Chapter Text
The first sliver of dawn painted the Bangkok skyline in hues of rose and gold, but inside the high rise condominium, the world was still soft and dark, defined only by the warmth of shared breath and tangled limbs. Pond stirred first, as he always did, his alpha senses tuning into the world before his mind fully registered it. The distant hum of early morning traffic, the gentle whir of the air conditioner, and the most important sound: the steady, calm heartbeat of the omega nestled against his chest.
Phuwin was a warm weight against him, one arm slung possessively over Pond’s torso, his face buried in the crook of Pond’s neck. Even in sleep, Pond’s scent was his anchor. Pond’s arms tightened around him, a contented sigh escaping his lips. He nuzzled into Phuwin’s soft, sleep mussed hair, inhaling the sweet, comforting scent of ripe peaches and vanilla, the scent of his home, his heart, his omega.
Last night had been one of their "trying" nights. Not that every night with Phuwin wasn't a gift, but these were different. They were filled with a specific, hopeful kind of love, a deliberate and tender intention. There was an extra layer of sweetness to Phuwin’s scent afterwards, a sated, hopeful bloom that lingered in the sheets and on their skin.
Phuwin began to stir, a soft, unintelligible murmur against Pond’s skin. His eyelashes fluttered, and then his dark, sleep hazy eyes opened, meeting Pond’s gaze. A slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, erasing the last vestiges of sleep.
“Morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning, my love,” Pond replied, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It tasted of sleep and familiar affection.
Phuwin stretched against him, a lazy, cat like movement, before settling back into his embrace. “I had a dream,” he murmured, tracing idle patterns on Pond’s bare chest. “We were at the park with Gem and Fourth. We had a little girl. She had your eyes.”
Pond’s heart swelled, a familiar ache of longing and love. He brushed a stray lock of hair from Phuwin’s forehead. “Yeah? Was she causing chaos like Uncle Fourth?”
Phuwin chuckled, the sound a warm vibration against Pond’s side. “No, she was very serious. Like you. She was sitting on a blanket, frowning at a dandelion like it was a complex business proposal.”
Pond laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. He loved this. These quiet morning afterglows, where their hopes felt tangible, woven into the fabric of their dreams. “Well, as long as she has your smile,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Maybe last night was the lucky one, hm?”
Phuwin’s eyes sparkled with that unwavering hope that both fueled and terrified Pond. “Maybe tonight’s the lucky one,” he corrected, his tone light and playful. “We can’t give up. We have to be… persistent.”
“Oh, I can be persistent,” Pond teased, rolling so he was hovering over Phuwin, caging him in with his arms. He dipped his head and pressed a soft, open mouthed kiss to the bonding bite on Phuwin’s neck, feeling the omega shiver beneath him. Phuwin’s scent spiked, sweet and inviting.
“Pond…” Phuwin breathed out, his hands coming up to grip Pond’s shoulders.
But the moment was broken by the shrill beep of Pond’s phone alarm. Reality intruded. Meetings, deadlines, responsibilities.
Pond sighed, dropping one last kiss to Phuwin’s lips before rolling away. “Duty calls.”
“It always does,” Phuwin pouted, but he was smiling as he sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “I’ll make coffee. And eggs. The article said protein is good for… you know.”
“For ‘you know’,” Pond repeated with a soft smile, getting out of bed. He watched Phuwin pad barefoot into their kitchen, his movements graceful and sure. He was so beautiful, so perfect. The desire to see him holding a child, their child, was a physical pain in Pond’s chest. It was a dream they’d shared since before they’d even mated, a foundational part of the life they were building together.
He joined Phuwin in the kitchen, accepting the mug of coffee handed to him. Their home was a testament to their life together. Modern, clean lines softened by Phuwin’s love for plush blankets, vibrant art, and shelves overflowing with books. Photos of them with their friends: Gemini’s grin, Fourth clinging to his back, Winny and Satang’s quiet, intertwined hands, covered one wall.
A found family.
The pack had grown out of something simple: three young omegas who had once promised to always stay close. Phuwin, Fourth, and Satang had built the center first, and their alphas had joined later, turning friendship into something that resembled a pack.
Phuwin had been the first of the three to mate, and somewhere along the way the idea had quietly settled in his heart that he would be the first to have a pup too.
As the seasons began to turn, that quiet morning hope became a ritual. The hopeful "maybe tonight" began to be said with a little more determination, a little less of the dreamy certainty.
