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Mr and Mrs Yang were very delighted when they knew they were expecting a child way back in 1991. The couple was even more delighted when they knew their first child would be a boy. As per Chinese tradition, it was considered a good thing to have a male firstborn. So, they rejoiced and prepared for the arrival of their child.

However, things took a slightly wrong turn when Mrs Yang noticed that her baby bump stayed unnoticeable under huge clothing even at twenty-eight weeks, where most expecting mothers are heavily gravid and bulging really visibly. So when she took this concern to her obstetrician, she got overwhelmed and wept in despair when her doctor just reassured her that the baby is perfectly fine and healthy for an omega.

Now, to provide an overview as to why Mama Yang was distraught at the mention of an omega baby, here’s an explanation: in their culture, having omega boys were considered to be a punishment from the heavens due to the notion that men should be strong, powerful, and independent, whereas, omegas are biologically weaker, submissive, and dependent—an exact opposite of the ideal man. So, when Mama Yang knew she was having an omega boy, she had to recall all the wrongdoings her husband and she has done over the years. Other than having a few fights, she found none, much to her dismay.

Downcast, she made her way home and cried until her husband and alpha came home to comfort her. They eventually forgot about the news and focused on choosing names and buying things for their baby boy.

Brett Yang decided to surprise his parents by his arrival on a peaceful afternoon on March 3rd, 1992. Mama Yang was relaxing in her nest of blankets and used clothes and occasionally standing up to stretch away the back pains she was having from staying in one position for so long. Papa Yang was working that day since they were told that Baby Yang will not be out for another two weeks. So, when Mama Yang decided to go to the bathroom and felt her water break as she peed, she panicked. She was alone in their house. Her husband wouldn’t be home for the next eight hours and she can’t bloody drive . She called her husband’s workplace to have a ‘word with him’ and the person who received the call had initially thought they were having a row over the company’s telephone and ended the call. She called again but as the same person heard her voice, the call ended again. She called three more times and when her voice suddenly went two octaves higher, screaming ‘I’m about to give birth! ’ did the person finally pass the call to her husband who had been told ‘some screaming woman’ kept calling and was looking for him. It took Papa Yang three seconds into the call to understand what was going on.

He then quite literally fled his office without prior notice to aid his omega wife. Six hours later, Brett Yang entered the world with a sweet milky scent flooding all over the delivery room that reminded everyone else who he is: an omega.

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Brett Yang was a very hyperactive and independent baby. He wasn’t like any omega child who cries to be held all the time or the ones that are so shy and meek. No. Nope. Nah-nah-nah-nah-nopity-nope-nope-nope. Brett was none of that. In fact, he was probably the most playful, smiley, giggly, and loud baby parents could ever have. He seemed like something was constantly making him laugh. He also moved quite a lot and worried his poor mother when she found a three-month old Brett on the floor when she could very vividly remember she put her on the bed…which was half a meter tall. Turns out, this genius of a kid pushed the pillows off the bed, fell onto it, and rolled his way to the floor. Luckily, his small body was not injured but his mother surely had a minor heart attack. 

He was quite a fast learner as well and went through developmental stages earlier than an average child. If at three months, he managed to roll his way to the floor, he already managed to crawl out of the slightly open door at five months—which gave his mother a mini heart attack when she could not find her baby on the bed when she came back from the bathroom and instead found him on the living room playing with a toy whistle.

All of these events led his parents to assume that the initial diagnosis of Brett being an omega was a mistake and he’s actually just a very small alpha born with a very sweet milky smell like his omega mother. So, his parents raised him to be like an alpha.

As soon as he turned three, his parents signed him up for private piano lessons, just like every Asian alpha. However, Brett found it quite boring and tiring. He just wanted to play with his toys and watch cartoons and not sit atop five thick books on the piano stool looking at lifeless black and white keys and listening to this stranger talk about how to put his very tiny hands on the keys properly. He was having none of that, so he threw the largest tantrum and threw all his toys—thankfully, the soft plush ones—at the stranger and the piano one day, thinking it will stop the torture.

It did not. In fact, it made the situation worse. His parents confiscated his toys, restricted his cartoon watching time, and worse, his alpha father berated him for his manners using the alpha voice . Little Brett whimpered at the voice and cried himself to sleep. The next day, he obliged and sat patiently through his piano lessons, scared to be yelled at again. 

He kept his good behaviour on for a year and this is what his precious father decided to buy him for his fourth birthday for his good conduct: a 1/4 size violin. Confused, Brett almost broke the violin, thinking it was a toy anyone can just bang against the floor, until his mother took the violin away and distracted him with a cupcake. 

It wasn’t until Brett was four and a half years old that he finally got to play his gift. Mama and Papa Yang took a while to look for a violin teacher in their area. And when they found the perfect teacher, Brett was having side to side lessons on the piano and the violin that Brett was not given enough time to play with his toys and watch cartoons. Discontented with his new schedule, he thought he could sacrifice his sleep for play time and played with his toys when his parents thought he was asleep.

However, that took a toll on his energy and he fell asleep during his lessons most of the time. His teachers noticed Brett’s drowsiness during their lessons and told his parents about it. So, to make more time for Little Brett to have his nap time, his parents let him stop violin classes instead.

That did not stop his parents from pushing him to retake violin classes when he turned five, though.

Years went by and the Yangs raised Brett to become his perfect alpha to compensate with his small stature. Apparently, they were too busy trying to raise him to become an alpha that they missed the signs that showed them what his secondary gender really is.

Getting lured by alpha pheromones. Brett loved visiting his parents’ room when he felt upset or when his teachers got too rough with him. There was something about the woody smell of his parents’ room that soothes him. Like a belly rub after a stomach ache. He also often finds himself befriending or talking to certain people that smell good but everyone brushed it off as his gregarious nature. 

Prone to illnesses at an early age. Brett has worn glasses at a very young age of six and a half due to his addiction to cartoons and watching for over three hours straight. His parents ended up limiting his watch time by keeping him busy with longer piano and violin lessons and private math tutorials. Normally, an average alpha can merely survive the hectic schedule but Brett did very poorly. He had fevers and colds often and skipped classes to sleep in the infirmary. He eventually learned to suck it all up and still go to classes despite the headaches he had been getting when his father chastised him for a B+ grade in maths.

Abnormal addiction to sweets. Brett has always had a sweet tooth. His mother would always find candy wrappers tucked in the deepest corners of his pockets while she does the laundry and it had even caused her washing machine to go down because one of the wrappers got stuck in the engines of the machine and it had to be fixed—and that included a huge sum of money and a huge whooping on a little boy’s ass. Brett had eventually learned to throw his candy wrappers before putting his used clothes in the laundry basket. However, that did not stop him from eating an absurd amount of sweets as a child.

Nest-making. Mama Yang has always had a problem with Brett’s room. His room was always a mess with blankets and pillows propped wherever he stayed last—may it be near the piano, near the music stand, on the bed where it should be, or near the desk. To Brett, it was absolute heaven. He could just lay down wherever he wants if he gets tired of doing whatever he was doing and have a snooze. It was very convenient but his mother never seemed to understand why he preferred having a messy room over a neat one. It was only when he turned ten that he realised that sleeping on the bed was infinitely better than sleeping anywhere. That didn’t mean he liked fixing his bed, though.

Maternal instinct. Brett was eventually followed by a younger brother, Brent, an alpha, when he turned four and his younger brother was definitely bigger than Brett was when he was born. Nonetheless, Brett positively adored his little brother and hovered over the baby during the first three months. He would watch cartoons with his younger brother, he would try to play the piano for his younger brother, and even learned to hum lullabies to help his brother sleep. When both were in primary school, he was constantly on look-out for his younger brother, much to Brent’s embarrassment. Brett also had to verbally attack anyone who tried to bully his younger brother and probably why he eventually got very good at roasting people. However, that did not mean that Brent never got Brett’s bad side. Brett was the typical older brother who sides with his parents whenever he gets chastised for anything. In fact, Brent would get twice the sermon: one from his parents and another one from Brett.

All those were hints that might have prepared Mr and Mrs Yang once Brett gets his first heat but they all chose to ignore them. So, when they found Brett curling in his bed in pain and agony, reeking of freshly squeezed goat’s milk and honey, they froze in place instead of helping their suffering son.

“Mum, please help me,” was all that Brett could utter before his parents left the room and shut the door. His parents could only look at each other in panic.

Brett’s first heat painfully ended after a week. He had to be locked in his room and only his mother could enter the room to deliver food and water. His mother was also kind enough to leave him with a newly bought vibrator which was clearly shopped online. Immediately after his first heat, his parents took him to a fertility clinic to have him checked and given a Certificate of Presentation and some hormonal suppressants.

Brett Yang was officially an omega on the 23rd March 2004.

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Although he presented as an omega over two years ago, that did not stop his parents from pushing all of the academic and extracurricular activities that most alphas do—that includes Piano and Violin Lessons, Swimming Class and the Youth Orchestra. Brett, being raised to think like an alpha, didn’t mind the extra work. In fact, he learned to like the feeling of being given so much responsibility. When he was told by the fertility doctor that he was an omega after he had a confusing week of being horny all the time, he got scared that he might be treated differently and that he would be belittled for his secondary gender. Thankfully, his mother had been too kind to tell him that nothing would change just because he was an omega. His alpha father even told him that if he wanted to go far in life, he should learn not to restrict himself with what omegas do and start doing what the other genders do too. 

So, he worked really hard and demanded that he gets treated like an alpha at school. He even became the orchestra and band captain of their school, a position that only alphas and betas ever filled in since the beginning of time. He joined numerous competitions and even won in some (read: most ) of them. His shelf eventually got filled with awards and trophies and he was so goddamn proud of that. So proud that even his parents caught wind of his pride that they are also proud of him.

Although Brett was very stellar in music, his parents were also despairing at how bad he was at Maths. After consistently getting an atrocious Maths grade of 89% for two semesters in a row, his parents decided he needed to take tutorial classes for very obvious reasons (read: failing the Asian standards.) Brett bargained not to be in a tutorial class. He barely had time for himself (and Smash Bros) and he wouldn’t want to have more time taken from him. However, as soon as his parents mentioned confiscating his console for not doing well at school, he immediately withdrew his plea and agreed to their ‘fabulous idea.’

After the lovely discussion he had with his parents, Brett inserted a biweekly Maths tutorial to his already busy schedule of piano lessons, violin lessons, musical theory classes, swimming classes, orchestra practice, actual school, youth orchestra rehearsals, and plotting fratricide against his dearest brother who betrayed him for telling their parents where he hid all his games and controllers.

A year into the tutorials, Brett managed to pull his grade from his mediocre 89% to an average grade of 92%--which wasn’t much but it was enough to let him play Smash Bros once in a while without having his mother breathe down his neck for not practicing. Still, it didn’t mean that his other extracurricular activities were put on hold. His swimming classes were getting more rigorous, his violin teacher had been making him play the harder pieces for an upcoming competition, the school ensemble had been so frustratingly hard to organise due to the amount of schoolwork everyone has been getting, and his pills are making him more irritable than ever.

Bottomline is Brett is extremely exhausted and he would do anything for a breather. But God had different ideas.

Brett was busy trying to understand the chicken scratch he likes to call his notes from the previous week when a transferee from Taiwan entered his maths tutorial class. The boy was tall, a bit too lanky, and the very first thing that Brett noticed was the alluring scent of oranges and wood that surrounded the boy. The boy was younger than him and he was put in Maths tutoring for his placement examination, according to their teacher, who has been busy explaining to the transferee what lessons they were on and the schedule of the tutorials. After getting the overall gist of whatever the teacher was telling him, he curtly nodded and proceeded to the closest available seat…which was next to Brett.

Brett, being the friendly guy that he is, turned to the shy boy sitting next to him and started with a simple, “Hi!”

The boy nodded and returned his greeting, turning his attention back to the teacher who has been explaining the geometric sequence formula to the class. Brett didn’t quite like to be dismissed so easily, so he persisted.

“Hi, again, my name’s Brett. What’s yours?” he asked with a sing-song voice while holding out his hand.

“Edward. You can call me Eddy,” the boy, Eddy, replied and took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. 

“You can speak good English for someone who’s from Taiwan,” Brett commented, trying to copy the things written on the board in his notebook. “I lived there for five years but we moved back here four years ago so I can actually speak Chinese if you’re more comfortable with that.”

Eddy hummed quietly as he unpacked his notebook from his bag, not bothering to respond to the comment. Brett looked at Eddy and expected him to say something. When nothing came, he sighed in annoyance, frustrated that he could not befriend the new guy. Tch, what a fuddy-duddy. It’s not like we don’t hear this at school anyway. In his utmost horror, Brett accidentally let out a wave of distressed pheromones from the sheer exasperation. Thankfully, Brett noticed before he could suffocate everyone in the room with his pheromones and adjusted his breathing to stop making distress signals to everyone.

However, that didn’t mean nobody caught a whiff of it because Eddy, who was sitting next to him, sniffed everything and crunched his face in confusion.

“Do you smell goat milk?” Eddy asked him, curious as to where the oddly specific scent was coming from. Aiyah, of all things, why must that fuddy-duddy catch on to that?? Brett steeled beside him and focused on writing equations on his notebook, not wanting to let anybody know about his petty reaction, most especially his new seatmate. He shook his head slightly and feigned ignorance, his breath hitching up every now and then. Brett had to readjust his already well-positioned spectacles thrice in a subtle attempt to diffuse the smell. Eddy sniffed around again, trying to check if it was just his head messing with him. 

“Nah, that’s impossible. It’s so strong. How can you not—,” Eddy paused and inched closer to Brett, smelling the air between them. As soon as he smelt the milky scent, Eddy immediately pulled away like he was electrified by the air. “It’s you!”

Brett hushed him quite angrily and pointed back at the board, trying to divert Eddy’s attention away from the situation. Unfortunately, Eddy is hard to shake off and he’s quite an intelligent guy as well. So, when Eddy figured out Brett’s secondary gender and muttered the O-word , Brett couldn’t help slapping his palm on Eddy's mouth and subsequently grabbing the attention of their teacher.

“Brett, do you have a problem with Edward?” their teacher raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Brett merely shook his head and removed his hand from Eddy’s face, showcasing his braces in a forced grin. When the teacher shifted her gaze to Eddy, the boy also shook his head and apologised for the commotion. 

Only when the teacher’s back was facing them did Brett slide a messily written note to Eddy that said: Let’s agree that you didn’t know that I’m an omega. I’ll do your Kumon homework for a week for your silence...and maybe a month, if you treat me like a beta too. I may be an omega but  I deserve to be in this class like everyone else, thank you very much. :P

Eddy, the fuddy-duddy, glared at the note before scoffing and read the content. After a few beats, he turned the note upside down and wrote down a reply: I didn’t say you don’t deserve to be here. I’m just amazed an omega is in a class full of alphas. And, none of this would happen if you weren’t sending off pheromones to everybody you meet.

Brett huffed and sent out another note: Excuse me??? I don’t do that! And that was not meant for anybody to smell so don’t feel so entitled to think that was meant for you!!

After that, Eddy did not bother to spare as much as a single glance toward the bespectacled omega. Brett took this as a positive thing. The new guy wasn’t friendly and Brett doesn’t want to impose himself on someone as uncooperative as Eddy.

So when the tutorial was over, Brett immediately went home to practice on the piece he was performing with the Youth Orchestra in Brisbane to de-stress himself from his very irritating encounter during the tutorial. Ironically, the violin used to be the bane of his existence back when he was very, very young but it had grown to become one of his best stress relievers—which was why when school work got harder and he was forced to choose between piano and violin, he chose violin. And boy did he make it a good indicator of his mood. A happy Brett? Tchaikovsky, Mozart, and Bach on loop! A sad Brett? Mahler and Rachmaninoff. Angry Brett? Shostakovich and Brahms. But a very frustratingly confused Brett? A perfectly played Ysaÿe Ballade on loop.

Which was why when Mama Yang heard the same piece being played over and over again, she knew her eldest son needed a breather and decided to bring him out of his cave to the nearest café. There, she tried to pry information from her unusually quiet son. It took Brett six slices of cheesecake and two servings of bubble tea before he admitted to his mother that a Taiwanese newcomer got on his nerves.

Oddly enough, even if she perfectly heard her son say that ‘a transferee pissed me off,’ she somehow got the impression that her son actually meant ‘I like the new kid but he’s not liking me back’ by the way he emitted an odd combination of pheromones. 

As a pretty young mother, she had no idea how to proceed with that sort of thing as she and her siblings were quite the secretive bunch who rarely opened up to their parents. Furthermore, she was trained how to control the pheromone emissions at a fairly young age. Seeing her son do the complete opposite of what she was taught and emitting a bunch of pheromones that would put a loud warning siren to shame embarrassed her to the point of being slightly appalled by his manners—or the lack, thereof. Brett was still sulking over the ‘rude Taiwanese guy’ while begrudgingly sipping on his bubble tea when his mother noticed that other people were starting to smell his distress. 

Thinking she needed to help her son manage his pheromones somehow, she decided she’d follow her guts and advised her son to just ‘be kind to the new kid and they’ll surely like you back’—which promptly gave her a bubble tea facial and a choking son as a response. 

“ YANG BO YAO!! ”

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After being shamefully dragged into the car by his fuming mother by his ear and chastised for being crass, Brett wallowed in his car seat. Unknown to him, his mother can smell his frustration very clearly. Just like in the café, Brett was producing very clear signals of distress which was very unusual of her son. Suddenly, an idea passed her mind.

“Yao-er,” Mama Yang crooned at him as they got to a red light. “Have you been taking your suppressants?”

“Of course, I am. It’s been part of my routine every morning, mum,” he answered, still rubbing his throbbing ear.

“I have noticed you’ve been releasing excessive pheromones, dear,” Mama Yang pointed out while tapping her finger on the driver’s wheel, hoping she would catch her son lying to her. “Look, the pills are for your own good. I don’t want you to have a heat outside the comforts of our home. I just want to keep you safe.”

Brett knew that. Brett will always know that. Brett agreed to the whole stay-on-the-pill thing because Brett also didn’t want to have heats at all. Despite the bouts of nausea and intense migraines he endured when he took it for the first couple of months, he fully understood the importance of the bloody pill. And he took the bloody pill very religiously . If the hormonal tic-tacs were the Holy Communion, Brett would be holy enough to become a saint—nay, an angel! So when his mother accused him of missing a dose like he had committed sacrilege, he felt obliged to express his ire towards his mother because he just couldn’t sit still and let someone accuse him of being irresponsible. Something inside him felt so hot with rage that he let go of his filial piety and give his mother a piece of his mind.

“Excuse me?!” he exclaimed, tad bit louder than he had expected. His mother kept a stoic face, seemingly unaffected by his outrage. “Are you saying I missed a dose, mum? I take the suppressants very seriously! I don’t want to be stuck in a hormonal state of horniness for a week ever again and I know those things are the only thing that could stop me from ever experiencing that. So, no, I didn’t miss a single dose and I don’t think I will ever be missing a dose in my life. Don’t take me for a dumb omega, mum , because I will never be one and I will fight tooth and eye to never succumb to my secondary gender! I am more than that. I refuse to become a broodmare!”

Mama Yang kept quiet as he ended his tirade, feeling slightly hurt at her son’s implication that she, an omega, has become a broodmare. Brett sank further into his chair when his anger finally cooled down and was perplexed at his hysterical outburst. In an attempt to seem unaffected by his actions, Brett stuffed his shivering hands to his pocket where he immediately crossed his fingers—hoping that his mother would give him a light punishment for talking back to her. By the time they were merely five blocks away from their house, he was already half-expecting to be disowned and forgiven at the same time while fervently praying for the latter to happen instead.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Brett, his mother stayed quiet which drove his anxiety to skyrocket for every block they passed. He even found himself looking out for benches he could sleep on in every block. However, Mama Yang just silently drove themselves home and let her very hormonal son run to his room and sulk alone without speaking with him. As soon as she entered her shared room with her husband, Papa Yang immediately sensed the distress off her and enveloped her in a comforting hug.

Perhaps if they raised Brett to learn to accept his secondary gender early on, things would have been slightly better.

The next day, Mama Yang noticed that Brett hadn't come down for breakfast on his usual time. Despite having a row with her son the night prior, she braved her way to her son’s room and knocked. When she heard no response, she opened the door to find Brett cocooned in his blanket with large beads of sweat scattered on his forehead. 

Brett was shivering underneath the blanket; his lips were deathly pale and his eyes were clenched shut. Once his mother saw him in his state, he started convulsing into a seizure. 

A quick phone call for an ambulance and two hours later, Brett was finally stabilised after suffering through over ten seizures and a vomiting accident. Brett was still unconscious but he wasn’t shivering nor was he convulsing anymore. He simply looked peaceful, like he’s just sleeping. Only then was Mrs Yang finally able to breathe properly and her hands stopped shaking. A fairly young woman donning a lab coat approached the mother-son duo with a clipboard with Brett’s bed number and a forced smile that says she’s had enough of the case that plagued Brett.

“Hello, Mrs Yang,” greeted the woman with a lilting voice. “I’m Dr. Sarah Tran, an attending gynaecologist and obstetrician for male omegas in this hospital.”

Mrs Yang whipped her head to glare at Brett incredulously. When the young doctor noticed the blatant look of surprise on Mama Yang’s face, she immediately shook her hand in her attempt to defuse the misunderstanding.

“Uhhh...look, his case was forwarded to me because his case is more of a reproductive health case rather than a neuro case. It’s a bit of both, actually, but what’s causing it is more of an OB case than neuro, if you get what I mean,” explained the doctor, hoping it would ease the situation. When a gasp escaped Mama Yang’s lips, she knew she just made it worse.

“Ah, but don’t worry! He’s not pregnant or anything like that. His hCG levels are very low, which means that he’s not expecting. We also checked his CT scan and there’s no sign of stroke. However, his seizures may have been caused by what I’d like to call hormonal poisoning,” the young doctor clarified. She showed Mrs Yang the results of his blood tests, majority of which had highlighted numbers and inked in red. 

“As you can see, his omegan oestrogen and progesterone levels are very elevated, causing a disruption in his hypothalamus and causing intense fatigue-like signals to every part of the brain which then triggered seizures,” Dr Tran explained, showing Brett’s CT scan as a visual aid and ignoring the bewildered look on Mrs Yang’s face. “What’s causing the elevated hormone levels is usually the overuse of suppressants and this is where I come in.

“Ideally, regular female omegas have a regular heat cycle of roughly twenty to thirty days, making them have roughly eleven to twelve heats per year. Male omegas typically have longer heat cycles of eighty to ninety days, making them have roughly four heats per year,” Dr Tran expounded. “Female omegas are less susceptible to hormonal poisoning because you menstruate and menstruation naturally regulates the hormones in the body which means long term suppression does not affect female omegas as much as it does on male omegas.”

“So, what are you trying to say? That my son is doomed to be poisoned?” Mama Yang asked almost hysterically. Her heart leapt back to its spot next to her throat just as it did when she found Brett in his room having a seizure.

“No, if your son undergoes a single heat per year, he can exhaust enough hormones to avoid seizures. How long has it been since his last heat?”

Mama Yang suddenly went abashed. Dr Tran pursed her lips and nodded before checking her clipboard for clues. Upon seeing Brett’s presentation date, she hummed quietly.

“Ah…so, almost three years ago. No wonder he’s been convulsing like crazy. I suspect his current suppressants are the ones more ideal for female omegas as those types inhibit the hormones from reaching its designed receptors, which means that heats will not triggered, however, it will keep on accumulating in his bloodstream unless extracted by means of menstruation,” Dr Tran mused. Mrs Yang looked up at Dr Tran, appreciating the lack of judgment in her eyes. 

“I can prescribe him a new one, specially designed for male omegas, which allows them to expel the extra hormones, but can trigger uterine bleeding—pretty much like menstruation, but with less blood. However, although it can extract just about 90% of the hormones released per cycle, 10% of the produced hormones can still stay in his system and accumulate. He can either have a bloodletting or allow himself to have at least one heat every…mm, say…two years.

“There are obvious effects in long term suppression which include ovarian cancer and infertility, so if your son is still looking forward to carry children in the future, I suggest he stops taking suppressants after he finishes school and just allow his natural cycle to occur,” Dr Tran gives Mrs Yang a knowing look as if she’s acknowledging the fact that whatever she just said will fall on deaf ears. “He can always opt for birth control pills which does not stop his heat cycle but prevents pregnancy to occur. Implants can also be placed if he prefers that to pills. I recommend that I see him regularly to check on his reproductive health or at least, I’d like to have a word with his fertility doctor to ensure this doesn’t repeat again.”

Mrs Yang pursed her lips and turned to her son who was peacefully sleeping on the gurney. She looked at him wistfully before facing the young doctor.

“I’ll have to discuss that with my son first before I decide. Thank you very much,” Mrs Yang carefully replied. The young doctor smiled and nodded as she left them for her rounds.

The discussion never happened. After being in and out of consciousness for two weeks, Brett was discharged and was given the new prescription. Dr Tran, being the insightful young doctor that she was, dutifully informed Brett of the suppressant’s abilities, side-effects, and dosage. She also expressly warned Brett to follow her recommendation of allowing at least one heat a year by not taking the suppressants for at least one month.

After the very long visit to the hospital, Brett was discharged on a Saturday and back to his routine except that he missed the first orchestral rehearsal he has for the new summer programme, about six sessions of swim classes, ten sessions of piano and violin lessons, four sessions of Maths tutoring, and a ton of schoolwork. 

Provided it was a weekend, his mother only took him home to bathe and get his violin before he was sent to the rehearsals. When he got there, he was already over fifteen minutes late. Brett could see the conductor was busy reprimanding a section when he and his mother arrived in the hall. He was already mentally preparing to face the wrath of the conductor, however, his mother— may God bless her —had interrupted the man and personally talked to the conductor and explained that he was recently discharged from the hospital and all the flowery words that made the conductor consider his tardiness. He was directed to a pair of vacant seats by the third desk before the conductor resumed explaining musicality to the violists.

