Through Hell [AOB/LGBT+/mpreg]

7

Oliver contemplates the message again a couple of days later.

He's in a homey café with a small coffee and croissant in his hand as he stares at his phone, finally eating something other than Maruchan cup noodles and PB & J's.

He left town without a word and skipped to the next one over, but he knows. No matter what he does or where he goes, the alpha will always know.

He looks at the screen for the nth time in the past half hour, eyes blurry from staring for so long. The words are beginning to merge together and it's causing his head to hurt and pound the longer he holds onto the little taunting device.

He takes a sip of the warm coffee and wrinkles his nose. He doesn't even like the caffeine, but he knows he needs it. The bread, though flakey and buttery, sits heavy in the pit of his stomach. It turns to ash on his tongue and he wonders if his omega is playing shit on him again, turning his insides with guilt at ignoring his alpha, of avoiding the inevitable.

Not our alpha, he reminds himself with gritted teeth, stupid omega, stupid instincts.

He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

He's going up against an alpha who is dangerous, who has no doubt killed in cold blood before.

He's seen it in his eyes.

An alpha who has an array of weapons at his disposal and can make people disappear with a snap of his fingers.

He... he has nothing to compete with that.

He has no protection from an alpha, from a pack. No family to fall back on.

He's alone and struggling to live.

If he approaches the alpha now, if he complies, he'll escape his clutches hopefully unscathed.

If he runs away, the alpha will only hunt him down and kill him.

Weighing his options, he sighs heavily and opens up Google maps again.

He types in the address, heart clenching when he sees it's less than an hour away from where he currently sits.

If he takes the bus now he'll be there by three just in time for... for what? To get his brains blown out?

No.

The alpha said he wouldn't need a gun next time... whatever that means.

His right leg bounces restlessly before he gets up, he needs air, it feels like he's suffocating the longer he sits still.

He leaves the coffee and croissant mainly untouched behind. The door chimes as it opens and closes with his departure. It feels like eyes, eyes everywhere, are on him but there's no one in sight. Anyone milling around is minding their own business as he panics for no reason.

But he can't help how his instincts are on high alert, he needs... he needs to see him, needs to seek out the alpha.

His feet carry him to the nearest bus stop.

Within twenty minutes he's on public transportation, the very same bus that got him into trouble the first time around if he actually pays attention.

With every stop and turn Oliver feels the knot in his belly unravelling.

An odd feeling, a weird contrast.

The moving dot on his phone grows closer and closer until he has to get off and walk the rest of the way (home).

His nose scrunches, where had that intrusive thought come from?

He's not going home, he's probably walking toward his execution if anything. That thought makes him nauseated and he needs a moment before he throws up due to nerves.