One evening, during a downpour that lashed against the windows, Phuwin came out of their bathroom, a small, white stick clutched in his hand. His expression was carefully neutral.
Pond looked up from his laptop on the sofa, his heart in his throat. “Well?”
Phuwin held it out. A single, stark line.
Negative.
Pond was on his feet in an instant, pulling Phuwin into his arms. “It’s okay, Phuwin. It’s still early days.”
Phuwin nodded against his shoulder, his grip tight. “I know. It’s just… the timing felt so right this month.”
“Next month,” Pond whispered into his hair. “We’ll try again next month.”
The monsoon rains faded, and the cooler, drier air of winter settled over the city. The cycle repeated. Their love making was never a chore, it was always filled with passion and deep affection. But Pond began to notice the subtle shift. Phuwin started keeping a discreet app on his phone, tracking his heat cycle with the focus of a project manager. The "trying" became scheduled, plotted on a calendar. The spontaneous, passionate moments on the sofa or the kitchen counter were replaced by a gentle, “Pond, it’s my fertile window this week.”
Pond never complained. How could he? He wanted this just as much.
But he missed the utter lack of agenda.
On a crisp morning, much like the one they’d started with, Phuwin took another test. The result was the same.
Negative.
He stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The hopeful omega from a year ago looked back, but the light in his eyes had dimmed just a fraction. He could hear Pond in the kitchen, washing the breakfast dishes. He was so strong, so steady. He never showed his disappointment, only his support.
Phuwin took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and plastered a smile on his face. He walked out, holding the test. “Not this time,” he said, his voice forcibly bright.
Pond turned, his hands still wet, his gaze soft and understanding. He opened his arms, and Phuwin walked into them, letting his alpha’s strong, cedar and rain scent envelop him, a temporary shield against the slow, creeping chill of frustration.
A year. Twelve cycles. Twelve negative tests. The hope was still there, but it was no longer a bright, blazing sun. It was a stubborn ember, fighting against the wind.
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The digital glow of the phone screen illuminated Phuwin’s face in the darkness of their bedroom. Pond was asleep beside him, his breathing deep and even. This was Phuwin’s new normal.
The late night deep dive into the labyrinthine world of Omega fertility forums.
HeatSeeker94: Has anyone tried the Moon Phase method? I conceived my pup during a full moon! My grandma swore by it.
OmegaWithHope: It’s all about basal body temperature. You have to chart it EVERY morning at the same time before you even sit up. Here’s my chart from when I finally got my BFP! (Big Fat Positive!)
BangkokPupWanted: The doctors just say "relax and it will happen." Easy for them to say! I’ve been trying for 18 months.
Phuwin’s thumb scrolled endlessly. He felt a strange kinship with these anonymous usernames, a global omegahood of longing. He clicked on a thread titled ‘Old Wives’ Tales That Actually WORKED For Me!’
- Royal Jelly: Tastes awful, but my levels improved in 3 months!
- Keeping your feet warm: Improves blood flow to the uterus!
- Eating organic, pesticide free eggs: The protein and choline are essential!
- Drinking Red Raspberry Leaf Tea: Tones the uterine walls!
- Positions!: The deeper the better! Put a pillow under your hips afterwards for at least 20 minutes!
Phuwin opened a notes app on his phone. His list, titled “Things to Try,” was already extensive. He added ‘Royal Jelly??’ and ‘Find organic egg source’.
The next morning, Pond came into the kitchen to find Phuwin whisking eggs with an intense focus. “Something special?” Pond asked, kissing his cheek.
“They’re organic, free range,” Phuwin said, his tone a little too casual. “The protein quality is better. And I read that choline is crucial for neural development.”
Pond’s smile was gentle. “Okay, love. They smell great.”
A few days later, a package arrived. Phuwin unpacked it with the reverence of a scholar unearthing a sacred text. There were bottles of Omega 3 supplements, a high grade prenatal vitamin, a thermometer that synced to his phone, and a box of a particularly foul smelling herbal tea blend.
“What’s this?” Pond asked, picking up the tea box and wrinkling his nose.
“It’s a fertility blend,” Phuwin explained, already filling the kettle. “Red raspberry leaf, nettle, chasteberry. It’s supposed to balance hormones.”
Pond watched him, a knot of concern tightening in his stomach. “Phuwin… are you sure about this? It doesn’t even smell safe.”
“It’s from a reputable herbalist with thousands of five stars reviews,” Phuwin said defensively, his back to Pond. “People swear by it.”
