The Depth of Green

Chapter 18

Chapter 17 recap: Yuri, devastated, goes into heat on Christmas day. After figuring out that the matchmakers will leave him to die, Mila goes to get Otabek, begging him to do something to get help for Yuri, while Minami keeps the guard who raped him, Eiji, from hurting Yuri, too.

Hi, hello, can I just take a moment to thank you guys for all the comments bestowed on me over the last few chapters? It means so much to me and I truly appreciate it. ♥
Also, let me draw your attention to my next announcement. If you read Shattering Glass (and you should! It's SO much better than this!), you'll know that I have a bit of a habit of choosing a "theme song" for my multichapter fics. For this once, after much deliberation, I have chosen "You Matter to Me" from Waitress. I highly recommend that you give it a listen! ♥

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AREDtpRZTSA

I'M SO SORRY THIS IS POSTED SO LATE. As usual, I completely forgot about Wattpad when updating this story on AO3, and, while I'm sorry to ask, I think it would really be best for everyone currently following this fic to read it on there from now on. I'll continue posting it on here, but as we've seen tenfold, I often forget about Wattpad. My username and this work are exactly the same on AO3, and I really would appreciate it if you guys read on there. That said, though, yell at me if it's Tuesday and I haven't updated on here-- chances are I've forgotten! Thanks! ♥

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Otabek was pulled through winding, maze-like hallways, passages sliding through his view as he raced ever deeper under the house, pulled along by Mila, her hair flashing as she ran ahead of him.

It's Yuri, she had said, and that had been enough. Anything that had Mila distressed enough to behave as she was (according to Yuri, she was normally the picture of poise) had to be bad, and given that Otabek had been grabbed so desperately and kidnapped into the depths of the omega house... this was no run-of-the-mill inconvenience.

Another flight of stairs, and they came to a halt inside a large, bare room, completely void of any furnishings and, in Otabek's opinion, unfit to belong to a facility that housed people-- that was, if the greying, mildewed walls and pervasive smell of damp were anything to go by.

In the center of the all-but unoccupied space, immediately drawing Otabek's eye, stood a young male omega, clearly terrified: trembling, though his stance was firm. Across from him, the object of his fear, was an alpha; tall for the national average and sturdily built, bedecked in attire Otabek knew guards of the house to wear, and glaring at the quivering omega with a fervor that could not entirely be attributed to loathing. There was Mila, by Otabek's side and commanding his attention, her nails digging into his biceps tightly enough to hurt through his jacket, her voice ricocheting around the shambles of a room. And there, curled helpless on the ground, just behind the omega boy, was Yuri.

Yuri, who encompassed everything. Who was made of careful, hidden smiles, tiny tidbits about himself to be treasured, secrets painstakingly guarded; the best actor that Otabek was learning to see right through. And he was currently reduced to a shivering, whimpering, weakly writhing mess on the concrete.

In seconds, Otabek was at his side. Pulling out his phone, barking into it and calling in every favor he had to get a doctor to come out at such short notice. Moving to stroke Yuri's cheek before refraining, pulling back, terrified of hurting him, somehow.

Cell phone now silent, the guard long gone up the staircase down which Otabek had descended, Otabek sat on the floor, gazing helplessly at the desperate, beautiful, pained features before him, waiting.

He hadn't looked properly at first, too preoccupied with the swollen belly Yuri boasted to pay any attention to his face; but now, paralyzed by the venom that was his inability to help him, he could do nothing but stare. Tendrils of long blond hair coiled around Yuri's face, the roots sweat-darkened and the ends tangled, fanning out, unrestrained, around his head like a halo. His skin was so terribly pale, a color that would've resulted in a creamy, glowing complexion if not for the sickly, sweaty pallor that had turned it ashen, the cold that flushed the tip of that graceful, upturned nose red. His lips were chapped, but a soft pink. His eyes, so loved and so well known -- Otabek's favorite of his features, even now that he'd seen them all -- were closed and hidden behind a veil of long, pale lashes.