He tried to look around him to get some ideas as to what the fuss was about and tried to read the situation when suddenly the doors opened, cutting the conductor’s lecture once again. When the whole orchestra turned to the door, Brett saw the same newcomer at Maths tutoring panting like he just ran a 5K marathon and leaning against the door for his dear life.

“You’re late! Did you just get discharged from the hospital too? Why are you late?!” the conductor chastised the young man by the door. 

“I’m sorry, I slept in, sir. Will not happen again, sir,” the teenager apologised as he entered the hall and into his seat—which, coincidentally, was next to Brett. When their eyes met, the teen’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Hey! I know you. You’re the ome—“

“Shhh! Just sit down,” Brett angrily shushed and dragged the tall teen down to the seat beside him. 

The conductor glared at the two teens. Both Brett and the tall teen bowed their heads in shame. “Now, before I get rudely interrupted again, I would like to announce that starting next week, if you come in even a minute late, I will kick you out of the orchestra, do you all understand?”

When everyone has collectively answered an affirmative yet very subdued ‘ yes, sir ’, the conductor turned to the violists again to restart his litany of reprimands.

So far, Brett managed to catch up with what he missed out on the first rehearsal with the help of his seatmate’s not-so-subtle cues. Whenever he starts to bow differently or miss a small yet important part of the sheet music, Brett would notice an intense burst of orange scent surrounding him as if to remind him to check his bowing or the notations on the sheet music, which Eddy has scribbled beforehand. 

They eventually made it to the rehearsal break without problems and Brett felt indebted to his seatmate for his assistance. Gingerly, he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks for cueing me earlier,” Brett said, giving him a sincere smile. “And err…sorry I had to pull you down quickly. He has a thing for tardy people. It’s like his pet peeve or something so it’s best to just shut up and stay quiet. I hope you understand.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Thank you for saving my ass,” the lanky teen said. “And I hope you didn’t mind the…scenting thing.” The teen flushed and looked at his feet. “I tried kicking your foot because the conductor’s looking at us suspiciously already but you were busy sight reading. I thought maybe I’d return the favour.”

“Oh shut up! I already said that was an accident. I apparently had a hormonal poisoning which was why I was sent to the hospital. Just got discharged, actually,” Brett snarled and gave the teen a light punch. “Ah, I’m grateful I’m finally out of that damn gurney that reeks of alcohol and bleach. It’s worse than the chlorine smell that gets stuck in my nose after swim lessons. Ugh.”

The teen laughed at Brett’s lament. “Dude, you have to get used to that smell. We’re bound to become doctors, aren’t we?”

“Oh shit, yeah. Ah, fuck. Nah, mate, I’m not going to be a doctor. I’ll change careers. I’ll just be a lawyer,” Brett mused. The teen beside him sighed.

“Man, I wish I had the choice. Mum literally enrolled me into Maths tutoring so I could get into Med School. She really wanted me to be a doctor now that my sister enrolled herself in a conservatory,” the teen groaned.

“That sucks.”

Nothing but the distant chatters from the nearby musicians surrounded them. 

Brett was the first to break the fickle silence between them. “You know, it’s nice seeing someone my age here. It used to be just me being the runt of the orchestra and it feels good to talk to someone without mentioning who’s banging who. And I didn’t mean to forget but what’s your name again?”

The teen giggled. “You can call me Eddy. Well, I can imagine the struggle of being the youngest in a group, man. That’s literally my life with my sister when her friends are around. I just lock myself in my room and play Smash Bros to avoid getting paired with her friend’s younger sisters.”

“Dude, you play Smash Bros too? Wanna play at my place after rehearsals? I don’t live far.”

“Sure, lemme tell my mum to pick me up at your place.”

“By the way, I think you were kicking my violin case earlier.”

”Ohh...my bad.”

”I don’t mind the scenting thing. Actually, it’s a good idea for cueing. Maybe we should use that if we play duets in the future?”

”Mm...yeah, let’s do that.”

Chapter Text

Brett was well-into his first semester at the Queensland Conservatorium when he received a call from his best friend. Although Eddy was technically a year younger than him but managed to skip a year, which then placed them in the same year level. He and his best friend had to part ways when Eddy had to go to medical school whereas he didn’t follow his joke of becoming a lawyer and decided to become a musician instead, hoping one day he can be a soloist like Janine Jansen or Hilary Hahn. However, the two remained close and called each other often which was why he wasn’t surprised when Eddy rang him so late at night midway his practice. Brett mused that the younger man was just trying to take a break from reading all the thick books he saw at Eddy’s dormitory. 

What did surprise him was the very first thing he heard from the call.

It was the sound of his phone hitting something solid followed by a meek sob. 

“Bro, are you alright? What happened? Are you crying?”

No words replied to any of his queries. Instead, more anguished sobs reverberated in the call. It was all Brett needed to know before he haphazardly placed his violin and bow on his bed--not even bothering to stow it back to his violin case--before darting out of his room and directly to his car, his heart leaping next to his throat where it beat loudly to his ears like a loud timpani.

As soon as he reached the parking lot of Eddy’s dorm, he rushed to his best friend’s room to the point of neglecting to close and lock his car’s door in his hurry. His mind had been racing ever since he heard Eddy’s sobs in the call and was genuinely terrified for his best friend, whom he found curled up in the middle of piles of used clothes and aimlessly thrown books with his antidepressants spilt next to him. The poor man was dressed in nothing but his jeans. 

“Bro? What happened here? Did someone hurt you?”

When Brett received not a single acknowledgement to his question, the alarms in Brett’s mind rang in fortississimo. Holy shit. Brett cautiously approached his friend despite the tremors that pushed him to act faster and attempted to lift his friend off the ground and into the bed, which had his washed laundry and used clothes mixed up chaotically. Eddy almost fell off Brett’s arms prematurely but had fortunately landed on the bed. Eddy was still conscious but his eyes were red and empty. Brett then remembered the scattered pills on the floor and the bottles of cheap alcohol laying on the floor not far from the pills. 

“Eddy! Eddy, are you still there?” Brett gently slapped Eddy’s cheeks to keep him focused. When the younger man groaned, Brett tried to communicate with him while fumbling for his phone to call triple zero. “How many pills did you take tonight, Eddy?”

It took him two more tries before Eddy looked away and was able to reply with a breathless, “Ngh …af ”

“Wha—what? Af? You mean half? Half what? Like half the bottle ?” Brett frenetically asked but Eddy didn’t respond anymore. He tried shaking the younger man by his shoulders but Eddy merely slumped over Brett like a sack of potatoes. When Eddy started to shiver in his arms, the panic that was bubbling in Brett’s chest hitched up and his mind was suddenly flooded by a deafening ringing noise. “Fuck! Eddy, stay with me. Stay with me, Eddy!!” 

“ —ello. Do you want Police, Fire, or Ambulance? ” a stern voice erupted from his phone above the ringing in his ears; however, he did not understand a single word from the call. Everything went over him like a fog and no matter how hard he tried to process everything, he could not come up with anything. Brett could feel the tears erupt in his eyes in frustration. He could barely comprehend what was going on and he was desperately wishing that everything was just a horrible nightmare. His mind was almost short-circuiting with all the information he had to process in such a short period of time. He could not stop a mournful sob escape his lips.

“... help ...” Brett eked out, desperate for anyone to take over the situation. “My...I...my...I can’t...I...I…”

“ —sir? Take a long deep breath for me, sir. Again, please calm down and speak as clearly as you can. Say one if you need the police, two for a fire truck, three for ambulance...again, what do you need, sir?”

Eddy was starting to grow limper against his arms which broke him out of his mental paralysis. “Err…err…three! I need three...I ...I need an ambulance, please…ah shit…err…please…,” Brett managed to squeak out from his rapidly drying throat, voice cracking amidst his hysteria. Tears clouded Brett’s eyesight as they fell and he was a breath away from a full on panic attack. He tried to ground himself by looking anywhere else that could distract him from thinking that his best friend was dying in his arms. Despite his hazy thoughts, Brett knew he needed to be strong for Eddy; he was aware that his current state of mind could hinder getting help but his mind was very convoluted and everything he was doing to ground himself was making things worse.

The dispatcher’s voice seemed to be an island of stability in his mind and broke him from his reverie. “Sir, listen to my voice and take deep breaths. I need you to be as  clear-headed as possible. Where are you right now?”

Brett took a couple of shaky breaths before clearing his throat. His mind clearing up enough to remember where he was.

“I’m...I’m in my friend’s dormitory…I err…we’re in 40...40 ******** Drive and err…my friend he—he...he…err…at-attempted to…err…he antidepressants…and err half a bottle and…some alcohol,” Brett rambled his way through the call, trying to get as much information he could before his jaw clams up as he felt bile rise up in his throat.

“ All right, a unit is on its way. Please stay calm and do not leave your friend. As much as possible, keep your friend awake, sir. Keep him on his side to avoid him choking on his own vomit, ” the dispatcher informed him and he immediately clipped his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he hoisted Eddy’s larger figure to his side while suppressing the urge to vomit.

Unknown to the shorter violinist, his body was busy firing mixed signals to the deluded man in front of him which stabilised his friend while waiting for the ambulance. He managed to puke out his dinner at the bin next to Eddy’s bed before repositioning the younger violinist on the bed as instructed by the dispatcher. Brett collected Eddy to his chest and rubbed soothing circles of the younger man’s back and coaxed him to listen to his rapid arrhythmic heartbeat and stay awake.

When the ambulance finally came and collected Eddy, Brett drove himself to the hospital past the speed limit despite the tears blurring his eyesight and his trembling hands. As soon as he got to Accidents and Emergency, he witnessed Eddy being defibrillated and flatlining. On instinct, he ran for his friend but was stopped by the nurses in the emergency room who then sedated him to keep him from being hysterical in the room.

Brett woke up in a wheelchair with a nasal cannula hooked straight to his nostrils and an oximeter clipped on his index finger. A nurse was patiently waiting for him to come around with a clipboard in her arms.

“Hello. Good morning, sir. I believe you’re the…friend..? Of the one who OD-ed?” the nurse quietly asked, sounding a bit unsure. Brett looked around for Eddy but found him in a different room than where he was when he last saw Eddy. The nurse obviously sensed the distress in his face and knelt in front of him. “Sir, sir...please calm down. You’re in safe hands. You’re currently in the Nurse’s Station near the ER. Your friend is also safe. We had to sedate you earlier because you looked very agitated when you saw your friend. It’s nothing strong; it’s just a mild anxiolytic that is usually given to hysterical patients. I hope we’re all good, sir?”

Brett turned to the nurse and started to breathe in through his mouth. He nodded shakily and leaned against the wheelchair, wanting to curl into a ball himself. He felt his eyes burn with tears as he recounted what he had seen before he passed out. His hands may not have been shaking as much but his hands jolted involuntarily every time he heard a loud beeping noise in the emergency room.

“All right, sir. Please take a deep breath in through your nose and exhale through your mouth. The thing on your nose will help you breathe and calm down faster, okay? You look like you’re about to have another panic attack,” the nurse briefed. He took a few deep breaths before nodding firmly, adjusting the way he sat on the wheelchair to a more relaxed but still guarded position.

“Okay. So...am I correct to assume that the patient who overdosed is your…erm…boyfriend?” the nurse inquired, recording Brett’s stats onto the clipboard she was holding. Brett did not even grace her a look that would imply that she was wrong. 

“No, we’re just clo…,” Brett paused. Are he and Eddy still close friends? Close friends don’t let their friends wait until they commit sui...No, Brett knew Eddy was struggling in Med School. Brett tried his best to reach out to Eddy but Eddy seemed to be so busy at uni.  He should have tried harder, though.

“We’re close friends. We’re just really close friends,” Brett continued with a diminished voice. He was still trying to come in terms with almost losing Eddy and yet he was faced with his own crisis as Eddy’s friend. He just wants to apologize to Eddy and keep him safe but he doubts he would be anything helpful to Eddy at the moment. He unconsciously let out a weak sob—his eyes started stinging but did not let a tear form.

“Ah, yes. I completely understand,” said the nurse, sounding exactly the opposite of what she was saying. She pulled a stool closer and sat down to be at the same eye level as Brett. She held out a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, sensing that he needed that before going technical on him. “I would just like to gather some information so I could record this case into the system. May I know if he has any close relatives around?”

“His pare…err,” Brett paused mid-way, suddenly fidgeting in the wheelchair and his heart rate increasing, startling the nurse who was listening intently to his response. Brett knew that Eddy was in medical school under his parents’ wishes and against his will. From what he could recall with his nightly calls with Eddy, he discovered that the younger man has been struggling mentally and academically lately. Eddy had been thinking about dropping out but considering the amount of money his parents has already invested in him to get into the best medical school in Queensland made Eddy feel bad about withdrawing from classes. Brett reckoned he should keep Eddy’s suicide attempt from his friend’s parents and let Eddy tell them about it himself. So despite knowing Eddy’s full details, he dejectedly lied.

“…I…I actually don’t know. I never met them.”

The nurse detected his blatant lie. However, she also detected his minor panic. So, she nodded and took his word for it. “All right, Mr…?”

“Yang. Brett Yang.”

“All right, Mr Yang. I’m putting you as the patient’s emergency contact while the patient is unconscious. I trust that you have a legitimate reason why you’re upholding your friend’s situation from his relatives for now. However, as soon as the patient awakens, I will be asking him for his permission to disclose his details to his contact of choice, are we clear, Mr Yang?”

Brett gave a weak nod before meeting the nurse’s eyes. “Is Eddy all right?”

“Mm…Eddy? Who—oh, the patient? Well, as I’ve said…he’s stable. He’s scheduled to be extubated within this week if his vitals stay fine. That’s all I can share. Anyway, I’d like you to fill out this form for me,” the nurse replied as she handed the clipboard she was holding to Brett. 

The nurse patiently waited for Brett to fill out what he could fill out, occasionally answering some of Brett’s queries about the questionnaire he was answering. After that, another nurse took his blood pressure and his oxygen saturation levels before taking the nasal cannula off Brett. He gingerly stood up from the wheelchair and stood on wobbly knees but managed to straighten up to his full height. He grabbed his phone and called his classmate to sign him off the lecture classes before going to the nurse’s station to ask where Eddy was. 

After being directed to a ward, Brett broke down at the sight of his friend that he almost lost. Eddy looked so frail in the gurney. Both his arms were hooked up to an IV, dark marks encircled the young man’s eyes, a plastic tube was strapped next to his lip as the rest of the tube went inside his throat, and countless monitors were hooked up to his chest.

“Sir, the patient was sedated to help him recover. He will remain unconscious for the rest of the day. Please take this time to go home and take care of yourself, sir. We will contact you immediately as soon as something happens,” a nurse offered to usher him out of the ward. Brett gave Eddy’s hand a squeeze before leaving with the nurse.

Brett went home and took a long, warm bath. He let his tears flow with the water. After dressing up, he brought one of Eddy’s hoodies that somehow piled in his dorm and stuffed them into a duffel bag. Thinking he would be out for a couple more days, he decided to give his academic buddy a call to sign him in classes for the next five days and ring him about homework every evening in exchange for a week worth of free bubble tea. Luckily, his buddy was a simple man with simple desires and agreed to Brett’s insane idea of ditching all of his classes while keeping an immaculate ‘no absences’ record in the sheets…for a week—which, by all theories in the unwritten rule book by academic miscreants, is too much especially when it’s nearing the finals.

So, having the whole week off, Brett frequented the hospital and still found his best friend confined to the gurney, unconscious. He left hoodies and funny trinkets he found in his place that would hopefully call Eddy back to consciousness like a small dead Tamagotchi that Eddy gave him after their first concert together, an empty rosin case with tiny crystals of rosin left after Eddy has unceremoniously dropped Brett’s rosin to the hard concrete and smashing it to pieces, and a small fidget box with buttons on it that Eddy used to owned but somehow Brett took home after borrowing it before his competition. Although his visits were uneventful, Brett would always hook up his earphones to Eddy, play a bunch of good recordings, and watch Eddy’s breathing go in and out along with the beat of slower pieces. 

Eddy woke up to Debussy’s Violin Sonata and Brett’s messy head leaning to his left forearm after eight days. Coincidentally, it was also the day Brett’s mental fortitude finally crashed and had a breakdown and passed out just an hour before Eddy woke up. As soon as Brett heard the cardiac monitor beep faster than usual, he woke up eye-to-eye to an awake Eddy, who had seen how puffy and red Brett’s eyes were as soon as he laid his eyes on his best friend. 

“You’re awake . Holy shit, am I dreaming?” Brett whispered to himself before alerting the nurses that his friend has finally woken up. When he returned, Eddy was staring into the ceiling with tears streaming down his face. The breathing tubes down his throat were breaking the sobs that tear his whole body. Brett didn’t want to alarm his friend, so he cautiously approached his friend, quelling the panic that was rising in his chest.

“Shh, Eddy…you’ll be alright,” hushed Brett as he held his friend’s hand, unconsciously releasing calming pheromones in the room. Whether it was for Eddy or himself, no one knows. “Eddy, you’ll be fine. I…They won’t come after you, I swear. I…I didn’t tell anyone.”

More tears rushed down Eddy’s cheeks before nurses came in and checked his vitals. Brett was pushed out of Eddy’s reach, but was ordered by the doctor to remain in the room to help calm the patient down. 

After a half-hour of the doctors reassessing Eddy, Brett was finally addressed by the doctor…rather harshly. 

“ Omega ,” he spoke, coaxing the two of them out of the room. Brett snarled at the title, but kept his mouth shut. The doctor began again, “Your alpha has given you permission to make decisions on his behalf. Normally, I wouldn’t recommend an unbonded omega decide for an alpha , but as he refused to tell us about his relatives, I suppose you’ll do for now.

“Right now, your alpha needs to see a psychotherapist and a psychiatrist. We cannot force you to see one, but I feel obliged to hold him until you agree to this. Otherwise, this can be a repeat performance and there will be a drastically lower chance of him surviving,” the doctor explained. Brett understood his point, despite the growing urge to knee the doctor in the balls. 

As if the doctor was not reading the atmosphere at all, he added, “Actually, I would recommend it if he stays with you until he fully recovers. I believe having his omega by his side helped his chances of surviving. If only the two of you bonded —”

“Yeah, no, listen. We’re just friends. We’re not…we’re not…anything, all right? Just…can you just drop the titles, please?” Brett finally snapped and tightened his fists into a ball. He took a rather harsh breath in before he continued. “Look, I’m very fine with the therapy. I…I’ll let him move in…or I’ll move to his place, sure. No problem. But…if you’re implying something …I won’t do that. I’m sure as fuck Eddy won’t like that either.”

“I’m just saying that bonded pairs work better in this situation. Alpha-omega pairs usually help each other in healing. So, if your friend here has an omega girlfriend or boyfriend, they’re more welcome to assist your friend because the more pheromones the alpha gets from his omega, the faster his body heals,” the doctor insisted. Brett was unfazed; he had had enough of the other man’s ramblings about alphas and omegas and digging on his sore wound about being an omega that he would rather have someone kick him in the balls than to imply that he had to be bonded.

And as if the doctor hadn’t had enough jiving, he had to make Brett fall into a crisis:

“Just so you know, he suffered through a fatal liver injury with his suicide attempt. Had you been a couple of minutes slower, he wouldn’t have made it. You did more than just take him to the hospital, you helped him survive. That’s how powerful pheromones can be. Imagine how much stronger it would have been if you were bonded. ”

Brett let the doctor’s words linger for a while. He didn’t realise he held his breath until the doctor left him alone.

He hated the idea of being wrong and he hated the idea of knowing something he hated was right. But that’s just how he is. Fuck the doctor. I am going to help Eddy without bonding to him and I’ll show him—I’m going to slam it to his face!! He decided being bonded to each other isn’t worth ruining their friendship and spent all night forgetting about the horrifying truth the doctor told him. 

Turns out, the horrifying truth haunted him for the next few months.

Eddy was eventually discharged, brought home, and Brett had to move out of his tiny dorm into Eddy’s equally tiny one. Brett had to clean up the mess before Eddy returned home and hid all of Eddy’s medical books, notes, and his class schedule—as he earlier realised was probably why Eddy spiralled down into a major depressive episode. Brett himself had to stop himself from vomiting at the triggers as it reminded him of the doctor’s words. 

He eventually went back to uni as soon as Eddy had his first session with the therapist, fearing he had missed so many vital classes that could help him pull his grade up for the finals. It didn’t mean he was completely through the trauma.

‘ couple of minutes slower… ’

Brett heaved his breakfast into one of the bathroom stalls at his conservatory after hearing an ambulance siren go off in the distance. He had to often stay in bathroom cubicles every now and then to calm his shaking hands while sniffing his White Flower oil—much to his classmates’ worries.

He thought that hearing an ambulance was just an isolated case and brushed his own overreaction. However, he did not anticipate that it could affect his practice sessions.

Whenever someone glisses like an ambulance, a voice echoes: ‘ …he wouldn’t have made it ’

Whenever he hears harmonics that sound eerily like beeping monitors, the same voice echoes: ‘...fatal liver injury…’

When someone plays dissonant chords, the same voice echoes: ‘how much stronger it would be if you were bonded ’

—and for every time he hears the voice in his head, Brett either hyperventilates until he passes out or becomes so queasy that he instantaneously rushes to the bathroom where he regurgitates most of his food back out. Two things that made people think of other incriminating things.

One time, a member of his quartet spread rumours of him being pregnant and secretly bonded out of wedlock. A few days later, the same member sported a bloody nose.

A female classmate, who recently became an aunt, even offered him ginger ale to ‘help him with the nausea’ because she ‘heard from her sister that it helped’ . 

Some of his classmates also decided to offer him notes so he doesn’t get stressed out for the finals— as much as he loathed the idea behind their charity, he appreciated the help since he lost over a month of classes while he was helping Eddy.

“Dude, are you actually pregnant?” one of his bolder, yet very concerned classmates cautiously asked as he leaned desperately to the porcelain throne, vomiting out rancid stomach bile in the process. “I know you’re denying it to everyone but you’ve been really doing this often. It’s scary, mate. Finals are like in a few days and the competition is next week. Maybe you should run a PT and ask for a maternity leave or something. The stress could not be good for the baby, right?”

All Brett could do was flip him an angry finger as he flushed his breakfast. After all, he’s so tired of denying but he’d rather die than be that anytime. 

After the finals and a few competitions that he almost lost due to his anxiety kicking in at odd hours, he decided to hang around with Eddy. The week after being a sick, vomiting, and fainting mess was replaced with blissful comfort of helping Eddy return to what he could call a ‘normal’ lifestyle—by normal, I meant distracting Eddy with playing Smash Bros, eating unhealthy amounts of hotpot with him, and practicing the violin for hours until they hear the neighbours complain.

Since Eddy’s dormitory was designed for a single owner, they had to compromise on things such as the wardrobe and the bed. While Brett was completely fine with using his luggage bag as his wardrobe, Eddy and Brett had differing ideas on the bed.

Eddy insisted he could take the couch as a payment for Brett’s help but Brett insisted he could take the couch since Eddy needed to recover. After a few days of arguing over who takes the couch, they decided to connect the two furnitures and sleep on the franken-furniture together since it helped on the pheromone thing. If the franken-furniture looked and smelled like a nest, neither men pointed it out.

When the new term started, Brett had to be less and less present in the dormitory and it renewed Brett’s anxiety. Knowing that Eddy wasn’t safe alone back home, he snuck Eddy to the conservatory as soon as the younger man was out of the therapist’s office or his psychiatrist. Seeing him safe and not distressed on campus helped quell his anxiety. He even drove by Eddy’s childhood home to grab Eddy’s violin in the pretence that Eddy was too busy studying for his exams to visit and Brett himself decided to surprise his friend with his own violin so he could sneak into the conservatory better. Mr and Mrs Chen didn’t question Brett’s very questionable behaviour of not looking at them in the eyes nor did they question why this unideal Asian kid was planning to distract their very loyal and trustworthy son who was busy becoming a doctor from his studying for his medical degree. As soon as he was out of the vicinity of Eddy’s parents, a load of bricks was taken off his chest and the tremors in his hands also loosened up.

Now, with a violin in tow, the faculty didn’t suspect Eddy as an outsider and thought it was one of the freshmen (read: all uni students , even the faculty ) who can’t be bothered to put their IDs in a place where everyone can see—not that Brett, in his creative genius, didn’t have a counterfeit ID for Eddy to show on campus. After all, Eddy’s steady presence in Brett’s school life eventually made him forget about the doctor’s threatening words and he preferred it that way.

So, for the rest of the second semester, Eddy was just hanging out with Brett at the conservatory, at his therapist’s office, or at his psychiatrist’s office. Brett did a great job at presenting Eddy’s psychiatric case to the Dean of Medicine back at Eddy’s university and dropped him out without letting Eddy’s parents know. The HECS loan for spending a semester enrolled in medical school still existed and being flat out broke after his episode , Eddy could not possibly settle the loan. Especially that he withdrew from university.

Technically homeless, degree-less, and penniless, Eddy was slowly despairing at his situation. So he agreed on teaching violin during his spare time (read: when Brett’s in class), taking gigs with Brett and his merry band of broke uni students, and the classic busking on the streets just to get by. At least he didn’t feel much of a freeloader at that point. 

However, experiencing and also not experiencing music uni sucked.

While Brett has been exposing Eddy into the life of being a music uni student, Eddy craved the appeal of having something pressure him into work. Medical school was like that, but it was too much. So, he worked his finances to see if it was possible for him to get another HECS loan to get into the conservatory… legally , this time.

The answer was a flat no. He didn’t have enough credibility in his name to have another loan to his name and the loans manager even had to mention how his credibility was tarnished by dropping out of university. So unless he cleared the debt he owed, he couldn’t enrol himself to the conservatory. His gigs and busking only paid enough for food and his share of the rent, with only a bit of spare in case he didn’t earn enough in a day. If he counted on his luck, he’d be able to save up just enough to pay his debt in…three years.

