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He’s been hurting for a while now.
Everything — his head is pounding, his bones are aching, there’s an itch under skin he can’t get to no matter how many bloody stripes he leaves in the wake of his claws. His eyes are dry, his gums hurt and it’s so hot all the time. Dewdrop is soaking through his second set of clothing with sweat tonight and the scent that permeates is a disgusting blend of charcoal and gasoline.
He sits up and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. Watches spots dance in the darkness and it’s a partial distraction until the hinge of his jaw is wracked with a pulsating throb. Dew winces and yelps pitifully in the silence of his his room. He hadn’t been able to sleep since the day they summoned him again — only a few hours at a time, only in Aether’s lap and his hands in his hair. He could wake Aether up, he considers it for a moment, but no, he needs sleep too. Ever since Omega left he’d been put in charge of the infirmary and had been entirely unprepared for that. None of them were prepared; Mountain barely leaves the gardens too. Dewdrop isn’t overwhelmed with new designations, he’s just plagued by never ending physical agony. Mental too, probably. Aether told him gently once, that he began to lash out way too often. It wasn’t said with judgment or reproach, but Dew lashed out at that too. Satanas, he’s so angry. He wants to scream and tear everything apart and sink his teeth into someone’s neck, anything to stop the pain. He loves Aether, fuck, he loves him so much, but he wants to bite that constant pitying smile off his face. They all feel sorry for him, and it's infuriating. The Cardinal too. The rest are silent, he’ll give them that, but he can tell they’re tiptoeing around him, afraid to say something wrong, afraid of the word ‘fire’ itself and it makes Dew want to retch. Rain also makes him want to retch.
He watches them all fuss over the new water ghoul, in whom Dew sees absolutely nothing special. The runt can’t even manage the most basic foundations of magic, all he does is stare at everyone with those disgustingly watery pitiful eyes of his and everyone falls at his feet, everyone trips over themselves to run and help. Makes Dew fucking sick. Still, Rain is towards the end of his list of enemies. Enemy number one is that witch, Sister Imperator. Enemies two and three are Alpha and Omega. Cowards. Further down the list are the rest of the ghouls that couldn’t fucking take it, couldn’t handle the Emeritus brothers not being there. Aether is pathetic in his compassion, saying that he understands, that he doesn’t blame them. Well, then Dewdrop will blame them for two. “They loved him, Dew, really loved him, they couldn't stay,” Aether had said. What a load of horseshit. He loved him too, loved him more than anything in the world, and it didn’t matter that there was no more room for a third in Terzo’s heart, it didn’t matter at all, he loved him, but he stayed. And what did he get for it?
He hardly remembers what happened before he was pushed back into the abyss by an invisible force, like a creature being drowned. He choked with fire in his lungs, screaming and writhing. Skin covering with warts and soot, tongue feeling as though it had been stung by wasps, eyes feeling as though someone poured handfuls of sand into them. How, when he was finally allowed to surface, he thought he’d be better off dead, how everything hurt beyond comprehension. How Copia looked at him, eyes wide with horror and guilt, trembling hands outstretched in a blatant attempt to recreate Terzo’s welcoming comfort but no strength to truly offer it. They had to send for Aether in the end. He gathered Dewdrop up like a ragdoll and for three days and three nights he held him tightly and tried to make him stop howling in pain. It was scary and painful the first time, but the second was unbearable. It was even more unbearable when Aether let slip, that they did this to him to recreate Alpha’s abilities, when Ifrit was no longer an option. Bastards.
The fact that he mastered fire magic in record time was of some consolation. Good reason to gloat before Rain too. Sister was pleased when Dew displayed his newly trained abilities like a circus dog. She clapped her hands together once and said: “Well! Look how beautifully everything turned out. I’d say the experiment was a success, my dear Cardinal.” The Cardinal only clenched his jaw and said nothing in response. Dewdrop doesn’t hate Copia that much; he should, really, but Copia is a lot like Aether — too kind and weak-willed, his fault is not in any of this. Sister has him dancing in the palm of her hand and, frankly, Dew does not really believe in his leadership. Either way, Cardinal Copia is at most simply annoying in his meek submissive nature. Sister Imperator, on the other hand, does not miss the opportunity to give exceptionally backhanded praise regarding Dew’s loyalty, all of it inevitable comparisons with Alpha. Dew has to bite his tongue every time so as not to break. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha. Once the center of his universe, the name became nothing but a condescending echo in his head.
Come to think of it, Alpha was the center of the universe for many. For young ghouls, like Dew — he was a role model, for older ghouls, like Zephyr — he was a favorite sibling, for Omega — the love of his eternal life, and for Papa Emeritus Terzo — the Beginning of existence itself. He named them Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, because Terzo was nothing if not a poet. Dewdrop watched their love, divided into three equal parts, pure and real, at how they revered each other, at how Terzo was the meaning of life for the Alpha and Omega, and how they were the best thing that happened to him. Dew wanted that.
