His Soldier {Boy x Boy}

Chapter XXI

=-=-= since I love y'all a lot.... Here you go =]

[Ethan}

I woke up with the worst headache ever, and to make it worse, I slept on an empty stomach and I'm pretty sure the lump beside me is Denton.

I lifted the covers and cringed at how cold the bedroom was even though I still had yesterday's clothes on.

"Oh, you are up." I looked up at Sage, trying to fight the fogginess and heaviness of my head.

"Sage?" I asked. He pushed me down and handed me a cup of water. 

"Geez, I never thought you and Denton could clear out an alcohol shelf all by yourselves." I chugged the water, running my hand through my long and tangled black hair. It was rarely down. "Take a shower, you reek of shit and you look more like a mutt than a wolf, or a homeless man, whichever works." I growled softly and he rolled his eyes. "There are some clothes already set out for you, and when you finish, come downstairs. Ace and Hotch are making breakfast. I'll wake up Denny." He pushed me into the bathroom, almost making me trip.

It was now that I realized we were in our cabin, a fairly large two story house all of us (minus Hotch) had built when we started middle school, and finished at the end of our tenth year. It was our pride and joy. I began to strip, then paused to look into the mirror. 

I didn't know why, but I began to grow angry at myself. The way I described meeting my mate in the note, and the way I had acted yesterday were contradicting each other. What was wrong with me?!

I began to furiously scratch at my neck, not caring that I was peeling away skin, digging into my flesh, or that blood was leaking out from the cuts. It was a bad habit I was never able to overcome. It eventually began to sting and become hot, and finally, I stopped. 

When I looked into the mirror, I saw a weak and pathetic excuse of a man, looking homeless with his medium length black hair looking oily and filthy, his stubble looking longer and messy. His eyes were a mute shade of green grey, shifting into a bronze coloration. His usual tan skin he once took pride in was covered with scars and healing wounds. He was looking thin, cheeks sunken and skin washed from color other than the ugly burns that littered his body or the redness that wrapped around his neck. 

I didn't see the Beta I was supposed to be, but the weak Omega who cowers when the wind blows.

"Why?" 

I stood there, fists shaking and my chest aching even more. 

Why was I expecting an answer?

"Indie?" Sage opened the unlocked door, his onyx gaze falling onto my neck and then my hands. "Indie...." He closed the door and walked up to me. He always had a mother hen sense to him. 

Wordlessly, he gently hugged me. 

"I'm weak...."

"You are strong."

"Look at me."

"I am."

"These scars-"

"Show how much you endured."

"I wasn't supposed to live, Sage."

"Is it because Hotch said that when you woke up?"

"...."

"Ethan?"

"...Yes."

"Look at me," He pushed away from me and gave me a stern look, locking my gaze with his. "you lived for a reason, and by now, you should know Hotch has no filter. What he said may be true, as much as it hurts to know. But imagine, you didn't wake up, your heart stopped beating, you stopped living." His hands shuddered, pulling away from my own.