4 - Red And Green

Millan hopes Weston doesn’t realize that he is panicking.

The rise and fall of his chest created by his unnaturally fast beating heart is sure to give him away.

Being drawn to an alpha this way, this urge to please and submit is new and confounding.

And it’s all the more bewildering when it’s an alpha he doesn’t even know.

Never has he, whatever the consequences it resulted in, bent to an alpha’s will just to please. Even going as far as to purposefully displease alphas just for the sake of it.

Hell, that’s the main reason Brook Pack ended up chasing him away.

Still, it’s hard to behave in an omega manner when Alpha Commands have no effect on you whatsoever and everyone looks at you like you’re a defective freak.

Despising omegas who submit so easily and avoiding any obedient actions is the only way to survive without a supportive pack.

Also, it’s fun to poke an alpha’s nerves until they snap. Unfortunately, it’s also a good way to perpetuate rejection.

Now looking into Weston’s gold eyes, all those precious traces of will power evaporate and all Millan's wolf wants to do is satisfy the Head Alpha in any way possible.

As per usual, with incomprehensible feelings, Millan shoves those suckers down.

If you push your feelings aside, they can’t hurt you, right?, he lamented.

Under no circumstances at all is he planning to change his attitude towards this alpha.

He’ll stay as defiant as he’s always been or die trying.

Standing at the foot of Millan's bed, Weston is curiously observing the marked up and worn out Western Land map Millan had discarded to the side in order to study the Eastern Land one, searching for a way to cross on his own.

Millan watches Weston warily while he snoops.

The Head Alpha of Blayne Pack was a gorgeous one. Probably the most handsome Millan had ever encountered in his run away life. Weston has dark brown hair, deep set gold eyes, a perfect jaw line, and a muscled body that screams authority.

Normally he would have taken the map away from prying eyes immediately, but his wolf wants to trust Weston which, again, is completely unprecedented and goes against what he’s just promised himself to do two seconds ago.

Just as the regret of letting him have a look sets in and he’s about to grab the map he’s doodled on, Weston reaches for it and takes it.

“What’s this?”

Millan looks at the alpha like he's dumb.

“A map,” the shrewd answer escapes him as he makes a move to get it back, but Weston is faster and pulls away, smiling and sensing he’s hit a nerve, but also extremely intrigued.

For an arm that big to move that fast was an amazing feat, Millan thought, amazed.

But contrary to that, Millan is clearly unimpressed by his leadership title.

Weston rarely sees that side of omegas the first time they meet, even those who are a bit sassier.

It took years before Amir was comfortable enough to banter with him.

“Yeah, I figured it’s a map.”

“Smart.”

Weston’s grin grows.

“Why did you write ‘idiots’ next to Brook Territory?”

Weston’s crooked smile shows off a perfect dimple. It only contributes to Millan's growing frustration. He’s having a straight up internal discord and Weston’s not even been in the room for five minutes.

“Because they’re idiots.”

Weston snorts at the omega’s boldness and also, even if he would never admit this out loud, he kind of agrees with the statement.

To Millan's consternation, Weston keeps on examining the colourful adjectives Millan has written next to a lot of other pack’s names and Weston laughs at some of them, some other packs Weston didn’t even know existed.

He wonders if Millan has really met all of them.

“Do you write adjectives next to every pack you meet?”

“Yes.”

“Why ‘fruitcake’ next to the Greys?”

Millan bites on a smile, remembering how the nickname came to be.

“Why do you ask obvious questions ‘Weston, Head Alpha of the Blayne Pack’?”

“You can call me Weston.”

“How informal.”

“What would our adjective be?”

“Too soon to tell.”

Weston is looking straight into Millan's eyes and the other can’t look away. They’re at a stand still, Millan gauging Weston and Weston openly gazing at the omega curiously.

“I’ll need to get that back now.”

Arm extended towards Weston, open palmed, waiting for him to give back the map. Millan forces a tight smile, trying to hide the fact that he’s completely unnerved by the inhabitual scrutiny.

Unnerved partly because he’s trying to tell his giddy omega to calm down and also because he doesn’t want the Head Alpha to see how pathetic he is having been rejected not only by his own pack, but by every pack he’s met since.

Weston is perfectly unbothered and ignores his outstretched hand.

“What are the Xs for? Why the green and red?”

“Simple colour coding, Westy.”

The nickname just slips and Weston laughs, amused.

Millan, in a swift movement, goes from sitting to kneeling on the bed and quickly attempts to reclaim the precious paper. He manages to brush his fingers on it, but Weston is faster.

