Chapter Text
Grace’s heart was already racing before he even stepped into the room where the other human was.
He had barely registered what he was going to do, driven by a feeling of responsibility mixed with the insistent tug in his chest that had been growing stronger every day the man remained unconscious. His suppressants are still working, but the effects were clearly dissipating, he assumed it was the sudden appearance of an Alpha, another human that breaks his long years of being isolated from his own kind.
Yes, Grace felt lonely all this time, but he had no idea how to feel or handle what he’s going through currently. Every time he got close to the medbay, his Omega instincts flared hot, desperate to comfort, to protect, to care for the injured Alpha inside the room.
He took a slow breath to steady himself and opened the door, the cool filtered air of the new wing brush against his flushed skin, and the moment the door behind him hissed to a close—the man lunged at him.
He hardly had time to form a singular coherent thought before a dense, desperate weight slammed into him, driving him back against the wall with a surprising amount of strength even after months of him resting.
Holy fudge, he’s large!
Like, Grace is muscular, but this man’s built like a tank—heavy, solid muscle rippling against him—whoa.
His back hit the cool surface hard enough to knock the breath out of him in a sharp “Oof!” He could hear the muted musical tone from the other side—his best friend panicking—but he shook his head frantically to signal the other two Eridians not to intervene. Not unless he asked.
A strong hand fisted in the front of his white shirt, twisting the fabric, and another hand rose, trembling and hesitant, but ready to strike. Grace’s mind went blank, terrified—his Omega instincts screamed at him to submit, to soothe, while his rational brain yelled danger, get away!
He kept both of his hands raised where the scared man could see them, palms open, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, even as his pulse thundered in his ears like a drum.
“H-Hey, Hey, it’s me…!”
He managed to force his words out despite the fear consuming him, voice cracking.
The Alpha froze, his breathing was ragged and heavy, his dilated pupils slowly lost their wild haze, revealing dark brown eyes (with one red-tinted) the other locked onto Grace’s in return, piercing and intense. His shaggy, raven colored hair falls over his face artfully, although damp and slightly matted, probably from the sweat and the crimson ocean.
His angular face was decorated with coarse stubble along his strong jaw and the top of his lip that was cut from being injured. A prominent scar dragged across the left side of his cheek that has one of the incomplete mutations Grace was talking about (aside from the one slightly red coloured eye).
Some sharp, non-human teeth peeking through (He wonders if it has the ability to eat through them and functions like another mouth), with the healing radiation burns on his handsome, weathered face, and more of the scars littered from the exposed skin he could manage to see.
Oh…pretty.
Get a grip, Ryland Grace!
A man is having a PTSD moment and all you can think is how handsome he is!
“A-Angel…?”
The word came out fragmented, almost childlike in its disbelief. Tears spilled down his cheeks as terror and another raw emotion he couldn’t quite place tangled together in his expression. Grace’s chest awfully ached at the sight.
W-Wait. Angel? He’s calling me that again?
“I-I thought…I thought the C.O.I…”
The man mumbled to himself, taking a shaky pause, the grip on his favorite shirt loosened just a fraction. Before Grace could ask what or who the C.O.I. were, the man covered his face with the hand that had been ready to attack, and a pained, stifled groan escaped him.
“Th-They sent me to die! To be devoured! I thought this was another trial, another punishment. I-I didn’t know—”
He moved away from Grace, another hand running through his dark locks and tugging it harshly, making his head fall forward with the motion. Grace winced at that before he decided to breathe properly, coughing slightly at how dry his throat suddenly felt.
“I-I didn’t mean to hurt them…I-I didn’t—I don’t know what they were…!”
Grace felt useless, his heart stings so fiercely he thought his chest might crack open.
Of course the man would be scared. If Grace had woken up in some unfamiliar place after everything he’d been through, and wherever he was from, he wouldn't have acted coherently either. He would have acted on pure survival instincts, desperate to stay alive, desperate to be forgiven for the blood that spilled just because he wants to prevail.
“M-Miserere mei…Miserere mei…”
The man kept repeating the words to himself like a prayer—Was that Latin? He continued to whisper as he curled up to himself more, trying to make himself look smaller, like he was trying to shield himself from the entire outside world.
Gosh, what a heartbreaking sight to see.
No one should ever feel this way—to be this fearful, this ashamed for trying to protect themselves, to stay alive.
Grace could smell the sharp, acrid edge of terror and hurt in the man’s scent, layered underneath something earthy, and other things that he couldn’t quite place—like the Alpha before him didn’t have the privilege to have his scent exposed and hiding it, so no one could take advantage of him.
