he was also kind.
Now that Tem remembered the scent, he wanted more of it. He wanted it so badly that he struggled against the fatigue, and on unsteady legs, he went to get it. He put on the jacket and went back to bed as if in a daze. The jacket was so soft, and the scent quickly filled him. He lay down on the bed again and pulled Eamon's jacket tightly around him. It made his temperature rise, and he began to feel restless. As if he couldn't stay still. He rubbed his legs against each other and bit his lower lip. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stand it. It just became too much for him. The scent called Tem and reminding him of the pleasure he had felt and the feeling of belonging. Tem took his already hard cock in his hand and stroked it. He bit his lower lip so hard to stifle his moans that he drew blood. It didn't take long before he came over his stomach, and very tired, he cleaned himself with some paper which he then threw on the floor.
"So wrong. So very, very wrong," he mumbled before falling asleep. Naked with nothing but Eamon's jacket on.
Tem woke up when the phone rang, and while he opened his eyes, he yawned loudly. Tired, he sat up in bed, leaned back against the fluffy pillows and pulled his hand through his black hair. The phone rang again, and drowsy, he answered.
"' Ello!"
"Can't you answer the phone properly for once?"
The voice on the other side was stern, and the man sounded irritated.
Tem rolled his eyes.
"Okay then. Tariq El-Masry here. How can I be of service?"
Tem could hear the man sigh.
"Why can't you behave like an adult?"
"Don't wanna. So Farid, what's up?"
"Have you just woken up?"
"Yeah, what time is it?"
"It is one o'clock," Farid replied.
Tem sat up straight, and his eyes were big. He had slept for twelve hours. That never happened.
"Seriously?"
"Yes. I've already called you five times. I started to think that something had happened to you."
"Oh, sorry about that. I must have been more exhausted than I thought."
"That's why I said you should quit these night jobs."
Tem sighed. Farid took every opportunity he could to complain about Tem's choice of jobs. Farid had at least stopped complaining that he was a tattoo artist. Tem had given Farid an earful and threatened to cancel the wedding if he didn't stop nagging about it. Farid quit immediately, but he still complained that Tem worked as a bartender and waiter.
"So, was there anything important you wanted to talk about?" said Tem, wanting to change the subject.
"Yes, mother wants to know if you want red or white flowers as centrepieces?"
Dejected, Tem closed his eyes. Why did they bother to ask him these questions when everyone knew that he didn't care one bit, and Farid's mother would still do as she pleased no matter what he answered.
"White," he replied, knowing that Farid wouldn't stop asking him if he didn't answer.
"And Sanaa wonders if you want a bachelor party?"
Tem was now only seconds from throwing the phone at the wall. Why did they ask that when they knew perfectly well that he didn't have any friends. After taking a few deep breaths, Tem managed to calm himself before he answered.
"No, but thank her."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. So was there something else? I have to eat. I'm starving."
"I'm going on that business trip tomorrow to China that I told you about. I will be back in two weeks. And don't forget that we are going to have dinner with our parents the day after I come back."
"Okay. Have a safe trip, and take care of yourself."
"Thanks. I love you."
Tem closed his eyes. He hated this. He really did.
"I love you too."
They hung up, and Tem fell back against the pillows. He didn't love Farid. He tried, but the feelings never came. Of course, he felt for lying to him, but he was determined never to let Farid know the truth and spend the rest of his life with the man he had known ever since childhood. It wasn't that important to him. Everyone would be happy if they got married, so it was fine.
While Tem sat thinking about what to do for the rest of the day, his gaze fell upon his arm. He was wearing something black. His gaze then wandered to his chest, and he frowned. Why was he wearing someone else's jacket, and why didn't he wear any underwear? And then it hit him.
"Bloody hell!" He shouted, hiding his face in his hands.
Everything that happened the night before came rushing back to him like a baseball bat in the face, and he screamed.
"Shit, shit, shit!" And many more curse words.
He hurried up, ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He needed to turn and stretch, but then he saw it. The mark! It was blue and red, and it was swollen. It hurt like hell! Why did it hurt? He had always heard that getting marked was something pleasant. But nothing like this. It was as if a wild animal had bitten him.
"How the hell am I supposed to hide this?" He mumbled to himself and thanked his lucky star that Farid would be abroad for two weeks.
He would probably come up with something before then. Tem took a deep breath and stared at his reflection. It took some time, but he managed to calm down. And he had a determined look.
"It will be okay," he said over and over again, like a mantra.
And when he felt calmer, he took off Eamon's jacket, which was surprisingly difficult because he loved the scent from it and went into the shower. When he was done, he put on a pair of ripped black jeans and a loose, grey tank top. He then looked at his phone, and he wasn't surprised that he had several missed calls from Eamon's stepfather. Tem took a deep breath and called him back. And as he did, his heart was pounding in his chest, and it didn't take long before Shiro answered.
"It's Tem here. You know, the guy from yesterday."
"Yes, I know who you are. Are you okay? We were worried that something had happened when you didn't answer."
There was an extreme difference in how Tem felt when he heard Shiro's concern compared to Farid's. Instead of feeling nothing at all, he felt grateful.
"I'm okay. How's Eamon holding up?"
Just saying the boy's name made Tem's heart beat a little faster, which fascinated him.
"Well, he's really trying to deal with it."
Tem could hear the worry in Shiro's voice, and Tem didn't like it. He didn't want Eamon to be struggling.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"There's a lot we need to do now. First of all, we need to see a doctor and confirm the band. And we know a person that can see us immediately."
"Where do I need to go?"
Shiro told the address of the hospital where Joy worked, and Tem didn't hesitate. He told Shiro that he would go immediately and hung up. Tem then put on his red sneakers, jacket and took his black motorcycle helmet. He ran out of the apartment, his heart wildly pounding in his chest. Eamon would be there. Just the thought of seeing the boy made Tem feel a fluttering in his stomach that he had never felt before.
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Midori was furious. Dorian had called Lucas immediately after the attack and told him that a woman had tried to kill Shiro with a knife. Horrified, Lucas had asked if there was anything he could do, but Dorian had thanked him for the offer and said it was under control and that they would go home soon. Dorian would call him the next day.
The party was still going strong. No one except a few of the companies' employees knew about the attack. Lucas and Midori decided to go home. The two men said nothing while they were in the taxi, and they barely spoke while getting ready for bed. Lucas was worried about his family, and Midori tried not to show his anger. How dare she? Some random woman tried to kill his beloved. How could anyone even come up with the idea of harming Shiro? It was inconceivable. Midori couldn't understand it. And why hadn't he been there? He should have been the one who saved Shiro. It was his job to take care of him. Midori was disappointed in himself, but Shiro would soon receive his letters, and Midori knew it would make Shiro happy. Midori promised never to let Shiro down again. No matter what.