Chapter Text
Their first meeting is an ordinary mistake of fate. It's just that someone, somewhere above, didn't pay attention, confused the threads of fate and brushed off the mess he created, switching to something more interesting. These are two completely different worlds that collided by accident in the middle of a dirty alley.
Porsche knew he shouldn't risk getting involved in someone's obviously dangerous drama. He still had to think about his brother, his unborn nephew, and himself. It was still necessary to find money to pay off debts, ask Yoko for a salary increase, and finish smoking a cigarette that smouldered unpleasantly in his hands. Porsche has too much to do, but he remains standing as if chained to the ground, watching as the situation escalates and the first blood drips onto the ground.
He reminds himself that it is none of his business and there is no point in risking his life for a stranger. For someone else's alpha. For the sake of a real demon. It is dangerous. This is deadly.
"Help me."
And Porsche again feels like an eleven-year-old boy in the middle of the school yard. Then he couldn't risk it. He couldn't afford to get into trouble. Now he is in his twenties, he goes to university no more than once a month, and school bullies are not far from him. The instinct of self-preservation screams, asks, for some reason in Cheya's voice, to stay away. He already takes a step back, looks at the metal door through which he left a moment ago, hoping for a break, clenches his fists until the bones turn white, and finally spits curses under his breath, cursing his nature. He feels sharp, claws scratching at his ribs, trying to get out, fulfilling his true purpose. Protect, save, heal. For years, little by little, he wrested all kindness and compassion from himself, knowing that otherwise they would not survive. This world is too cruel, dangerous and belongs to the same people as the people opposite.
"Two hundred thousand."
"What?" the stranger wheezes, barely dodging another blow.
"Two hundred thousand or I'll leave you alone with your friends." Porsche smiles. "I think they will not mind getting rid of the extra problem."
A person has a few seconds to think, and then a strong blow flies into the jaw and time runs out.
"Fine." heavy, strained sighing. "Fine. I will cry. Just help."
He doesn't know why, but he can barely stand still when all his being wants is to touch, to be pressed closer, to breathe in someone else's scent, to heal the barely noticeable scars on the beautiful face across from him. Porsche himself does not understand what is wrong with him. This is Chey Saint. It is he who brings home homeless animals, eases someone else's pain with a barely noticeable touch and believes that the world they were born into is not so terrible.
Porsche knows the truth. A world where pain and death go hand in hand and you can get shot in the forehead just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time is not worth saving. People who kill each other for a place under the sun do not deserve to be saved. He learned this from his own bitter experience when, still young and naive, he did not believe his mother's assurances. He really thought he could change everything, until someone else's rough fingers dug into the tender flesh, tearing the skin, and the sharp blade of the knife ran through the tendons, cutting the wings. He lost faith in the best, there, in the corridor of the school, suffocating from his own sobs, choking on someone else's blood and feeling how too big a piece was torn from his soul.
A hoarse, smoky voice distracts from painful memories.
"Don't get into it omega." And so much contempt in the gaze of the scarred alpha that the blood involuntarily boils with anger. " You better go back to the bar and continue to shake your cute ass in front of the patrons, and maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll come over and give you a good fuck. I promise we'll both love it."
Porsche grimaces even more, bites his tongue, from which another insult was about to fly, and finally takes a step forward. My fists are itching to break this brat's crooked nose. The last strength is spent not to break down prematurely and not to rush into the attack. They have a clear numerical advantage, weapons and reinforcements that are hidden somewhere nearby. It is pointless to count on victory. Omega doesn't think he's stupid. Hot-tempered, please, but not stupid. You need to disable as many opponents as possible, buy time, divert attention and escape without giving time to come to your senses. He has no plans to die. Not so and not now.
The next couple of minutes fly by like an instant. He delivers blow after blow, feels a burning pain in his chest and how warm blood from the wounded lip hits his chin. The heart is beating like crazy, and there is no related thought in the head. Alfa covers his back, growls at anyone who steps forward and, to Porsche's surprise, looks completely relaxed now that their chances are getting more real by the minute.
That's a lot for Porsche. The smell of blood, the wind in the hair and the hoarse laughter in Samisin's ear is too much.
He feels large hands on his waist, warm breath on his neck, the smell of oak bark, which pleasantly tickles his internal receptors, awakening a gentle and defenseless being inside. For just a moment, Porsche gives in to his secret desire, leans back and allows himself to enjoy someone else's body from behind. I want to close my eyes and at least imagine that he has support, there is someone on whom you can rely even on the hardest day of life, someone who will not let you down and run away when the problems become too much.
"Thank you." А whisper, barely noticeable in the noise of the night roads, becomes the only thread connecting his consciousness with reality.
All he feels is nothing but adrenaline after the fight, pain in his whole body and the joy of a small but still victory. It's all he can allow himself to feel, standing in front of a stranger covered in someone else's blood and looking into his almost black eyes, knowing that behind them lurks the true monster of his childhood nightmares. Mom warned about this. She begged him not to come into contact with such people. She made Porsсha swear to his younger brother that he would never reveal himself under any circumstances. He used to laugh, now he knew that his parents were always right. It is useless to hope for salvation when the real devil has come for you.
"You have nothing to thank me for. You paid for it.
"But still…"
"Without, however…" He moves away as quickly as he came a minute ago. He has no right to relax next to a real demon. But not now, when not only his life is at stake. "It's better to be silent."
Their parting is a mixture of inappropriate excitement and aggression. Their farewell is too many words, looks, touches. It is the weight of someone else's watch on the palm, the silent promise of a meeting and the hum of the engine.
They are from two completely different worlds, and their meeting is just a coincidence. A mistake that will not happen again. The world of one is blood, gunfights and pain. This is a family followed by dark secrets and death, which each of them is used to accepting as an old friend. The other world is a brother, debts and the hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday. It's warm sunlight and trying to stay out of trouble. Each of them has their own life and a chance meeting will not change the fact that in the morning each of them will have to return to their lives.
"My name is Kinn." the alpha still tries, extending his hand for a handshake. He knows he shouldn't, but his heart treacherously hesitates just at the thought of having to part with this shocking, dangerous, well-sharpened knife, smelling of vanilla and almond omega. Parting with his secret ideal. "You know, I still have some time, and we can go…"
"No, they couldn't."
They couldn't. Perhaps, if not now, in another world, they were not standing on different sides of the barricades, they would have had a chance and time. They could allow themselves to succumb to the attraction, get to know each other better, and become more than two strangers along the way. If things had been different, they might have had a chance.
Porsche jumps on a motorcycle and disappears into the darkness. If he looks around to look at the alpha again, no one will know about it.