Bonding and Bite Marks

An Empty Space

Lin sighed tiredly as he padded into his bedroom, having left John hazy and satisfied. John had insisted he didn't need further attention. He could control himself now. The heat was wearing off. He'd be able to go home tomorrow or the day after. A dull, heavy feeling filled Lin's chest as he thought about that. It had only been for a few days, but he'd spent every minute with his omega. He didn't want to let John out of his sight. He sighed forlornly as he leaned against the closed door. It felt too soon to let his omega out of his sight.

"Shut up," Lin murmured as his eyes landed on the picture that sat on his bedside table. A small tsk escaped his lips as he crossed to the bed and settled on his back. He looped his arms behind his head, ignoring the almost teasing look the teen in the picture was giving him. "I don't want to hear it," he murmured in response to the imaginary teasing in his head. He finally sighed and turned on his side, sad eyes peering up at the old photograph on his dresser. How long has it been since I heard your voice? His insides turned as he counted the days, knowing the number would only increase.

He didn't feel the same gut wrenching pain he'd felt before. When he'd first found out, the Earth had stopped turning. He'd lost all sense of balance. He'd only managed to keep himself together because he'd been desperately needed as a source of strength and comfort himself, but at night in his own room. That was a different story. He'd lost count of the hours he'd cried, desperately clutching the last remnants of his presence. He still hadn't let go.

Despite moving to Japan to solve the case, Lin had brought the old mementos with him. The kitchen had his favourite items stored there, as if he'd come back at any moment. His cup. A glazed plate he'd bought at a charity shop. His favourite cooking spoon he'd insisted he couldn't cook without. He kept his old books on his shelves. He was unwilling to keep them at his own eye level, but they were still there, as they always had been. His favourite picture was hung in the living room. Some of his old clothes were folded in the drawers in the spare room, his scent long since chased away by time. His coat was even hung in the closet. It was almost like he could walk in and life would return to normal. But he wouldn't.

Lin gazed forlornly at the kind blue eyes in the picture, biting the inside of his lip as he got yet another message. It's time for you to let me go. Lin could hear his voice murmuring in his ear. Prickles trickled down his neck at the imagined sensation. He could almost feel his smaller body lying behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist as he leaned over to breathe in his ear. Lin subconsciously moved his hand to reach for him, only to find it resting on his own bare skin. It's time...Lin's teeth clenched tightly.

"I know..." He'd had this conversation countless times before. He'd had it after the funeral. He'd had it the first time Naru had asked him to come to Japan with him. He'd had it when they'd moved in and started SPR. He'd had it most nights since as he lay alone, staring at the gentle face forever locked behind glass. It was getting harder as Naru continued to grow and change. One day he would gain the lines and silver hair that was forever denied the boy he now stared at. Would their lines have been the same? No...He knew the boy staring back at him now would have developed thick webs of laughter lines with a brow free of frown marks.

Lin paused in his thoughts as he was interrupted. He took in a deep breath. He could sense John's restlessness. He was suffering a little, but not so much that he'd called out for him. He was likely naked, tossing and turning on the damp covers. Lin turned on his back and closed his eyes, attuning himself to his mate's mood. He could smell John's sweet scent lingering in the air, wrapping around him like a blanket. He felt guilty as he looked at the picture and met the blue eyes that reminded him so much of John's. They were the deep blue of Naru's. Darker than John's, and yet they held the same gentle warmth.