Overnight••√•• a foreign omega”

chapitre : 10

• ஜ • ❈ • ஜ •

The excitement bubbling within Smith wasn't solely tied to Day; it radiated from everywhere, coloring every aspect of his new life. And this personal flourishing became the perfect soil for his relationships with his family to take deep root, offering him a healthy family dynamic, a sensation as new and intoxicating as the love he bore for his fiancé.

With his mother, Mrs. Croft, the relationship took on a daily sweetness. It was no longer just smiles exchanged at the table, but genuine complicity. One morning, as she was making jam, Smith sat down at the kitchen table to watch her.

"Do you want to help?" she had offered, handing him an apron.

He had accepted, and they spent the afternoon peeling and cutting fruit, stirring the sweet mixture that filled the whole house with its scent. They talked about everything and nothing: his plans with Day, the colors he imagined for their future home, childhood memories of Nam, which Smith, of course, had no memory of. He listened to these anecdotes, these little nothings that weave the fabric of a family, and he made them his own, smiling at the idea of an awkward teenage Nam. His mother spoke to him without expectation, without subtext. She was simply happy with his presence. And Smith, for the first time, felt like a son, not as a title or a duty, but as a joyful certainty.

But it was with Nam that the change was most striking. In his old life, his brother was a distant, serious figure, crushed by the weight of family expectations. Here, Nam was a rock, but a warm rock. His strength wasn't intimidating; it was reassuring.

One Saturday afternoon, Nam was fixing a shelf in the garage. Smith, passing by, stopped to watch him.

"Need a hand?" he asked, a little hesitant.

Nam looked up, a pencil between his teeth.

"Do you know how to hold a level?"

"I can learn."

A smile split Nam's serious face.

"Then come here, little brother."

For the next two hours, Smith held planks, passed tools, and listened to Nam's patient explanations. It wasn't just a DIY lesson. It was a ritual. They spoke little, but the camaraderie was palpable. Nam gave him simple instructions, praised him when he understood quickly, and laughed when Smith fumbled.

"See, that's it, the angle," Nam had said, guiding his hand on the plank. "You have to feel that it's straight."

Smith felt his brother's firm, sure hand on his own, and a wave of gratitude overwhelmed him. This was what it meant to have a big brother. Not a rival or a judge, but a guide. Someone who taught you how to be straight, literally and figuratively.

Later, sitting on the garage steps with a glass of water, the conversation drifted.

"Julien says you're getting used to your new... functioning," Nam said, with his characteristic delicacy.

Smith nodded, a nervous smile on his lips.

"It's still a bit strange, but yes. It's... good. Day is very patient."

"Day is a good man," Nam approved. "He respects you. That's all that matters."

He placed a heavy, comforting hand on Smith's shoulder.

"You know, when you first arrived, you looked so lost. Like a bird that had hit a windowpane. Seeing you now, so... alive, so grounded... it's good to see. Really."

The words were simple, but they carried all the brotherly love Smith had never known. There was no comparison, no competition. Just pride.

That same evening, at dinner, the dynamic was tangible. Smith participated in the conversation, cracked jokes that made his father laugh, helped his mother clear the table without being asked. He was no longer a passing guest in his own life. He was a pillar of it.

As he went up to bed, passing Nam's room, the door was ajar. He saw his brother, sitting on his bed, reading, while Julien was already asleep against him, head on his shoulder. The scene held such a profound peace and intimacy that it squeezed his heart with happiness. This was family. Individuals, different and whole, who chose to build a home together.

That night, Smith fell asleep not only with the excitement of his love for Day, but with the deep, unshakable warmth of being, finally, in his right place. He was tasting a healthy family dynamic like one tastes a comforting meal after a long winter. And with each passing day, this emotional nourishment strengthened him, preparing him to build, in his turn, the home he had always dreamed of. He was no longer a shipwrecked man clinging to a buoy. He was becoming the architect of his own life.

••√••

Every encounter with Day had become a delicious torment. Smith smiled, joked, let himself be embraced, but beneath the surface, a fierce battle raged. His body, fully awakened to its Omega nature, craved his Alpha's with an intensity that terrified him. It wasn't just desire; it was a visceral need, a drive rooted so deeply it seemed dictated by his very DNA.

