Terrance | Omega

Terrance barely made it to the bathroom.

The nausea that had been coiling in his gut snapped viciously tight as soon as he crossed the threshold, a hot, dizzy rush that sent him stumbling forward. He caught the edge of the sink with one hand, missed entirely with the other, and then he was on his knees, retching hard enough it stole the air from his lungs.

The sound was ugly and disgusting, struggling to breathe through it.

His body folded over itself as he threw up what little he’d managed to keep down the night before, mostly bile, burning and sour. He squeezed his eyes shut, each heave dragging a whimper out of him whether he wanted it to or not. His stomach cramped violently with every spasm, pain radiating outward until it felt like something inside him was being wrung dry. Though if he had to be honest, it felt like someone was working their way through him with a saw, tearing him up from the inside.

When it finally eased, he sagged forward, forehead pressing against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, breathing in shallow, shuddery pulls. His mouth tasted awful, like death itself had crawled in there and made itself home. Sweat clung to his skin, his shirt damp and sticking in places that made him feel even more aware of himself.

He loathed it.

It’s normal, they’d said. Heat is uncomfortable for everyone. Have you tried over-the-counter painkillers?

Yeah, of course he did. A plethora of them, never really worked for what they were worth anyway. Even when he was chugging them back to back every four hours, because that had worked sooo well for him. Just his luck to build up an intolerance that left him throwing up all day after taking them. Now all he could do was gag at the mere thought of those pills and capsules hitting his tongue, it was better avoiding them now.

He let out a weak, broken sound at the thought, halfway between a laugh and a sob. Normal didn’t leave him kneeling on the bathroom floor, empty stomach heaving, muscles trembling from the effort of just staying upright. Normal didn’t make his body feel like it was punishing him for daring to exist wrong.

He slid down onto the tile, cheek pressed to the cold floor, because he didn’t have the strength to stay upright anymore. The chill seeped into him, grounding and soothing all at once. His limbs felt heavy, leaden, fatigue settling deep into his bones the way it always did at the start of a cycle.

Heat stirred anyway.

A low, traitorous warmth bloomed beneath the pain, sluggish and uncomfortable rather than enticing. His scent glands prickled, a faint sweetness leaking into the air despite everything, and it made his stomach twist all over again...not with desire, but with resentment. Of course his body could still manage that. Of course it demanded closeness and comfort while tearing him apart from the inside.

He felt soppy and loose-limbed, head spinning, eyes half-lidded as another cramp hit and he hissed through clenched teeth, knees drawing up toward his chest. His hand slid uselessly over his abdomen, fingers trembling, slick with sweat.

Why couldn’t he be like the other omegas? The ones who talked about heat like it was inconvenient at worst, indulgent at best. Slick horniness, flushed skin, a few days of distraction before everything settled back into place. Why did his body have to turn it into a medical event every single time?

Was this really it? Was this what he was supposed to accept for the rest of his life? Being reduced to this shaking, sweating thing on the floor, measuring time in waves of pain and nausea and praying the worst would pass before someone noticed he hadn’t left his room?

“Fuuuuuck,” He hissed through clenched teeth, the word breaking apart as another spasm hit. His hand slid uselessly over his stomach, nails digging in as if he could punish his body into behaving.

He stayed there, curled tight and breathing through it, the bathroom quiet except for the uneven sound of his breaths and the faint, telltale sweetness of heat beginning to bleed into the air, wrong, unwanted, and utterly unavoidable.

He hated going to the clinic.

He couldn't stand the sterile smell, the lingering scent of antiseptic, bleach, and god knows what else they used to scrub away the scent of dozens of distressed patients. Even then, he could still pick up on the pheromones, it gave him a headache more often than not or led to him pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

He sat on the edge of the examination table, the crinkly paper beneath him shifting loudly whenever he adjusted for better comfort. Fingers curled tightly into the hem of his sweater, absentmindedly digging in to keep himself distracted from the persistent ache in his abdomen. It was a familiar, grinding pressure, the kind that almost always promised a brutal week ahead as his cycle drew closer.

Dr. Payne sat across him, a beta physician who hadn't look him in the eye once since walking into the room. Instead, Payne's eyes were glued to the clipboard, flicking casually through Terrance's long and complicated medical history. "Well, Mr. Sterling," Payne started.

Couldn't sound more patronizing if he could, huh?

