I'm the alpha, I'm the leader, I'm the one to trust (trust) 😈🐺

Everybody falls in love sometime.....unless you're Alden and Luan

It had been a few years since his best friend died.

Ronan Mathieu, a renowned painter, astronomy fanatic, and father, who died 3 years ago from falling out of a window at a gathering he was at. Allegedly from tripping due to a power outage that happened at the party.

The last thing he heard was his name before running toward the broken window.

" Alden!! "

He remembers it clearly as he sees the scars etched on the palms of his hands; the stop of his heartbeat and the weakness in his legs threatening to make him jump out as well when he saw Ronan's body on the ground in a pool of blood.

He quickly turns to run out and get him, but in that split moment, he sees the man beside him looking at his hands with a shaky breath. His body moved faster than his brain, but the irrationality he felt inside moved just as quickly.

Even as he carried Ronan on his back, calling his hospital and running to meet the ambulance halfway, he died on the way to the hospital and couldn't make it. There were too many injuries due to falling from a three-story building and the blood loss was too great, as time was wasted and supplies were lacking early on. He couldn't even say a proper goodbye as he saw Ronan's pupils expanding and his face finally relaxing into a lifeless state. His hand dropped and slipped out of Alden's tight hold, as his hands were shaky and slowly losing their strength. He saw the way Ronan's skin paled and the stiffness in his limbs; nausea rising in him worse than ever before.

"Breathe, it's okay, we're almost there." The other doctor with him strokes his back, trying to calm him down, but it was no use. He slapped the doctor's hand away and gagged violently, trying hard not to curse everyone and everything around him.

Grabbing the bag the doctor handed to him, he almost didn't make it in the bag as he threw up everything he had left in him.

He was at his limit. The glass shards cut open his hands and dug into them, causing him to bleed everywhere.

He had a nosebleed from dehydration and extreme fatigue from puking. He was sweating and shaking with tears rolling down his face. He wasn't a stranger to seeing death; on the contrary, that was all he knew, yet when he saw Ronan's cold body and his blood all over the ambulance and himself, he couldn't help but feel his stomach fold in on itself and all his senses clashing together.

Once he was done throwing up all that he had, and was gasping for air, he looked up with shaking eyes at his friend. How would he be able to live? To go about his day, knowing that Ronan wouldn't be there to share his latest painting idea or what medium he was going for this time? After 17 years together, sharing the best and worst times together, he was suddenly all alone.

The doctor tied up the bag and wiped his face, trying to help him breathe as tears fell.

His throat stung like hell and the sight of blood made his head spin, his nose picked up on every little scent and his heart was racing, but it was nothing compared to Ronan. He wanted nothing more than to trade places; to die in his place, but he knew that reality just didn't work like that. There was no wish he could make on a star or a dandelion he could blow on to bring his friend back, and truth be told, he still hadn't accepted it.

Stumbling over, his weak, shaking hands closed Ronan's eyes and he kept his hand there for a long time, pressing his head against Ronan's shoulder and feeling his throat tighten. There was nothing but pain in his body and agony in his brain. What could he have done better? What medicine could he have used to prevent this?

What motherfucker did he have to see suffer to avenge Ronan's soul?

It only took a few weeks before he and his lawyers, as well as a handsome bribe—sentenced the man standing near the window to 20 years in jail.