Chapter Text
The sluggishness of his mind sent bright panic through him, every spark of fear leaving a moment of clarity. Fireflies lighting the way. Thoma was grasping, grasping, trying to snatch and hold and understand. He was moving, walking. Dazedly he realised these were the streets of Inazuma, right at the outskirts of the city.
What am I here for?
There had been a meeting. Officials. An influential merchant. A chance to ease the burden on Ayato. The image of him was clear, for a moment - protectiveness, warmth welling in Thoma. He thought of the dark bruises under Ayato’s eyes.
And - pride. He felt pride.
Right. I closed the deal.
A whole world of trouble leaving them overnight. All the supplies they’d need, and for such a good price as well. Thoma’s mind had been clear. Yes. Every thought razorsharp. Every smile, every nod, every friendly gesture for the goal. For the Kamisato Clan.
Then why -
Someone was holding his hand too tightly. Tugging on him too hard. Thoma hesitated, steps slowing, and the grip tightened and pulled. He stumbled two extra steps and the panic flared bright, bright.
This is not - I’m not supposed -
He had not touched food nor drink. Not all night, not until - the toast. To a fruitful business relationship.
I do not know this man.
Not the hand gripping his. Not the painful bite of iron into his skin. But he had seen it - Thoma squeezed his eyes shut. He was nauseous. His feet stumbled along. Panic crawled up his throat and he forced himself to hold fast to his thoughts. He’d seen that heavy ring on the merchant’s hand.
His heart was racing. His skin was clammy, feverish. He felt out of his mind. As if -
His heat would not be for another month. Impossible. Why the dizzy spell? Why the - stranger -
He thought of the single glass he had touched at the end of it all.
I am afraid, he realised, this time with a clarity that made him plant his feet into the ground. Whoever was dragging him along almost yanked him over, momentum never wavering. “C’mon now, c’mon. Or are you so needy you want to be taken right out in the open?”
Bile rose in his throat. “Let me go.” His tongue had trouble with the words, left them slurred. But his voice was forceful and he leaned against the grip on him, trying to free himself. Every second more sent him deeper into this unnatural heat. Muddled his mind. Made his instincts roar to life. He could not risk surrender. Not with a stranger around, wanting to take advantage.
This scheme. This - disgusting - oh, his head was pounding. This terrible scheme. He’d comforted omegas after suffering through being assaulted like this. He’d prevented scenes like this. And here he was himself and he couldn’t yank his wrist free. It ached. He couldn’t get free, and he could barely still think. “I said, let go. ”
But his body was already weakening. Or maybe his assailant was strong. Pyro fizzled along his palm and sputtered out like flame trying to catch on wet wood. “Stop,” he said, being dragged along again. His eyes darted around. The world was spinning, twisting. There was no one.
“Everyone knows how you close deals like these. An omega like you isn’t afraid to use all his assets, so why are you playing coy now?”
The words made him nauseous. He wanted to vomit on the alpha’s shoes, send him running by being disgusted. But not even that small mercy was granted to him. His feet kept stumbling over each other. If he fell - ruined his face? Whatever destination he was being dragged to, he couldn’t, he couldn’t risk getting there –
In a sudden bout of inspiration, Thoma just went limp. His knees hit the ground, hard, and his wrist did something painful as it yanked against where he was gripped. But he made himself boneless, boneless enough for someone to see, to notice.
Someone had to notice.
He was so afraid, and his heat was so powerful it was choking him. He wanted to claw his clothes off and he wanted to run as far from this stranger as he could and it was all too much – he squeezed his eyes shut, his body a mess of pain, and need, and naked animal fear.
“You little bitch.” It did not sound all that angry. More amused if anything. The voice grated against his nerves, and Thoma struggled again, without success. But he couldn’t stop trying. “Acting hard to get while reeking of need. Fine, then. I’ll enjoy you right h-“
There was a wet gurgle and then Thoma’s hand fell from the iron grip. He scrambled backwards, barely feeling his body, fingers numb and eyes unfocused as he tried to take in his surroundings. And then the scent of crisp first snow and dancing sakura petals washed over him.
“Thoma.” It had to be his imagination, but Thoma inhaled more deeply, and it was him, it was him, it was him.
He tried to breathe Ayato’s name, but could not form it.
“Thoma,” Ayato choked out again, and when he came close enough, Thoma threw his numb body forward with all he had. It was awkward and terrible and he almost hit the ground, but Ayato’s strong arms caught him, and held him. Pulled him against his chest.
Thoma pushed upward, pressed his nose into his neck, inhaled with his mouth open the scent of home and safety and rightness and mate.
“It’s okay now,” Ayato whispered, holding him steady with one arm, while he pushed his free hand through Thoma’s hair, so gentle and careful. “I’ve got you, I’m here. Whatever they did to you, I’m going –“ The growl of his voice reverberated in his chest, and soothed Thoma further. His alpha’s anger was nothing but a shield pointed outward to protect him.
Ayato cut himself off and breathed in, and out. In and out.
Thoma matched his rhythm, every inhale enveloping him more in Ayato’s scent. Pushing away the horror and the fear because he was safe, he was safe, he was safe. No matter how muddled his mind, how weak his body, Ayato would take care of him, protect him, keep him safe.
“Ayato,” he breathed. It was alright now. It was alright.
“Let’s go home, Thoma,” Ayato said, sounding strangled. Thoma closed his eyes and hummed, because home sounded perfect. He rested his heavy head against Ayato’s shoulder and sighed. “Safe,” he murmured, and “Ayato”. Just to remind himself.
The arms around him tightened protectively. “Yes,” Ayato said, voice steel. “You are safe. No harm shall come to you, I swear it by my name.” Thoma believed him, he knew this to be true. Ayato shifted his hold, and Thoma was pliant in his trust, shifting where Ayato’s gentle touch wordlessly asked him to.
When the man he trusted the most in this world lifted Thoma into his arms, Thoma curled into him. Ayato’s arms were steady and did not waver as he pushed to his feet and began walking.
Thoma did not have the strength to put his arms around Ayato’s neck, so he curled his fingers loosely into the robes peeking through the jacket. The fabric was soft, familiar. When darkness crept in along his vision, he finally stopped fighting.
He knew he was safe, and so he closed his eyes, rested his head against Ayato’s shoulder, and surrendered to sweet oblivion.