Episode 8

Maiston was seated, leafing through a magazine as he nibbled on something for lunch. He chewed leisurely and swallowed in the same manner because he was in high spirits. He felt nothing could spoil his afternoon until he came across a section discussing Prince.

As he read on, he slowly felt his calm slipping away excessively. Digesting the interview they had conducted with the Omega regarding his plans for the new hotel, he spat out his last mouthful upon reading that one of his hotels was to be transformed into a motel. He started coughing and stood up to bellow:

"Jim!!!"

His friend was across the hallway, but his cry was nearly audible throughout the building. He exhaled, more than certain about what he had seen, and hurried to concoct some plausible excuse. He burst through the door and was cut off before he could say anything:

"How could you let this happen, idiot?! I left you responsible for that hotel so you wouldn't let that damn Omega mess with it!"

"Well..."

"Your job was simple! Just make his life hell because you're my best friend, not his!"

"It's just that..."

"Did he brainwash you?! He manipulates everyone! How could you let yourself be manipulated when you're so big and he's so small?"

"It's not like that because..."

"You're a tremendous fool! You let him turn my hotel into a motel!"

Jim eventually gave up trying to speak; it was clear it wouldn't make a difference. He preferred to sit and rest his chin on his palm while watching the relentless scolding, resembling a thoroughly sour old lady. Watching him pace back and forth without stopping, he was sure a hole would soon form in the office floor.

He had thought of saying that at that exact moment he had been abducted by aliens and had no time to refuse or prevent it, but then he realized not even that would help his case.

He wasn't surprised because he was always caught between them. When they fought, he always had to consult with one and then tell the other what to do. In essence, he was their messenger pigeon whenever they quarreled over something. If he closed his eyes, he could vividly recall all those times he had to listen and watch them both fight concurrently.

Sometimes he couldn't fathom how they came to be a couple when they fought so often. They were the quintessential love-hate pair that drove anyone insane.

He sighed as he noticed his friend sitting down.

He thought it was over, but then saw him stand up to continue his rant about events from three years ago. He didn't understand how he remembered all that when he himself couldn't recall what he had eaten the previous morning.

"It's going to turn into a seedy place! Full of prostitutes and strippers!"

"But he..."

"Always with his damn obsession to sexualize everything and..."

"Sure, it bothers you now, but when he used to wear that lingerie for you, you were drooling all over."

Maiston didn't hear because he continued talking nonstop. He wanted to pull his hair out just imagining what people would start saying about him. He couldn't understand it. He didn't know how he continued to behave in the same infuriating way, and what annoyed him most was knowing he was doing it to provoke him.

He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

"It's going to be all pornographic," he concluded, closing his eyes.

The thought of what would be inside his building made his skin crawl. He was furious, very furious. He wanted to go there, drag him out, set the hotel on fire, not caring about the consequences. He wanted to destroy everything just to annoy him as much as he was being annoyed.

Exhausted, he slumped in his chair, unsure of what to do. He picked up the magazine again to reread what had so shocked him moments before, and that's when he saw the new image.

He squinted for a few seconds—he knew that face too well, so he quickly noticed that his cheeks looked a bit chubbier. His hair was longer, too, but he still wore the same perverse smile he had seen so often.

"Is it me or does he look chubbier?" he remarked.

Jim looked up, noticing he was looking at a picture of him, and nodded.

"Yeah, looks like he's put on some weight. Maybe it's because he's pining for you," he commented with a chuckle.

"He doesn't pine, he causes pain—that's different. Just looking at him gives me a headache."

"Seriously though, if he's gained weight, that's strange. You know, they said he caught a virus on his vacation and then wasn't seen for a while; maybe he didn't move much from home."

Maiston scrutinized the picture, pondering the virus affair, which he found suspicious. He believed in the saying 'weeds never die', and knew that one so resilient wouldn't even catch a minor cold in the harshest winters, let alone a virus on holiday.

"Something doesn't add up," he said. "Something happened to him."

"And does that worry you?" asked Jim with a smirk, studying his expression.

"No, not at all, but something obviously happened. If I didn't know that controlling Omega so well, I wouldn't say it."