He drank the tea every night, grimacing through the bitter, grassy taste, convincing himself that the worse it tasted, the more potent it must be.
The changes seeped into their daily life. Pillows were strategically placed after sex. Phuwin started wearing thick socks to bed, even on warm nights. Their grocery bill skyrocketed with the cost of organic everything.
The casual, fun double dates with their friends began to feel different. They were all at Gemini and Fourth’s apartment, a space that was a delightful reflection of its occupants: colorful, slightly messy, and filled with laughter. Fourth, a ball of energetic omega sunshine, was draped over Gemini’s back on the sofa, feeding him pieces of mango.
“So,” Fourth said, his mouth full, “any news from the baby front, you two?”
It was an innocent question, asked a dozen times before. But this time, Phuwin’s smile was tight. “Not yet.”
“Ah, don’t worry!” Gemini chimed in, his alpha voice booming with cheerful confidence. “It took my parents years to have me! You just have to… you know.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Really enjoy the process.”
Fourth giggled, swatting his arm. “You’re disgusting.”
Winny, ever the quiet observer from his spot on the floor leaning against Satang’s legs, caught Pond’s eye. His gaze was knowing and soft with empathy. Satang, whose nurturing energy was a palpable force, simply offered a small, understanding smile.
“Actually,” Fourth said, digging into his pocket. He produced a small, clumsily braided red string with a tiny charm attached. “Here. For you.”
Phuwin took it, puzzled. “What is it?”
“A fertility charm!” Fourth announced proudly. “My aunt made it for me when Gem and I first mated. But look at us! We’re not even trying and we’re fine.” He gestured vaguely at their chaotic, child free existence. “Maybe it’ll work for you. It can’t hurt, right?”
Gemini snorted. “Fourth, that’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not! It’s infused with positive intentions!” Fourth retorted, poking his alpha’s cheek.
Phuwin looked down at the silly, heartfelt charm in his palm. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. Gratitude for his friend’s gesture, a pang of sadness that he needed such a thing, and a desperate, clawing hope that maybe, just maybe, it could work. He closed his fingers around it. “Thanks, Fourth,” he said softly. “I’ll wear it.”
Pond watched him tie the string around his wrist. The concern in his chest grew heavier.
This wasn’t just dedication anymore.
It was becoming an obsession.
The playful, joking omega he’d mated was being consumed by a single, all encompassing goal.
That night, as they got ready for bed, Pond tried to broach the subject. “You know,” he began carefully, wrapping his arms around Phuwin’s waist from behind as he looked at their reflection in the bathroom mirror. “We don’t have to try so hard. We can just… be us. It will happen when it’s meant to.”
Phuwin’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. “I am being us, Pond. ‘Us’ wants a family. I’m just… being proactive.” He touched the red string on his wrist. “I’m doing everything I can. I have to.”
“But at what cost, Phuwin?” Pond asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. “I miss you. I miss us just… being together without a calendar or a thermometer involved.”
Phuwin turned in his arms, his expression pained. “So you’re saying we should just give up?”
“No! Never. I’m saying we shouldn’t let this struggle define us. Our love is enough, whether we have a baby or not.”
But the words, meant to be comforting, seemed to land wrong. Phuwin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he whispered, pulling away. “Your body isn’t the one failing.”
He slipped into bed, turning his back to Pond. The distance between them, though only a few inches, felt like a chasm. Pond lay awake long into the night, listening to Phuwin’s uneven breathing, knowing he was awake too, probably scrolling through another forum on his phone, searching for the one miracle solution they hadn’t yet tried. The love was still there, a deep, unwavering current, but it was now flowing through the rocky, treacherous waters of unspoken pressure and quiet, mounting despair.
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The pressure was a living thing in their apartment, a silent third occupant that fed on negative tests and desperate hopes. It was in the way Phuwin would stare blankly at the calendar, in the forced cheerfulness when he announced his fertile window, in the slight tremor in his hand as he drank his vile tea every evening.
Pond did everything he could to shoulder the burden. He took on more chores, surprised Phuwin with his favorite desserts, suggested weekend getaways just to break the cycle. But every gesture felt like it was being filtered through the lens of their struggle. A dessert was “good for morale,” a getaway was scheduled outside of a fertile window, a foot rub was “to improve circulation.”
Their love life, once a vibrant expression of their bond, had become a scheduled, tactical operation. The passion was still there, buried deep, but it was often overshadowed by the unspoken purpose of the act. Pond found himself missing the raw, spontaneous moments where they just came together because they couldn’t not. Now, it was a means to an end, and the weight of that expectation often left him feeling hollow afterwards, holding a Phuwin who was already mentally calculating days and planning his post coital pillow arrangement.