He wanted Day. He wanted him in every conceivable and inconceivable way. He dreamed at night of the warmth of his skin, the weight of his body, the taste of his sweat. During the day, a simple brush of their hands was enough to send an electric shock reminding him how empty he felt without him.

But a sliver of worry, cold and sharp, pierced his heart every time the urge became too strong. It was fear. Not fear of the act itself, nor even fear of breaking their promise to wait until marriage. It was a much more insidious and paralyzing fear.

One evening, unable to bear it any longer, he took refuge in Julien's room. His friend was tidying up, but he immediately read the trouble on Smith's face.

"What's wrong?" Julien asked, putting down the book he was holding.

Smith collapsed onto the bed, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his inner conflict.

"It's Day," he admitted, his voice strangled. "Julien... I want him so much. It's stronger than me. But every time I imagine us... going all the way, I feel like I'm betraying someone."

Julien sat down beside him, silent, offering his listening ear.

"I'm not talking about betraying our promise," Smith continued, clenching his fists on his knees. "I'm talking about... about him. The other Smith. The one this life was meant for. The one Day loved before I arrived. If I sleep with Day, am I not stealing that too? Am I not becoming an impostor in his bed?"

He looked up at Julien, his eyes drowning in anguish.

"And if I do it, and after... after, I have to go back? How could I survive that, Julien? Having tasted that, tasted him, and having to give it up? I don't want it to be a goodbye. I don't want our first time to also be our last time."

The words poured out, carrying weeks of repressed fear. The fear of being just a loan. The fear that this happiness was only borrowed.

Julien listened to him to the end, without interrupting. When Smith fell silent, exhausted, he took a deep breath.

"Smith," he began softly. "Listen to me carefully. You are not deceiving anyone."

He leaned forward to force Smith to look at him.

"The other Smith... the one who was here before... I'm going to be frank with you. He wasn't... whole. He was like an empty shell. He smiled, he said the right things, but there was no one behind his eyes. Day felt it, we all felt it. He tried, but it was as if he was playing a role without understanding its meaning."

Julien placed a hand on Smith's heart.

"You, you're different. You are alive. You are here. Every emotion is real, every laugh is sincere, every tear comes from the depths of your soul. Day doesn't love you despite your difference; he loves you because of it. He loves the passionate, awestruck, and combative man you are. The man who fought to be here."

Smith held his breath, eyes wide.

"But... his place..."

"IT IS YOUR PLACE!" Julien insisted, with sudden force. "The shaman told you: the place was empty. It was waiting for you. That man, Day, he was waiting for you. You stole nothing. You came to fill a void we all felt. You made this family... complete."

He moved even closer, his gaze full of fierce determination.

"And believe me, no one will let you go back. Not me, who finally found in you a true best friend, someone who truly listens and understands me. Not Nam, who finally sees the light in his little brother's eyes. Not your mother, who got her son back. And most of all, most of all, not Day."

Julien smiled, a slightly sad but affectionate smile.

"Day is not a man to love a shell. He loves the soul that inhabits it. And that soul is yours. He knows it, deep down. It is you who are his Omega. It is you who are his future. So, when you are ready, when you are both ready, don't let a ghost who never truly existed steal this happiness from you."

Julien's words acted like a balm on the gaping wound in Smith's soul. He had put words to his deepest fear: being a usurper. And he had defused it, piece by piece.

A heavy burden seemed to lift from his shoulders. The tears he had held back gushed forth, but this time, they were tears of liberation. He threw himself into Julien's arms, sobbing with relief.

"Thank you," he whispered against his shoulder. "Thank you, Julien."

"Don't mention it, my brother," Julien whispered, holding him tight. "You are not alone anymore, Smith. You have a family. You have an Alpha who loves you. And you have the right to be happy, without second thoughts, without fear."

When Smith left Julien's room, his heart felt lighter. The fear hadn't entirely disappeared, but it had been countered by truth and friendship. Going down the stairs, he ran into Day who was arriving.

"Is everything alright?" Day asked, as perceptive as ever.

Smith looked at him, really looked at him. He saw the love in his eyes, the quiet strength, the infinite patience. And for the first time, he let his own desire, pure and unhindered, illuminate his gaze.

"Yes," Smith said, taking his hand, a genuine and confident smile on his lips. "Everything is alright. Better than alright."

He was not an impostor. He was Smith. And he was finally, fully, home.