He wanted it so bad he sat on the cold floor by the door of Papa’s quarters, pressing his ear to the wooden planks, running his hand over his own body and choking on tears, biting his fist, listening to them loving each other in the warmth and comfort of real embraces, dissolving in each other's kisses, Terzo moaning their names, them calling him beloved. The next day Zephyr, normally as kind as the warm summer wind, instead of wishing a good morning, backhanded Dewdrop, the resounding crack of it echoing through the hall. “You think what you’re doing is love?” he had hissed, looming over Dewdrop and his burning face like a storm, “Eavesdropping, touching yourself in the dark? Don’t you dare do that again. Don’t insert yourself where you do not belong."
Doesn't belong, yes. Old Zephyr was right; Dew’s never had a place anywhere. Broken, so broken, reshaped and remade. Not good enough to be someone’s Beginning, not useless enough to be abandoned. And it’s as though Alpha seemed to feel it too back then, taught Dew to play the guitar for some reason, joked that he and Ifrit have been mixed up at birth, that Dew was supposed to be born a fire ghoul. Terrible, disgusting. Alpha felt something for sure, which is another reason to hate him. Main reason, of course, being the betrayal.
And Omega… He isn’t sure about Omega. It was simpler for Omega and Aether: they are of the same breed, and quintessence ghouls are rare, the kinship between them much stronger. Aether was the Omega's favorite student, if not his only. Dewdrop hadn’t even thought to envy that, until he realized how much Alpha fucked him over. So Omega he hates, for the most part, for the hell of it. Because he is the End of Alpha’s Beginning. They're a set. Two bastards for the price of one.
That’s the rationalization Dewdrop once again comes up with as he lay awake, watching the dawn slowly break. For hating them as much as he does, he sure does think about them often too. He contemplates going to Aether’s room again but the pain had mildly subsided enough that he can manage. Not enough that he can go back to sleep, though. He remembers one of the new ghoulettes saying last night, that the weather will be nice in the morning. Walk it is, then. He’ll have an excuse to be late today. Outside, everything is clad in a thick autumn fog. He sees a few figures through it. So some are awake already: there’s a couple of Sisters of Sin sweeping leaves from the cobblestone paths. A ghoul Dew doesn’t know is carrying a basket of candles up to the chapel to prepare for morning mass. Dew passes by the greenhouse — thinks, maybe Mountain is awake and will let him smoke something. Mountain is indeed in the greenhouse, he sees his blurry figure through the tinted glass, hunched over the table, but asleep. No weed, then. Earth ghouls begin filing into the garden, chittering softly, when Dew is on his fourth lap around it. He isn’t ready to go back yet. The pain is easier to deal with in the open air; the abbey had become claustrophobic. He looks towards the forest some ways away. He hadn’t been there since he stopped training with Water, Alpha and Ifrit. Denied solitude, peace and weed, he steps off the path towards the thicket.
He walks for what must be at least half an hour. The forest smells nice — moss and tree bark, a fresh scent. It’s what hugging Mountain smells like. Dewdrop hadn’t hugged him in a while, since… well, since everything. Fuck, his friends must hate him. What a pathetic piece of shit he had become; impossible to be around, crippled with pain. He feels it acutely as soon as he thinks of it.
“Fuck,” he sits on a fallen tree, placing his head in his hands, pressing on his temples, trying to emulate whatever Aether always does to make it better. It is, of course pointless, so Dew just sits, hissing through his teeth.
That’s how Omega finds him. Dewdrop hears his own name said in his head, a deep timbre, familiar to a devastating point. He raises his head way too quickly, his vision swims a little, but there’s no mistaking the creature he sees several feet away. Omega looks no different. He’s no longer dressed in the garb the clergy made them wear, but his hair, his slightly glamoured face, the kindness in his eyes are all the same. Fuck, the kindness. Dew frowns. Besides that, he can’t read Omega’s face at all, never could. Not even when the older ghoul walks up closer to him steadily, leaves crunching beneath his feet. Dew feels as though he’s been turned inside out, as though Omega is reading his very thoughts. Some horrid feeling bubbles in his chest and he scrambles to turn it into rage.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he doesn’t sound as intimidating as he hoped; his voice is small, confused, cracks a little on the curse.
Omega doesn’t respond. He is face to face with Dewdrop now, looking down at him, unreadable, incomprehensible. Probably takes in the eyes that used to be bright, the hair that used to be black, the scars scattered across his skin that were never there. He raises his hand. Dewdrop jerks away from the touch that never comes; the palm simply hovers next to his cheekbone. He’s reading him, Dew understands. It’s something that Aether does too, albeit with touch. It’s only a few seconds before Omega’s face softens, eyebrows arching, a tiny frown on his lips.
“Oh, little one,” it’s but a sigh, barely audible, as his warm hand finally lands on Dewdrop’s cheek. “What did they do to you?..”
Dewdrop’s face crumples. The horrid feeling boils over with a sob and he lurches forward, presses his face into the Omega’s clavicle, tight. Omega’s skin runs cool, soothing the flames licking at Dewdrop’s own. He is enveloped in an embrace, held, supported. His shoulders are shaking, he sobs and sobs, until he can’t anymore and the sobbing turns into gasping and wet breaths. It’s another minute before he can stand to focus a little and feel Omega’s hands rubbing his back, hear him say things.