For fuck’s sake, the one time an alpha is faster than me, Millan contemplated.

Weston is smirking, seemingly enjoying Millan's futile struggle to retrieve his property.

It only enrages the omega further which only amuses the alpha more.

It’s a vicious cycle Millan would very much like to get out of.

“I get that, but what does the colour coding mean?”

Millan sits back and crosses his arms over his chest, defeated. He sighs. “You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

Weston simply shakes his head with this stupid smirk not leaving his face.

Millan rolls his eyes.

Whatever. He’ll find out I’m a crappy omega soon enough anyway, he concludes.

“Fine.” Millan averts Weston’s eyes focusing on the white sheets instead. He speaks as fast as he wants this moment to be over with. “Red means ‘don’t go back’ and green means ‘you probably won’t get killed if you really have to go back’. Although the X means it’s preferable to move on.”

Weston’s smile disappears and Millan's gaze is tearing a hole in the sheets.

The map Weston is looking at is mostly covered in red Xs. Only a few territories are left unmarked.

The alpha swallows, trying to dislodge the sudden emotions taking him. He regrets toying with the omega as he just did.

Understanding that the banter was only Millan's way of not showing his vulnerability,  the guilt he felt earlier is back in full force.

He decides then that, even if Millan can’t become pack like Andy had suggested, the omega will not be compelled to put an ‘X’ on the Blayne Territory.

He puts the map back on the bed, next to the one Millan was looking at prior to Weston’s entrance.

Weston suddenly understands why Millan was asking for the Eastern Land map when he mistook the alpha for Andy and it only makes his heart hurt a little more for Millan.

He tries to remember how long Nara had said Millan was left alone.

“Can I ask you how long you’ve been on your own, Millan?” Weston asks, softer this time.

“Ask Dr. Nara.”

Weston feels like he’s been slapped in the face. He can almost see the walls Millan has built around himself they’re so evident. Millan is still looking away from Weston, arms crossed.

Millan knows he probably looks like a petulant child, but he does need to protect himself somehow.

He’s attracted to Weston and he’s never felt that way for another wolf before. He’s scared of even looking at him longer than is necessary or of even talking to him.

In fact, he prefers not to interact with him at all any more than he has to. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get kicked out before the two weeks Weston has been kind enough to give him, so he can’t let himself get attached.

Millan can take rejection, but he’s used to taking rejection from dickheads like Brook Pack. Not from someone he actually likes.

He already isn’t sure he’ll come back from his stay here intact. Knowing heaven exists and having to leave it- that’s just abhorrent.

Weston understands he pushed the omega to reveal more than he was willing to share. Seeing him look so small when he looked taller than life seconds ago physically hurts.

He wishes he could cuddle him close, comfort him. All his wolf wants to do now is ease his own guilt by holding the small omega in a healing embrace.

But he can’t do that.

Not now. Probably not ever.  

Besides, if he heard Nara correctly, Millan hasn’t experienced alpha/omega embrace for years. Weston has no idea how the boy would react. He’d risk overwhelming him.

“I’m sorry I invaded your privacy, Mill. It wasn’t my place.”

Millan senses his wolf quiver at the nickname and the heartfelt apology.

Damn it, why is everybody here so nice!, he regrettably thought.

He does his best to stay as stoic as possible.

“Anyway, I’ll let you rest. You’re welcome to explore Headquarters as much as you’d like once you feel up for it.”

The ‘don’t venture into the city, I don’t trust you yet’ was surprisingly not said as to what Millan had expected and gotten used to hearing in the previous packs he’d come across with.

“Thanks.” Millan says quietly.

Weston leaves and Millan felt like years had been stripped off his life, suddenly exhausted.

*****

Weston can’t sleep and it’s almost morning.

He’s tossed and turned, haunted by Millan's sad violet eyes. His wolf wants to be closer to him, only to reassure himself that he’s okay.

It makes him anxious to be so far away.

If Weston had listened to his impulses the day before, he would have told Millan he could stay for as long as he wanted.

Hell, he would have accepted him as pack on the spot. But as Head Alpha, he can’t set this kind of precedent lightly. He needs to protect the pack first and Millan has been rejected from his own.

It would be reckless not to at least investigate that further before letting him stay here.

But then, Millan's heartbroken figure resurfaces in his mind and he’s stuck in an endless loop of anxiety and doubt and he just wants to make sure the omega is okay.

But he can’t just go look at Millan sleep. That would be creepy and okay…

Weston gets up.

He needs to talk to Amir.