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Emerging from one of the best slumbers he had experienced in a long time, Tonfah opened his eyes to the morning sun peering through the bedroom window. He had dreamt of childhood adventures and shared laughter, remembering that he had fallen asleep with the source of his memories next to him. However, his happiness was short-lived when he instantly noticed the space next to him was empty.
The haze that usually lingered after waking up, the few seconds when your mind and body still straggling in the remnants of unconsciousness, evaporated from him.
Suddenly wide awake, he sat up and glanced around the bedroom, finding it eerily still with no sign of other life nearby. His hand brushed over the space where Phoon had been fast asleep, and he found the cotton cool. The natural warmth from the omega’s body heat was long gone and even his vanilla scent was faint, fading fast in his absence.
Turning to his bedside table, he picked up his phone to check the time, also noticing there were no messages from Phoon. It was still quite early in the morning, so there was no reason for the other to be up so early, especially without waking Tonfah up in the process.
A horrible lead weight sank to the bottom of his stomach, making him feel uneasy, and he quickly pushed the covers off himself.
“Phoon?” He called, making his way into the living room.
Just like he expected, there was no answer and no sign of him, everything in the condo was untouched.
As if no one else had been here the night before.
“Typhoon!” He tried once more anyway.
Not wanting to believe the omega had just upped and left with no warning, he walked through to the kitchen, trying not to think about the breakfast pastries hidden in the pantry that he had bought the night before, a surprise for Typhoon. Again, he found nothing and his chest tightened as he backtracked into the living room, looking around frantically. This time, something on the sofa caught his eye and he stopped in the middle of the room.
Folded neatly on the cushion of the couch lay the pair of pyjamas Typhoon had worn last night.
Tonfah stared at them blankly, frozen to the spot where he stood. Time seemed to stand still, the lead ball in his stomach expanding until he felt sick. The pieces of worn clothing were the only shred of evidence that Typhoon had actually stayed the night and Tonfah hadn’t made it all up. They were also evidence of the ugly truth that the omega had indeed slipped out of bed and left the condo without any explanation, leaving Tonfah to wake up alone and confused, the overwhelming sense of fear eating him up.
Why?
It was all he could think of as his body kicked into autopilot. He didn’t register walking back into his bedroom, forgoing a shower or even brushing his teeth as he quickly stripped his sleepwear and put on the first items of clothing he grabbed from the closet. He didn’t register storming through the condo, ignoring the pyjamas still laid out on the sofa and the special breakfast he had planned out, instead snatching his keys from the coffee table. He didn’t register getting into his car and driving, weaving through the morning traffic while just on the verge of breaking the speed limit. He didn’t register pulling up to the apartment block, his phone up to his ear as he marched up the stairs.
It was only when he was a few steps away from Typhoon’s apartment that he snapped back into reality, realising where he was when he stopped just in front of the wooden door. Hearing the voicemail on the other end of the phone, he pulled it away to find that Phoon had ignored him three times, leaving his calls to ring out. Trying to steady the slight tremble in his hand, he pocketed his phone and took a shaky breath.
“Phoon,” he called out, clearing his throat when his voice caught on a lump.
“Phoon,” he tried again, knocking on the door, “you’re inside, right? Come out and see me for a minute.”
Despite hearing no reply, he knew the omega was inside; he could feel it in his gut, right next to the pit of anxiety brewing inside of him.
“Phoon!” He said loudly, knuckles knocking on the wood harder. “Are you okay?”
Tonfah just needed to see him, needed to see his face and check that he was alright, even though he knew he wasn’t. None of this was right—far from it. Typhoon was obviously hurting, closing in on himself and shutting down—shutting Tonfah out—and the alpha had no clue why.
Why was his nong pushing him away? What had Tonfah done to hurt his friend?
“Come out and talk to me, please,” he pleaded, feeling his heart pounding in his chest so harshly that it was hard to catch his breath. “Phoon!”
He couldn’t think of anything he had done to offend Phoon and that made everything worse. He must have done something for the omega to react this way and the guilt gnawed away at Tonfah for not knowing.
Had he pushed too much? Was he overstepping after four years apart?
“Phoon, I know you’re inside,” he said, trying to take a calmer approach, “aren’t you going to answer me?”
The longer the silence stretched on from the other side of the door, the more real his fear began to feel.
“Do you hate me now?”
He felt sick as soon as the question slipped past his lips, afraid to hear the answer.
“I really don’t know what I did wrong, but you can tell me,” he said, hearing the wobble in his voice, feeling the sting behind his eyes. “You’re my important little brother, so can we go back to how things were?
More silence, so deafening that he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. The tension was so thick that Tonfah thought he would choke on it, but not before his chest would concave on itself. Just under his skin, his inner alpha quaked, desperately waiting for Typhoon to answer.