"The surgical report from your last lap-surgery was only twelve months ago. Requesting another exploratory consultation so soon seems...a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Yeah, because of fucking course he was being dramatic, why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

"It's not dramatic." He protested, voice clipped and flat. "The adhesions are back. I know how my body feels when the lesions flare, and right now it feels like someone's pouring acid into my pelvis."

Payne sighed, setting the clipboard down with a clack against the desk, folding his hands over his knee and gave Terrance a look that was equal parts pity and condescension.

"Terrance, you have to understand that heat-linked discomfort is simply part of being an omega. Your body is designed to undergo intense physical shifts during your cycle," Payne said, speaking slowly, as if explaining basic alchemy to a child. "A little cramping and fatigue are to be expected. Have you considered that you're simply hyper-fixating on it? Pheromonal stress can amplify perceived pain."

Terrance’s posture stiffened. His arms crossed over his chest, a knee-reflex defensive wall going up instantly. Living the absolute omega dream, he thought bitterly. Just an overly emotional, sensitive omega who can't handle a little 'discomfort.'

"It's not 'a little cramping,'" Terrance bit out, his eyes narrowing. "It’s ORTD. It’s tissue growing where it shouldn't, gluing my organs together. I can barely stand upright when the heat hits, let alone---"

"And laparoscopic procedures carry risks of scar tissue," Payne interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "We don't want to keep butchering your reproductive tract unnecessarily. What if you decide to present for a alpha mate in a few years? Excessive surgeries could severely impact your fertility and your nesting receptivity. You're only twenty. You ought to be thinking about your long-term health and your future family, not rushing under a scalpel every time a cycle gets uncomfortable."

Terrance felt the blood drain from his face, replaced by a scalding mix of shame and white-hot rage. My future mate. My fertility. As if his current, agonizing reality meant nothing compared to his potential value as a breeding partner down the line. As if his only purpose was to endure torture now so he could be a functional, quiet little vessel later.

He opened his mouth to snap, to let out a cutting, bitter remark that would probably get him kicked out of the clinic entirely, but the sheer exhaustion of fighting this battle over and over caught in his throat.

The ambient chatter in the lecture hall still droned in his ears as he left, the seminar had been on 'Hormone Modulation in Alchemical Designs'. The guest speak speaker had spent twenty minutes chattering on about how they managed their heat cycles with a cozy weekend of nesting and drinking teas to keep themselves relaxed.

Nesting and teas. Terrance scoffed, going out of his way to kick a stray stone from the cobblestone path. As if a handful of leaves and flowers could stop your organs from feeling like they're being crushed and sawed apart. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, though it did little to soothe his irritation. "Did you hear him?" He blurted out, not glancing in their direction as he fell into an easy pace alongside them. "Oh, my heats are just such a lovely time for self-reflection! I just bake bread and nap!" He drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

He let out a short, sharp laugh, shaking his head before brushing a few strands of hair out of his face.

"Must be fucking nice." He sneered, the words sharp and loaded with resentment. "Must be incredible to have a body that actually works the way the textbooks say it’s supposed to. No agony, no bedridden days, no blood tests, no doctors telling you that your misery is just 'part of the package.' Just a cute little weekend getaway with some scented candles or some shit."

But it didn't stop there, no, the bitterness kept flowing out of his mouth because he couldn't shut up.

"You just have it sooo easy, don't you? It’s infuriating. Omegas like that just walk around acting like presentation is a breeze, while I’m over here trying not to pass out in the middle of an Alchemy lab because my lesions decided to glue itself to my intestine again." After that, he bit down on his lower lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth.

God, he was so fucking envious, it sad heavily like a hot spike in his gut. He knew he had the right to be, he just wanted to be normal like every other omega, wasn't his fault his body decided to cave in on itself for literally no reason. Why the fuck did he have to be born this way? Great, he thought bitterly, his jaw working as he swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. Now I sound like a bitter, jealous nightmare, probably.

"Forget it," Terrance muttered, his drawl flat, tired, and completely drained of its previous fire. He picked up his pace, eyes glued to his own boots. "I’m just...being ridiculous. Don't worry about it." The deep-rooted fear festered in the back of his mind though, If someone else is easier, why would anyone choose to deal with me? Why would anyone stick around a broken omega who does nothing but complain?

.