Grace’s own suppressed instincts surged so hard his limbs are getting weak and turning jelly-like. His scent glands tingled under the patch on his neck, and his body moved before he could process—baring his throat, and a pitiful, involuntary whine ripping out from his chest, his hands twitching with overwhelming need to wrap around this broken man, to comfort, to promise safety.
The Alpha in front of him flinched at his noise, his head slowly lifted from his palms, sharp eyes looking at him in return.
Oh.
Oh, fudge.
Darn it, my Omega instincts—why now!
But Grace received a soft growl in response, gentle and almost soothing, as if trying to calm his distress. Huh, he gaped stupidly. That wasn’t the reaction he expected.
“I-I’m sorry…!”
The man quickly moved away from him, as if being near Grace might get him killed or something, and the scientist was faster to try to make him calm down, a hand reaching out to rest on his exposed arm. The skin contact sent a jolt through his entire body—Wow, he’s warm. Like, really warm, Grace noticed. His Omega side trills with pure joy at the touch, yearning for more, and so strong it was almost painful to force it back down.
Gosh, am I this touch-starved?
Now he could feel his face getting hot.
Darn it, focus!
“H-Hey, you’re alright…You’re safe…”
Grace spoke in a hushed, careful tone and gulped nervously before gathering enough courage to attempt to guide the man’s calloused hand to place over his own chest, right above his racing heart that he’s working hard to settle into a steady pace. He looked at the man expectantly, hoping he was showing enough to prove he’s harmless, at least trying to be.
After a long, tense pause goes by, Grace was actually impressed by how still he is; he would be pacing around by now, jittering with nervous energy. The stunned Alpha opened his mouth, before closing it again, his bottom lip now bruised and split with how hard he’s chewing into it. Then finally, after a stuttered breath—
“Y-You…You are real…?”
It was now Grace’s turn to be stunned.
That’s what he had been scared of?
That Grace was an illusion?
And everything here isn’t real, that he’s back at wherever he was before that he deemed hell?
Like, safety isn’t a choice?
Jesus Christ.
Grace could only nod silently and offer him a sympathetic smile, eyes burning with unshed tears. Gosh, this hurts. He could feel his chest carved open and split into pieces from the turmoil of emotions he’s feeling—he couldn’t even imagine what the other man was feeling.
“Angelus meus—”
Angelus means angel, he can deduce that much obviously, the man kept calling him that when in fact, he’s far from it. Grace is a coward at best! (He could hear Rocky angrily disagreeing, but self-depracting jokes do help him get through things!) Meus sounds like a determiner, possessive; then it’s most likely translated to My angel, then. A chill went up his spine.
Wait, what?
“H-Huh—?”
He lets out an embarrassing squeak when the man suddenly leaned in so close he could feel the warm brush of breath caressing his face, foreheads pressed together like it’s a familiar thing to do by the dark haired male.
Wh-What’s happening?!
“Gratias ago tibi, qui de sanguine ad lucem me duxisti…”
This felt like it’s important to the Alpha—like it’s a ritual or a prayer of some sort—so Grace tried his best to stay quiet and think of anything except how hot the man is, or how his dark eyelashes flutter against his handsome cheekbones, or how the sheer warmth of another human makes him feel weird things, like relief, longing, and something deeper after years of being alone—stop it!
When he finished, the Alpha pulled back slightly, and Grace was embarrassed to admit he already missed the closeness, though the hand pressed over his beating heart doesn’t move away, like it grounded him. Grace’s own hand curled loosely around him stayed as well, not wanting to scare him off.
“H-How about we start with introductions? Wh-What’s your name?”
Grace asked dumbly, as if whatever happened earlier wasn’t darn intimate that he feels breathless thinking about it again—Well, not dumbly, because he genuinely wants to know his name. Also, he had to say something since the Alpha in front of him only stayed quiet and kept staring at him!
The man stayed quiet for a beat, then answered in a short, rough voice.
“...Simon.”
Grace perked up excitedly, happiness thrumming through his blood—finally, he got a name!
He smiled widely, like a sun shining brightly and breaking through the overhanging clouds, and Simon feels like he has to bow his head in devotion for an Angel to be that joyous over saying a sinner’s name, his heart fluttered in adoration, his Alpha side trilled with quiet bliss.
“Hello, Simon! I’m Ryland Grace, the Eridians call me Grace, though! B-But you can call me whatever, haha!”
Gosh, I'm such a dork.