The breaking point came on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday.
It had been a long day for both of them. Pond had closed a difficult deal, and Phuwin had dealt with a demanding client. They’d ordered in, eaten in comfortable silence, and were curled up on the sofa watching a movie. For the first time in weeks, it felt normal. Easy. Pond had his arm around Phuwin, who was leaning into his side, his scent calm and content. The fertility app was forgotten, the charms and teas were out of sight. They were just Pond and Phuwin.
As the credits rolled, Phuwin stretched and stood up. “I’m just going to the bathroom,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Pond’s temple.
Pond’s heart sank. He knew what that meant. The test. It was the right time of the month. The hope, which he had successfully kept at bay all evening, came rushing back, a treacherous tide.
He waited, the movie credits long finished, the screen saver bouncing idly across the television. The silence from the bathroom was deafening. Minutes stretched on. Then, he heard it. A small, choked sound, like a wounded animal.
Pond was on his feet in an instant. He found Phuwin standing in the middle of their bathroom, the white stick lying on the counter next to the sink. He wasn’t looking at it. He was staring at his own reflection in the mirror, his face a mask of utter devastation. His body was rigid, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. The red string on his wrist looked like a mockery.
“Phuwin?” Pond’s voice was soft, hesitant.
Phuwin didn’t move. His breath hitched, a ragged, painful sound.
Pond stepped closer, his own heart cracking open. He saw the test from the corner of his eye.
One line.
Always one line.
He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Phuwin’s trembling shoulder. “Hey… it’s okay…”
It was the wrong thing to say. The words acted like a trigger.
Phuwin whirled around, his eyes blazing with a fury and pain so raw it stole the air from Pond’s lungs. “Okay?” he repeated, his voice shaking, rising to a near shout. “Okay? How is this okay, Pond? A year! A whole year! We’ve done everything right! The temperatures, the tea, the eggs, the pillows, this stupid charm!” He ripped the red string from his wrist and threw it across the room, his chest heaving. “I’ve read every article, followed every piece of advice! Why can’t I just do this one thing right? Why can't I get pregnant? What is wrong with me?”
The final word ended in a broken sob. The anger evaporated as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a void of pure, unadulterated grief. His legs buckled.
Pond caught him before he could hit the floor, gathering him into his arms as Phuwin collapsed against him, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. It was a storm that had been building for twelve long months, and now it was breaking, tearing through him.
“Shhh, shhh,” Pond murmured, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. He sank to the cool tile floor, holding Phuwin as tightly as he could. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. You are perfect. You hear me? You are the most perfect, beautiful, strong person I know.”
“I’m… not… I’m broken,” Phuwin choked out between sobs, his face buried in Pond’s neck, his tears hot against Pond’s skin. “My body is broken. I’m failing you. I’m failing us.”
“No,” Pond said, his voice fierce with conviction, even as a tear escaped and traced a path down his own cheek. He rocked him gently. “You could never fail me. You are my everything, Phuwin. My heart lives outside my body, in you. This… this is not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”
He repeated the words like a mantra, whispering them into Phuwin’s hair, holding him through the tremors until the violent sobs subsided into quiet, exhausted hiccups. The fight had gone out of him, leaving him limp and drained in Pond’s arms.
Pond didn’t know how long they sat there on the cold bathroom floor. He just held him, his own silent tears falling into Phuwin’s hair. He cried for their disappointment, for Phuwin’s pain, for the innocence their love had lost. He cried because he felt powerless, because he couldn’t fix this for the person he loved most in the world.
Eventually, when Phuwin’s breathing evened out into the shaky rhythm of sleep, Pond carefully gathered him up and carried him to their bed. He laid him down, peeled off his clothes, and tucked him under the duvet. Then he crawled in beside him, pulling Phuwin into his arms, spooning him from behind, wrapping himself around his omega like a human shield.
Phuwin was asleep, but Pond stayed awake, listening to the soft, hitched breaths. In the quiet dark, the unspoken fears hung between them. The journey ahead felt long and uncertain. But as he held Phuwin, feeling the steady, living beat of his heart against his own, Pond knew one thing for certain.
However they had to walk this path, they would walk it together.
Even if the miracle they prayed for remained elusive, the love they had was, in itself, a softer, quieter kind of miracle.
And for now, in the deep, wounded silence of the night, it would have to be enough.