Three years of agonizing pain of uncertainty. Brett would graduate and probably get a real job by then, but that was just it. Brett is supposedly just his friend and not his… sugar daddy . So, begging for Brett to finance him was out of the question and he’d rather just die before going back to his very expecting parents to ask for money. No, he wants to be in the conservatory before going home to his parents.

Totally bummed out with how his plan to get into the conservatory not going the way it should be, he walked around the vicinity and decided to take a break from busking to an impassive Australian crowd.

But somehow, Eddy was just meant to be in music uni…I guess. In a stroke of luck, he found an advert on a clinic near the conservatory, just as he was about to return to busking.

And it paid a decent amount for some common expenses, which he could save up instead of spending. [1]

A couple of months which included a few embarrassing moments in Eddy’s life and several auditions for scholarships later, Eddy was finally, legally, enrolled into Queensland Conservatorium and damn, he was so fucking proud of that.

Chapter Text

Remember when Brett had seizures that scared his poor mother’s heart when he was fifteen? Wow, that was truly a sad time for his mother. Seeing her precious eldest son convulse and stiffen in every seizure he had, and hearing the saddest whine she ever heard after he vomited and vomited in between seizures, having witnessed Brett confined in a big bed with all the tubes connected to his once small frail body. Also enduring the painful lecture full of jargon by that half-Vietnamese doctor. Wow, surely his poor mother wouldn’t have to experience that again, right?

The answer is false.

Because Brett and his mother should have listened to the doctor fifteen years ago but no. Seeing as he was fine without heats for a year of taking the suppressants like it is a part of his breakfast, surely he’d be fine in the long run, right?

Again, the answer is false.

Because here he was, fifteen years of totally ignoring his doctor’s dutiful well-worded warning, playing for his brother’s wedding back in Brisbane. As per his brother’s wish, he wanted the wedding to be only with his family and his fiancée’s family which meant that Eddy could not come with Brett to the wedding despite Brett’s protest that he ‘couldn’t possibly be the only musician for your wedding, Brent.’

So, regardless of feeling rather awkward having to show up on a wedding gig alone, Brett humoured his little brother who was finally having his own family. He totally did not agree to his little brother’s absurd wish because he has a soft spot for the younger alpha though. Definitely not because his little brother begged him to and most definitely not because Brent offered the godfather position to his firstborn.

Also, Brett definitely did not try to show up and ditch his YouTube partner in Singapore a month prior to the wedding to make sure the preparations for his little brother’s wedding was perfectly done. For a ceremony to be celebrated by no more than ten people, Brett made sure it still was a ceremony to be remembered…and that meant arranging a ton of meetings and phone calls which all needed to happen in the earliest hours in the morning. So in between the late night calls with Eddy because the latter lived in a later time zone and the freakishly early meetings he arranged for his brother’s wedding, Brett barely had enough rest.

Which was probably why he was ignoring the fact that he has been fainting in the middle of practicing—not a good sign—and he has been vomiting in odd hours of the day—which was, again, never a good sign especially when all he knew was that he was ‘fainting’, not ‘fainting’ and actually convulsing for a few minutes before passing out. This is just like my conservatory days. What changed?

Still Brett thought it was nothing and he’d be fine by the time his little brother gets married. He was just really tired, right?

Again, the answer is false.

He did manage to survive through the whole ceremony and played a few pieces during the reception although he did not quite make it to the end because he was suddenly covered in sweat, felt like he was about to faint and vomit at the same time, and just had a seizure right next to his parents after rising from his seat in the dining table.

And just like that, his mother was dragged back to the past. She promptly rang triple zero and embraced her poor son through his seizure—actually forgetting her other son is a licensed medical professional. 

Brent, on the other hand, after hearing a loud thud and his mother’s shrill shriek, rushed to the commotion and started checking for brother’s vital signs. Knowing his brother’s personal issues, he had a suspicion of what was going on and asked his now-wife, who happened to be a nurse, to grab a bunch of ice cubes in a serviette. Still clad in a ball gown, Brent’s wife ran for the bucket of ice that chilled the champagne and grabbed the nearest clean serviette and shoved it to Brent’s waiting hands. On instinct, she also had a cup of warm water and another serviette dipped in the cup. The newlyweds took Brett’s now unconscious form from the panicking mother and attended to him while they were waiting for the ambulance to arrive. 

Needless to say, Brett has definitely made his little brother’s wedding very memorable by making the newlyweds make an exhibition of their daily life as health workers during the reception. What a nice, thoughtful brother.

When the ambulance wheeled Brett into the nearest hospital, the remaining people decided it was just right to end the reception early. Mama and Papa Yang decided to drive immediately to the hospital whereas Brent opted to take his wife home and have a change of clothes before heading to the hospital. Brent’s parents-in-law suggested he goes with his parents but Brent insisted on going home first to release his frustration before seeing Brett again.

You see, Brent became a doctor not because he was forced to…well, he was kind of forced but the actual driving force that made him choose to be one was Brett. After knowing of his brother’s predicament and witnessing news reports of various omegas being forced into bonding during oestrus, he vowed to become a doctor that can help omegas live life without fearing for their heats. In fact, he had been researching on how to suppress heats without making it toxic for omegas. When Brett initially heard of Brent’s research, Brett was overzealous, thinking that his brother can finally make him ‘ normal. ’ However, things turned sour during the experimentation and Brent had to break the news to his eager brother, which he—bless his soul—had taken lightly. After all, Brent feared for his brother’s disappointment more than his parents’ disappointment. He couldn’t afford to lose his older brother, who, despite being the omega child between the two of them, has been Brent’s protector and guide ever since he was little.

Genuinely concerned with Brett’s life, he relentlessly warned his brother about his constant suppression ever since he was still a medical school student. Even when he finally became a resident OB-GYN, then later an attending OB-GYN, he nagged at his elder brother to stop suppressing and finally get an alpha of his own to make things more bearable. 

But Brett ignored them and even responded colourfully with “fuck off, I know what I’m doing. ” 

Eventually, Brent had had enough and stopped bothering.

And now Brett ruined his day. And he’s pissed as hell. If only my brother had listened! “I know what I am doing”—MY ASS!

It was only three hours later did he finally manage to visit Brett and his parents at the hospital after having a very long shower to release his frustration. However, he was not prepared to see his mother crying on his father’s chest. And just like a snap of a finger, a cold block of lead immediately sank into his guts. Did Brett…?

He gingerly approached his parents, seeking for a sign from his father’s equally distraught face. When his father shook his head, Brent felt a rush of cold sweat cover his whole body. He gulped loudly. Sure, he was wishing his impossibly hard-headed brother to please die in his irritation—only to be reprimanded by his feisty beta wife for wishing something so irreversible for an accident .

Now it seemed that his wife was right and his limbs felt cold. He had to suppress a shiver when a breeze passed him. Ah, is this what they mean when they say wives are always right? Brother is that your soul haunting me?

Feeling a bit gutted by the fact that his irresponsible wish had come true, he asked a nearby nurse about his brother’s whereabouts. When a nurse pointed him to a bed in the emergency room with closed curtains.

Brent approached his brother’s bed, bracing for the worst, but all he found was his very pale brother hooked up to two IV drips, a cardiac monitor, a ventilator, and a dialysis machine. All of them trying to keep a barely alive man. Brent sighed in relief at the subtle yet steady beeping of the cardiac monitor. At least Brett wasn’t dead yet.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Turning around, he found his mentor during his residency looking straight at him as if he was caught being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

“I knew your name sounded familiar,” his mentor murmured as she leered at Brett’s pitiful state. “He was actually one of my first few patients in the hospital. I was a new attending doctor at that time when he was wheeled in here for seizures. And here we are again.”

Brent gaped at his mentor. Dr Tran simply hummed before giving him one of her wicked grins. “Now, fledgling, I believe you know about your brother’s case, no? Quick, what do you think we should do first to improve his health?”

Brent instantly scrambled for answers in his head as a reflex reaction to his mentor’s question as though he was still being graded for his answer. He knew Brett has been suppressing for years, which meant he could be undergoing hormonal poisoning, just like when he did when he was fifteen. More information flooded his mind and Dr Tran could visibly see that he was trying to determine what kinds of treatment would be used to alleviate Brett’s situation. However, she felt the need to smack her fledgling with the clipboard she was holding to stop him from overthinking.

“The answer is simple. You check his blood chemistry first, you silly child,” Dr Tran admonished lightly, the joyful lilt in her voice contrasted the severity of the situation. “Now, as his doctor, I shouldn’t be showing these to you, but you’re his family so I think you can handle the details better than your mother who started weeping as soon as I mentioned that your brother may not be saved at all.”

“Wait, what do you mean not saved ? He just accumulated hormones. We can just have him put on dialysis a couple times, he will be fine, right?” Brent asked almost instantaneously. Dr Tran gave her the look that tells him it wasn’t the case.

“The dialysis can only take as much. I’m sorry Dr Yang, he currently has over thirty times as much oestrogen in his blood as a normal fertile female during her most fertile state. It’s a wonder how he was able to make it this far. We can induce a heat so he could make use of the hormones, but it will be very overwhelming for him. Considering the amount of hormones he has in his bloodstream, I imagine his heat will be painful and it would take months to finish and I don’t think his body can make it until the end of the heat. His heart is slowly failing and a heat will worsen his arrhythmia. Well, if only we can induce a heat and immediately stop it before his body caves in.”

Brent despondently looked over his brother and sighed. He knew this would happen but he did not expect his brother’s case to escalate so quickly. He tapped his foot impatiently like he was waiting for an answer to come. It may not help the other doctor, but it certainly did to Brent.

“I have an idea,” Brent muttered. He bit his lips before turning his head to his mentor. “A heat will stop when conception happens, right?”

Appalled by her mentee’s suggestion, she exclaimed, “Are you suggesting you…? But that’s incest, Brent!”

“No no no no no. My brother knows an alpha...like really well. Maybe he can help,” Brent retrieved his phone and called for Eddy. Dr Tran expectantly looked at her mentee. She knew this procedure will surely cost her to lose her hard-earned license but she figured she’ll just have to find a way to defend her mentee’s ridiculous idea.

“Hey, Brent! Congratulations on your wedding, mate,” Eddy’s voice hummed through the speakers. “I am still a bit bitter about tha—”

“Hey, Eddy. Look, I have a huge favour to ask. It’s my brother,” Brent started with a shaky voice, trying to gather as much courage to voice out his favour that he was so sure would be declined. 

“Oh. What’s up? Did he bail out for being just the only musician for your wedding?” Eddy jested in the call, apparently not sensing the seriousness in Brent’s tone.

“No, he did well in that aspect but…,” Brent took in a large gulp. “He’s in the hospital right now and I need a favour from you.”

“Wait, Brett’s in the hospital? Is he all right? He’s been having fainting spells here before he left. I told him to have himself checked already but he’s insisting he’s alright. He is alright, right?”

“No. Actually, he’s…not fine. Listen, I really need a favour. For Brett.”

“What favour? ”

Silence lingered between the calls as Brent tried to compose his favour in a clear, concise way. However, his mouth decided to speak before he managed to think of something less crass than what had spilled out of his lips:

“Please fuck my brother.”

An agonising half hour of convincing later, Brent sank into one of the waiting seats by the emergency room. His parents were by Brett’s bedside, watching him intently as though he would pass away once they take their eyes off him.

“I…understand that it’s the only way you can think of to save Brett, but I know him and I don’t want to take advantage of him. More importantly, I respect his wishes not to be impregnated. He doesn’t like anything to do with his omega. So, unless you cannot find another way to save him, that’s when I am agreeing with your favour.”

That was Eddy’s long reply before both Dr Tran and Brent had carefully explained Brett’s situation to Eddy. It sounded more like a plea rather than an outright rejection. Brent opened up the case to his parents to ask for their opinion, but all they ever said was that they trust whatever Brent decided to do.

Totally bummed by two simultaneous indirect rejections, Brent headed home. As soon as Brent saw his wife, his emotional floodgates burst open. He never felt so tired and depressed in his life. His patient wife took him to bed and allowed him to cry on her as he lamented his failure as a doctor, as a brother, and an alpha who can’t protect anyone. She gently told him otherwise and brushed his hair to make him sleep.

The next morning, his wife prepared him a full breakfast with a glint of mischief in her eyes. And being the brilliant woman that she is, she suggested an absurd, yet possible solution to his brother’s situation which made him choke on his toast.

Regardless of the morality of his wife’s idea—or the lack thereof, he rushed to the hospital to present his wife’s solution to his mentor. 

The adrenaline soon wore off as he chickened out when he was finally talking to his mentor. 

“So, err, what if once we trigger his heats, we’ll…we’ll give him a knotting dildo so he can keep knotting himself until he rides his heat?”

Which then garnered him a look of displeasure from his mentor.

“Brent, I know you know better. If we do that, he will just keep on exhausting himself. His heart is already suffering from arrhythmia and I don’t think his heart can survive being in heat for three months,” Dr Tran harrumphed. “I just did the maths this morning. He’s expected to have at least a three-month heat once it’s triggered. I still kept him on suppressants today because a heat might happen as soon as I take him off the suppressants. Also, he only has three days before his brain gets shut down by the chemical signals going haywire in there. He’s still suffering from seizures until now, Brent.”

The young doctor stifled a groan.

“My wife did say something else aside from that but I’m not sure if we could do that without getting our licenses revoked,” Brent muttered dejectedly.

“Spill, this is a patient’s life we’re saving.”

Brent looked at his mentor straight in the eyes.

“She did say we can try loading the knotting dildo with sperm from the sperm bank.”

Chapter Text

Eddy was already having trouble trying to keep the fans calm when they went hysterical over TwoSet Violin becoming OneSet Violin for more than just two videos in a row. He tried explaining to them that Brett is with his family for an important family business which was why Brett hasn’t been anywhere online. Brett’s long term absence had already impacted the way he was acting on camera and in real life and it was just about to go worse. He could not bring to reassure the fans that Brett’s condition is fine—not when he did not believe that himself.

He hasn’t heard from Brent nor Brett’s parents ever since the last call and his calls to them weren’t being answered. He knew that his friend was dying back in Brisbane and this was starting to gnaw on his conscience. What if he agreed to Brent’s crazy idea? What if he went to Brisbane to save his friend? So what if they had a child together? They could just give up the child to an orphanage. 

But he knew that isn’t what his stubborn best friend would have wanted.

Still, the regret was clawing at him. So after two months of not hearing from his friend’s family, he personally decided to go down south and fervently hoped he wouldn't be welcomed by a tombstone.

When he got to Brett’s place, he was greeted by the sight of Mama Yang heading towards her car. Realising that if his calls were rejected by Brett’s family, he could be rejected in real life too, so he decided to follow her instead of confronting for answers. Her trail led him to the OB wing of the hospital. He tried to trace which room she went in but a nurse stopped him from following suit.

“Sorry, sir, the OB wards are strictly for family only,” the nurse informed him and pointed towards a hospital sign that says tracer bracelets are required to enter the wing. “Sorry. It’s hospital policy.”

“Oh, I see. No problem,” Eddy nodded and looked at the hallway again, he lost Brett’s mother already. “Well, actually, I was with that lady that entered. She’s erm...she’s my…my mother-in-law. I just arrived from Singapore and she’s escorting me to my omega. I fucked up and totally missed the birth of my first born. Can I get one of those bracelets?”

Thankfully, his stint was made possible with Brett being still admitted in the hospital and not dead so Eddy managed to list himself as Brett’s relative as his alpha, which might warrant him a kick to his balls but he was able to nick a bracelet from the nurse, hence he just accepted the fact that he will have to live in fear of getting whacked in the sack or worse, castrated, from that point onwards.

Now sporting a bleak blue tracer bracelet in the OB wing, he perused through the labels next to the doors and trotted through all of them bar from the last one, which was slightly ajar. He could see Brett’s mother and brother talking inside before a sleeping Brett who looked very tired yet peaceful in the gurney.

He didn’t mean to overhear the words when he approached the door but as soon his sensitive ears picked up ‘he’s pregnant’, Eddy unceremoniously entered the room and grabbed Brent by his collar. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Eddy interrogated the young doctor, gripping his collar harder in every word he uttered.

“Eddy!” Brent acted surprised—if only fear hadn’t overriden the emotion. “Wow, you’re...you’re here...in Brisbane. Wh-what are you doing here? Aren’t you in Singapore?”

“Edward, please put my son down,” Mrs Yang begged, scared to get another one of her sons getting hurt. “Please, put my son down now. I’ll tell you about my other son’s condition, just please put him down.”

Eddy released the doctor with a harsh shove, causing the latter to fall on his bum. Still outraged, he turned to Mama Yang, who held up her hands in surrender.

“Edward, Eddy…we know you’re concerned about Brett but please,” she paused, her breath hitching as she was trying to swallow a block in her throat, “calm down, I will not hesitate to call the police if you lay your hand on me.”

“Stop scenting the goddamn room, Eddy! For fuck’s sakes, you’re scaring my mum,” the young doctor exclaimed as he picked himself up from where Eddy shoved him. The doctor pressed a handkerchief firmly to his nose. 

“What do you--?”

Eddy whiffed the air around him and realised that he had been unconsciously releasing a very territorial scent in the room. There was another faint scent in the room aside from his own that was emanating from Brett. Eddy can’t seem to tear his gaze away from Brett’s prostrate position. 

He smelled like a healthy, sated, well-bred omega; but he looked so small and weak in his gurney.

Eddy’s heart broke at the sight of his friend. He tried to suppress the wildfire in his chest but his tears began to spring from his eyes. He was glad to see his best friend alive…but at what cost? Seeing him knocked up by an unknown alpha against his will while he was in oestrus? Was he raped? Was the alpha gentle with him? Is the alpha willing to stay with him throughout the pregnancy? What about them, TwoSet Violin? Will he have to be OneSet Violin from then on? Will his alpha even let Eddy see Brett?

If only he had agreed...Brett would have been safer with him. 

“Was he mated?” came the soft crestfallen voice from Eddy. Brent can’t help snarl at the man—after all, the intruder had declined his offer first and forced him to do incriminating things (!!!) to his own brother (!!!) then he had the balls to apprehend him like he was in the wrong for saving his own brother and ask him if his brother was mated?!? Who the fuck was Eddy to Brett that he felt like he can demand things from him, the patient’s blood-kin?! 

Brent’s fury, however strong and burning, was purely all because he loved his brother dearly but another kind of rage immediately aggravated his fury at the sight of a familiar band on Eddy’s wrist. Recognising it as a blue tracer bracelet that had Brett’s complete name, the young doctor glared at Eddy and gave the violinist a firm pat on the shoulder that could have been a lot more stronger than intended.

“You. Let’s talk outside,” he gestured. Eddy took a while before he followed, seeing that Mama Yang was tending to her older son before he left the room. Brent was looking at him with a knowing look as he closed the door behind him.

“You and my brother,” Brent began, “what is going on between you two?”

Eddy looked at his friend’s brother in confusion—his mind was still blanking over how he had unintentionally marked the room as his territory a few moments earlier.

“You listed yourself as his alpha and scented the room like you own the place but you refused to mate with him even when it’s something that could save his life. What is it exactly with you two?” Brent aggressively indicted with an accusatory finger shoved to Eddy’s chest. “Because, honestly, I don’t understand. I’ve been working as a doctor for five years now and somehow I can’t comprehend why my brother has been reacting like he is mated but his glands are still untouched.”

The violinist whipped his eyes to look at the doctor straight in the eyes, looking for a sign that could help him understand what the hell was going on with his friend. Eddy thought that Brett was having an intense heat that could not be suppressed, yet, it seemed to him now that it wasn’t actually the case. He was very confused—what has mating got to do with Brett’s situation? As far as Eddy knows, Brett has had a few beta and omega girlfriends but he had never initiated mating with them. He knows his friend detested bonding and he was so sure his friend was responsible enough not to get himself accidentally bonded to anyone.

“What do you mean he reacts like he’s mated?” Eddy finally spoke, confusion heavily lacing his voice. “He’s not bonded to anyone. He doesn’t like that. Why did you think I refused to do what you wanted?”

“Yes, we know that! Look, we had to be creative after you so regally declined to mate with my brother. We…,” Brent drew a deep breath and looked away abashed, “…consulted fertility clinics and got sperm from a sperm bank, thinking that once he conceived after we triggered his heat, his body would stop being in heat. But he kept miscarrying and his heats went on for almost a month and we were kind of convinced that he was already mated because that kind of behaviour only happens when an omega is mated with an alpha they are so highly compatible with. Any potential child formed outside the bond is rejected but we’re actually surprised that his glands are intact.”

Brent heavily sighed, actually showing his frustration in his face. “He just conceived his third child and we’re actually expecting him to miscarry in the next forty hours. It usually happens around these times but he doesn’t look like he’s in heat anymore. If only you could see him when he was suffering here, you probably would have leapt off your high horse and saved my brother instantly. I could not bring anyone to mate with him without his consent except for you.”

Eddy could only turn his head down in shame. He wasn’t expecting Brett’s condition to go worse than what Brent had told him. He wasn’t exactly a skilled doctor that could predict that kind of situation for his friend. After all, he’s just a musician who dropped out of medical school.

“Was he in a lot of pain?” Eddy surmised, wringing his hands in his guilt, still imagining Brett’s pain in his mind. Brent noticed him gripping the blue bracelet on his wrist

“We had to frequently sedate him,” Brent answered openly and Eddy only nodded in understanding. Brent noticed Eddy’s hands started shaking.

“I’m sorry. And err...thanks…for taking care of him,” Eddy politely said before walking past Brent with the intent of leaving the OB wing.

“Actually, please stay. As my brother’s doctor, I suggest you stay near him. Your presence can help stabilise his vitals,” Brent instructed firmly. Eddy slowly turned to the young doctor. “My brother is a pregnant unmated omega who just had the heat of his life. His body will become very sensitive to defend itself and staying with him can make him feel secure. That’s the least you could do to my brother.”

With that, the doctor walked past Eddy and left the wing in a rush. Brent hoped his stint back there kept Eddy within the hospital and under his eyes. He wasn’t a very good liar but he had to keep Eddy where he could find him easily. He learned from Brett that Eddy had attempted to commit suicide a few years back and he was genuinely scared learning about Brett’s condition would push Eddy into a relapse and actually kill himself in guilt—and that would definitely devastate Brett when he wakes up. Brent could not afford to lose his brother right after he fought with his blood, sweat, and tears to keep his brother alive—Eddy’s death would put all his efforts in vain. 

“Keep an eye on Room 801, will you? Make sure the alpha is always there,” Brent told a nurse in the nurse’s station.

Meanwhile, Eddy shamefully entered Brett’s room after lingering by the door like a hawk stalking its prey for half an hour. He saw Brett’s mother stroking her son’s hair and fixing the tubes that were connected to him.

“I…I’m sorry for what I did earlier, Mrs Yang,” Eddy apologised in a soft voice. His scent was still lingering in the room but it was steadily being replaced by Brett’s warm and milky scent. Brett’s mother stood up and brought the alpha into a tight embrace.

“Aiyah, always so noble,” Mama Yang whispered in the embrace. Eddy heavily sighed and basked in the warm hug, silently grateful for the sincere gesture. It lifted a ton of bricks off his chest. She let him go and gave his shoulders a firm squeeze. “I always wanted a very noble son-in-law. I was wondering when you’re going to marry my son.”

Eddy carefully removed himself from her grip and nervously chuckled. “We’re not together, A-Yi. You know we’re just friends, right?”

“Ah, too bad. You’re the only one that can tolerate my son,” grumbled Mama Yang, “I’ve gone to the matchmaker several times already and they keep telling me that my son is so hard to match. He’s not the conventional omega, you see.”

“Well, I’m sure he could marry a beta who wouldn’t mind him as much as I do,” Eddy replied, thinking that he wouldn’t be opposed to Brett marrying someone he genuinely likes. “We’re kind of still figuring out what to do with our careers. I mean YouTube and the apparel are doing great but I’m sure once we’re finally both stable, he’ll start looking for a wife.”

Mama Yang grimaced at his words. “Aiyah, who, in their right minds, would want an unwed omega with extra baggage?”

Eddy paused, his eyes widening to its full extent. Extra baggage? Although he was sure that there would be someone who’s willing to marry someone with a child, he was concerned with what would happen to their brainchild. Was he going to be OneSet Violin forever? Will he have to find a replacement for Brett? Will he even find a replacement for Brett?

“Wait, is he…are you…will he keep the child?” Eddy asked, mortified at the idea of splitting TwoSet Violin because Brett had to take care of a child.

“Yes. Why are you acting like he wouldn’t?” Mama Yang looked at him in confusion. “He can provide for his child already, can’t he?”

Eddy gave off a disgruntled groan. “I-I don’t think he’s ready for a child yet, A-Yi. I just assumed he’ll put the child up for adoption.”

“Aiyah, when will he be ever ready? I had him when we were still young and financially unstable and now he’s thirty and can provide for himself but he’s still unmarried! Oh, what would the ancestors say when I pass away?” moaned Mama Yang

“Errr…,” Eddy stalled, unsure how to console the omega in front of him. He definitely knew Brett isn’t one who likes to be tied to something he doesn’t really like. Pretty much how he quit the piano after hitting a mazurka, quit swimming classes because he sprained his leg once and decided he hated the feeling, quit playing for Sydney Symphony Orchestra because he didn’t like the way the veterans were looking at him, and most especially quit ‘being an omega’ because he simply doesn’t like it. Eddy reckoned it would be the same for having a child except a parent can’t just quit being one when they decide to raise a child so he instinctively knew that Brett will not like being a parent, at least in their current situation.

Brett and he discussed having children a few months ago back in Singapore when they heard that their friend, Phoebe, was expecting a child. Brett expressed his utmost displeasure whenever they breached the idea of him carrying a child and even mentioned that he’d ‘rather die than get pregnant’ which was why Eddy was so opposed to Brent’s idea of impregnating Brett almost two months ago. Now, Brett’s pregnant and Eddy doesn’t know how to deal with that and his mother is trying to pawn him off to Eddy.