Then…
“Get out.”
The words were so sharp and abrupt, filled with such intense anger, that they shocked Tonfah. For a moment, he couldn’t believe it was Phoon, his Typhoon, that had said them, until the voice on the other side of the door continued.
“What nonsense are you rambling on about? It’s annoying—you’re annoying,” Typhoon spat, filled with venom that was uncharacteristic for the omega. “Don’t you realise how goddamn annoying you actually are?”
The words stabbed Tonfah directly in the heart and he could physically feel it shattering into pieces. Resting his hand against the door, an attempt to ground himself, he realised his fear was coming true before his very own eyes. He briefly wondered if he was stuck in a nightmare and any second he would wake up in his bed next to Typhoon.
Unfortunately, it was all very much real.
“Get away from my door and go wherever you want, as long as it’s far away from me,” Typhoon snapped, voice rising on the last word.
Tonfah waited for more vicious words to be thrown at him, but none came, the silence returned instead. It was empty, the tension dispelling after Typhoon’s outburst. The hurtful words replayed in his head on a torturous loop and he realised he had no idea what to say or do.
Instead of pain or heartbreak, which Tonfah had expected, he felt numb.
And somehow, that was worse.
When it was clear that Typhoon had nothing more to say to him, that he wasn’t going to open the door and face Tonfah himself, the alpha swallowed thickly, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
“I’m sorry… I’ll go now.”
Hand slipping from the wood, he took a cautious step away from the door. Every muscle in his body tensed, his inner alpha clawing to surface suddenly and forcing him to pause. Instincts screaming, they willed him to stay and get to the bottom of the omega’s distress, even if it meant he had to beat down the door in the process.
Instead, he fought against it, knowing that it was possibly the worst thing he could do in that moment. No, if Typhoon wanted him out of his life, then who was Tonfah to argue against him, even if he felt it was all wrong—that there was something more to it all.
Finding the strength retreat, he glanced one final time at the door, his sliver of hope that Typhoon would appear dying off, before turning around and walking away. No matter how much his inner alpha grappled and wrestled with his reasoning, he didn’t look back at all.
The gravity of the situation didn’t hit him as he left the apartment complex, feeling like he was dragging his feet with every step. It didn’t hit him as he drove home, not remembering the journey at all. It didn’t hit him as he stepped inside his condo, the door slamming shut behind him.
Still dazed, it was only when he slumped on the couch and picked up the folded pair of pyjamas, smelling the weak traces of vanilla in the fabric, that everything came crashing down around the alpha.
In the apartment, Typhoon collapsed on the tiled floor when he heard Tonfah’s footsteps fade away. Great, heaving sobs retched from his chest while tears blinded his eyes, running down his face and mixing with the snot that dribbled from his nose. Apologies poured from his lips until his cries drowned them out, eventually morphing into distressing wails that echoed hauntingly off the walls. Inside of him, his inner omega howled mournfully for their alpha, hanging on to one last shred of hope he would come and save them.
But he wouldn’t, because he had already walked away and it was because Typhoon had driven him away with his cruel words that had tasted like poison on his tongue.
And now, he was all alone, just like his father had wanted; just like he deserved.
In the end, he knew this was always inevitable, like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. With his lies and deceit building up, it was bound to happen at some point. He just didn’t think it would be so soon and that it would completely crush his soul.
Finally, he was completely and utterly broken.
And in the cracks, a coldness crept in. It seeped in like a fog, spreading through his body and settling in the hollows of his bones, numbing everything in its path. Deathly cold hands spouted from the dense cloud, twisting a heavy path in his stomach before splitting and winding through his ribs, wrapping around each one. Eventually, they reached his chest, the coldness wrapping around his heart that thumped erratically, pumping dread and impending doom into his veins.
Then, the hands pulled.
Suddenly, everything felt tight. Throat closing up, his rib cage constricted around his lungs, stopping them from expanding and muffling them, suffocating them. A wave of dizziness washed over him, his vision tunnelling with blackness creeping around the edges. Cold sweat dampened his skin, goosebumps tingling his sensitive flesh. A weight bore down on his chest, feeling like it was crushing him and the realisation that he couldn’t breathe clouded his tornado mind.
I’m going to die, he thought helplessly.
If he were in his right mind, Typhoon would realise he was just experiencing another panic attack, something that happened quite frequently in his life. Unfortunately, the icy fog of his anxiety had warped his mind, forcing his body into survival mode, which meant he would have to ride out the panic attack until it took its natural course.
When the sun had long set and the coldness had long since retreated from his fragile body, Typhoon would still be lying on the floor in the darkness, his tears long since dried and the shaking long since stopped, leaving a near-lifeless shell in the aftermath.
Broken and alone.