Everything hurt and his head was pounding. Ash could remember wanting it to end and he could remember the pill bottle and the blood, but after that it was all a blank. Everything except for those steely grey eyes. He groaned, realizing how sore and scratchy his throat was as he made the slightest of noises. “Am I dead?” He thought. “Is this pain my punishment for not being enough?” He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn’t comply. He began to drift back to sleep thinking “I hope it ends soon”. Unbeknownst to Ash, Jaxon was watching him intently as he had been for the past two days. Watching his chest rise and fall and watching as he struggled through his nightmares whimpering and sometimes thrashing about. Jaxon had grabbed his wrists multiple times to keep him from scratching his wounds open. He saw the scars when he was bandaging his wrists the first time. The lattice-work of deep marks covered both forearms and they were deeper the higher up his arms they went. What started as one or two inch cuts turned into gashed wounds of five or six inches. The worst were by the far the most recent ones, requiring daily flushing and bandage changes. Despite omega's fast healing ability, the cuts were so deep Jaxon could see the bones when he first wrapped them. As he checked them now they were still a deep angry red. The young man must have really wanted to die. Who was Jaxon to take that away from him? He doesn't know his pain, his story, his life. All Jaxon was thinking when he found him was that he could make it better - that he had to make it better. It would take weeks for those angry marks to fully heal. As the boy in his bed began to whimper again, Jaxon crossed the room and sat by him in the bed. He cupped his cheek with his warm hand gently wiping away the tears that began to flow. “What happened to you?” He thought. As he gently stroked his thumb along the young man’s cheek, his breathing began to slow and he gently pushed out his pheromones to relax the boy. His scent was like that of timber wood and cinder. He was always told his pheromones smelled like an ashtray - like the smoldering remains of a forest fire after it had run its course of destruction. Jaxon thought it suited him perfectly - a smell that encompassed the storm he felt inside - the fire that always burnt within, desperate for an escape. As Jaxon was thinking he didn’t notice the small body slowly curling up in his lap until he heard the snores. As he looked down he couldn’t help but smile. The young man had his head entirely in Jaxon’s lap and his arm was draped around his waist. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully for the first time since Jaxon took him in.

He waited a few more minutes to ensure the boy was actually asleep before he shifted and stepped away from the bed. The young man in front of him was frail. It was hard to guess his age since he looked so malnourished. If he was 17 or 27 Jaxon couldn’t venture to guess.When he carried him from the woods back to his cabin Jaxon didn’t even break a sweat. He could tell he was an omega by his small frame and stature. He could catch the smallest hint of pheromones here and there, but it was never enough to discern the smell. He must be in really poor health both physically and mentally to be unable to maintain his pheromones. Despite his bilious skin color and severely underweight frame, Jaxon could see the underlying beauty. The boy’s hair was a dusty blond that reminded him of sunrise - the color when the sun just began to crest over the treetops and its light spills over welcoming the morning. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and he had a cute petite nose. Although he had only seen the boy’s eyes glassed over, he was able to see the vibrant amber and flecks of honey. He wondered what the boy would look like smiling and if he had dimples or not. “I want to make him happy”, Jaxon thought, sighing quietly before finally leaving the room and closing the door gently behind him.