“I…err…he’ll find someone someday. I’m sure he’ll do great as a single parent for now…,” reassured Eddy, hoping it was the correct response to Mrs Yang’s rhetorical question. Her face looked desperate as she let out a sigh.

“I think the matchmakers were right. My son is very difficult to match,” she murmured. “Well then, until you get a wife, take care of my Yao’er and grandchild, okay? I will hunt you down if you hurt them!”

Eddy could only gurgle a forced chuckle to that. The use of Brett’s Chinese nickname did not go unnoticed by Eddy and his spine shivered at the thought that Brett’s mother was seriously and genuinely thinking of marrying Brett off to him. 

As if the gods heard Eddy’s silent prayer of breaking the very uncomfortable conversation he was having with his best friend’s mother, a knock interrupted the two. Brett’s mother opened the door to a beta woman who was sporting the same attire as Brent. 

“Hello, good afternoon, Mrs Yang!” the doctor cheerfully greeted. Mrs Yang tried to reciprocate the enthusiasm but her voice still had a slight tremble to it.

“Oh! You have a visito—wait,” the doctor paused and looked at Eddy’s blue bracelet before turning to Mrs Yang in confusion. “I thought he was unmated?”

“Ah, yes, Dr Tran…my son is unmated. This is my son’s b—”

“BEST FRIEND!” blurted Eddy unceremoniously, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. Mrs Yang leered at him while the doctor just raised her eyebrow as if she was not buying it at all. He cleared his throat to regain his confidence. “Brett’s just my friend. I…err…I may have lied to get a bracelet so I could see him.”

The doctor nodded and gave a wide grin. “Ah, I see. Pining for a friend, eh? I can totally understand that. That’s very common these days. Now, may I check on Brett?” she asked, ignoring how Eddy was trying to splutter excuses that she wasn’t going to believe in anyway.

Mrs Yang directed the doctor closer to Brett and also ignored her son’s best friend.

“A-YI!”

Despite Eddy being Brett’s pseudo-alpha, the doctor asked him to stay with Brett’s mother as she informed her of Brett’s current situation. From what Dr Tran had been explaining to him, Brett’s oestrogen levels are depleting back to normal and has been recommended to be put in a dialysis in two weeks’ time when the embryo is confirmed to be developing steadily and not prematurely removed by the uterus. So far, the pregnancy was astonishingly developing well in contrast to the other pregnancies. The last trial, according to Dr Tran, seemed to be working positively due to his more normal bloodwork and the previous failed attempts could have been due to his toxic blood chemistry. 

Brett was also recommended to be exposed to alpha pheromones so his body would not reject the embryo, which could help regulate the hormones in his body. Unfortunately, that meant the child had to be carried to term. Dr Tran discussed options regarding how the child was going to be born and where it can go should Brett decide not to take care of the child—which understandably was unplanned and unwanted. Mrs Yang had initially wanted Brett to take care of the child, however, after being told by Dr Tran about the horrors unwilling parents face during child rearing can be damaging to both child and mother, she rescinded her opinion but made it her mission to convince Brett in giving her grandchild to her once he wakes up.

Mama Yang eventually left Eddy to take care of Brett and offered to bring him dinner as he watched him. Eddy witnessed him shiver from time to time, prematurely calling the nurses’ attention to the omega and was merely told that Brett was probably just cold as his vitals were normal. 

So, he drew the blankets to Brett’s neck, carefully placing them and making sure none of the tubes were bent nor compressed. He wished he brought his violin with him so he could get his usual forty hours of practice but to also repay the time Brett brought music to him when he was in the hospital. 

Out of ideas, he opened their Tchaikovsky violin concerto livestream two years ago and played in the background next to Brett’s head. He fondled the blanket and swayed with the music. By the time Brett was playing the second movement in their livestream, exhaustion finally caught up with him, so he ended up dozing off in his seat.

Brett woke up to a recording of Ernst’s The Last Rose of Summer playing in the background and a soothing orange scent wafting through the air. He found it surprising that his vision no longer blurred white and his heart didn’t feel like exploding out of his ribcage. When he turned to his side, he found a familiar blur with a familiar smell. He instinctively knew it was Eddy but what raised his alarm was the IV that was connected to both of his hands.

Only when he looked around the room did he realise he was in a hospital and his mind immediately panicked. How the fuck did I get here? What happened? Why is Eddy here? Wasn’t I in Brissy?? Did I miss Brent’s wedding? Did I dream that I went to Brisbane?

The frantic beeps in the room alerted Eddy from his sleep as well as the nurses that were informed of his code. Before Eddy could even stand up from his seat, he saw a nurse injecting something into Brett’s bloodstream and monitoring his heart rate. Brett’s eyes sluggishly closed again before Eddy could notice that his friend had gotten awake and had a minor hysteria. Brent came in after a while of Brett relaxing into his bed and asked the nurses about the situation. 

His brother had apparently gotten awake and was hysterical for a while. Eddy was so disoriented from his sleep and panic that he could barely understand the words that passed by him. He could only follow the nurse that led him to another gurney and was wheeled next to Brett’s gurney.

“Eddy,” Brent’ voice speared through his hazy thoughts. “You’re experiencing shock. I need you to grip my hands as hard as you can.”

Eddy looked at the hands offered in front of him and weakly squeezed them. Brent nodded and shrugged Eddy’s even, yet weak grip off before checking his eyes and tongue at the end of his flashlight. 

“Can you tell me your full name?” Brent asked as he measured Eddy’s pulse. The violinist had to give him a look of confusion before responding in a weak voice.

“Edward Chen Weicheng,” Eddy paused and licked his lips, “why are you asking me this? You know me.”

“Just ruling out stroke,” Brent replied and gave him a firm tap on the shoulder. “I guess my hypothesis was wrong. You and my brother aren’t in a pseudo-bond. You aren’t having a stroke.”

“Sorry, I don’t get—look, I am telling you, we’re just really close friends and why are you checking me for stroke?” Eddy’s voice was bordering on hysterical.

“Listen carefully, okay? My brother was coding for a stroke but he was just having a panic attack. No stroke at all,” Brent rubbed his face in frustration. Eddy found himself empathizing over his friend’s brother. “I thought maybe because you are the one that is having a stroke and you two are pseudo-bonded that you affected my brother’s stats but you are fine. Agh! Whatever!! I am not paid enough to pull a Sherlock Holmes on my brother.”

“Are you sure that Brett isn’t the one having a stroke? Maybe the nurses overlooked it?” Eddy quipped.

“Stroke patients normally don’t have the dexterity to remove their IVs on both hands.”

Brent was becoming fully aware how much headache Brett’s case has become. 

Chapter Text

The room was so quiet. Not even the humming of the air conditioning was heard. It was as if the crying infants in the OB wing were snapped away into silence. The usual chatter that could be heard over from the hallway vanished. All five occupants of the room were eerily quiet and still. The heavy breathing of the patient in the gurney was grave but it was done silently as though he was muted.

“Are you okay, Yao’er ? Do you need water?”

“Bro, you okay? Da-ge ?”

“Mr. Yang? Are you with us?”

“ Brett ?”

Brett snapped out of his reverie with a gentle head shake. The shrill harmonic that had been playing in his ears the entire time had subsided to a pianissimo; the polyrhythmic drumming in his chest diminished into silence; and his hands stopped vibrating unnecessarily. He clenched his fists as he kept his breathing steady like a metronome. The ringing information he got from his doctors was finally setting in his head: You’re pregnant, Brett. 

Though he paced his way to calm himself, thoughts started darting in in his head like frenzied bumblebees—there were just so many questions which needed answers but his mind could not catch a single one to process. It took him a few bars of silence to keep his composure and find his voice. His throat was dry and parched but the need to speak overrode the need to preserve his voice.

“ Who did it ?”

“ Da-ge… ,” Brent whined the affectionate honorific as if that would stop his brother from inquiring. Dr. Tran was about to give Brett the explanation when Brent intercepted her. “I...I’m sorry. You were dying, da-ge . It was the only thing I could think of to save you.”

“Bullshit!”

“ Bo Yao! ”

“Eddy, was it you ?” Brett’s voice was as sharp as the needles that were threatening to tear through his throat—his voice sounded as betrayed as he felt. “Is that why you’re here?!”

“What? Me? ” The alpha interjected, feeling very offended that his best friend would ever incriminate him. “I didn’t—I even told your brother you wouldn’t like this!”

“Yeah, then, who could it be, huh? My own brother?! ”

“ YEAH! That’s what he told me. I swear it!” Eddy raised his voice to make his appeal. He was growing upset with how things were going. He hated the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he always ends up being incriminated for things he didn’t do. “Brent, tell your brother what you did! I swear, Brett, I would never break your trust!”

“That’s bullshit!” Brett retaliated, equally raising his voice. “Why do you have an alpha bracelet with my name on if it wasn’t you, huh? I can’t get pregnant alone, Eddy, and you’re the only other alpha in the room!”

“No, no, NO! It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me! You were already pregnant when I got here! I lied to get this bracelet. I swear it wasn’t me!!”

“STOP LYING TO ME, EDDY!”

“Enough, enough, ENOUGH! THAT’S ENOUGH SHOUTING!” Dr. Tran interjected, clearly as frustrated as Eddy. “Mr. Chen, leave the room. You’re stinking up the place. Calm yourself down outside. Brent, go with him.”

“I—”

“Do not test me, Dr. Yang, this was your idea. Leave this room with Mr. Chen. And Brett, calm down, your heart rate is rising again. I will explain everything once you’re in a more cooperative mood. Mrs. Yang, I suppose you can stay.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Mrs. Yang took her seat next to Brett and massaged his nape. “ Aiyah, why did you fight that friend of yours? He did only good to you. He smells like the airport when he got here, son. He’s innocent.”

“I think it’s wise if we don’t bring up Mr Chen in this conversation, Mrs. Yang,” Dr Tran warned as she arranged the charts that she would like to show her patient. A sob echoed along with paper shuffling.

“Ma, I’m scared ,” Brett broke down to his mother. In his thirty years of existence, he had never cried to his mother like this. He was raised to be a fighter so he rarely showed his weakness to his mother. He knew his mother loved it when he didn't cry after being hurt; he knew that his mother got proud every time he kept trying after failing so many times; he knew his mother was delighted to know her son isn’t a quitter. When things got tough, he had always sought his alpha father’s comfort. His alpha father knew how to soothe his pains. His alpha father had always been the parent he would run to.

But this time, he felt like the only one who could understand him was his mother.

“Ma, I don’t want to do this,” Brett sobbed on his mother’s shoulders. “I don’t want to do this, ma, please take it away.”

“Hush, hush, Yao’er, mama is here.”

Dr. Tran could only sigh contemplatively.

While Brett was having another panic attack in his room, Brent led Eddy to the doctors’ lounge. The walk was very awkward. Neither alphas wanted to deal with each other—with Eddy upset over Brent throwing him under the bus for Brett’s pregnancy, and Brent still very sour and bitter about how Eddy had refused his offer in the first place. 

“You didn’t tell me that was your plan,” Eddy broke the silence first.

“What plan?”

“You framing me as the sire of Brett’s kid.”

“I didn’t know he would be so against it,” Brent reasoned out. He handed Eddy a cup of coffee from the vending machine.

“What’s this? Is this your sorry?” Eddy pointed at the cup like it was the most offensive thing in the world. Brent seethed at the accusation. He grabbed the cup away from Eddy and necked the whole thing.

“If you don’t want to play nice with me, well, I understand that—but you and my brother have known each other for a long time. I don’t want you gone in my brother’s life. Especially not now. He needs an alpha.”

“So what? You want me to tell him I sired his child? Is that what you want, huh? Do you also want me to bond with him? Do you want me to bite him too? Do you also want me to fuck a knot into your brother, huh?! When did I ever agree to this? Did you even ask me?!”

“Fuck you, Eddy! If you didn’t refuse my offer in the first place, I didn’t have to do incriminating things to him! You made me do it! ”

“Then why didn’t you just tell your brother that , you asshole!”

“I had no choice; he got to that conclusion before I got to explain! Besides, you were the one who decided to get that bracelet for yourself and you were the one fogging up the place with your hormones. It’s not my fault that my brother reached that conclusion!”

“FUCK YOU TOO!”

Both alphas were emitting very territorial scents in the cafeteria that a nurse who decided to get in the room while they were arguing instantly turned back and left.

In the end, Eddy caved in. In a soft subdued voice, he asked.

“What did you mean when you said Brett needed an alpha?”

Brent sighed and rubbed his eyes through his glasses in frustration. Then he was waving his hands while clicking his tongue like these actions were enough explanation before sitting down on a chair in defeat.

“My brother...he was in a coma.”

Brent looked at Eddy expectantly. Eddy scrunched his face in confusion. 

“But he’s awake now, isn’t he? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Yeah, he’s awake now. Big thanks to you,” Brent explained inadequately. When Eddy’s expression hadn't changed, Brent groaned. 

“Ugh, why ask for more explanation when you wouldn’t believe me even if I already explained it to you?”

“You were being cryptic about it. Just tell me the details!”

“Fine,” Brent  braced himself. “You and my brother...you’re acting like you’re mated to each other. There’s no way that my brother would just heal very fast in a few hours if his alpha’s pheromones weren't helping him heal. We tried giving him artificial stabilizers but he just...wasn’t having it. He was even rejecting it! Then you came. Then suddenly his blood chemistry went normal in two hours. He didn’t miscarry when we expected him to. Your presence basically did what we couldn’t do in two months.

“Then he coded for a stroke, which turned out to be just a panic attack...and now I’m just so confused,” Brent cradled his head in his hands. “I thought if I made him think you’re his alpha, he would be fine with it because his body was reacting well to you. And then you started arguing in the room, then I saw Brett get really angry—but I smelled him...he was trying to appease you by complimenting your smell.

“It was like he’s telling you not to fight with him anymore.”

“I still don’t get it. Why would he react like that?”

Brent let out a tired, hysterical laugh. “Fuck knows.”

“Whose sperm did you use?” Eddy asked Brent when they were on the way back to Brett’s room. It wasn’t like he cared about the true sire of Brett’s kid. The dude can go choke himself to death or win the lottery, Eddy wouldn’t bat an eye. He just wanted to know if there’s a chance they would come across the dude and the dude potentially getting into Brett’s life. Again, he didn’t care if Brett decides to mate with the dude—he just wants to make sure that his friend is going to be taken care of. And that TwoSet Violin doesn’t get affected. It was their brainchild, after all. 

Brent looked over the alpha walking beside him, trying to gauge which answer would less likely get himself hit in the balls. Eddy was posturing. Brent found it hilarious.

“Some random white Australian alpha, probably. The sperm bank said they were disposing a few vials because they were expiring already. Grabbed all that were supposed to be thrown out. I wasn’t really sure if they were viable in the first place but he did conceive thrice so...I guess they were.”

“Wait, expiring? Sperm expire?”

“Yeah. They only last for about ten to twelve years in cryo. Old donations that were signed off with a ‘ do not trace ’ contract get thrown out first when they’re past ten years old. I happened to need a lot of it to make sure something takes, so this clinic helped me out in exchange for using up all the old spunk they stored for nothing. 

“Anyway, let’s not talk about that. I still cringe over what I did.”

“A’ight.”

When they got into Brett’s room, Brett was deep asleep in his mother’s arms—the room smelling very strongly of grass and a hint of citrus.

Brett was discharged from the hospital after a few more days of observation. When his blood chemistry showed up normal for three consecutive days, Dr. Tran signed his papers off.

None of the family members—including the in-laws, who knew about it through Brent’s wife—talked about Brett’s pregnancy explicitly as instructed by the matron of the house. Brett was allowed to return to his ‘normal day’ of practicing for several hours on end, but with a frequent reminder to eat and rest. Brett ignored most of the warnings just like how he ignored his OB-GYN’s warning a few years back but sometimes his body does the reminding for him.

He does, however, take prenatal vitamins instead of his suppressants every morning. He tried not to think about how his usual orange suppressant pill case has evolved into a pink pill case—and not just one pink pill case but five pink pill cases! 

Outside of feeling very sluggish and hungry and having to take prenatal vitamins, there was nothing in Brett’s current routine that told him or anyone around him that he was pregnant.

Eddy, on the other hand, was miserable. He and Brett hadn’t been talking since the hospital incident. They only shared a few words when Brett was awake and he was conveniently there. They talked about filming and staying in Brisbane—separately—for a while. 

They only had a few messages exchanged over any social media platform and usually contained a few lines like ‘Practice Erlkönig, 9AM Saturday, my place’ or ‘Check email, Sunday 3PM, your place’ .

Then, most of their videos had been skits where they could film separately—much to Editor-san’s frustration of these two not being able to function well (and film well) if they weren’t together.

So, Eddy was just getting sad because he really missed his best friend and that was why he was very miserable.

Just kidding—he was actually very miserable because he started randomly feeling sick for no reason. He even wakes up to his face shoved in the toilet bowl and spewing out the contents of his stomach into the porcelain throne.

He would also get dizzy spells when he practices standing up for hours—much to his precious violin’s demise.

To make matters worse, his father caught him making out with the toilet bowl one day and interrogated him just after he rinsed his mouth.

“Who’s the lucky omega, son?” His father gave him a very happy smile, like he had won the lottery. Eddy wasn’t having it. His head was still busy spinning and he really didn’t need to solve mystery riddles from his father at the moment.

“What?” was all he could say before leaning down the sink to stop his head from spinning. He can feel his stomach heaving again.

“Ah, don’t pretend, my boy. I don’t mind. I really don’t! Your mother might get upset but I won’t.”

“What do you mean, ba ? I’m not in the mood right now. Ughh .”

“All right, all right. I’ll make you ginger tea. Your mother served me lots of ginger tea when she was pregnant with you,” his father quipped before heading toward the kitchen.

Only when his father was gone did Eddy realise the meaning of his father’s words.

Eddy and Brett tried to properly reconcile over bubble tea six weeks after Brett’s discharge.

“So, uhh, how are you doing?” Brett asked before sipping a mouthful of boba. He didn’t really want to apologise for wrongfully accusing him of betrayal just yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure how to apologise to his best friend. They never argued that long before. It was a first in their relationship to have a spat this big. He could also sense that Eddy doesn’t want to talk to him first—after all, he was the wronged party.

A few seconds passed and neither man talked. Eddy could only hum. His migraine was gnawing at the corners of his head again; and he was trying to control them while Brett was trying to have a civil conversation with him. Brett had already managed to chew and swallow all the boba in his mouth, yet, no one still talked. Brett was feeling bumblebees fluttering wildly in his stomach—the awkward silence was just eating him up. Eddy seemed to sense Brett’s panic because he moved to take a sip of his own bubble tea.

“Feeling a bit sick lately, but I’m doing fine. My family helped me out,” Eddy said solemnly after a while, not telling Brett the whole story behind his ‘sickness’ and how the ‘help’ his ‘family’ he was getting was just his father making him ginger tea every day. He also didn’t want to explain the fact that his father had undergone the same ‘sickness’ twice when his mother was pregnant with Belle and with him. 

Recently, Brent’s theory about them being mated was jarringly becoming more real to him and it actually scared him. He still wanted to be friends with Brett. After all, Brett is his best friend—the yang to his yin and his duet partner in Twoset Violin. Being mated with his friend scared him—especially when he knew very well that the said friend hated to be mated with anyone. He knew Brett liked to be free in anything he does and if whatever Brent told him was real, then he would be shackling his friend to himself. He didn’t need that guilt on his plate.

“Are you okay, though?” Brett asked, feeling like he could drive the conversation there instead of the main purpose of the meeting but Eddy gave him a noncommittal nod to dismiss it.

“Riiiight, so uhh,” Brett stalled. “Dr. Tran actually told me what happened.”

“What happened?”

“Well, you know...I had a very bad heat and they...uhh...got sperm from a sperm bank to save my life,” Brett murmured the rest of his explanation but Eddy’s sensitive ears managed to pick it all up. Eddy hummed again.

“So, uhh, yeah, I’m sorry.”

Eddy gave a weak smile before slumping down on the table. Brett’s nervous energy quickly turned into panic. He shook his friend from where he was sitting but Eddy managed to shake his hand to signal his friend off.

“Eddy? Eddy, are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me,” Eddy managed to grit out before heavily heaving into the ground underneath the table. Luckily, they were outdoors therefore cleanup was much easier. However, Brett, who had seen Eddy become really sick before, was freezing in front of his friend while his mind was being pulled back when he had to bring Eddy to A&E.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, not again, no please no...” Brett was chanting very loudly under his breath. He tried to move his body to rush his friend to A&E again, but his limbs were stuck to where they were. “No no no no no this can’t be happening again. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do...help! Somebody help me!”

Brett saw Eddy spazzing and convulsing on his seat. Then beeps of machines began flaring left and right with frantic shouts of ‘15 mg of epi, stat!’ and ‘200 joules, clear! ’ surrounded him—then suddenly, he’s back at the hospital, seeing Eddy on a gurney with nurses trying to block him from getting close to him. He saw Eddy flatlining again. He saw Eddy becoming smaller and smaller as the nurses pulled him away. He tried to reach out but his whole body was stiff. He couldn’t feel the rest of his body.

“Sir?” A kind-looking person was holding him up by his shoulders and looked at him eye to eye. She shook him a little, then just like magic, the hospital around him vanished into the Brisbane skies and city landscape. “Sir, can you hear me? I can help you if you can listen to me.”

Brett nodded slowly. “Okay, sir, you’re panicking right now. I want you to breathe with me, okay?”

Brett gave a weak nod. “Okay, breathe in, 2, 3, 4, 5, and hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, then out, 2, 3, 4, 5. Breathe back in—yes, keep doing that sir, you’re doing great, sir. Nat, how’s the other guy?”

The sound of dry heaving was heard on the other side, followed by a woman’s raspy voice saying, “Peachy, Peggy. I got this. Clint had Couvade’s Syndrome in one of Laura’s pregnancies. Poor guy’s just dry heaving now.”

“All right, then,” said ‘Peggy’ before turning back to Brett. “Sir, you need to keep breathing. Not having enough oxygen can affect your child’s development. Don’t worry about your man, he’s just having a sympathetic pregnancy.”

“A sympa—wha?”

“A sympathetic pregnancy. It’s not a real pregnancy but he’s getting the symptoms like you do...or don’t. It varies from pair to pair,” ‘Peggy’ informed him. The implication went unheard. After all, Brett was still very busy climbing out of his trauma.

Brett looked around him. All the things around him seemed real. He could smell the coffee being brewed in the neighbouring cafe. The chilly temperature of the metal chair he was sitting on felt real. The noise of the city sounded real. So, he’s back. He wasn’t in the hospital. Eddy wasn’t in a gurney. Eddy was just slumped on the table in front of him with a beautiful redhead in black attending to him. “Is it life threatening?”

“No, actually, it’s just temporary. I suppose you two are first time parents?”

“How did—?”

“Peggy’s got a sharp nose, she can tell even the most minute changes in pheromones,” ‘Nat’ , the redhead, supplied as she gave sniffing salts to Eddy, who stopped dry heaving already. “She also detected your panic first.”

“I...thanks for helping us,” Brett eked out, totally forgetting to refute that no, Eddy and I aren’t mates and no, he’s not the father of my child, we were just talking about that—thank you very much.

“Don’t worry about it, helping people has always been our duty,” ‘Peggy’ replied before turning to ‘Nat’ . “How is he?”

“Whatever this thing is helped. Thanks.” Eddy muttered while pressing the salts to his nose. He slowly backed into his seat and massaged his temples. His hands slowly stretched out to return the salts to the ‘Nat’ .

“You can have it, if you want. I can always make more of those,” the redhead told him and pushed his hand back. “I suppose you two can handle yourselves, da ?”

“Do you need something else?” ‘Peggy’ asked Brett who still seemed shaken but she could sense was already out of it. Brett gave her a more confident nod and tried to pull his wallet. ‘Peggy’ stopped him before he could pull out any bills.

“Nuh-uh, hold it young man. Save all the resources you can; a child will need a lot. ‘Peggy’ smiled at Brett and beckoned ‘Nat’ . “I think we’re good here. We wish you good luck on your first child.” 

Then, the two women walked away.

Meanwhile, Eddy was guiltily sniffing the salts from time to time. He knew he somehow triggered Brett’s panic. He doesn’t quite know how he did it but he had suspicions. It might have been because he was feeling too poorly lately and he accidentally called in on their ‘bond’. It might have been because he reminded Brett of something else. It might have been because he witnessed Eddy about to die. There were so many reasons that he could think of that the thought made him shudder. He heard Brett’s cry for help. He knew Brett was panicking from his smell. He had already caused Brett so much pain lately. He just had to top it off by triggering Brett into a panic.

On the other hand, Brett resorted to embracing himself. Ten years ago, he almost lost Eddy; after that, he and Eddy had had so many good memories together, but the memory of Eddy almost dying was still something his mind never forgot—and it wasn’t just a memory that his brain could not forget. It had to be a memory that kept bringing him back to where he was in the memory. He hated how his body responded. He felt helpless before, he still felt helpless now. And he hated it. He hated how he couldn’t help his friend. He hated the fact that he had to let someone else do it for him. The helplessness pricked tears into his eyes.

“Hey, Brett. Brett! I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m here,” Eddy reassured him, trying to hand Brett the salts ‘Nat’ gave him. “Bro, do you want to go somewhere private?”

Brett tried to bite his lips to stop the tears; however, they kept building up in his eyes until a stream fell down his cheeks. Upon seeing Brett’s tears, Eddy quickly pulled Brett up from his seat and dragged him into an abandoned alleyway. In there, Eddy gave Brett a tight hug. By then, Brett was fully sobbing into Eddy’s shoulders. Eddy, for once, felt clarity in his head—no dizziness, no nausea—just purely clarity. After weeks of feeling under the weather, he could finally think straight and the first thought was to comfort Brett.

