Days.
But he had lost track of the number. Had tried to keep a count within his own mind, but found it impossible. All he knew was that it had been days.
And still his shadow had not returned to him. Was nothing more than a pale, fading blot of darkness cast against the pureness of the light.
And he let his tears finally fall.
...
He could recall the exact number of times he had cried in his life.
The day of his presentation had been one of the worst.
He had spent his entire life being so excited for that moment. Knew what it meant and looked for to it with childlike joy. He would finally enter the next stage of his life. Would begin to grow and change and come into himself.
But he had been fooled. Had been told lie after lie about what he truly was.
And joy turned into disappointment and then to disgust.
Because he wanted to be a beta. Wanted to be what had been promised to him. Not some broken omega who would never be of use to anyone.
He wanted what was promised.
...
What was promised.
Now he would be happy with what had been offered. But as he sat there, locked in his constant vigil, he wondered what would become of him now. Because each day a little more progress seemed to be lost. Each day the wound grew redder and more angry, the skin around it radiating heat and he could do nothing to stop it.
Infection had set in and he was going to lose the only thing that had ever actually wanted him to it.
Five days. That's all he'd had. Five days with the shadow who had taken over his life. And he hated the thought of that being it. Of that being all. Because it wasn't enough.
There was nothing he could do. Only sit and watch as the shadow gave way to the light.
...
Three.
That's how many days it had been. Three.
There was nothing he could do.
And he could sit there and tell himself that. Could watch as the other faded away. Could give in to the decay that was already settling into his own bones.
Or he could fight.
...
There were two bedrooms. One was empty, barren and devoid of absolutely anything. So he bypassed it and explored the other. Opened the closet expecting to find nothing, only to be blessed with the sight of dark sets of clothing hanging neatly. Sought out a set that might fit him and piled them onto the bed.
The shower was shockingly large. With an actual plane of glass separating it from the rest of the room. There was no gentle self exploration this time. Just going through the motions. Scrubbing at his skin until it was clean. Washing the dirt and oil from his hair. Stepping out and drying off and proceeding to attempt to make the clothing work. Tightened the draw string as much as he could, before wishing he had found a belt. Placed the large tee shirt over it, followed by the equally over sized hoodie, and wondered if this was some sort of uniform that they all wore.
He didn't want to leave. But the other hadn't even moved in the last day. Hadn't issued a single sound and the only way he even knew he was still alive at all was by placing his head against his chest and listening to his heart beat.
