Eye of the Alpha [ BoyxBoy ]

chapter ii [rewrite]

                  

Beau [ pronounced 'bow ' ]

Dahlia [ pronounced 'dah-leah ' ]

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Dahlia had shown up hours later, concerned by his state, though determined to get him home quickly. She didn't ask very many questions, which in her case it was very odd, but he was appreciative of the gesture. The entire car ride was spent in silence until they finally got to the house.

His Grandmother's house wasn't huge, but there was a lot of space. It felt old, but it had a lot of character, and he'd settled in to the place quite easily.

Agatha, his Grandmother had taken him in with both her arms, Dahlia following after them. "Are you okay, Beau? What's the matter?" She tried, her eyes examining him for wounds and injuries. She found nothing other than a permanently horrified expression.

That man had taken the body with him, dragged her by the ankles before slinging her over his shoulders. That innocent girl's corpse was now probably in the back of his car, limp and lifeless, because Beau was too shocked and too scared to do anything. He tried to think, maybe anyone else would have reacted the same way he had, but he still found trouble believing it.

"Agatha," Said Dahlia, gesturing towards the kitchen. Beau sat down on the couch, and brought his knees up, hugging them while the others went into the kitchen to talk.

He was still cold. He was shivering, his teeth were chattering. He couldn't get it out of his head. The red eyes, the growls and snarls, the splats of blood over his face and his hair. "Not to the police. And not to anyone." That's what he'd said. Couldn't he tell Dahlia? Not even Aggie? This was a huge fucked up situation, that he no longer wanted part of. He wanted to go upstairs, crawl into bed and forget the night ever happened. But to do that, he'd have to get the images that left a stain on his mind out of his head.

Agatha returned with a mug of her special tea. It was lemony and tangy, but it had a heart-warming quality to it. "Why don't you go up to bed now, okay? I'll talk to you in the morning." She still looked at him the same, uncertain of his stability, but her expression softened when he at least tried for a subtle smile in return.

He nodded and got up. "Night," He directed at the both of them, who watched him go up the stairs, just in case he might slip or fall. Did he really look that scared? He was a grown man – ish. He could take care of himself. Though part of him wished to be a child at this very moment. Have not a worry in the world.

He wanted to be back home with his family. He loved studying away, and he loved being here just because the culture was so different, and though things were a lot more peaceful – which he liked, the energy was still present, it was wonderful, but it never felt like he was at home, in his old house, where he gained a sense of security and comfort. He'd settled in nicely, but he was still missing that.

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He'd woken up late. Throughout the night, he'd wriggled and twisted and turned. He'd had the amusing thought that he probably appeared like the antagonist in a possession movie. He loved those – in fact he loved most horror movies, and psychological thrillers, and anything of the dark kind. But at this moment in time, he was to stay far from it as possible. He needed simplicity, and he needed light.

He came downstairs feeling groggy, his brows furrowed and his eyes barely open. He hesitantly walked onto the first floor and walked towards the kitchen. Agatha was already brewing something. She had a way of telling when he was going to wake up, and it seemed that whenever he came downstairs, he had a hot cup of tea waiting for him. He placed the mug from downstairs in the sink and greeted his Grandmother with a hug.