So he did. He rubbed soothing circles on Brett’s back, murmuring I’m okay, you’re okay, we’ll be okay like a chant that can miraculously heal all the anxieties that lay in Brett’s mind. He hummed Brett a tune—the same tune he had woken up to after he attempted suicide— Debussy Violin Sonata . To him, the sonata meant a second chance—another chance at life, another chance to fight, another chance to make up for his mistakes. He wanted the same from Brett. He wanted to have a second chance to make it up to his friend and he desperately wanted to convey that message to his friend whom he had rightfully wronged in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Eddy, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” Brett lamented when he could finally breathe between sobs. “I’m really sorry, Eddy, I’m really sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to say sorry,” Eddy hushed Brett before his heart clenched too hard from hearing his best friend weep inconsolably. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry, I failed you. I’m really sorry, Brett.”

The two violinists eventually moved into Brett’s car when Brisbane’s skies thought it wanted to join in the crying. Brett was sitting in the passenger seat while Eddy was in the driver’s seat. The windows were slightly open to let air in and the vapours from their breaths started to fog the car. They just sat there quietly, listening to the pitter patter of the rain and watching it slide on the windshield. Brett was busy pulling the loose skin from his fingertips.

“I’m scared, Eddy,” Brett confided. “I’m actually terrified.”

“Why?”

“My doctor told me I had to carry the child to term,” Brett told him. Eddy nodded. “And she told me...it would be a difficult pregnancy. And if I...”

Eddy grabbed Brett’s hand. Brett hadn’t noticed he had ripped out a bloody hangnail prior to Eddy’s intervention. “Stop, you’re bleeding.”

Brett wasn’t having it. He was in a trance. 

“Fuck, Eddy, I’m so scared—I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die yet.”

Eddy gripped Brett’s hand harder. “No one’s dying. I’ll help you out. We’ll ask for help.”

“She said I have to expect seizures, cramps, painful migraines—I’ve been dreading it, Eddy. I felt them before and I hated them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to stop playing the violin, Eddy.”

Eddy leaned into the driver’s seat, letting go of Brett’s hand and tapping his leg instead. He doesn’t know how to help Brett. He knows he can’t cure Brett. He was just a med school drop out, after all. But he knew he couldn't give into the guilt he was feeling. He couldn’t give up. This was the second chance he asked for—his Debussy Violin Sonata with Brett. 

“I’ll try to be there with you. I’ll practice with you. I’ll catch your violin when you start to seize...or I’ll catch you, then the violin. I don’t know. But you don’t have to stop playing the violin, Brett.” Eddy promised him with a firm gaze that met Brett’s wavering ones. “You’re too skilled to stop practicing the art. I also don’t want you to stop playing it, Brett.”

Chapter Text

Brett had fallen asleep out of exhaustion in his car while Eddy drove them to Brett’s house. 

Brett has spent the whole trip’s time sleeping and murmuring things Eddy couldn’t understand. Sometimes the shorter violinist would jolt in his sleep, grunt a little, then sigh before breathing back to normal sleepy breaths. Eddy thought it was not anything alarming, so he merely released the same soothing pheromones he did when he comforted Brett in that alleyway. Brett then unconsciously scented the car as if to say ‘thank you’. Then, Eddy would refocus his attention to driving. He normally wasn’t as careful as Brett when driving; however, he felt the need to be careful with his passenger which was why the usual twenty-minute ride extended to a thirty-five-minute ride.

Hence, Brett had had a long nap.

A nap so long that Eddy failed to rouse his best friend from his deep slumber despite the amount of name-calling, rude shaking, and pinching he did. Eddy resigned to carrying his best friend in his arms after thinking that a piggyback ride would not be appropriate for anyone pregnant, least of all someone with a delicate pregnancy.

After a good thirty minutes of struggling to open doors and get Brett into the house without dropping the older man, Eddy had finally managed to tuck Brett into his bed. Coincidentally, the rain caught up around their location and started pouring heavily. Figuring that he could not get a cab going home at the weather, he sat next to Brett’s snoozing body while getting his phone out to inform his mother that he would not be going home anytime soon due to the pouring rain.

By the time Eddy managed to finish his unnecessarily long conversation with his mother, Brett had already scooted over and slung an arm around one of Eddy’s legs, mistaking it for a bolster. Eddy sighed in defeat. Brett had looked too peaceful and immaculate in his sleep that Eddy felt it was a mortal sin to wake his friend up. After all, his friend seemed like he definitely needed sleep. So, Eddy let it be—then he leant backward against the headboard and had a snooze himself.

What Eddy did not expect was to actually fall asleep.

In their exhaustion, both of them unconsciously moved into a more comfortable position with Eddy’s head sliding down to the pillows and Brett letting Eddy’s leg go. However, due to the space of the bed, they huddled together to keep each other from falling off, which would have been fine if the other did not unconsciously climb on top of the other one. 

So when Eddy woke up to his absolute horror that not only did he subconsciously become Brett’s blanket but also sported a rather inappropriate erection from whatever dream he had dreamt about while humping his best friend, he immediately jumped off the bed and rushed home.

Thankfully, the erection died before anyone noticed him leaving Brett’s room.

On his way home, Eddy had a single thought running in his mind: He definitely needed to get laid.

It had been over two weeks before Eddy and Brett planned to meet each other for a video. Eddy mainly used his time apart practicing and also looking for a quick date on Tinder. He wasn’t exactly sure what brought on his increased libido since he had been pretty much abstinent since his last ex for some unknown reason. He might have been too engrossed in keeping the channel active for the past few years that getting laid had been the last thing on his mind—if it was at all. So, maybe it was his body screaming for him to get some action before he turns too old to get laid.

Maybe, it was his rut—but he was on rut suppressants since he allegedly got a girl pregnant during their uni days.

Maybe it was his suppressants failing just like Brett’s did?

Anyway, he didn’t exactly need to be in a relationship at the moment so he didn’t need to explain to all the girls that he matched with on Tinder that he was just looking for a quick fuck to relieve the urge he had been getting every now and then.

So, that was how he found…Sheila—a beta with a very generic Australian name which Eddy thinks is definitely not her real name, around mid-twenties, who works at a ‘business firm’, has been also looking for a quick fuck, and does not have any—if at all—clue about classical music outside from calling it the “music from dead men that makes me really sleepy”. A true perfect match for Eddy’s…Elgar, a near-thirty horny guy who serves bubble tea for a job and…a big K-Pop stan.

Sheila and ‘Elgar’ agreed to meet three days post-Eddy’s-horrifying-erection-incident-at-Brett’s-house. Eddy made sure ‘Elgar’ and he did not look the same by some red-coloured hair spray and purposefully got a spray tan just to avoid any lurking fans who might recognize him. After all, Brett and he are unintentionally riding on the fans’ speculations that they were together to keep the views running on their channel. He could not compromise the benefit they had for a quick fuck.

Sheila met ‘Elgar’ at ‘Elgar’’s supposed workplace, a humble bubble tea shop in the suburbs of Brisbane which coincidentally had a love hotel nearby. They had a brief chat, just asking about the terms and conditions of their arrangement. They both agreed to have strictly protected sex and should there be accidents , both of them would split the fees for the abortion.

And they also agreed on not taking photographs of each other.

So, they spent the rest of the day in bed. A day turned into two. Then three. Then, Brett’s angry voice message forced him to end the sex marathon with Sheila after day four. Sheila had unintentionally heard parts of the message, especially when Brett’s angry voice reached the loudest (and most hysterical) at ‘“..why the FUCK weren’t you answering my calls?! Your mum asked for you TEN TIMES! What was I supposed to tell her?! I was worried sick…”

Thankfully, Brett didn’t mention anything about Twoset Violin or his real name in his voice message. It did, however, sound like a very frustrated wife who was trying to locate her cheating husband.

Sheila’s knowing laugh when they parted ways haunted Eddy as he went back home. He wasn’t sure if Sheila recognised who he was because his temporary appearance washed away after the first night or because she thought that he was cheating on Brett—which was absurd but a more preferred option than the former.

Regardless of the situations conjured in Eddy’s head, Sheila just sent him a short ‘thx 4 the good time’ as a parting message before blocking him off.

To compensate for the time Eddy wasted getting his dick warmed by a stranger, he dedicated the second week to uninterrupted hours of practice in preparation for a video they planned to record in a week’s time.

However, things turned slightly for the worse. 

Brett has never been the type of person who would be late for a practice or a filming day and not tell Eddy about it. In fact, it has been standard practice that once Brett is in Eddy’s house, Eddy is required to wake up and get ready because Brett is already up and ready. So when there were any delays in shoots, Brett was rarely the one at fault.

Eddy was usually the one who was.

Except, this time it was Brett.

Eddy woke up at four in the morning after feeling very ill (again) in his sleep and felt the need to regurgitate his dinner. Then, Eddy broke his fast with a lovely ginger tea before returning to his bed for an additional nap until the next wave of nausea kicked in. Rinse and repeat. That usually meant that at eight or nine in the morning, Eddy would be well-exhausted but thankfully not nauseous anymore. However, when Eddy managed to drag his exhausted ass to the practice rooms and was left with the sight of nothing but his violin and the piano at ten in the morning, he knew something was odd. He checked his messages and his call log—there was no sign of Brett ever cancelling, which was alarming. Despite being friends, Brett was professional to him. He’d never go AWOL on him without prior notice, unlike what he recently did when he was with Sheila.

So Eddy drove to Brett’s house in a rush, his guts taut like an over-tightened bow. His heart was racing as fast as he was driving too—90 kilometres on a busy road! He tried to be logical about what he was feeling. There’s no way Brett would be in danger. He and Brett facetimed last night; there was nothing that would indicate that Brett was unwell. In fact, Brett’s cheeks had even started to have a rosy glow and he was even cracking jokes left and right before ending the call. Surely, he was just overthinking.

If the distant ambulance noise that seemed to follow Eddy was a foreboding noise, only fates could tell.

Eddy managed to park haphazardly on a tow-away lane and ran to Brett’s house in record speed. The smell he encountered when he was a few metres away from Brett’s house gave Eddy a severe case of goosebumps. It smelled like decaying fruit, which does not smell good to any subgender. It didn’t help his anxiety that the closer he was to Brett’s house, the smell got convoluted with other scents that scream panic and despair. Eddy’s throat tightened as another wave of nausea washed over him.

Maybe his gut feeling was right; maybe something was definitely wrong with Brett.

“...check if the ambulance is near,” Eddy overheard Papa Yang speak in Chinese from inside the house and a few beats later, the front door opened.

“Oh, hi, Yang-shushu. I came to check on Brett?” Eddy gasped, trying to swallow his intense emotions from showing. 

“Ba, is that Eddy? Tell him to come in! Hurry!” Brent’s exhausted voice rang through the house. Papa Yang had to look over Eddy like everything was Eddy’s fault. Eddy cowered in the older alpha’s scrutiny. “Hurry, Ba! We don’t have time!!”

“He’s coming in!” Papa Yang replied resignedly and stepped aside for Eddy to come in. “You heard my boy, hurry up and help my son.”

As soon as he passed through the threshold of Brett’s house, he followed the strong scent of putrid and souring oranges through the house and found Brent performing chest compressions on his unconscious brother in the bathroom beside shards of broken glass and a few smears of blood on the floor. Eddy stood by the door, frozen and unable to do anything helpful. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. The worst Eddy has seen of Brett was in the hospital a couple of months ago and when Brett could not barely move in their Singapore apartment when the latter had a gastrointestinal infection. However on both times, Brett was immediately catered by a medical professional. What can he, a medical school drop out, even do to help?

“EDDY!! SOME PHEROMONES WOULD BE HELPFUL HERE?!?” Brent exclaimed as he pumped into Brett’s chest, voice getting breathier by the minute.

Eddy snapped back to reality. What did Brent say? Pheromones?

“I...I...can’t just produce them! What kind of pheromones do you even need?” Eddy reasoned out as he tried to think of ways to get his pheromones out without smelling like fear and panic.

“ANYTHING! THINK OF MY BROTHER AND GO FROM THERE!”

“What do you mean?! I am releasing some pheromones right now and I am not sure fear is what you need!” Eddy quipped, feeling very agitated. It was starting to overlap his fear. There was something in the way Brent gave out his orders that didn't sit very well with Eddy and it was slowly getting to his nerves.

“Fucking useless alpha,” Brent muttered low enough for Eddy to hear but it was enough to fuel Eddy’s already irate temper. There was something ringing a high C6 in Eddy’s ears and he can’t seem to find where it was coming from; all he can sense was the scent of panic from Brent and the decaying smell coming from Brett’s unconscious form.

Eddy’s vision darkened.

When Eddy came into consciousness, he was surprised at the restraints placed on him. Nothing was spared. Thick restraining belts held him down to a gurney. Brent was standing about two metres away.

“Wha...the fuck...happened?” Eddy asked, voice still slurred from the anti-psychotics and the tranquilizer, and tugged at his restraints. His head felt like it was submerged underwater for days.

Brent simply held out a heavily bandaged hand. “You bit me,” Brent explained.

Eddy groaned hard. From the looks of it, he had alpha raged badly enough to cause lasting damage. He just could not seem to remember what caused it. The last time he had a similar experience was when the omega he spent a rut with accidentally got pregnant and he learned that the girl had an abortion without his consent. Logically, he should have been fine with the abortion—and knowing the girl, he shouldn’t have been very affected as he had about one in a ten chance that he was the father of the aborted child since she was quite promiscuous during that time. But he still injured the poor omega’s hands by squeezing her hands too tightly and according to some eyewitnesses (namely, Brett), he had ‘snarled at everyone who dared to come close that even I got scared of you.’

Which was really embarrassing because the girl was just another ‘Sheila’ to him at that time. A convenient rut partner .

Right now, Eddy couldn't come up with a reason why he would get into an alpha rage. Thinking more about it is just making his already muddled head hurt more.

“I never knew you could be so possessive, Eddy,” Brent commented and inspected his bandaged hand. It wasn’t a neat slice—hell, it was the exact opposite. It was a dirty bite. Skin in different levels was peeled off. It bled in different areas and the severity varied depending on Eddy’s teeth marks. Angry alphas often had anti-coagulants in their saliva. Eddy happened to have a very potent anti-coagulant at that time when he bit Brent’s hand. 

That just showed how angry Eddy was at that time. Brent took that realization the harder way.

“You know, for someone who claims to be just friends with my brother, you surely have some intense reactions around him.” Brent cautiously reached for Eddy’s medical record at the foot of his gurney. 

Eddy keeled at the realization that his alpha rage might have something to do with Brett. He knew he can get overprotective towards his friend but that was simply brought by the fear of having to tell Brett's parents that their son got injured and be held liable for the injuries sustained by his reckless friend. Also, he had been schooled to take care of omegas properly and Eddy had to protect Brett multiple times from anyone and anything including himself. So yes, he could get overprotective but he was never possessive! 

He did wish he could remember more than going to Brett's house to check on him so he could rightfully defend himself from the accusations. But even if he did, he wasn’t sure he could say those words out loud since his tongue felt like a huge block of lead in his mouth.

“I...What...wha did I do?”

“You bit me when I tried to take my brother away from you.” Brent stated blankly. “We had to take you down so my convulsing brother who did not have a pulse this morning can be brought here.”

“Brett...in here? Is he okay?” Eddy slurred, eyes reflecting his panic for all to see; his arms tugged at the restraints harder with every word. 

“He and the baby are fine. My brother just...needed some pheromones to stabilize his hormones,” Brent reported to Eddy, eyeing the violinist’s reaction to the news. When Eddy visibly relaxed and slumped against the bed, a cold shiver ran through Brent’s spine. It was that eerily tingling, searing sensation that pops in suddenly when nothing seems to be normal and it seemed like everything that happened was a fever dream.

“Ah, what the fuck. What the everloving fuck. My wife and I don’t act this way and we’re married and bonded.” Brent looked heavenward, as if to ask for divine intervention. “You sure the two of you don’t have a thing going on?”

“Wha?”

“Ey, fuck you, Eddy. Don’t play dumb. Answer me,” Brent insisted, thinking maybe he could fish out a confession from a drugged man.

“Wha? Like me and Brett? Shit bro, we’re just friends! Why does no one believe…,” Eddy garbled through his muddled head. Brent groaned and looked at what medications he can give to Eddy to further loosen his mouth because clearly even with the strongest tranquilizer, Eddy can still lie. However, the medications already administered to Eddy included a generic anaesthesia to paralyze Eddy and keep him from injuring the nurses...which meant Eddy was supposed to already have loose lips by now .

Oh dear heavens.

“What do you feel about my brother?”

“I…I dunno. But dude, I really like…,” Eddy stuttered, raising Brent’s expectations. “I like…his Bach Ana-andate-andante’s good. So fucking neat."

What the fuck.

“What do you like about my brother?”

“Wha—I like? Mm, his left hand pizz’s good. He’s got really agile fingers; I wish I had them, get what I mean, yeah?"

Fucking hell.

“Would you date my brother?”

“Wha? Noooo! He’s not into men! Brett’s like…ramrod straight. I think he only likes fictional men...like...like...Sebastian from…from Black Butler. I saw him ogle a Sebastian cospla—”

“OKAY!” Brent yelped. “Okay! Okay, yes, I believe you now. Jesus, what the fuck! Ah, whatever man, just ARGH”

Then the young doctor promptly walked away.

Eddy still did not know what caused his alpha rage. After that interrogation, he wasn’t sure if he would like to remember at all. 

Brent Yang is an attending obstetrician and gynecologist with a specialization on male omegas. His education took a total of eight years.

He did not suffer countless years not being able to help his dear brother.

Brent tried to move back to his parents’ house to supply his dear brother some good alpha pheromones on top of what their father can supply. Dr. Tran, his mentor, suggested that throughout Brett’s delicate pregnancy, Brett must be stabilized with alpha pheromones so they can naturally suppress the hormonal poisoning happening in Brett’s body—which all in theory, should work. 

However, there’s something called an extraneous variable that neither doctors in the field of omegan obstetrics and gynecology can decipher and comprehend.

Something they defined in their notes as the ‘Eddy Chen factor’.

The Eddy Chen factor was defined, in verbatim, as:

“...some kind of weird shit going on between the patient and this one guy; they claim not to be mates and according to the endocrinologist we bribed into our research, neither parties have a severed mating gland which suggests that what they claim is true and they are not mates but their biological reactions are the same as of a mated pair so WHAT THE FUCK, WHY THE FUCK, WHOMST’VE THE FUCK”

Which also had a neater and tinier subnote:

“Dr Yang, please refrain from writing obscenities in our logbook but I agree with your sentiment. Ugh, this is a headache.”

So, in order to justify this weird behavior, Brent Yang decided that maybe he could actually get some important yet unsaid information from the man who just bit a sizable chunk off his dominant hand while the said man was under the influence of anesthesia and other things that could make a man spill his secrets. Because, maybe, just maybe , there was something that they missed and they could better understand his brother’s case.

He called it the Pining Theory. Maybe both his brother and Eddy were pining towards each other and declared to themselves that the other was their mate even without the physical proof. In other words, maybe the bond was psychological .

However, his tragic interview with Eddy proved otherwise. Eddy was surely not pining over Brett. Eddy might have some hero-worship type of fascination towards Brett but Brent was sure it was not enough to cause a psychological bond that rivals an actual bond.

So, he went to visit his brother next, thinking that maybe the pining was one-sided. He was very positive that maybe it was his brother who pined for Eddy and claimed the younger alpha as his mate, psychologically.

However…

“What nonsense are you asking me, didi? Don’t tell me you believe the fans’ speculations?” was all he received from Brett when he visited his brother who seemed to be so tired of getting hooked to various medical devices already. Brett looked anguished and his free hand had its ball pressed to one of his eyes.

“Well, are you in love with him though? Honestly speaking?” Brent reiterated his question, not taking his brother’s elusive answer.

Brett sighed, then groaned, then he pulled a grimace before answering. “To be honest, no offense to Eddy, but I have seen enough of his shit that I don’t see anything attractive in him. I kinda get why girls would fall for him but Christ , the amount of shit I had to put up—it makes me wonder why I am friends with him. Don’t tell him that. ”

“I was not asking if you found him attractive, da-ge. I was asking if you’re in love with him!”

“No...? Why would I be? He’s my friend.”

“Is there a chance you see yourself as his mate?” Brent gave him a side-eye, which passed through Brett like a weak gust of wind.

“What the fuck? Of course, not!” Brett exclaimed, choking on air. “Bro, Eddy’s really straight. He might joke about selling himself for BTS but that idiot’s straight, man. I think he just got laid a couple of weeks ago.”

“Again, that’s not answering my question,” Brent supplied, glaring at his brother.

“What do you mean? I just did. I wouldn’t dare mating and bonding myself to anyone; you know that, didi ,” Brett groaned. 

“You sure? I thought you said that just because you were bullied by alphas in high school?”

"Nah, it used to be that way but now, I don't think I'll ever get into the family way." 

"You're literally pregnant, da-ge."  

"I'm giving this child up for adoption! You don't need to remind me," snarled Brett, his breathing becoming more laboured. 

"For fuck's sakes, I don't know what to do with you anymore."

"Then why don't you STOP FORCING ME ABOUT BONDING AND MATING?! It's getting on my nerves, I don't want to be reminded how weak I am!" Brett whined angrily. 

Tears began to spring out of his eyes and his shoulders started convulsing as he hiccoughed. Brent was stunned shut. He rarely saw his brother throw an expressive display of emotions, much less a tantrum. 

Brett felt helpless; his lamentations echoed his desperation. 

"Why am I not born an alpha? Why was I born an omega? Why can't I live without someone stronger? Why do I need to change so many things about me to become who I want? Why am I not enough?" wailed Brett with the balls of his hands pressed hard against his eyes. His tears flowed over his cheeks as he sobbed. "I don't want this life. I just want to be healthy. Why do I need to have so many complications?" 

Brent simply gave a short apology before leaving Brett's private room. 

"As of June 30th, 2022, one of the doctors inquired further regarding the romantic attachments involving the patient and 'that one guy.' Upon further inspection it was discovered that there are no hints of psychological bonding occurring. Both participants have declared that there is no, I repeat, NO ROMANTIC FEELING TOWARD EACH OTHER. Hence, the theory of a psychological bond existing between the patient and ‘that one guy’ is disproved in this case. Help us, God."

Chen, Edward  —  Case Report — page 1 of __

ROYAL BRISBANE AND WOMEN’S HOSPITAL

PSYCHIATRIC WARD FOR PHEROMONAL MALADIES

CASE REPORT

Patient Name: Edward Chen Weicheng             Case Handler: Dr. Matilda Hopkins, Psy.D.

Age: 29             DOB: 23 March 1993               Date Handled: 29 June 2022

Primary Sex: Male         Secondary Sex: Alpha         Mated (Y/N): No

Case Summary: Acute Pheromone-Induced Aggression Disorder (APIAD)

Case Narrative:

29-year old Asian alpha man was admitted into the ward, heavily strapped in a straitjacket by the emergency response team that retrieved the patient. Eyewitnesses reported that the alpha was triggered by another alpha (BnY, 26Ma) in the presence of a pregnant omega (BtY, 30Mo) in distress.

BtY is reportedly the patient’s best friend since the patient was 14. BnY is the BtY’s younger brother and one of the attending OB-GYN who was resuscitating the omega, who was then unconscious without a pulse.

The patient admits to having no recollection of the events that occured prior to his admission in the hospital. His latest memory was going to BtY’s family home when BtY missed their agreed time to meet.

Testimonies from BnY who was there in venue the entire time in his sane mind reports that the patient was called in to help resuscitate BtY, who was reported to suffer from a severe case of Isolated Gravid Mate Syndrome. The patient then released pheromones which increased BnY’s success rate in resuscitating BtY. After BtY’s pulse returned, BnY was suddenly pulled away from BtY and released territorial scents in the location. The patient was reported to keep BtY in a ‘vise grip’. 

When paramedics came around, BnY tried to pry the patient off BtY, who needed to be assisted immediately by the emergency team.

It was during this time that the patient had bitten off a sizable chunk from BnY’s right hand, causing nerve and tissue damage, and intensive bleeding caused by anticoagulants in the patient’s saliva, indicating that the patient was under APIAD. The emergency team had to assist BnY first before shooting the patient with intramuscular Diazepam 10mg. When this did not work, the team injected the patient with intramuscular Midazolam 5mg to paralyze the patient in order to be able to retrieve BtY.

However, this only weakened his grip on BtY enough for the team to grab the omega into a stretcher, The patient had to be given a second dose of Midazolam 5mg for the team to put him in a straitjacket. The patient was then injected with a sedative to keep him from injuring the team on the way to the hospital.

Patient was admitted into the ward at 10:33 AM, unconscious but with normal vital signs.

Patient was also diagnosed with Dysthymia by Dr. Harrold Smith with a treatment plan of Fluoxetine 20mg and Alprazolam 50mcg in 2010, followed by a suicide attempt via Fluoxetine overdose in 2011. After which he was under the supervision of Dr. Rupert Sanguine and Dr. Sandra Lee, where he was treated with Duloxetine 20mg and a biweekly therapy session with Dr. Lee.

Patient was declared resolved by both Drs. Sanguine and Lee in 2016. Patient has not seen psychiatric nor psychological help since then.

Treatment Plan: Biweekly monitored counselling with Dr. Sandra Lee, Rx Haloperidol Decanoate 5mg tablets, 2x a day. Re-evaluate after four (4) weeks.

Remarks: Patient’s MRI shows no residual activity in the amygdala 2 hours post-rampage; catecholamine concentration decreased (<10%) in the follow-up scan after being admitted in the hospital for 1 hour (3 hours post-rampage), then another dramatic drop in catecholamine concentration (<90%) in the amygdala partnered with a significant increase in dopamine (<90%) and oxytocin (<50%) in the hypothalamus 5 hours post-rampage despite having no treatment other than restraints given to the patient. Patient’s blood chemistry also suggests that the patient has been experiencing altered hormone levels indicating that the patient is experiencing Couvade Syndrome which was likely attributed to his partner’s best friend’s pregnancy.

