Overheat [kinnporsche & vegaspete]

the internet, as usual

A/N:
This is the last chapter for this week. It might be a while. But don't worry. We'll be back with more. 

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Hiding in the bathroom, with the lights off, except for the glare on his phone, Pete read threads and threads of comments on social media. He'd known what he'd find. He'd known what the internet would say about Porsche. And yet, he couldn't resist.

-he's always been a weak actor

-god knows how many directors he fucked just to get jobs

-think of the distraction

-they belong at home

-they should know their place

-they should fire him, they should sue, he's putting the entire Overheat production in jeopardy

-what kind of company didn't do their due diligence before hiring?

-fucking omegas

A nightmare to imagine that one day, it would be Pete's name in Porsche's place, as people pulled up his history, tearing it apart simply because they'd learned he had a different Greek alphabet on his national ID than they'd originally thought. The awards wouldn't matter. His work ethic wouldn't matter. The public image he'd carefully curated for the last eight years would mean exactly nothing.

And he wouldn't have the insurance of being able to prove the public wrong when they eventually found out that he was an alpha. Because he wasn't.

Crying quietly, Pete continued to read, latching on to the few posts that were in support of Porsche... as an omega. Because there was overwhelming support. Porsche was a star with a rabid fanbase. They were just as noisy as the haters, if not more so.

But they had chosen to mount their support on the premise that their favorite actor was not an omega. He was a beta. That was their defense. That the haters would regret it when the public presentation revealed Porsche to be a beta. That the haters were foolish for believing unfounded theories online. That when the truth was exposed, a lot of people's credibility would be called into question simply because they dared to imagine that Porsche Kittisawasd could ever be an omega.

Even his fans spoke like being an omega was a great sin.

Which exposed the reality that his fans would have abandoned him if Porsche turned out to be an omega. Haters and fans, uniting under their disbelief of and hate for an omega being a super star.

The few people who were in support of the idea of Porsche being an omega were attacked by both parties. They were attacked by haters for supporting an omega in the workplace. They were attacked by fans for daring to claim that Porsche had deceived them for so long.

And with every comment, a little piece of Pete died.

"Pete?"

He looked up, to find the bathroom door open, with Kinn's silhouette standing there. He'd been so engrossed in his phone that he hadn't heard Kinn knock. When Kinn switched on the light, Pete was so dumbstruck that he didn't have time to compose himself or wipe his face or anything. The moment Kinn saw him, he switched the lights back off.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Pete said, sniffing and locking his phone.

"Can I come and sit with you?" Kinn asked, entering and shutting the door gently.

Pete shrugged, wondering if Kinn could see the shrug. Honestly, he couldn't even bring himself to care. He'd barely cared for anything else in his life. His acting was everything. He'd worked hard to get to where he was. Now, it was all just going to wash away because some entitled prick felt he was owed Kinn's affection and the territories that came with it. What was Pete but collateral damage in the grand scheme of things?