Warning: profanity

***

Jun wanted in.

When Damon ran out of Jun's apartment last night, Mark had followed after him, clearly able to see that something was wrong. But Jun was following him too – and Mark – unbeknownst to Damon – had kindly punched him in the face and yelled at him to stay away from Damon before hurrying Damon to his house.

But Jun just didn't get the message. He called Damon. When that didn't work, he came to Damon's house – which was currently being guarded by a very pissed off Mark – and refused to leave the property until Damon came out to see him.

See, once Mark had carefully settled Damon into his bedroom so he could cry, he had taken it upon himself to faithfully position himself outside the front door to defend against the enemy. Thus, Damon could hear their conversations – angry shouting on Mark's side; pleading on Jun's – from his open bedroom window, but neither man knew he had heard. Damon listened to Jun asking to see him over and over with a strange sort of blankness.

There was melancholy there. Betrayal, too, of course. But mostly he just really hated himself.

He wondered what Jun's fiancé's name was. He wondered if she was pretty, and how old she was. He knew Jun didn't care for her, which lead to this whole courtship thing in the first place, but Damon felt his fiancé must be really beautiful. The fiancé of a future Alpha had to be gorgeous. Maybe she was such a knockout that Jun just became fed up with the amount of attention she received from other alphas. Maybe he downgraded to Damon only because Damon was the complete opposite. Someone faithful. Someone willing to bear his children and sit at home while he went off and did whatever he wanted now that he was free from his engagement. Someone dull.

Coming to Damon's house to straighten things out was a last-ditch effort, Damon was sure. A measure taken to keep Damon from blabbing his secrets.

Hurts.

Damon knew, after the past couple weeks – maybe even long before that – that he was starting to feel some kind of way about Jun. He didn't know if it was really love. He hadn't had enough time to examine it.

But why was it that every time he slept with someone, they broke him right after? Was he that bad in bed?

A few minutes after Jun had arrived to ask to see Damon, Damon had been curious – or perhaps masochistic – and opened his bedroom window slightly. Now he lay facedown on his bed, listening to Jun and Mark argue.

"I need to talk to him," Jun was saying, his voice much quieter, still reasonable. He wasn't engaging with Mark's hostility. Not yet. Or maybe he actually didn't care all that much, and was only making this attempt out of courtesy.

Because Jun was a nice guy. He would put up the pretense of remorse.

Mark responded, shouting "Go the hell away before I deck you again. Piece of shit."

Despite all Damon's tangled feelings, the still-besotted omega within him whispered that that was a little harsh. Damon told it to hush.

Jun glossed over the threat. "I have to explain myself. Please. I owe him that."

This actually gave Mark pause. Smart boy, Jun. Phrasing it as something he owed to Damon was a good argument. Unfortunately, not good enough. Mark quickly rallied.

"Fuck off. He doesn't want to see you. Write a letter, send it to me, and I'll determine whether to pass it on or not. That's the best offer you're going to get."

Jun was silent. Half of Damon wanted Jun to listen. Half of him was horrified that he would give up – further proving what Damon already knew. That Jun was just using him.

As the silence stretched, the horrified part of Damon quickly transitioned to simmering rage.

Where the fuck did he get off playing with Damon like that? Plain as he may be, he was still a person, and he didn't deserve that shit.

Underneath the rage was something worse. Something dark. Something that was two seconds away from breaking down crying for the second time. Urged by all the conflicting feelings, unsure of what was going on inside his chest, Damon rolled off the bed and dived into his nesting corner, throwing pillows and blankets around as he searched for something.

None of it meant anything, then, right? None of the sweetness, none of the heat. All of it was just a shiny fishing lure, teasing Damon into taking a bite before Jun decided he was too small and threw him back in.

He sat in the pile of messed up pillows and blankets, unable to find the hint of red he'd been looking for.

Damon, crazed, face covered in snot and tears and perhaps a little delirious from the emotional whirlpool – cried out despairingly, "I'm just a fucking fish!"

Forgetting that the window was open, of course. Though both men had been silent before, that silence deepened awkwardly. Damon sniffled. Oops.

"Damon!" Jun called from below. Damon could hear Mark cursing, and faint scuffling. Probably Mark trying to get a hand over Jun's mouth. "Damon, please, please, just let me explain. I promise you, whatever you're thinking right now, you're wrong."

If Damon were in any other state of mind, that might have gotten him to listen. As it was, all Damon heard was Jun telling him he was wrong and he renewed his dive into the nesting pile, determined to find what he was looking for while blocking out Jun's voice. He focused on the pile. He thought about how long it had taken him to accumulate all these pillows and blankets. He thought about how much they smelled like him – thought about how comforting it was to curl up in here during his nesting fits, which, he just remembered, he was due for another one of those shortly.

Then he thought about how all those pillows and blankets were now scattered across his room. The perfect configuration of soft linens and smells he'd created was now ruined – by his own hand, all for a stupid scarf belonging to a stupid alpha.

He saw the hint of red out of the corner of his eye and snatched it up. It didn't smell like Jun anymore. It smelled like Damon. It smelled like failure.

Angry, upset, possibly delirious – Damon balled the scarf up in his hand, strode to the window, and flung it open completely. He didn't dare look down. He just tossed the scarf outside and went to slam the window closed again.

But before he had it all the way down, a new voice interrupted from below. A voice that, despite all the strikes against Jun, Damon was even less happy to hear.

"I came over to talk about reconsidering that heat agreement with Jun, Damon," Malachi said. "I knew you wouldn't say yes. But from the state of things out here..."

He paused. Damon could hear his greasy smirk.

"It looks like I might actually have a chance."