—————END OF CASE REPORT—————

“Haloperidol, really, Dr Hopkins?” eked Brent, tutting at the case report he ‘borrowed’ from Eddy’s attending physician and psychiatrist. “With this kind of findings on the MRI? Isn’t that a bit too strong?”

“Are you questioning my practice, Dr Yang?” 

“Oh, no, I am in no way an expert on antipsychotic drugs, Dr Hopkins. I am just here to warn you,” replied Brent, clearly tired of analyzing and using up all his willpower not to give up on his brother. Dr Hopkins did not seem fazed.

“Keep the warning to yourself, Dr Yang, since you obviously did not do so… considering your injury ,” Dr Hopkins eyed his bandaged hand. Brent keeled at the scrutiny. “Mr Chen is a danger to everyone around him. He needs to be tamed. So, haloperidol, it is.”

Brent scoffed. “As if I was about to warn you about Eddy’s temper. I’m here to warn you about what my brother’s presence can do to your findings. In fact, I think you just started to witness it in your report.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother came to visit Eddy after I told him that Eddy was awake,” Brent informed Dr Hopkins. “The timing should coincide with the burst in dopamine and oxytocin in your report. It was around two hours after Eddy was admitted here.”

“That’s natural. They’re long-term partners. Of course, there would be an effect,” shrilled Dr Hopkins.

“Surely, the catecholamine drop meant something!”

“No!” Brent rolled his eyes. Dr Hopkins stood her ground haughtily. “Again, having his partner around will make him feel safer; hence, there’s no need for all that fear hormones rushing in his body. Also—if I might add—pregnant omegas cause all alphas to be tame. It’s a perfectly natural reaction!”

Brent perked his ears at Dr Hopkins’ explanation. He could feel his cheeks tightening in a smirk.

“Oh, what was that again, Dr Hopkins?” Brent asked sultrily.

“Pregnant omegas release calming pheromones to protect them from angry alphas,” Brent gave Dr Hopkins a side-eye. “Therefore, it’s a natural reaction!”

Brent rolled his eyes, again.

“Oh whatever, I’ll just cut into the chase and tell you that I need Eddy to be with my brother because for some unknown god-only-knows reason, he stabilizes my very unstable brother and I need him to be able to give the necessary pheromones, whatever is it, without haloperidol interference.”

Dr Hopkins squinted her eyes in cynicism.

“Also, we have the added benefit of Eddy calming down around my brother naturally because…?”

“Oh.”

Chen, Edward  —  Case Report — page 2 of __

UPDATE ON TREATMENT PLAN (30/06/22)

Change treatment plan to biweekly monitored counselling with Dr. Lee, enforced co-habitation with Mr. Brett Yang for the next three trimesters.

—————END OF CASE REPORT—————

Chapter Text

When the doctors informed Eddy that he was to move into the Yangs' residence to recover from his alpha rage, he questioned the treatment plan. 

From what little information he managed to pick up from medical school, this kind of treatment is sort of illegal especially when the two main patients in the case are unbonded since that would imply that there was a confidentiality break that happened somewhere. However, the psychologist-psychiatrist in charge of him mentioned that he needed to wear off the megadose of antipsychotics plugged into his system before they could prescribe him a new one so they opted for a more natural approach. 

Brent—Dr. Yang—someone who shouldn’t have been in the case in the first place, on the other hand, explained that neither Papa Yang's nor his own pheromones had been enough to stabilise Brett when Brett and he were apart for days. In fact, a day after Brett and Eddy's meeting, Brett's condition worsened dramatically with Brett barely able to stand without triggering a migraine and his blood pressure slowly tanking. It was only a little over a fortnight before Brett collapsed and had seizures, which in theory should not have happened because he was surrounded by alphas giving him pheromones at home. Then, when Eddy came over and made a huge pheromone burst, it stabilised Brett so fast that a huge delay caused by Eddy's alpha rage did not matter on Brett's supposed urgent medical emergency. 

Eddy felt a cold block heavier than the blocks he had ever felt in his life during competitions and auditions settle in his gut. He was reminded by the theory Brent told him back in the hospital–about him 'bonding' with Brett. 

What if he accidentally shackled Brett to him? Would Brett even forgive him for that? Does he even know about the whole 'bonding' situation? How can he undo this mishap? He can't imagine what would happen to his life if he had a falling out with Brett. His life—his career, Twoset—all of it would be harder to navigate without Brett.

He really wished he knew how he managed to accidentally bond with Brett so he could fix it. 

A lighthearted chuckle disturbed him from his thoughts. It was his therapist with an amused smile gracing her lips. 

"Bonds don't work that way, Eddy," his therapist supplied, making Eddy wonder how she was able to read his mind. Then, she added, "Son, you were thinking out loud. Besides, I don't think you're bonded with Mr. Yang at all." 

"How can you say that?" Eddy inquired, doubtful yet still hoping he was actually not mated to Brett. 

"Bonds—whether it may be psychological or physiological—need both parties to consent for it to form. If what you're saying is true that Mr. Yang does not wish to be in a bond, then consent isn't there to begin with and no bond will be formed," explained his therapist, pulling a heavy thorn lodged in his metaphorical chest. 

"But—" 

“No buts, Eddy. There is no such thing as an accidental bonding. This is why rape victims rarely produce a healthy bond with their child because the mother refused to consent to the biological bond formed from an involuntary sexual intercourse,” the therapist paused to assess Eddy’s reaction. When it seemed that Eddy was having a metaphorical buffering screen on his face, she sighed and scribbled a few things on her notebook before tearing the page and handing it out to Eddy.

“Wha—what’s this?”

“We’ll have an activity,” declared his therapist and kept the rest of her things back on her desk. “You seemed to be so hellbent on thinking that this… bond… truly exists and it’s affecting your behaviour towards Mr. Yang—the elder one.” 

Eddy turned the paper to face his direction; his face scrunching up at the words written on the paper. He rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

"List of people I dated before…?" Eddy parrotted the text in his hands. The therapist gave him a lazy nod, as if the simple gesture would be enough to answer the questions running in Eddy's head like buzzing bees. "What the…? What has it got to do with–are…are you assuming I'd write Brett's name there somewhere?" 

"No, I don't," the therapist curtly explained, "I just want to get a profile of what makes a good mate, according to your history of chosen partners."

"Well, I didn't date to mate with them—" 

"Yes, no one does that consciously when they try to date someone, Eddy. I just want you to make an observation for yourself." 

Eddy stalled, unsure of what he was supposed to do. The therapist handed him a pen.

"Go on. Let's do this slowly, shall we?" 

What happened for the next couple of hours was slightly enlightening and a bit embarrassing on Eddy's part. Just out of a few things he wrote on a sheet of paper, his therapist managed to expose his issues and determined why his past relationships ended and didn't last long enough to form a healthy psychological but romantic bond. Turns out, his fear of failure and his anxiety from expectations set on his shoulders kept him from pushing his relationships to another level–which may have contributed to 90% of the reasons why his ex-girlfriends broke up with him.  

His therapist might have also pointed out that he does have a specific type and that was someone cutesy , nerdy , and who is willing to deal with Eddy's burgeoning mummy issues . Appallingly, being a musician is not very high on his list of priorities in a partner. However, being someone who likes to listen to classical music was a huge plus to Eddy–much to his relief.

At the end of Eddy’s excruciatingly long two-hour therapy, the violinist felt exposed and exhausted. He just wanted to get over the whole issue and go back to normal where he and Brett can focus on making merch and videos. However, the almighty beings aren’t done with him just yet.

His phone rang just as he left his therapist's office. It was an unregistered number. 

Thinking it was unimportant, Eddy ended the call; he was confident that the person would text him and introduce later if it was truly important. 

But the same number called within a minute of ending the first call. Urgent, I guess? 

"Hello, may I speak to Edward Chen?" the voice on the other side of the line asked. 

"Speaking."

"Oh, great," the woman cheerily chirped. "This is from the OB-GYN Department of Royal Brisbane. We were trying to reach your omega about his appointment but he wasn't answering."

"What?! Are you sure you got the right number?" Eddy shrieked, his head still feeling thoroughly minced from his session with his telepathic therapist. What the fuck is going on? 

"Your omega, sir? Is he still coming to his appointment today? Or, is he rebooking?" 

"Wait, wait, wait —are you sure you got the right number? I don't have an omega. I'm unbonded ," Eddy's voice struggled to keep a calm pace. His head was threatening to explode. 

"Wait…," the woman stalled. "It says here on our records that you're the alpha of Brett Yang ?"

Oh.

Oh shit. 

I should have known my lie was going to the system. 

"Oh shit, that, ah yes uhh…about that…," Eddy groaned, his headache was blooming into a full-blown migraine. "Is there a way to rectify the records? Uh, he's not…he's not my omega. I'm not his alpha…he's…I'm just his friend. I…we just work together. We just happen to be of different secondary genders."

"Oh, I'm not sure if I could do that now, but we're rather concerned about your ome–your…uhh…friend," the woman gave a suspicious pause. "We got it in our record that his case needs monitoring and he hasn't returned our calls yet. He hasn't checked in for today too."

Eddy wondered what his friend could have been up to in order to miss his appointments. It was very unlike him. Brett was very punctual. Unless…

Fuck.

"I…I, well, I don’t know what’s up with him. He rarely misses his appointments,” Eddy stuttered through the call. The woman on the other line hummed as if to say that Eddy should do something about it. Eddy felt his gut sinking a tad lower and colder as he spoke. 

“Maybe you should check on your omega friend.”

“All right, I'll go ask where he is and tell him to call you as soon as he can," Eddy quickly ended the call and went to his car to cool off his head. 

There, he called Brett. His calls were unanswered. The heavy weight in his gut grew heavier and colder.

Rushing home, he also called Brett's mum. She said she was out but told Eddy that Brett was just in their house when she left two hours ago. 

Eddy stepped on the gas a little bit harder. 

As soon as Eddy parked near Brett's house, he didn't smell anything that would be alarming. In fact, the house felt too peaceful. Too peaceful it made the hairs on Eddy’s spine rise.

He scanned the bedrooms first. All the bedrooms were unoccupied. 

Then, he checked the lounge, the dining room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. No Brett was found.

Eddy was considering filing for a missing person report when the telltale sound of the washing machine finishing went off. He went to the laundry area and found his friend there.

Laid down in the middle of a nest of unwashed clothing. On the floor. With legs tucked close to his body and arms snuggling one of their hoodie merch cozily.

If Brett’s health condition was as pristine as he was as a baby, Eddy would have left his stupid friend to freeze on the cold floor; probably take a photo of it and send it their group chats too.

But Brett had recently been to the hospital and Eddy was just called by the said hospital because his idiot friend decided to sleep on the floor in the middle of washing clothes so  instead of being an asshole, Eddy gently tapped on his frail friend to rouse him from sleep.

But Brett responded by snuggling deeper into the unwashed clothes on the floor—which Eddy just realised were his clothes from when he haphazardly packed a bag of clothes from home. Eddy found it very creepy that Brett was sniffing his used clothes but he supposed hormones make pregnant people do stupid things.

“Brett,” he tried calling out to his snoozing friend. He received a soft purr in response. Eddy tried to call out louder but his friend seemed to have reached inception level of sleep; so, Eddy tried to carry his unconscious friend into a more comfortable place to sleep in—like a bed. 

However, just when Eddy was about to take Brett out of the laundry area, his friend decided to wake up, have a mini-freak out, and wrap his arms around Eddy’s neck.

“Bro…what the fuck?” Brett groggily complained when he came to realise that he was about three feet above the ground and pressed against his friend’s toned chest. “Wh-why are you carrying me? Put me down.”

“You were sleeping on the floor.”

“Bullshit. Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Dunno, man. You tell me. You were the one who was sniffing my used clothes on the floor like a homeless stalker,” Eddy sniggered, enjoying the look of his friend turning red from mortification. Brett scrambled off Eddy’s arms in response. He may have landed on the floor like a newborn foal but the shove he gave Eddy was satisfying. 

“Dude, is this how you repay someone who checked up on you after you ditched your OB appointment for a snooze?” Eddy jokingly sneered at Brett. Brett was about to launch his fingers toward Eddy’s sides in a tickle attack when Eddy’s words started to make sense in his head.

"Oh fuck fuck fuckkkk! I missed my appointment! I got to call them for another appointment. My brother's going to grill my ass again," Brett's voice echoed as he ran to his own room, presumably to call the same person who called Eddy earlier.

With nothing else to do, Eddy looked at the discarded pile of washables and sighed heavily. 

A man who just alpha-raged for no reason and got diagnosed with 'burgeoning mummy issues' and an unmated, unbonded pregnant omega scraping the clothes of his alpha best friend for pheromones…what a colossal pair of mishaps they are. 

Eddy guesses that's exactly why they are friends. 

Eddy thought that Brett’s random sleeping episode was a one-off thing.

Apparently, it was a general tiredness thing since Eddy kept noticing Brett yawning and destroying most of their shots with it. Neither men discussed the whole pregnancy thing to their team outside of calling it a 'relapse from 2020' and Brett just needing more time to rest and taking everything at a snail's pace. 

Brett was amenable to it even if the idea of being the one holding his team back irked him to high heavens. The more he tried to keep his tiredness in, the more tired he actually got. So, he had to swallow the bitter pill of admitting that he should take things slow and just nap in between recording sessions so he could have the energy to be lively on screen. 

Eddy thought that Brett's sleeping got resolved. 

But when he frequently saw Brett in his borrowed bedroom, sleeping like a baby, instead of practising his Mendelssohn like he should be, Eddy grew concerned. 

He wasn't exactly given instructions as to how this whole cohabitation thing works and he felt like he should have been given concrete instructions aside from living together with Brett. He does have an idea on what to do but unless someone specifically said something , he probably shouldn't try anything lest he wanted to estrange his best friend. 

Still, Eddy hasn't grown a pair to physically rouse his friend whenever he catches his friend in his bedroom and has always resorted to calling his best friend from the next room to wake him up. He wasn't exactly sure how Brett would react when Eddy catches him in a compromising state again. 

He wasn't sure how he himself would react too. 

Eddy admits that things have gone a little bit awkward since Brett had gotten pregnant—he just chose not to point it out. He's always been like that with his friends. He waits before someone else points an issue out, then he speaks his mind. That's pretty much how most introverts like Eddy deal with issues.

However, Brett's nearing the end of his first trimester and neither man has talked about the awkwardness between them. Sure, they've gone back to their usual routine, but Eddy still feels the invisible barrier between them and he'd rather have it gone. 

Thing is, for as long as nobody else (read: Brett) brings up the issue, Eddy will keep thinking that it was all in his head. 

Which was driving Eddy nuts enough to see a therapist. 

So, when he finally noticed that there's concrete proof that there's an issue going on (read: Brett's weird habit of sleeping near things Eddy was recently in), Eddy decided to confront the other man with it. 

"Hey bro, you have a minute?" he told Brett one day, when he had finally completed the list of things he'd like to talk about in his notes app. Brett was in the middle of sending emails to their team when Eddy decided it was time. 

"Sure man, lemme just send these out, I'll be with you," the other man replied, his fingers quickening on the keyboard. Eddy hummed.

"I'll be in the living room. Don't take too long." 

Ever since the time Brett was caught sleeping in a makeshift nest on the floor with his friend's unwashed clothes, he has tried to suppress the urge to go to the laundry room.

It was embarrassing enough to be caught sleeping on the floor, it was even more embarrassing to be caught sniffing your best friend's clothing and Brett could not outlive the shame of his actions. He wasn't even sure what compelled him to do so but he was probably too delirious from the soup that is his hormone-poisoned brain to rationalize all his actions. 

He may have recently found out that his mind clears up more and the fear of being pregnant is soothed by Eddy's presence. Brett might be the extrovert between the two but he refuses to become clingy just because of his mental issues. 

Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Eddy to use him just to soothe his psychological pains. His friend is more than that. His friend deserves to be treated more than that. 

He just wishes he didn't have to scour for scraps because his fear and anxiety was gnawing at him and he would rather have the comfort willingly given, rather than taking it discreetly. 

Brett likes to think he was discreet enough whenever he tries to use Eddy's pillows as a soothing balm when he feels a panic attack rising—whether that came from the anxiety of having to perform in front of a huge crowd for their four-million subscriber special, or from the fear of having to carry a child—but he knew Eddy has caught wind of his actions and pretends he was none the wiser. 

So, Brett pretends for Eddy too. Until Eddy decided to confront him about it. Brett knew that 'minute' wouldn't be just a 'minute'. Eddy rarely asks for a 'minute'. When he does, it won't be a 'minute.' 

His heart suddenly sped up and his hands spewed cold sweat. 

When Brett finally came into the living room, Eddy looked like he was about to hand him a verdict. There was a box of tissues lying in front of him, ominously present.

Brett slowly sat down on one of the settees in the living room. Eddy slowly grabbed the tissue box in front of him and handed it to Brett, confirming Brett's suspicion that whatever Eddy would say would make him need the tissues. 

So, Brett steeled himself as he declined the offer. 

In hindsight, he should have taken the offer because Eddy looked very serious and it made Brett's eyes disobediently tear up a little. 

"I noticed you've been falling asleep frequently, I get that—because you're physically growing another human; that must be really tiring—but…I also noticed you've been doing it in my bedroom," Eddy poured his major concern in a single run-on sentence before he chickened out. Brett didn't seem to react violently with his statement so he pushed forward. 

"I…I just…I'm not stupid or dumb, Brett. I…I just thought that maybe there's anything I can do to help you?" Eddy skirmishes, only to receive little reaction from Brett. If anything, Brett seemed to look away from him. Eddy was steadfast in his gaze. He wanted Brett to turn back to him. 

"I can see you're struggling. You told me you were scared. I know you hate to depend on anyone but you don't have to keep putting on a strong façade when you're needing something. All you had to do was ask for help and I'll be there to help," Eddy gave a little pause to check on his partner. Brett was looking down at his own trembling hands. Brett did not notice them shaking. The older violinist let out a shaky laugh. 

"Look at you, acting all grown up," Brett teased, his voice sounding awfully wet. He wasn't sure how and why he got very emotional all of a sudden. He cleared his throat and regained his voice. "I'm the one you usually run to when you have troubles. Since when were you the one trying to solve mine?" 

"You idiot, I'm your best friend. Of course, I'll try to help you!" Eddy gasped at the accusation. Brett was almost in tears when Eddy declared his pledge to help him. "You think I'm the only one who needs things and can't return the favour? Brooo, I'm offended you think so lowl—" 

"Could I get a hug?" Brett eked in the littlest way possible. 

Eddy looked at his friend like he had sprouted an extra head. 

"Err, just a hug? I mean, sure. Why not?" 

Eddy scooted over to where Brett was and gave his stupid friend a tight hug. He felt his friend sag in his arms. Eddy embraced him closer. His friend responded with a big breath of relief. 

"You know you could just ask for hugs anytime, right, Brettybang?" 

"Mmh hunh mm…," Brett murmured against Eddy's clothed pectorals. "Mmmm…" 

The younger violinist giggled at the vibration of Brett's murmur on his chest. He perfectly knew that Brett would not attempt to ask the next time he needed hugs because that had been how Brett was since they were teens: so stubbornly independent. 

Eddy made sure to take note of Brett's scent as they snuggled. 

If he ever notices Brett smelling like sweet caramelised milk, he would not wait for Brett to ask for hugs.

Eddy risked rubbing soothing circles on Brett's head while the other man's head was nestled perfectly on his clavicle. 

What he did not expect to come out of his actions was to hear purring .

Brett rarely purred. He noticed that in all the fifteen years they were friends. Other omegas purr even at the sight of good food or being able to sit in very comfortable places. Brett was not a typical omega. He rarely purrs. 

Eddy had only witnessed Brett purring once in their time together when they were in a concert that played Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in Brisbane and the man had to grip Eddy's arm so tightly as he purred . 

'Fuuuuuuuck, did you hear that cadenza? That was soooooo good I got goosebumps all over me!' Brett had said after the concert. 

After that, Eddy had never witnessed Brett purring ever again…until he rubbed Brett's head like a cat. He knew the other man rarely lets people in on his thoughts and feelings and it took Eddy his entire uni years to read Brett like an open book—it was all about subtle cues: scent changes, hand gestures, head movements, face motions, and changes in his tone of voice. 

This time, however, he doesn't seem to understand his friend at all. Brett started to shut himself off since they had the big argument back in the hospital. Though they've reconciled, the issues lingered and they never really were settled. Brett still didn't fully trust Eddy with his thoughts and Eddy struggled to read him. He knew from Brett's admission that Brett was scared about his pregnancy and his illness—it was pretty much how Brett felt when he had a gastrointestinal infection back in Singapore but a lot worse. Back then, Brett still trusted Eddy enough to ask him for help and showed him his vulnerable side. 

Having Eddy to goad Brett before Eddy was able to help him simply shows that something has changed between them. 

M an, pregnancy really changes a lot in a person. It must be really tough for Brett for him to change a lot. 

Brett was nearing his wit's end. 

Eddy noticed. Eddy had definitely noticed his odd behaviour and had finally pointed it out.

Eddy, his very introverted, space-respecting, non-invasive, minds-his-own-business friend, pulled all of his courage to be the first one to speak out about the awkwardness between them.

How was Brett supposed to tell his friend, in a platonic way, that his mind and body issues temporarily clears up when he gets a whiff of Eddy's scent? 

How was Brett supposed to tell his friend, in a perfectly platonic manner, that he feels safer and calmer with Eddy around without clinging to him like a grapevine? 

How was Brett supposed to explain to his very straight and platonic friend that his OB-GYN told him to have his alpha scent him or knot him for the rest of the pregnancy to stabilise his hormones? 

What was Brett supposed to do to feel like he did not need Eddy or anybody else at all? He hates being dependent. 

Brett loathes how his body feels heavier and heavier as days go by. He also despises the fact that he needed to carry on like this for the rest of his life. 

In fact, he was planning on getting himself spayed like a cat after the whole pregnancy thing is over. 

He hates his body.

He hates his biology. 

He hates everything that has to do with the parasite in his womb. May it die and leave him alone. As soon as possible. STAT! 

But all of these intrusive and dark thoughts seem bearable and even reversed when he's around Eddy…or Eddy's scent.

He thinks that he could do this; that six more months is a very short time; that he could simply give birth to the baby, have it shipped off to a reputable orphanage, set up a trust fund for the child when it gets older (because he's not very cruel even if he didn't want the child); and sometimes, just sometimes, he finds himself imagining raising the child himself and that would be his chance of having his own family—even if he has to raise the child alone as a single parent. 

His mind gets more optimistic whenever he feels Eddy's pheromones around—which was absurd because it only works with Eddy's pheromones. 

Don't get Brett wrong. He did not limit himself with Eddy because that seemed to be impractical. He was experimenting around, albeit silently. He knew he needed to do something so he doesn't fully rely on his friend, who he was completely aware has his own life. So he tried to test scents from his family and the (very short) list of people he can trust that knew about his pregnancy. 

So, he tried his father's scent first. It was a staple Brett Yang comfort smell. It generated the same effect, just weaker. He still gets the dark intrusive thoughts with his father's scent but it was not as severe. However, his father liked to keep doing strenuous activities such as hiking and going on marathons, which exhausts Brett all the more. 

He also tried his younger brother's scent but all it did was to make him feel scared. In fact, his guards are a thousandfold higher when his little brother is around—which bothered Brett to bits. He really loves his little brother. Brett loves him so dearly he even planned his little brother's wedding with his little brother. However, ever since Brent got married, Brent's scent makes Brett want to flee and leave and go someplace far. He couldn't make sense of the odd feeling of being unsafe with his brother; the more he tried to ignore his instincts and spend time with his brother, the antsier he got. 

Brett thought maybe his brother's wife had something to do with it but his dimei was amazing. She gave him tips to lessen his nausea and gave him the pep talk when he thought carrying a child would ruin his career by citing numerous violin soloists who have become a mother during their careers and still rocked. She also doesn't think that he and Eddy were together (a rarity!) even when everyone else did. If anything, she gave the same aura that Eddy exudes but she's (1) a beta, (2) doesn't give soothing pheromones, and (3) already married to his brother, so hanging around with her was borderline useless and it would make her seem unfaithful. 

So, he tried his mother, who happened to be an omega like him. She makes him safe, yes, and he finds himself calm in her presence. His mother really doted on him, gently reprimanded him if he didn't take care of himself, but also unfortunately harassed him on the daily to finally 'marry Eddy and give your child a loving family like what your brother is doing' . 

And he doubts she'll ever stop doing so Brett erased her from the list. 

His OB-GYN, Dr. Tran, kept implying what his mother was implying so she was just as equally unhelpful. 

And that was about everyone in his incredibly short list of people he trusts who knew about his pregnancy and subsequently also the list of people whom he can ask help from. 

Bottled up and frustrated about his illness, he resorted to covertly getting Eddy's scent on him so he doesn't feel very awful and he could still do his 40 hours of practice everyday—which Eddy happened to notice. 

Brett swore he's going to die and never live his dream of being a soloist. 

Fuck Mendelssohn. 

"I can see you're struggling," Eddy's voice rang through his wildly running head. Brett felt his own breath hitch. He felt so seen and vulnerable like a deer in headlights. He wanted to hide. Run away to a distant place. He had always prided on his pseudo-confidence because doesn't like being exposed or read like a book. Eddy was exactly doing those. 

Eddy's enchanting gaze was working its magic on him again. Brett knew he had to look away if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. Eddy was compelling Brett not to lie, not to evade him, and to say something. 

"You told me you were scared. I know you hate to depend on anyone but you don't have to keep putting on a strong façade when you're needing something."

Eddy's words struck Brett in the chest hard. Brett's eyes started to water on its own so he held his shaking breath to keep them at bay. He didn't even know how they got there. Maybe he had gotten soft. Maybe it was the hormone thing his dimei warned him about. 

"All you had to do was ask for help and I'll be there to help," murmured Eddy, but it sounded very projected in the room that it vibrated so loudly in Brett's head. 