Jim just laughed.

"Lately, all you do is scour magazines like a madman. All that's left is waiting by the building entrance to snatch everything from the mailman. Have you realized you're always searching for something on that controlling Omega you call him?"

As Maiston continued to read Prince's interview, processing his friend's words, he threw the magazine away.

"I don't do that. I couldn't care less what he does or what happens to him."

"Just now, you were worried something might have happened to him," Jim said, looking at the discarded magazine.

"I never said that; I merely pointed out that it's obvious something happened to him."

Jim shrugged, as if to say:

"It's the same thing, buddy. But let's head to the meal we have planned. Though, by the looks of it, you've already eaten."

They got up to move to another part of the building, heading to a lunch meeting with some investors who were frequent visitors. There were three of them, so five people bordered the table in total.

Maiston greeted the fellows and just sat down. There was food before him, yet he couldn't take a single bite; his thoughts wouldn't let him. He stared at the table the whole time while the others continued discussing business. He longed to forget it all, though he knew that was impossible; despite his reluctance to admit it, a part of him did care about that Omega who had caused him premature gray hairs.

He had even started dyeing his hair because of him, not wanting anyone to think he was older than necessary.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds because that photo seemed odd. He knew everything about him, more than perfectly with or without clothes, and he knew what he hated most.

Gaining weight.

It was something he never allowed himself. Most of the food he consumed was vegetables, which he forced onto him as well. He couldn't say they were bad, but often he craved other things which he couldn't have. Thus, no matter how much he pondered, he couldn't grasp the notion of him gaining weight.

He didn't want to heed Jim's words, but the thought that it might be due to their separation caused greater worry than he already had. He'd been managing well, or so he imagined. He didn't bother with many things and looked forward to time with the Omega he owned.

"Maiston."

He heard his name but failed to snap out of his reverie.

"Maiston."

"Hey," Jim said, nudging his shoulder.

That jolted him into looking around, clueless about the conversation or if any questions were directed at him.

"What's up?" he inquired, surveying everyone.

They had known each other for some time and often brokered deals, so they could be considered friends to some degree.

"We were just asking how things are with your new Omega," one of the men mentioned.

"Everything's good, Reich, and how about you?" he asked the blond-haired man.

"All good, but there's something I wanted to ask you."

Maiston simply gave a nod.

"Well, you've been separated from Prince for a while now, you've moved on with someone new, so I assume you wouldn't mind if I ask him out, right?"

Jim and the other three fell silent upon hearing the question, all eyes on Maiston as Reich awaited an answer.

In any other circumstance, Maiston might have had some right to speak up, to show that the Omega was his. Now, however, he was powerless to do anything about it – no claim or bond remained. He blinked several times, realizing at that moment that many Alphas must be craving to take his place.

Prince was a stunning Omega, and he knew very well how flirty, bold, and seductive he could be when he fancied someone.

Facing Reich, he tried not to worry, confident that the Omega wouldn't like him in the slightest. He was familiar with Prince's tastes and somewhat with the Alpha, allowing him to suspect that the latter had certain traits Prince would find utterly unappealing, leading to instant rejection.

"I see no reason it should bother me, nor why you'd ask such a trivial thing. I'm indifferent to what he does and who he's with," he shrugged it off.

"Great, I felt I shouldn't have mentioned it, but given you were his spouse for years, I thought it proper to inform you."

Maiston nodded.

"No problem."

"Awesome. I heard he's got a show next week, so I'll catch him there to chat. I'm clueless about your breakup reasons, but I reckon no Alpha would want to lose an Omega like him."

Maiston laughed.

"Reich, you don't know what you're getting into. That Omega is a control freak. He'll try to control you with his pinky finger. He tried it with me but never succeeded and never will."

Without further ado, he excused himself to the restroom. Exiting the room, he realized he was sweating profusely and rushed to the bathroom, astounded at his own nervousness.

And that seemed utterly foolish to him.

He smirked, thinking that if Prince was with another Alpha, it should matter to him not one bit. He washed his hands calmly, adjusted his tie as he left the restroom and resolved to dine at a special place with his Omega, to celebrate his liberation from Prince.

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