Simon was about to say something but he grunted in pain, one hand reaching to press on his throat. The scientist noticed that immediately and lifted his eyes to Armando hovering near the bed he was resting.
“Armando, c-can I have some water over here?”
He called over the robot, and it moved closer with a water pouch, startling Simon into hypervigilance again, growling when Armando approached too fast, eyeing it sharply with one flashed in scarlet.
“I-It’s okay,”
Grace said quickly, voice gentle.
“Armando was the one helping us to tend you. H-Here!”
Grace hastily turned the cap open, and he moved before his mind caught up, his own hand lightly cradled Simon’s jaw—the stubble rough against his skin, and warm—and placed the mouth of the water pouch near his lips. Simon looked at Grace with wide eyes, flitting his gaze to the water and back at the Angel, who increasingly turning into a cute shade of pink.
An Angel, Simon thought silently.
He most definitely is one.
Sharing so many resources without thinking—a bed to rest his weary body, safety from the hurt, clean filtered air, and now clean water. Simon would have to fight over scraps for less back in Eden.
“U-Uh, s-sorry. I-I was just—”
The blonde-haired stops talking instantly when Simon slowly gulped the water down, his throat bobbed alluringly and Grace’s brain short-circuited at the view. He promptly tore his gaze away.
Take a shot everytime I tell myself to stop it, seriously!
Wait no—don’t.
“Gratias, Ryland…Grace.”
Simon quietly whispered his savior’s name, mind flooded with strange, profound easiness. And Grace blinked at that, something weird tumbling in his stomach. It has been a while hearing someone called him Ryland, especially someone as attractive as him.
Hey, focus.
“Y-Yes?”
He decidedly failed to focus.
“Your name…beautiful.”
Simon continued in short, careful sentences, like it would strangle him if he said any more, or he only had a limited quota of words left. But Grace can compensate for the lack of it, after all, he likes to talk. So much so that Rocky often finds excuses (mainly revolving Adrian) to run away if he ever starts on a topic the Eridian hadn’t asked for insight.
“I-I wouldn’t use that term to describe myself…”
Grace replied sheepishly, clearing his throat as he reached up at the suppressant patch itching against his skin, slightly scratching it nervously, the edges started to peel a bit with the motion.
“Why not?”
Simon tilted his head curiously, dark eyes looking legitimately so confused as if he couldn’t comprehend why the Angel in front of him says something like that.
Oh, it’s brown again.
Did his left eye turn red in reaction to his emotions?
Wait, why does he look so lost?
Now Grace was also confused as to why he would have that expression.
He swallowed hard, trying to ignore how his scent patch was itching even more now, the suppressant clearly struggling against his sheer will, and there happened to be an Alpha right in front of him close (but not close enough).
Okay, this is getting weird.
“I-I have never really thought of myself th-that way. Th-That’s all.”
He responded, voice soft, then cleared his throat before his mind turned more muddled as he clapped his clammy hands together, making Simon winced at the sharp noise.
“S-Sorry, i-it’s a habit. As a teacher wh-when I want to clear the air or—U-Uh, sorry again.”
His ramblings derailed into murmurs, brows furrowed upwards, and Simon felt like he was going to have an aneurysm with how the Angel looked like a kicked puppy—cute and pitiful, especially with those blue glittering eyes like distant stars he had long believed dead.
“It’s okay.”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“A teacher?”
“Y-Yeah. On Earth and here—”
“E-Earth?”
He stammered, eyes wide as saucers, like they were about to fall off their sockets.
“Yes, Earth. Wh-Why?”
Grace tilted his head slightly and the Alpha suddenly grabbed both of his arms, startling him into making an “Eek!” sound in response, calloused fingers pressing into Grace’s sleeves with desperation, as he blinked rapidly at Simon.
What’s going on?
“Th-That can’t be right…Earth died. Th-The stars too…”
Simon’s forehead creased, dark eyes searched Grace’s face like he was trying to solve a puzzle written in a language he barely understood.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Earth is okay, the stars too. Me and Rocky solved the problem—”
“N-No! The Quiet Rapture—it killed everything! Th-The C.O.I send me down there to search for answers, I—”
The dark-haired man is now genuinely distraught, his large frame shaking, pupils dilated, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Grace had grunted silently as the grip on his arms tightened, probably going to leave some sort of bruise— but all he could think about was trying to calm the man down, his scent turned sharper every second went by.
“S-Simon,”
Grace started calmly, and that earned the other man’s attention, Simon’s gaze instantly dropped to the hand resting on top of his own scarred one, then lifted to the clear blue eyes.
“Why don’t we start from the beginning?”