What the fuck. When did this happen? Eddy used to be this metaphorical little kid he was helping out in Maths tutoring and in the youth orchestra. The one who got bullied that Brett had to save from even if they ended up being bullied together. Brett was Eddy's confidence ticket in crowds and in places they've been to. Eddy has always turned to him for help, not the other way around.

Brett was the older one, the more responsible one, and the more independent one. 

Since when did Eddy stop asking for his help?

Brett couldn't stop his emotions from surging. His hands were shaking. It was like his reality was suddenly upturned. 

Is this a fucking dream? A nightmare? 

"Look at you, acting all grown up," Brett egged even when his throat decided to feel sticky. He cleared his throat as he sniffed to hide the sound of him about to cry. 

"I'm the one you usually run to when you have troubles. Since when were you the one trying to solve mine?" 

"You idiot, I'm your best friend. Of course, I'll try to help you!" Brett's head snapped up to meet Eddy's gaze and oh wow—that was a mistake.

Eddy's eyes looked so determined and Brett fell for its charm. Brett couldn't lie to save face. He knew that if he did, Eddy could call on his bluff and insist that he tell him the truth. 

Brett's mind went blank. What do I need? What was the thing I need? Safety? Independence? 

"...I'm offended you think so lowl—" 

"Could I get a hug?" Brett interrupted him softly. Eddy paused abruptly and his eyes softened. It was only then that Brett realised what he said. 

He wanted to take it back. He sounded so needy. 

But Eddy was already on it and he found his face pressed onto his friend's clavicle and catching a whiff of Eddy's comforting pheromones. 

Brett felt all the tension leave his body and he hung like a ragdoll on Eddy. When he felt arms tightening around him, he felt relieved. 

"You know you could just ask for hugs anytime, right, Brettybang?" 

Brett could laugh. He was overthinking things again but the hugs he was craving were becoming more and more intimate and he could never ask Eddy to give him more than what Eddy signed up for. Eddy still had his own dreams of having his own family. 

Brett could never ask Eddy to be a substitute for what his body can never have. He doesn't have it in his heart to ask Eddy that. 

"Yeah, I know," Brett murmured as he cried his own frustration out. "I know." 

Chapter Text

July 2011.

Brett was invited to a frat party by a friend who was really invited to a party. He agreed to go with the said friend with the thought that it was a bunch of music majors trying to get drunk before the Eisteddfod—which he was sorely mistaken—and decided to go to the party despite the fact that he should have been preparing instead of partying. 

So, when he realised it was a bunch of (mostly) engineering students and not much of his usual circle of friends, he felt betrayed and he definitely should have listened to Eddy telling him 'not to waste your time in parties' because 'NO, BRETT, PARTIES ARE NOT WHERE YOU CAN FIND AN ACCOMPANIST' and 'NO, BRETT, PIANISTS WILL NOT ACCOMPANY YOU FOR FREE JUST BECAUSE YOU GAVE THEM A GOOD TIME'. 

In hindsight, Brett did find himself some good (and free) accompanists through parties and he expected to encounter the same for this one. 

However, it wasn't the case this time. If you put a reckless and chaotic omega in a room full of drunk engineering students with his nearly non-existent alcohol tolerance, it was a recipe for disaster. 

(link to skip triggering content)

Brett and his friend got separated the moment they got into the frat house. Some half-drunk men had immediately called out and dragged out his friend away from him before he was officially introduced to the crowd. 

Left alone, Brett sauntered to the drinks served at the party and took a shot. It wasn't what he usually drinks but he figured he might need some liquid courage to enjoy being in a crowd of strangers. 

Two shots in, he managed to camouflage himself in the drunk dancers by the dancefloor. Someone with a pungent synthetic smell approached him from behind. The acrid smell made him sneeze. 

"Bless you," a deep sultry voice emanated right next to his head, the warm breath tickling his ears, causing him to flinch away and turn to the voice. 

"Hey, what's uuuuup!" Brett jovially greeted with a loopy grin. "I'm Brett, what's your name?" 

The man did not deign him with a response. He simply led Brett away from the dancefloor. They ended up near the kitchens where a bunch of pre-dispensed drinks lined up.

"Not going to tell you my name unless you drink some of this cocktail I made," the man mysteriously said. Brett pouted and mindlessly took a shot. He had to wince at the sour flavour of the cocktail. 

"Fuck, what's in that thing? It's so sour!" Brett whined with his face still scrunching up from the acidity of the drink. 

"Mm, it's a secret recipe," the man told him in a sultry whisper. "But I'd tell you my name if you're able to guess what's in it. Feel free to take more shots to taste it better."

Nothing made Brett want to do anything more than a challenge. He hummed competitively. 

"A'ight. Bet."

Brett took his second shot slowly. He still couldn't recognise the flavours that made up the cocktail even after enduring the agonising drink. 

Brett was about to take his third shot when he started to notice his vision blur and felt his limbs go very sluggish after taking his second shot. He leaned his whole weight on the counter but neither his arms could carry his weight. 

He felt the man catch him; but he also felt someone grab his nether regions, lick his nape, and bluntly bite his neck. The sting of the bite made him panic and gather all his energy in a flight response. The man's grip on him was strong but he still attempted to pull his arm away. When Brett could feel his groin heat up internally and recognised the telltale signs of a heat, Brett elbowed his attacker at the jaw in a panic-induced boost. He immediately darted away from the man behind him as quickly as he could despite his legs feeling like jelly and very detached from his head and body. Brett half-stumbled half-crawled his way to the bathroom, the din of the party beating as loudly as his heart. The door's lock seemed to double in his vision and he wasn't sure if his shaky hands managed to lock the door at all. For added measure, he pushed his weight against a small cabinet by the sink to barricade the door. 

The warmth in his body was burning him from the inside like the intensive heat in the summer was rushing down in his veins. It was suffocating him.

Brett's head was already swimming in a soup of confusion. He could not focus at all; everything was too loud and all the colours he was seeing were getting brighter and brighter that it started giving him a migraine. Brett was no science genius but he knew he had to rid himself of whatever's causing the delirium, so he scampered around the bathroom until his hands met the toilet bowl. He then shakily forced himself to vomit into the toilet then promptly passed out against the toilet bowl. 

While Brett was unconscious, Alex was having an aneurysm over the despicable asshole that decided to touch his friend. 

Alex, who was 'the invited friend in the party' and Brett's exhausted, actual, and existing collaborative pianist for competitions, had seen the dude that groped Brett and punched the man for harassing Brett. Fuck his delicate pianist fingers, he was seeing all red and he wanted to commit homicide. 

Alex was busy trashing the man's face when onlookers decided to stop him from merging the man's face with the hardwood floors. The other man was left bloodied and unconscious. 

Alex gave the man one big, fat, angry spit on his face before he tried to locate Brett. He frantically scanned all the rooms and did not find his friend anywhere. After ending up checking all the rooms more than thrice and getting the stinky eye for coming across his crime scene four times without a shred of care toward the wench he punched, he decided to call Brett, but his phone calls weren't being returned and nobody could tell him where Brett could have gone, so he rang Eddy. 

"Brett has gone missing and I think he's in danger. Where do you think I could find him?" 

"WHAT?! What do you mean gone missing?!" 

"We're at a party, I saw him being groped by some dude and I can't find him anymore!" 

"What the fuck makes you think I could find him?! I'm not there, Alex!! Are you sure he's not there anymore?!" 

"Fuck, I'm really sorry, Eddy, I just—I had to punch the asshole and I lost sight of Brett after that," Alex murmured, spitting the blood that bled into his mouth. 

"Did you check all the rooms there? Anywhere he could hide? That guy likes to hide when he's compromised," Eddy surmised over the phone, stressing over his friend who managed to land himself in trouble. 

"I'll check the bathrooms." 

Brett felt his right arm start to lose feeling. 

He jolted up; the pins and needles in his arm sobering him slightly. His face was almost about to get flushed into the toilet and his numbing arm had been the only thing that stopped him from kissing his own vomit in the porcelain bowl. 

His head wasn't threatening to explode anymore but he could still feel his heart beat like crazy and the loud rhythm shook him hard enough that he could feel his heartbeat through his ribs and it made breathing very difficult. His legs still felt like jelly and he could barely lift himself off the floor but he forced himself to stand on quavering legs to flush the toilet and check his surroundings. He was still seeing double but he sighed in relief to find all his pieces of clothing intact and the mirror didn't show him any bruises on any visible body part. He also felt his mating gland still intact. He tried to focus his eyes to see what else he could do to escape his predicament. 

The window in the bathroom was big enough for him to leave the party that way, if not a little bit too high for him. So, he used the sink for leverage, stumbled through the window—spraining his wrist—and staggered his way to the street. He just needed to get somewhere safe and right now, the frat house did not feel safe. 

Alex only managed to find the bathroom window open with Brett's car keys left next to the toilet bowl left behind when he got there. 

Eddy did not hear anything from Alex for thirty minutes and he could not focus on the music theory essay he was meant to finish. His guts were in knots worrying about his friend who did not only go against Eddy's warning but also managed to get himself kidnapped—not that it was Brett's fault to be kidnapped but Eddy was still frustrated about that and felt the need to blame someone for it. He paced around his shared dormitory with Brett and was about to pick his keys up and look for his idiot friend when the said idiot friend knocked on the door, begging to be let in. 

When Eddy opened the door, the entirety of his Asian heritage possessed him. 

"Where have you been? What did you do? How the fuck are you here? What the fuck have you been consuming? Why the fuck did you not tell Alex you were coming home alone?! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!" 

"Jesus, fuck, Eddy! Just…just calm down, all right? I almost got raped and you're already reprimanding me? Fucking hell, man. Give me a break!" Brett just pushed Eddy out of the way and plopped onto their shared couch. The wonton soup takeaway in his hand had already spilled into its takeaway bag. 

Eddy froze by the doorway.

"Shit, fuck, the soup's all over the bag," groaned Brett like it was the most inconvenient thing that happened to him that night. Eddy slowly moved to shut the door behind him. He observed Brett's movements. His limbs were all uncoordinated and he acted like he broke his arm. "Fuck, I really wanted some soup but it's all over the bag. Fuck! My head's killing me now, I wanted the soup."

Eddy grabbed the bag from Brett's hands and poured all the contents in a bowl before Brett's jittery movement could spill the contents in their flat. Brett sat lifelessly on the couch. His hands were pinching on his forearm on their own. 

"Eddy, can you make me egg soup? I just wanted some soup…," moaned Brett followed by a few sobs. Brett's pinching and scratching also intensified and started moving toward his head until Brett started pulling his hair. "I just want soup! I want soup, Eddy! GIVE ME SOUP!" 

Eddy had to run to stop Brett from pulling out his hair and strong-armed the man into a warm hug. Brett was shaking and vibrating in fear. He resisted Eddy's hold and even fought back in self-defence. 

"Let me go! Don't touch me! Don't TOUCH ME!" Brett screamed at him. Eddy had to let Brett go and watch him curl himself into a ball on the floor. "Leave me alone. Please leave me alone. I just want soup."

Brett continued on scratching his arms and tugging his hair.

Eddy felt helpless. He knew from med school that trauma victims tend to act this way and for the life of him, he wasn't able to retain whatever he should do as a care provider in this instance. The bitter regret in his heart blossomed as his pity for Brett grew. 

"Brett, you're in a safe place now. Please, let me help you," Eddy informed Brett at a safe distance. He did not attempt to touch his friend at all. Brett tugged on his hair harder until strands came with his hand.

"Bro, you're hurting yourself," Eddy choked in his words, his eyes watering at the sight of his friend shaking and quivering while his hands scratched harder. "Please stop now, bro…please?"

"Leave me alone," Brett whimpered and his breathing hitched on a sob. "Please leave me alone. I don't want to see you. I don't want to see anyone."

Dejected, Eddy backed away and went out to buy Brett some wonton soup from the nearest dimsum place. 

Eddy didn't bother to take the car. He walked his way to the restaurant. It had to be at least thirty minutes on foot. On his way there, he let his tears that he held on fall down. 

What kind of friend was he if he wasn't able to help Brett?

Brett stayed with him when he tried to off himself. Brett made sure  to take good care of him. Brett even got him his violin back. Brett made sure he felt appreciated and validated all his emotions. Brett helped him get proper treatment. Brett did not leave him alone. Brett never left him alone. 

And just when he thought he could finally pay Brett back, he yelled at him; and when Brett broke down, he couldn't help him. He even left him alone. 

His tears are starting to fall in a steady stream. 

He felt so fucking bad for running away but every moment he spent with Brett in their shared flat, the more he felt more helpless and frustrated at himself. He angrily kicked a lamppost. 

What kind of friend was he? He certainly did not deserve to be in Brett's life. 

Brett felt disgusted with his skin. His entire being felt dirty. 

He ran to the bathroom in a frenzy and wet himself under the spray with all of his clothes on. He didn't bother taking them off in fear that someone might touch him while he was naked but the urge to scratch and scrub himself clean was so strong. It was almost paradoxical. He frantically pulled at his wet clothes and rubbed hard. His vision blurred and at that point he wasn't even sure if it was due to his glasses collecting droplets or his eyes shedding tears. 

He just wanted to get rid of the disgusting feeling of phantom hands touching him everywhere. 

He didn't notice someone calling his name. 

He didn't even register that his hands began to grow tired of rubbing. 

He can't remember when he started smelling safety and home—he was suddenly so enveloped in the smell that he lost all the tension in his body and leaned on someone he knew wouldn't harm him. 

"I'm so sorry, Brett. I'm very very sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I'm so so sorry," a distant voice told him. Warm arms shielded him from the icy torrent from the bathroom spray. It was all he could remember before fading out into peacefulness. 

Back to present. 

The two dozed off in a teary embrace after the confrontation. Brett seemed to have exhausted all his nervous energy and settled with the pheromone soup readily offered by Eddy. At last, for the first time in three weeks, Eddy has finally found Brett resting peacefully without a hint of worry etched on his face. Brett's head now laid on Eddy's chest like an egg on a nest. 

It reminded Eddy about that one fateful night when he turned back empty handed from his emotional walk to the dimsum place only to see Brett, freezing himself in the shower, trying to claw his skin off. 

He had to slowly guide Brett off his clothes that night and gave him his own thick hoodie to keep him warm. He microwaved whatever scraps he salvaged from the wonton soup Brett took home and fed his friend. Though they normally slept in one frankenfurniture, Eddy opted to sleep on the floor that night to give Brett some space. 

Eddy could vividly remember waking up to Brett's playing the next morning. He didn't speak to Eddy until Eddy was already about to leave for his therapy session. Only then did he deign Eddy with a curt 'thanks, bro' before going back to practising his Eisteddfod piece. 

Those two words conveyed more than just gratitude. It also held a promise. 

A promise that they'd always have each other's back. 

A promise Brett doesn't seem to fully comprehend when and how to claim! What in 'have each other's back' does Brett not understand? Where in that statement implied that help is only available one-way?! 

It was getting to Eddy's nerves.

Eddy noticed that his idiotic friend still resorted to bottling his emotions up and burying it deep down, only for it to erupt like a volcano when prodded. Eddy, on the other hand, refuses to assume things unless spoken to clearly. So, unless it was blatant and very obvious, he never steps in. He and Brett used to communicate via pheromones like a swarm of bees but things got harder since Brett got pregnant. 

So, he made it his mission was to force Brett to tell him anything he needed so he could help.

But then, Brett was an unmovable person when it comes to that. 

He supposed Brett required some form of blackmail into letting people know what his inner thoughts and worries were so Eddy could help him better. After all, if there's anything Brett cherishes the most is his pride. 

And that was precisely what Eddy aimed to attack. 

When Eddy noticed Brett was awake, Eddy started filming his snoozy friend—undignified yawn included—and even called him a sleeping beauty. 

"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty. Last to wake up has to ask for help when they need help!" Eddy chimed too joyfully. Brett groaned and flipped the camera a finger. Eddy gasped dramatically. 

"Oh my, is that Brett Yang being not family-friendly on camera? Oh my god, cancelledt!" Eddy drawled in his Edwina voice.

"Fuck off. I was finally getting a good sleep, you dick! Stop bothering me," Brett murmured as he burrowed further on Eddy's chest, still chasing the wefts of his sleepiness back.

"I will stop bothering you if you say, 'I will ask for help the next time I need help' ," Eddy teased and zoomed in on Brett's sleepy and puffy eyes. "Say it, Yang Yang."

When Brett merely turned his face away, Eddy pushed harder. 

"I know you're already awake. You're just pretending to be sleeping. Say it with me, Brett," Eddy coaxed his senior while zooming in on his friend's face on his phone. Brett rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from Eddy, fully aware that his friend was mocking his post-crying look on camera. "Come on, man, just say it with me! Does it really hurt your pride to say it?" 

"This is so stupid!" 

"Bro, come on, just say it with me: I am going to ask for help next time," Eddy egged on. Brett gave a nasty side-eye to his naïve friend, who was fully convinced his whole 'repeat after me' tirade works. A fond smile of disbelief itched on the surface of Brett's lips. 

"You really think I wouldn't reach out if I don't say those words?" 

"This is you clicking the I agree checkbox on the Terms and Conditions of asking for help when you need it," Eddy impishly grinned, causing Brett to pull an exasperated smile. "Also, this counts as a verbal agreement and it is legally binding. Come on, Brett, I don't have infinite phone space."

"What are you going to do if I don't agree?" Brett hiked up his eyebrows as if to challenge his friend. "Not help me? Isn't that counterintuitive?" 

"Of course, I'd still help you, dumbass! This is about you promising to get some help when you need it because you're a self-sacrificing idio—" 

"No, I'm not! You're just making stuff up about me!!" Brett whined and attempted to steal Eddy's phone away. Eddy took advantage of his height and longer limbs to keep his phone away from Brett. "That's not fair, you dickhead!" 

"Why are you so apprehensive if I'm talking shit about you? You're just affirming what I said," Eddy smirked smugly. Brett launched his fingers to tickle his friend, causing the other man to shriek and shrink to the floor. 

"Because I know you're sending these to everyone!" Brett grabs the phone from where it fell off and ends the recording. A few taps later, the video was deleted even from the Deleted Files folder. 

"Bro, it's not like a person like Nicole hasn't noticed that you were like that. You know how dense she could get with her just being in her own world most of the time but even she could tell you're too self-sacrificial," Eddy pointed out, still splayed on the floor with defences still up. Brett threw the phone to Eddy, luckily directed to a non-sensitive area. Eddy gave a flinch anyway.

"Fuck off, she doesn't," Brett ignored Eddy and headed to his room. "But whatever man, I'll just go figure out this whole pheromone dilemma when I get there." 

Eddy rolled his eyes. Why am I friends with this masochistic idiot? 

Brett definitely hasn't figured out the whole pheromone dilemma. 

In fact, fate decided to spit on his unnecessary vow to himself not to become some weak, dependent, and needy omega during his entire life—the whole duration of his risky pregnancy included. 

He thought he was already stable, having had a strong dose of Eddy during their confrontation. Brett felt well enough to pull a five-hour practice on his Mendelssohn and run some Twoset Apparel communications and management after that. In fact, he was able to become very productive for two consecutive days. 

He was positive he would stay that way until his brother came over to visit them. 

Then, Brett suddenly couldn't move. Although he truly wanted to hang out with Brent and his wife, his heart would not stop racing and his breathing completely disregarded all his attempts at keeping it at a steady rhythm. 

Eddy noticed something was wrong with Brett when he suddenly smelled the scent of souring milk. Usually, it was his queue to rescue Brett from an uncomfortable social situation. It, however, comes in rarely as Brett was a natural social chameleon, however, it does kick in when Brett gets forced to be in the presence of someone that (1) annoys him, or (2) threatens him. 

When Eddy tried to look around the Yang household for people who could fall under the first category, he came up with nothing; as does for the second category. 

So, he tried to isolate Brett from everyone so he could ask Brett about his confusing signals because pheromones can't lie…right?

But he apparently didn't have to search for long because he found his friend pacing around his loaned bedroom. 

Brett has never felt very scared of his little brother in his life. 

He was the older one. The one that protected the little guy. Brett was the one who even scolded his younger brother in the past. So, he was definitely not amused with his emotions at the moment because why the fuck was he scared of his little brother? How? What can his little brother do to him? It's too irrational and stupid at this point. 

Brent didn't even do anything. His little brother did nothing! 

Nonetheless, Brett was fuming. He did not want to ruin his little family gathering with his irritable attitude so he excused himself to a place where he could cool off—it just happened to be Eddy's room. 

When the temporary owner of the room came in without a knock, Brett was ready to karate chop his intruder to high heavens but recoiled as soon as he realised it was just Eddy. 

"What are you doing here by yourself, bro?" Eddy asked, looking very confused. Brett's countenance held the sourest face he could muster. "Something bothering you?" 

"Yeah, myself," Brett had his fists up in a ball, threatening to hit something (or himself) at any time. Eddy rushed to capture Brett's wrists before it could do harm. 

Eddy knew Brett developed a self-flagellating tic after his incident. It was also one of the reasons why Brett usually had many layers of clothes on—so he could not pinch, punch, or scratch his arms when his frustration grew. He said the sting grounded him during the times where his thoughts would take him someplace dark again. Eddy initially wanted to let him see his therapist for it but Brett reassured him that he would not try to harm himself willy-nilly and dangerously. Brett had also told him that he was unlearning the behaviour. 

Apparently, Brett hasn't quite unlearned it. 

"Ah-ah! You're doing that thing again, bro," Eddy sternly warned him off with a gentle squeeze on Brett's wrists. Brett looked very undignified but with his sulking face, puffed up cheeks, and his wrists being pulled so high by Eddy, he sure looked like a petulant child instead. 

Eddy snorted at the similarity. 

"Bro, you look like one of those cliché manga heroines right now, do you know that?" Eddy grinned at Brett. Brett refocused his ire to his friend and started violently shaking off his arm from Eddy. 

"Fuck off."

As soon as Eddy got his friend back to a better mood, he invited his friend over to his bed. 

"Want a hug?" Eddy offered, thinking it would help since they previously established with Brett that hugs greatly improve Brett's headspace. However, it only made Brett pace around his room again. Eddy frowned; he was considering tackling Brett down to keep him from making Eddy dizzy. 

"Nah, I'm just really confused right now."

"Ey, no homo, bro," Eddy jokingly flinched away from Brett. When Brett scrunched his face in confusion, Eddy smirked haughtily. 

"Wha—NO! Not that kind of confused, you cunt! I'm just—" Brett paused and found Eddy's arms already spread wide open. Eddy flexed his fingers invitingly with a smug look on his face. Eddy even wiggled his eyebrows for added effect. Brett groaned and accepted Eddy's offer. "Ah, fuck it, man." 

By the time Brett's head nestled on the crook of Eddy's shoulders, his whole weight sagged on Eddy. Eddy gave his head lazy comforting scratches. 

"Why am I even trying to argue with you? My head's a mess again."

"Care to talk about it?" Eddy's sonorous voice reverberated against his chest where Brett laid. Brett squeezed himself closer to Eddy's scent glands. Brett contemplated on hiding his insecurity a secret but something else compelled him to spill. 

"My didi," Brett murmured. "I feel scared of him. I don't know why. It's so weird."

Eddy hummed in understanding. "Oh? Since when?" 

Brett took a while to respond. He recounted all his interactions with his brother and tried to remember when he started feeling very agitated around his brother. 

Brett can briefly remember feeling very agitated during his first stay in the hospital but he thought it was all because Brent wouldn't tell him anything and he was still very cross with Eddy. 

But somehow, he started feeling very easily agitated ever since. 

"I think—" 

The door suddenly opened, breaking the intimate air around the two violinists. By the doorstep stood Brett's sister-in-law. 

"OH!!" was all she said in a surprised tone, looking at the two men cuddling in bed. "Aunt Cathy said…we could take…Brent's old room and I…I thought it was unoccupied…"

Her voice began trailing off after her first three words. Brett lifted his head to see his sister-in-law squinting at them. 

"Where will Eddy stay?" Brett asked while his arm was still wrapped around Eddy like it was meant to be there. Eddy made no moves to get Brett off his body either. Brett's sister-in-law simply stared in shock, not even registering that she had been asked a question. 

"I'll take the couch, man," Eddy offered and gave a few reassuring taps on Brett's shoulder. Brett gave him a doubting look. "Bro, I used to do this a lot in uni anyway."

Brett leered at Eddy. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" 

As if her voice just returned, Brett's sister-in-law chimed after clearing her throat. "Brent thought you guys were sharing rooms so…"

"Nah, I'll take the couch. It's fine. Brett's bed is already housing two and his bed is only meant for one ," Eddy flippantly quipped, waving his hand around to emphasise his point. Brett gave him an aggressive tickle at the mention of his bed housing 'two people.'

Eddy flinched away from their hug with a screech. "What was that for?! Did I lie??"

"Fuck you, you dick. I'm not that big yet!" 

"I didn't say anything like that!" 

Brett's sister-in-law simply left the two to bicker in Eddy's room without any warning. 

Brett's answer to Eddy's question was never spoken out loud that day. 

Chapter Text

His hands were shaking.

Bret-

…was all he could write with his shaking hands. He could not even finish his given name with the tremors he had been experiencing since he arrived. The pen clattered against the floor. He was not sure how it left his hand. All he knew was that his throat was closing on himself as bile threatened to leak at the back of his tongue; his heart was beating furiously like a mad metronome clicking back and forth at 200 beats per minute; and his other hand somehow ended up pressed harshly against his quivering lips. The world around him tilted at an insane speed.

“Take a seat,” a nurse with a thick Italian accent instructed him. “We can’t do any procedure if your blood pressure is very high. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

Brett nodded automatically without fully understanding the question directed to him. Something told him that he was in the right place despite the lack of the rightness of the place, but he couldn’t comprehend how he ended up wherever he was.

It was the clinic. Pictures of omegan reproductive systems—both male and female—were all over the walls of the clinic. Photos of pregnant and lactating mothers as well as information on reproductive health blended in the array of posters that littered the walls of the waiting room.

