The days passed, and Killian saw client after client, each worse than the last, no matter what they said or did or if Killian liked them or not.

He didn’t want to be touched anymore, but he couldn’t find a good enough reason to stop.

He sat on his bed every afternoon before work, staring at nothing, wanting to cry but not quite able to. Wanting to call his sister but knowing he couldn’t. Wanting to scream but nothing coming out. It was like a pressure building inside him, suffocating and numbing, and he just didn’t know how to let it out.

His sister checked up on him every day, trying to be subtle about it and failing. Killian would send short, casual replies back, sending her pictures of the food he would make and force himself to eat as if it were a completely normal week.

Randy and Jamie didn’t text or call until two weeks of absolute silence had passed. It was Jamie, telling Killian that his heat would be in four days and that he didn’t have to feel obliged to come, of course, and Killian just stared at the text for a while, feeling empty. He sent a simple, No worries, I’ll be there. Looking forward to it, even though he was dreading it.

But that wasn’t strange for him these days. He dreaded everything. So there wasn’t anything specific to worry about—not about that or anything else.

***

Killian had to close his eyes for a moment as he entered Jamie and Randy’s apartment, the scent of them hitting him all at once. Not just that, but the scent of Killian, too, lingering still, like he’d clung on purpose to this small, safe space.

“Hey,” Jamie greeted, the first time he’d opened the door during his heat. He looked good, cheeks flushed, smile tentative but there.

“Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Kind of amazing. Is this what heats are supposed to be like? Because…wow.”

Killian laughed, feeling something in him settle at the easy way Jamie was talking to him. “Yeah, it’s usually pretty fun without the fear of passing out.”

“Damn, I should have been doing this all along,” he joked, expression solidifying into something a little more serious a second later. “You good? You look…tired.”

“Yeah. They’re power-washing the façade of the building in front of mine at like six in the morning, it’s hell.” The lie just slipped out of him from nowhere, like he’d somehow thought it up in preparation without realising.

“What? That’s insane. Why is New York like this?”

“I know. Like, take a break.”

“Take a nap, Brooklyn.”

“Motherfucking right,” Killian said as they finally moved into the living room.

Randy appeared from the kitchen. As tense and serious-looking as he’d been during that first meeting—like he didn’t know Killian at all. “Hey. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, same. You good?” Killian asked, fighting the impulse to jump on him, to wipe that closed-off expression off his face with a kiss.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

They stood there for a moment before Jamie flopped onto the couch. “Okay, you guys gonna cuddle me or what?”

The moment broke somewhat, but Killian didn’t miss how Randy didn’t really touch him even when they cuddled on the bed. Jamie stayed in the middle, nuzzling Killian’s neck as his scent started thickening, and Killian and Randy didn’t kiss how they normally would. Didn’t look at each other.

When the heat really hit, Jamie became even clingier than usual, whining when Killian tried to move away. The thing was, though, it quickly became apparent that there was absolutely no need for Killian to be there.

Jamie reached for Killian as he moved away to undress, Randy soothing him with a kiss, and the couple became lost in each other. Killian stretched out on the mattress, watching as Jamie climbed on top of Randy, rising on his knees and dropping onto Randy’s dick all at once.

Heat fizzed inside Killian at the way Jamie and Randy moaned in tandem, at the way they started moving together, rhythm practised and seamless. And under that carbonated feeling of want was the oily, heavy sadness coating his tongue and making him sick with it.

Killian kissed Jamie when Randy knotted him, stroking his back, but he could tell Jamie didn’t need another round when Randy slipped out of him. Killian knotted him too, both because he wanted to and because Jamie was asking, going slow, savouring the feel of Jamie on him, around him, kissing him desperately.

He tried to sear everything in his mind. The sweat trailing down Jamie’s collarbone, the way he would clutch Killian close, the feel of his smooth skin and wanting pants. The amazing sensation of being touched and not wanting to crawl right out of his skin.

There was no urgency to it this time. Jamie settled even after Killian’s knot went down, sliding between him and Randy and resting.

Killian tried to think of nothing as he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.