“You’re in so much pain,” it’s not a question, because Omega knows. He knew the moment he looked into Dew’s eyes. He presses a kiss to his hair.
“It’s so bad,” Dew manages to whimper and grasps the front of Omega’s jacket with whitening knuckles. “It’s constant. I can’t sleep.”
He’s being moved, then. Omega peels him away from himself, and lowers them both down. He sits on the damp grass first, stretches one of his legs out and bends the other at the knee. Dewdrop’s head is maneuvered into Omega’s lap and he bursts into a bout of fresh tears. Quiet this time, simply rolling down his temples into his hairline and ears.
“It won’t be permanent, but at least you’ll be able to sleep for a little while,” Omega says, sinking the tips of his fingers into Dew’s long tresses, tangled with carelessness, and scratches at his scalp. He tries joking softly: “New color suits you.”
“I don’t hate you,” Dewdrop doesn’t know what compelled him to say it but he felt like he had to, “I never hated you, none of you. Not even Alpha. Not Ifrit. Fuck, Ifrit probably thinks I do, Omega, I told him th—”
“Dewdrop,” Omega’s grasp tightens a little and Dew can almost feel the wisps of pain being siphoned away.
“I told him that I hated him, but I didn’t mean it, I never meant it,” it was coming in heaves. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I wish I’d left with you, I wish I—”
“Hush. I know, darling,” Dew’s eyes burn anew at the endearment, “It’s okay.”
“They just— they fucked me up after you left.”
“Aether told me,” Omega says through his teeth, anger seeping through only a little bit. Dewdrop had no idea that Aether kept in touch with Omega. Is that why he’s in the forest? “I’m so very sorry. You should have never had to go through that.”
“But they offered and I said yes, I didn’t know—”
“They didn’t give you a real choice and you know that,” the press of Omega’s fingers tightens even more and suddenly Dew feels a gradual pleasant drowsiness overtaking his panic. Aether does this too and Dew used to hate it. It felt manipulative, like giving a sedative, just to shut him up. Right now, though, he can’t appreciate it enough. His breathing evens out and his eyes stop itching.
“How are you?” he quietly asks after some time. He needs Omega to keep talking. It’s grounding. He feels the gentle rumble of a chuckle above him.
“We’re alright, Dew. It’s weird, being by ourselves, not being at the Abbey. But we’re doing okay,” he pauses for a second. “I heard you’re bullying the new kid.”
Dewdrop almost forgets he’s meant to be sad and in pain, “Me? Bullying? Rain?”
“If that’s his name,” Omega laughs, dips down and presses a soft kiss to the incredulous crease between Dew’s eyebrows. “I’m only joking. But do try not to be too mean to him. You know what he’s going through far too well to pretend you’re better than him.”
Dewdrop knows it to be true immediately. That’s the kind of effect Omega always had. Fuck, he missed him so much. It’s empty without them all. Mountain and Aether busy constantly, the new ghouls keeping to themselves and he hasn’t even attempted to get to know any of them. Like a fucking recluse, although that’s exactly what he has become. He should do better.
“How are you feeling, darling?” Omega asks, after kneading the back of his neck a little.
“Almost can’t feel it,” Dew can only mutter after realizing that he’s a lot more exhausted than he thought; his lips barely splitting, eyelids heavy.
“Good. That’s good,” Omega bends over once more and begins leaving little kisses, scattering them across Dewdrop’s cheeks, nose bridge and eyes. He presses their foreheads together upside down, as though trying to get rid of all of Dewdrop’s agonizing thoughts for him. Dew sheds a couple more tears that Omega swiftly kisses away. “You’ll be okay.”
It’s the last thing he hears before he slips into the darkest most peaceful sleep he’s had in months. He wakes up in Aether’s bed and it’s dark outside. For twelve hours he’s been out, Aether tells him, laying next to him and carefully untangling a strand of his hair.
“Found you cuddling Omega in the forest,” he smiles. “I’m sorry, I should have told you I’ve been meeting with him. He didn’t get to finish teaching me everything.”
“It’s okay, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to hear it,” Dew admits, burying his face in Aether’s chest. It’s cool and familiar, the similarity with how Omega feels is bittersweet but all the more comforting for it. “I missed practice today then?”
“Copia didn’t mind.”
“Does he ever,” Dew rolls his eyes but he’s not really all that annoyed, he realizes. Thankful, even, to have his situation understood. Copia always understood, didn’t he? Fuck. He should really say thank you or something.
“I was wondering,” Dewdrop begins after a few minutes of quiet breathing, clearing his throat, hating to be so aware of his face warming, “Could I come with you tomorrow to watch the multighoul teach Rain his stupid water magic?”
“Swiss,” Aether corrects after being taken aback by the request, pinching Dew’s cheek, “His name is Swiss.”
“Stupid name.”
“Okay, Dewdrop.”
He goes to bite Aether in the shoulder. His body still hurts and there’s still a throbbing in his temples, but for the first time in such a long time truly believes, that he’ll be okay.