It made Brett’s stomach churn wilder.

He turned to his slightly protruding belly. His hoodie makes it a lot more visible so he smoothed it down, trying to hide his belly like it would matter in the place he was in.

The nurses around him spoke in Italian. They seemed to be talking about him. The hushed voices around him made him queasier and his breathing became more laboured by the minute.

Somehow, the nurses led him to a room where he was told to strip naked and put on a hospital gown. He did so on shaky legs. His knees kept buckling under the overwhelming pressure bubbling underneath his skin that the nurses had to strong-arm him onto the gurney. As soon as he was fully settled on the gurney, he was automatically wheeled into an operating room where the lights flooded his vision and blinded him.

He could barely make out the figures around him with the blaring lights burning into his retinas. All he could sense were the stern instructions to the people around him and the stringent antiseptic smell of the room. 

Brett tried to sit up, but he realised that he could barely lift his head off the pillow and that he could not move any of his body parts. However, he could still feel the fluttering around him, the cold air from the air conditioning blown straight to him, the rubbery hands touching his body, and the fact that someone forced his legs open and placed each leg on icy cold stirrups.

No, please. 

Upon realising what was going on, Brett tried to flee. He could hear the heart monitor beeping like crazy in the background. He mustered all his strength to move any muscle, but he could barely feel anything move in his body. The voices around him crescendoed hauntingly.

I am still awake! What are you doing?! 

Then, he felt something prodding him in his vaginal canal. 

It was touching around and found his cervix. He felt something pressing on it. The pressure began increasing until he felt a blinding pain sear through his lower abdomen.

STOP! LET ME GO! 

Brett tried moving his legs shut but his body remained feeling like heavy lead. He began screaming as he urged his body to move but the pain only intensified tenfold. The pain began spreading like electricity throughout his body. 

A painful wail escaped his throat. Tears poured out from his eyes. 

STOP IT! STOP IT PLEASE! 

Something icy pried his cervix open. The agony of the procedure made his body finally shake off the lead weighing it down and allowed him to scramble off the operating bed. His legs still felt like jelly, but he managed to blindly crawl himself into a dark room.

He felt something wet leave his nether regions along with waves of torment running through his body from his abdomen. 

Brett felt the bile he was holding in come out in a projectile vomit. 

Pain. 

All he felt was gut-wrenching pain. 

As if someone carved a hole from his abdomen with a chainsaw and had his internal organs blended into a pulp. Brett pinched his eyes hard as if to lull himself into a false sense of safety.

SOMEBODY, HELP ME! 

A strong grip held him by the shoulders. Brett felt someone pull his head down. As soon as his head hit something, he felt his body lose tension. The pain ebbed away slowly. The ringing in his head that he didn’t realise was there gradually stopped. He could hear someone hushing him.

“You’re safe now, Brett. Just take deep breaths, okay?”

The voice sounded familiar. He couldn’t place who owned it, but the deep timbre of the voice lulled him into calmness.

In fact, it felt invigorating after hearing nothing but foreign voices in a foreign language.

“Breathe with me, bro. Inhale.”

Brett obediently inhaled deeply. The smell of citrus replaced the antiseptic smell ingrained in his nose.

“Exhale.”

The person with him carefully massaged his nape. The fingers began crawling soothingly into his scalp. 

“Inhale.”

The fingers pressed into spots on his head that made his spine go weak in relaxation. Somehow, the sensation made him feel better despite what he had just gone through. The boneless feeling he was under was calming unlike the prior feeling of having cold lead weighing every cell of his body down. The fingers massaging his head stopped and shifted into combing through his hair.

“Exhale.”

Brett exhaled in relief and slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t realise it was shut close the entire time. All he could see was the early light of dawn illuminating someone’s chest.

“You okay now, bro?”

He could recognise the voice now.

It was Eddy.

Brett pulled away and looked around.

He was around a puddle of his own vomit.

On the floor.

In his childhood bedroom.

“Wh-where? I was…I…wh-what happened?” Brett stammered. Eddy gently pulled him off his puke and led him onto the bed. "Ah fuck man, I'm sorry I got you all dirty. I've been…having those…dreams again."

Brett groaned as he removed his puke-stained clothes. The sour taste in his mouth left him in a sourer mood. Eddy grabbed him a new set of clothes from his dresser before heading to the broom closet to grab a mop. Brett sluggishly put on his fresh set of clothes, staring blankly as if recounting what he had dreamed of in his head. 

Eddy found Brett with his shirt just hanging on his neck like a necklace by the time he returned with a mop and bucket to clean up Brett's vomit. Brett's semi-awake half-dressed state allowed Eddy to see Brett's naked body. 

Brett's belly was clearly engorged and distended like a beer belly but Brett managed to hide it underneath his baggy clothes. Fortunately, there weren't any stretch marks adorning his friend's skin but the veins appeared clearly in contrast to Brett's alabaster skin. His chest was less flat, it appeared to have softened with fat and his areolas seem larger and darker than usual. The nipples were perkier and plumper than an average man's nipple, as if it was made for suckling. 

It was only at this point that Eddy fully understood the full gravity of his friend's situation. His friend's body was really, truly, and actually changing to accommodate another human being. His friend was actually pregnant with a baby and he has to feed that baby because the baby is a human being that needs to be fed…naturally…with breast milk from his breasts. Like WOAH. There is a growing human in Brett. An actual live human. Damn, what the fuck. That's so cool but also damn, that's so scary. A whole human being is growing in his body and taking all the nutrients from his friend’s body—like a parasite to a host. No wonder Brett's scared. 

Eddy realised that he had been ogling his friend as if his friend was a science fair exhibit and turned his attention to the pool of vomit that he was supposed to clean up. Brett, however, stayed catatonic. 

When Eddy realised that his friend was stuck in a half-dressed moony state, he paused mopping and snapped in front of his friend. Brett shook his head before scanning the room around him like he forgot how he ended up in the situation. 

"Bro? You alright, man? You look like you've seen a ghost," Eddy surmised. 

"I err…I was just…I…I…think I need to sleep."

"Sure, man," Eddy tapped Brett's shoulder in approval. "You sure you don't want to brush your teeth before sleeping again?" 

The older violinist shook his head before dressing completely and laid directly back down in his bed on his side, facing Eddy. "I'll just try to fall asleep now. I don't feel good right now."

"Aight man, just call me when you need help."

"Yeah. Thanks, bro," Brett whispered weakly, his eyes glittering in plain gratitude. 

"No probs, man. Got you covered. I'll just finish cleaning this up before leaving. I'll probably get a basin for you to vomit into before I head back to sleep."

"You're the best, man. I love you so much." 

"Of course you do." Eddy smirked and went back to mopping. 

When Brett woke up, he found Eddy snoozing next to his bed, clutching an empty basin. Brett also noticed that his feet were already covered in socks and his hands reeked of menthol. Eddy must have massaged him and put the socks on after he fell asleep. 

Eddy looked exhausted; his brows furrowed, he was occasionally twitching in his sleep, and his lips were shut firmly. Brett slowly rose and took the basin away from Eddy. He tried pulling Eddy into the bed, however, it only roused his friend from his fitful sleep. 

"Mmhuh? Wha? Where? Wha??" Eddy looked around to remind himself how he ended up on the floor next to Brett's bed. When Brett came into his view, he automatically went to his protective alpha mode standing up to help Brett… 

…which caught Brett off guard. 

"Sorry I woke you up, I was trying to put you on the bed. You looked tired," Brett said. Eddy turned to the bed then to Brett. "You can take the bed. I needed to meet my OB-GYN today anyway."

"I can come with you," Eddy replied nonchalantly, stunning Brett even more. 

"Wh—?"

Eddy's eyes were still bloodshot red from being so rudely awakened after so little sleep, but the determination behind his eyes sparkled through. Brett could not find the heart to decline Eddy's offer, however, he steeled himself for Eddy's sake. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Eddy," Brett admonished. "You look like you're one nudge away from death. You look very tired and we still have too many videos to film later. Take this time to sleep."

Eddy shook his head and rubbed his already sore eyes. 

"But you're…you’re not fine!” the younger violinist whined as he pulled himself up from where he slept. When the man almost tripped over his own feet, Brett flicked his forehead.

”You can’t even stand straight, bro. Go back to sleep. I will be fine on my own,” Brett admonished Eddy. The man groggily flopped onto the bed and briefly fell asleep, further proving Brett’s point.

However, after two snores, Eddy blearily spoke: ”But…but you're in…ngh…you’re….you’re…err…you’re sheng bing lately. Someone—someone has to tell your doctor."

"Yes, someone will and that someone will be me. I'm not a baby, Eddy. I can handle myself. Jeez, just go to sleep, man. We’re still filming later." 

Brett haphazardly tucked the younger man into his bed. A hand shot out to grip Brett’s wrist.

"Let me come with you, please," Eddy begged once more with eyes still closed shut. The other man simply slid the younger man’s weak grip off his hand. “Pleeeease?”  

Eddy peered over the blanket like a child and set his eyes to meet Brett's avoiding ones. "Let me help you, please?"

It was only after two beats of the clock that Brett's resolve diminuendoed into nothing. Brett sighed deeply before ruffling Eddy's bedhead and resignedly said:

"...fine. But I'm driving. You sleep on the way." 

With that Brett left the room. 

Eddy was fast asleep as soon as he entered Brett's car, only to walk on autopilot through the hallways of the hospital, then return to sleep by the waiting area outside the clinic. Brett was trying to respond to emails in his phone while Eddy used him as a pillow. Neither violinists minded the weird looks they were getting from the people waiting around them. 

When Eddy awoke, it was to the sight of his old family house's dining area and a birthday party set up on the table. He was seated next to a cake. The scenario disoriented him. 

His friends from high school and the youth orchestra were all seated with him…except for Brett. He looked around to look for his friend but he could not find his friend in plain sight. 

"Dude, have you seen Brett?" Eddy asked a classmate he hadn't seen in years. The said classmate also looked very young compared to what he had seen on Facebook lately. It was also strangely unnerving to see so many affable faces but look at them with such uncanny resemblance with the faces in his memory. 

As if he was sent to his past.

"Oh, that's the pale violin guy, isn't he? He excused himself to the bathroom like…almost an hour ago. I have seen him around when you blew your candles though," the said classmate replied, way too nonchalantly, as if he hadn't known Brett. 

It was raising Eddy's suspicions. Brett had been his to-go plus one in events outside the very few moments where he had girlfriends. Also, he said something that caught Eddy off guard.

"Blow candles…what?"

Eddy made a slow cinematic turn to the cake that was conveniently placed in front of him. 

The candles said 16. It couldn't be.

It was his sixteenth birthday, which meant…

It's the twenty-third of March 2009. 

Oh no.

Eddy rushed himself to the bathroom only to find it locked, just like it was back then. He frantically knocked, only to receive no response.

Shit. 

Eddy's hands started to shake but he urged to calm himself to look for a knife he could use to break open the bathroom door. This time, he would be a lot wiser. He would call the ambulance. This time, he would do things better. He would try his best to do better. He will not fail his friend this time. Never again. 

When he heard the clicking of the door unlocking, he immediately rushed to the pale, limp body by the toilet and ignored the bloody mess around the toilet. He gently shook Brett's pallid face to rouse his friend. 

The older violinist merely groaned and winced, clutching harder at his abdomen. Eddy tried to lift his friend over his shoulder but Brett kept crouching down in pain.

"Nngh…dy…pl…please don't…don't tell…anyone. Pl…please, Eddy. Don't tell…"

"Brett, you're actively bleeding! We need to get help!" Eddy shrieked. Brett shook his head weakly. 

"This is…normal. Please don't…don't tell any—" Brett fainted and slumped against Eddy's arm. 

"What do you mean normal, bro??? You're not normal! You're bleeding! Don't tell me this bullshit, bro, I know…you're mis…"

Fuck. 

Eddy stared at the blood gradually streaming down Brett's legs. It was so dark in contrast to his friend's pale complexion. It pulled away Eddy's breath and strength more and more the longer he looked at them. Brett's weak groaning managed to snap him back. Right. I will do better this time. I will call for help. 

Eddy hurriedly pulled out his phone to call for help this time. 

He will get help this time. 

He promises this time would be different. 

He was about to ring triple zero when his phone's battery suddenly died. 

No. 

No. No. No. No. This can't be. 

He promised he would get help this time. 

If he can't get emergency services, he would reach out to others. Birthday party. Someone has to be out there who could help us. 

Regaining his resolve, he mustered all of his strength to carry Brett in his arms before rushing out to ask for someone else's help.

But everyone else disappeared. 

Nobody else was around the house. 

It was as if the whole party just disappeared. 

He went outside of his house, barefeet, hoping a random neighbour would see him and help him, but all that awaited him outside was the family car with its doors open and a bunch of towels already laid out in the passenger seat, exactly how he had arranged it thirteen years ago. 

His heart was thumping in fortississimo against his chest and his breathing felt like introducing shards of ice into his lungs. He was reliving everything. Exactly the way they did. 

In the middle of Eddy's panic attack, his body moved on its own. His legs took him to the family car, where he laid Brett on the padded passenger car. In a slow blink, Eddy was already on his way and illegally driving the family car into the nearest hospital. 

In another blink, a doctor was talking to him while nurses and doctors flocked over his friend. His skin felt cold as the gentle breeze caressed his blood-coated arms. He saw Brett being hooked up to various machines, exactly how he remembered it from thirteen years ago.

“…Your omega is having a miscarriage right now and he shows signs of sexual assault and he seemed to have had a botched abortion…we're seeing two placentas but only one fetus is left in the uterine cavity and he's actively bleeding from the other placenta without a fetus. We can save your baby at a high risk of failing or terminate it so we can trigger contractions to stem the bleeding."

Eddy wished he didn't have to see his friend suffer the same fate. He wished he could do more for his friend. He wished he could have the cops start an investigation to bring justice to his friend. 

"Please don't tell anyone," Eddy's mouth supplied on its own. He wanted to say otherwise. He wanted to ask if they could send the foetus for DNA sampling so the perpetrators are caught. 

But his mouth ran on its own. 

"Please, my friend asked me to keep this. Please do everything you can to save him but please don't tell anyone. I don't know who sired his children but he doesn't want anybody to know, please, wait for my friend to tell his parents about this. Please keep this quiet…please do this for him."

Eddy wanted to scream. He seemed stuck in a body that made its own decisions. He had never felt so helpless in his life. 

Eddy's face against Brett's shoulder was contorted as though he was told to play Paganini's God Save the King in his sleep. The quiet yet unnatural yelp that came out of Eddy made Brett turn to his disturbed friend. 

Brett tried to nudge the seemingly permanent crease on Eddy's glabella, hoping to rouse his friend. However, the young alpha only furrowed his brows even more and started gripping his knees harder.

"Eddy? Dude, wake up. It's almost our turn."

Eddy gasped awake and looked around only to find Brett looking at him like he surprised him. He wasn't pale; he wasn't bleeding; he was nothing like the trembling, dying mess he had seen earlier. If anything, he actually looked like he was glowing—his skin was silky smooth, his hair shone in the harsh light, and his lips looked very plump and peachy.

In fact, Brett looked so healthy that it made Eddy weep a little. He looked nothing like the Brett in his dream…except, it wasn't a dream. 

It was his memory from thirteen years ago. His heart lurched at the memory. He had seen Brett at his worst times so many times and he wanted to keep his friend away from every reliving his worst moments. He'd very much like to keep seeing a glowing Brett for as long as he lived. 

"Bro, why the fuck are you crying?" Brett asked. Eddy blinked a few times before realising a few teardrops escaped his eyes. Finding no words that could fully encompass his immense feeling of relief, he did not grace Brett a single word before suddenly enveloped his friend in a hug. He was aware he was trembling in the embrace but he kept it tight. 

Brett, although initially reluctant and confused, gave in and reciprocated the warm embrace. 

“Thank fuck,” Eddy muttered in Brett’s hair. He tightened his embrace as if to soothe himself. “Oh god, thank fuck you’re safe.” 

“What the—?”

”Shush, just let me,” Eddy’s breath shuddered. Brett let the man squeeze him harder and gave his own share of calming pheromones to the distressed man. Whatever Eddy had dreamt must have really unnerved the usually stoic man. 

"Yang, please come in."

“Eddy, it’s our turn. Let’s go.”

Brett tapped his friend before standing up. Eddy broke the embrace yet immediately followed suit, completely missing the eyes that followed him into the room. 

"Brett, so good to see you again. How are you doing?" Dr Tran greeted him as he entered. She also let out a surprised yelp when she realised that Brett was not alone. "Oh the alpha is here."

"Good morning, doc," Eddy greeted sheepishly before clearing his throat. "Err, I'm just his friend. I'm here to err, accompany him today."

The doctor's eyebrow curled cynically. "Yeah, sure, but you're also an alpha, correct?" 

Eddy submissively agreed, finding it pointless to correct the allegations between them. 

When both men were seated, Dr Tran started to ask Brett for updates. The omega kept his narrative short and only told his doctor about the hugging system Brett and Eddy somehow managed to arrange to help him with the pheromones and the unnatural craving for spicy food. Brett made no mention of his nightmares that caused his late night nausea and the way his brother made him scared—both of which Eddy noticed were omitted from the narrative.

The memory of seeing Brett bleeding out in his bathroom ran a shiver down Eddy's spine. 

"Hm, interesting progression there, Brett. Anything more?" 

Eddy raised his hand before interjecting: "He'd had a weird episode last night." 

"EDDY!!!" 

"What episode?" 

Eddy just stared at his friend as if to say: you said you can handle yourself. 

To which, Brett replied with an equally hard stare: yes, and I am handling it perfectly. 

"You said you're telling your doctor about last night," Eddy quipped. Brett rolled his eyes before glaring at his friend. 

"She would get to that later when she asks if I had any discomforts and that would be when I'll tell her about it!" Brett groaned. 

"Discomfort? What kind of discomfort?" Dr Tran's calm tone increased its pitch by a semitone. The doctor had tried to keep her nonchalant expression, but the way she switched her gaze between the alpha and omega in the room told otherside. Brett flinched and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I just slept uncomfortably last night. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." 

Eddy's sleepless and bloodshot eyes turned to the beta doctor, raising Dr Tran's level of alertness. This reminded her that this was the same alpha that bit a sizable chunk off her mentee's hand because of the omega that was sitting in front of her. 

Meanwhile, Eddy was still reeling in the emotions brought by his memory. It could happen again. In fact, it might actually happen again.

"He was in pai—" 

A lithe hand slapped over the alpha's mouth. 

"Bro, what are you doing? You're overreacting," Brett murmured to his friend and pulled him back down to his seat. 

"Mmmmh…does she—mmph—even…know about mmh….2009?" Eddy persisted through the hand covering his mouth. I don't want that to happen again. 

"BRO, WHAT THE FUCK?!!" 

"Wait, what 2009?! Can any of you explain what is going on and what are you hiding from me?!" Dr Tran's voice has finally reached hysterical levels. Brett's grip weakened, his eyes reflected the anguish caused by Eddy's betrayal. His friend showed little remorse for sharing what he felt was important information to his OB-GYN. Eddy tried to convey his genuine concern for his friend, but Brett only saw the lack of regret in his eyes.

“It’s nothing, doc.” Brett steeled his voice. “Nothing happened in 2009.”

“Brett, don’t you think she needs to know?” Eddy asked gently, not wanting to make Brett clam up. However, this only made Brett tear up.

“You don’t even know the full story behind 2009, Eddy!” Brett exclaimed, his right hand already squeezing his left forearm. His breathing started to get laboured as his tears ran down his cheeks. “You know nothing about 2009, Eddy, and it’s not your secret to share!”

Brett walked away and refused to meet the expectant gazes that landed on him. He could feel his throat tighten as the air around him suddenly felt dense. He pulled himself to an embrace and squeezed his arms in a vice-grip. 

“I may not know everything, Brett, but I was the one who had to bring you to the hospital and lie to people to save your life. I was the one who struggled to keep your secret and I was the one who had to see you almost die!” Eddy screeched, turning to his friend. “I’m not as clueless as you think, Brett! The doctors told me things. I know that you’ve been—”

“Shut up. Shut up! They don’t know things! You don't know things!! You don’t have the right to tell me to share it with others!!” Brett wailed from his position. He was crouching with hands buried deep in his hair. He had his eyes shut tightly yet tears ran freely down his cheeks. The older violinist was shivering as he held himself tighter into a ball. Dr Tran gathered a thick blanket in her clinic and draped it over Brett.

“Mr Chen, please step out of the room, you’re distressing my patient,” Dr Tran instructed and sank next to her patient, drawing soothing circles on his back. Eddy peered over his friend to gauge his reaction. Brett remained agonised. 

“I…I’m…I erm…I’m sorry Brett,” Eddy murmured, too stunned and horrified to speak, disbelieving that he just made his friend cry. 

“I…I didn’t mean to…I just…I just didn’t want to see you like that again, Brett,” Eddy confessed, voice shaking in uncertainty and fear and his eyes getting teary eyed. “It killed me to see you like that before…and…I’m scared.”  

Eddy bit his shaking lips as he let out a wet exhale. “I’m so scared right now, Brett. In fact, I’m so scared that I do not understand what is going on between us and I’m very sorry if I made you feel bad. All I ever wanted was to help you!”

He let out a burst of calming pheromones before turning for the door.

“Fuck your help!”

A furious weeping voice beat Eddy.

“I wanted to forget, Eddy!!” Brett snapped, turning to Eddy. He yelled at him at the top of his lungs. “I wanted to forget it ever happened to me! I wanted to erase my memories. I want to forget that I was too weak to let it happen to me! It doesn’t happen to men, so why did it happen to me?! Why was I too weak to stop it? Was it because I am an omega?! Is that why I was raped when I was sixteen?!”

Brett approached the alpha and shook him angrily by the collar with enraged tears cascading down his cheek. The doctor who sat by his side could only look at the raging omega in surprise and sympathy, too overwhelmed by the sudden information she had to process to even stop her patient from attacking his friend.

The fuming omega proceeded on shaking the helpless alpha, who could only look at his friend in guilt.

”Why was I taken against my will, huh?! Why was I left undressed in a hotel where no one would take me seriously when I asked who brought me there?! Why did I have to conceive after being molested?! Why can’t I have a successful abortion?! Why did I have to miscarry a child?! Why did I have to go through all that, Eddy?! Why?! Tell me!!

“Didn’t you want to help me? Then, please tell me why I had to go through all that! Give me answers, Eddy! Tell me why!”

“Mr Yang, please calm down, the stress is not good for—”

“Life’s been unfair to you, Brett,” Eddy answered dejectedly before gently removing Brett’s hands from his collar. Eddy's voice wavered. “That's the only answer I can give you. I'm sorry. Please excuse me.” 

With that, Eddy turned for the door and left the clinic. Brett stood blankly and stared at the spot Eddy had occupied. After a couple of shaky breaths, he bawled his tears out. Dr Tran could only let him ride his lamentations over her shoulder.

When Eddy left the room, he ran straight to the restrooms and avoided all eye contact on his way. There, he locked himself in a cubicle, where he let go of the sobs he held inside him when Brett poured his frustration to Eddy. 

Fat ugly tears ran down Eddy’s cheeks in every hitch of his shoulders. 

“Why did I have to go through all that, Eddy?! Why?! Tell me!!”

”I’m so sorry, Brett, I’m so sorry,” he muttered to himself in a chant. He could not describe the tight feeling in his chest that was about to break through his ribs. The hands that were dampening his bawling shook with him as he broke down behind the cubicle door. 

The agonised look on Brett’s face that burned at the back of his retinas made him crumble to the dirty restroom floor—with the same chant leaving his lips even as it kissed the floor.

“I’m sorry if I went hysterical when you tried to keep your secret from me,” Dr Tran said as he handed Brett a glass of water.

The violinist felt raw from his outburst. His hands were busy scratching and pinching his clothed arm. The glass of water handed to him temporarily ceased his fidgeting.

”I should know when to stop pushing for details. I work with omegas who share the same case as yours, after all, and I clearly should have read the room. So, I really hope you accept my sincere apologies for not doing what is right for you, Mr Yang.”

Dr Tran’s eyes burned red with tears and her nose started to tint. Brett merely stared at the glass of water offered to him.

”…Did…did you know…I…I refrained from eating or drinking anything that I didn’t get for myself for a year? After I got…after that?” Brett hoarsely mumbled. “I thought that if I…if I didn’t let anyone touch what I ate, I wouldn’t be vulnerable.”

Brett let out a sniff. “I…I…I had to stop drinking bubble tea for it.”

Dr Tran let out a shaky breath. Her heart lurched at the state of her patient. Brett bit his lower lip to stop them from trembling.

”I…I only ate what Eddy ate first because he,” he choked on a sob. “…he would…he said…it would be better if he tested them first because I knew Eddy would never give me something bad. I knew that he would never hurt me.” 

The violinist started to quiver in his seat.

” I knew he would never hurt me but I…I…what did I do?” he lamented, “ I pushed him away. I said harsh things to him. I became a bad friend. I was such an ungrateful twat.”

The omega tried to put the glass away but his grip weakened. The glass shattered on the ground. The man started hyperventilating in his seat. 

“Doc…Doc, I don't…fee—”

Suddenly, the man slumped against his seat and fell on the floor. Things happened too quickly for the doctor to process. In a slow blink of an eye, her patient who had just been sharing about his past experience and sitting upright had immediately turned very pale and fainted in the middle of broken glass shards. 

“Mr Yang?! Mr Yang!! Can you hear me?!” Dr Tran exclaimed as she shook her patient. Her other hand had already pushed her emergency button to call in the nearest crash cart into her vicinity. When her patient refused to rouse from his unconsciousness, she checked his pulse and was alarmed to find it beat too fast for her liking. 

“Nurse! Get me the crash cart, stat!!” 

Meanwhile, an alpha was left unconscious against the dirty bathroom floor somewhere with an equally fast heart rate.