Before he could open his eyes, Oscar shivered as the warm air hit his skin. Then he suddenly let out a short breath because of the sharp pain of the wounds and bruises that wanted to remind him that they were on his body. When he opened his eyes, he could only see darkness and a red-orange glow coming from the corner. He realized from the familiar discomfort in his back where he was, he was in his bed. When he moved his eyes, he saw a dark silhouette. He opened his mouth, but the words were stuck in his throat.
The dark silhouette moved. One hand went under Oscar's head, supporting him, while the other held a glass of water. As Oscar drank the water that was brought to his lips, he could see some stains on the hand holding the water thanks to the red glow coming from the corner. There was also his sharp sense of smell that had reactivated as soon as he woke up. Metal, blood, and Victor's pheromones. But this time the pheromones weren't the same as before, it was as if Victor had hidden his scent.
When he laid his head back, his breathing was heavy. He couldn't keep his eyes open, but he wanted to talk to the person next to him.
"Whitmore?" His voice was barely a whisper. His chest was heaving with his heavy breathing.
"Go back to sleep, you need to rest." Victor responded with a harsh yet thoughtful voice. Then he fell silent. Oscar wanted to ask him about the smell of blood and metal. He also wanted to ask why he was hiding his pheromones, but wild pheromones were the last thing he wanted right now. His body began to relax from the unfamiliar warmth of his room. His breathing calmed as his eyes closed. The cold hands on his forehead did not bother him, the gentle touch giving him a quiet reassurance.
As he looked at Oscar's sleeping face, Victor was worried that he would disturb him even as he was breathing. He studied the man's calming face, then his gaze went to his slightly injured hand.
"Hitting those bastards hurt your hand," he whispered under his breath. He sighed and called one of the few numbers in his contact list to order some clothes and a few more supplies. You'd have to be blind not to notice Oscar's overreaction to scents. He didn't understand why he didn't ask for clothes in the first place. He had just stopped by the bar as usual, and that day he was already annoyed enough that he was late. But when he saw Aurora's frightened reaction and heard voices, he had rushed into the room. He had already lost control of himself from that moment on. The room of those three men had been completely sealed off. Victor had practically blown the men's heads off with the butt of his gun. The backs of his hands were also bruised, his fists were hard.
He had taken Oscar home as soon as he had picked him up. But when he realized that Oscar's house was very cold, he had only asked for an electric heater, his own situation hadn't even occurred to him. The young man's restless expression was troubling him.
When the secretary arrived, he called Victor because the possibility that Oscar might wake up when he rang the doorbell was frightening. Victor took the bags and bags that had been brought and went to the bathroom. He took off his black shirt, noticing that the smell of blood had diminished. He washed his hands thoroughly, although the wounds were still there. He changed his clothes, put the bloody ones in the bag, and left the bathroom. He went back to Oscar's room, adjusted the level of the chair next to the bed, and sat down. Right now he had the chance to find out whether Oscar was an omega or a beta.
"It doesn't work like this," he thought. Not knowing when he had shown unnecessary respect for a person's boundaries, he never took his eyes off Oscar for a moment until he woke up.
Oscar woke up feeling a little more numb, his wounds no longer hurting, only aching. But of course he knew someone was there. He turned his head slowly.
"Whitmore." His voice was better than before.
"Do you want anything?" He found it unnecessary to ask questions like "Are you all right?" or "Does it hurt?" Oscar shook his head.
"What time is it? I have to get back to the bar." For a moment he felt like Gregor Samsa*.
(*_Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis is about Gregor Samsa, a traveling salesman who wakes up one day to find that he has transformed into a giant insect. Even after turning into an insect, the character's first concern was that he would be late for work._)
"Don't waste your energy, you need to rest."
"But-"
"No buts." Victor said firmly. "You'll be back at the casino soon anyway, so rest up until you get back." Oscar was a little confused.
"The casino will be open? But how did you find out?"
"You're asking too many questions." Instead of answering, Victor changed the subject. "If you're hungry, I'll make you something to eat."
"I don't want." Oscar said quietly, turning his head, the sun hadn't risen yet. He couldn't quite place the time, but he didn't want to think too much. "Hey, aren't you going to leave now?"
"Do you want me to leave?" Oscar paused. He didn't like this man, but he didn't want to be alone right now. He remembered he begging his mother to stay with him whenever he was sick when he was little.
"I don't know, you're not hurting me when you sit quietly." He hadn't said either stay or go.
"I'll stay," Victor said. "I'll stay with you," he whispered, making sure Oscar hadn't heard the last part. Oscar was angry with himself for feeling a little more comfortable. He didn't understand the man in front of him. He also didn't remember whether the image of Victor with the bloody hand and the blood-scented clothes he saw was real or a dream. Even if he did, it wouldn't have mattered.
"At least lie down on the bed, you look sleepless." He couldn't believe what he was saying, but it was too late to regret it. He wouldn't accept it anyway, he thought.
But Victor only hesitated for a few seconds. He slowly got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. Oscar swallowed silently and made room for him on the bed. They were now lying face to face, on their sides. Oscar closed his eyes, trying not to show that he was affected by the scent of the pheromones that were soothingly spreading around.
Victor watched him for a while without stopping. A piece of hair had fallen forward, tickling Oscar's nose with every breath. Victor reached out his hand and moved it away. He couldn't help but smile, it wasn't a mocking smile this time. How pleased he must have been that the face he saw before he fell asleep belonged to Oscar?
That night, it was strangely beautiful. After they fell asleep, a soft rain had started outside. It had just entered autumn. Victor was unknowingly doting on the young man in front of him. He didn't want even a rustle of leaves to disturb him. He didn't believe in love at first sight, in fact he was sure that love would never come to him after his twenties. I'm just too worried about him, he thought to himself all the time. He didn't want him to be beaten, he didn't want him to be left alone in a cold house, he didn't want him to starve, he didn't want him to be unemployed. He didn't want the things he started, even his own existence, to harm him anymore. He couldn't stop himself.
Yes, it bothered him, but if it really bothered him, he would have slammed the door and left the house instead of sleeping in the same bed with Oscar. It wasn't Oscar that bothered him.
"I'll stay with you." That was the only thing on his mind, both before he fell asleep and in his dreams.