Chapter 14: Hearts on Sleeves
As Oliver half-bolted, half-stumbled down the stairs into the main foyer of the Queen Mansion, he noticed there was no one else in the vicinity of the area. Which slightly eased the Omega's worries of his family finding out about his Alpha, but Oliver still found himself yanking open the front door.
When Oliver wrenched the door open he felt his heart skip a beat. Although, he shouldn't have been surprised by his Alpha's presence, he still found himself momentarily stunned.
Slade was standing there outside the door, leaning his shoulder against a wall. The Alpha was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and combat boots. There also didn't appear to be any grey hairs around Slade's hairline anymore.
And of course, there was a bouquet of vibrant, red flowers, covered by deep purple cellophane in Slade's hand.
Without a doubt, Oliver knew that those flowers were roses. The Omega didn't need to be an expert on the language of flowers, or even use the Internet, to decipher the supposed meaning behind the roses.
Roses exemplified passion, longing, desire, admiration, and devotion. But above all, Oliver took roses to mean love. A clichéd but romantic declaration of love.
Just looking at Slade suddenly made Oliver feel very warm and fuzzy inside.
With Oliver's arrival, a toothy grin spread over Slade's face.
"Your Alpha has arrived," Slade declared, straightening himself up and then leaning inwards towards Oliver.
At Slade's comment, the Omega was able to regain some wits about himself.
Swiftly, Oliver pulled the door shut behind himself and then took a step forward, shoving himself up into Slade's face.
"And his presence is completely unwanted," Oliver hissed quietly, jabbing his finger into Slade's chest as he glared at the older man.
Cocking his head to one side, Slade raises an eyebrow at Oliver.
"Give us a kiss and we'll see about that," Slade comments with a wink.
Oliver balked, his face immediately growing flush as he recoiled slightly, back connecting with the door behind him. The Omega swore Slade just did these things to embarrass him. It's not like his Alpha was actually suave, or charming, or anything else like that...
Slade's free hand wraps around Oliver's upper arm as the Alpha closes the distance between them. A quick peck of lips caressed Oliver's cheek, before Slade then let out a hot ghost of breath over the Omega's ear.
"Stop being such a tight ass. 'Actually greet your Alpha with some respect and enthusiasm now will yah?"
Scowling, Oliver pushed Slade backwards out of his personal space.
The Omega shook his head, even as Slade remained staring at him with raised brows.
There was no way he wanted to talk to Slade outside the front door of his house where they were somewhat likely to be seen.
"Come on," Oliver huffed.
Completely ignoring and acting oblivious to the flowers Slade had for him, the Omega strode past Slade. He grabbed the Alpha by his free hand and began to tug the older man along with him.
Slade allowed himself to be shepherded along by Oliver as the Omega walked them past boxwood hedges and blooming flowers.
A slight chill in the air nipped at the bare skin around Oliver's neck even as there was no breeze in the air. Warmth emanated from Slade's hand though and Oliver was content to have his palm half-wrapped around his Alpha's own. Yet Oliver wasn't ready to fully intertwined his hand with Slade's, not when he was still mildly irritated with him.
After dragging Slade several metres away from the Queen Mansion, Oliver slowed his gait to a walk, confident now that they were unlikely to be seen.
"Diggle was kind enough to let me in," Slade states, moving up beside Oliver even as the Omega continued to walk purposefully like he had a specific destination in mind.
The Omega let out an exhale.
Well, at least Slade didn't just let himself into my house this time.
"Is it okay for you to be walking right now?" Oliver asked seriously.
It had only just dawned on him that Slade was walking without a limp, nor was the Alpha hunched over anymore.
As Oliver's eyes fell on Slade, the Alpha threw his head to one side and tsked at him.
"I can manage walking just fine. It's the sitting down and getting up part that is still painful. I think the Endone is making it tolerable at least."
Oliver merely nodded.
A lone bird chirped in the branches above them as Oliver and Slade walked beneath a canopy of trees that marked the entryway to one of the botanical gardens on the Queen property.
"By the way, thanks for the pain meds," Slade says.
Slade lightly squeezes Oliver's palm while his other hand remained cradling the bouquet of roses to his chest.
"And the Zoloft as well. I've been feeling alright these past couple days, sleeping a bit better. I think our chat on Wednesday night helped as well."
For the first time since they'd started walking, Oliver turned to look at Slade. Even though it probably wasn't wise for Oliver to be sharing his psychiatric medication (and non-prescribed pain meds that he acquired through his own means) with Slade, the Omega was still warmed by the fact that his Alpha seemed to have been helped by Oliver's actions.
Offering up a smile to Slade, Oliver let go of his previous irritation towards Slade. His Alpha returned the gesture, though Slade's eyes were too tempting for Oliver to think Slade was doing anything other than smirking at him.
The Omega's eyes re-found the path they were walking along.
He couldn't really deal with looking at Slade right now. Redness burned behind Oliver's cheeks and the Omega hoped his blush wasn't visible.
Maybe Oliver could blame the extra estrogen in his system—due to the lack of suppressants there—for why he felt like he was suddenly going to turn into a puddle whenever he was around Slade. But who was Oliver kidding, he was turned on by and infatuated with Slade well before he went off his hormone suppressants.
Opening the palm of his hand, Oliver briefly slid his hand out of Slade's before properly lacing their fingers back together. The Omega clasped tightly at his Alpha's hand and Slade clasped back.
Properly holding Slade's hand now, Oliver noticed the difference in Slade's body temperature from what it was on Wednesday, though his Alpha was still definitely running hot.
"Your fever's gone down," Oliver remarked, wanting to make small talk to keep his rampant thoughts at bay.
Why don't you just tell Slade you want him to fuck you? Just get it out in the open and over with. Then maybe you'll feel better.
"I think it's a Mirakuru thing. Whenever I get hurt, my body usually runs really hot. I think it's my body fighting off any potential bacteria and shit. 'Makes it so I don't really get sick," Slade explained.
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. From Slade's explanation, his Alpha's fever-like state the past couple days had been nothing to worry about.
Before them the singular path beneath the canopy of mostly orange-leafed trees gave way to a large garden courtyard. White wooden benches were dotted here and there amongst hedges and shrubbery that had yet to fully flower.
Ivy grew up and encompassed trees that had been specifically planted near the benches so as to offer shade. Urn-like statues and birdbaths could be seen around the edges of the gardens and by the ornate pathways that branched off into other parts of the Queen property. In the middle of the hedges and flora sat an ivory stone fountain. A few water lilies and lotuses floated atop the fountain's water.
Beside him, Slade distinctly makes a sound like he's deeply inhaling, and out of his peripheral vision Oliver notices Slade's nose brushing over the collar of his winter coat.
A brief, short growl escaped Oliver as he realised Slade appeared to be scenting him.
His Alpha seems to get the message though as Slade pulls back from him.
"You smell nice," Slade remarks, his lips curling and his brows lowering into the beginning of a smirk.
Flicking his gaze away from Slade, Oliver scoffed. Before the Omega promptly ceased walked and his hand tensed around Slade's own.
I ran out of the house before I put any Beta cologne on. And of course, that was due to Slade's unannounced arrival, hence the former was all Slade's fault.
The Omega just shakes his head though.
"You could have said something before," Oliver sighed.
Maybe if Slade had said something I could have ran back inside and had some Beta concealment on by now.
Just the concept of not having it on and exposing himself as Not-A-Beta left Oliver uneasy, though Slade clearly didn't seem to mind his scent.
Slade's thumb stroked over Oliver's knuckles, which the Omega found helped dissipate whatever worries he had at the forefront of his mind.
"Well," Slade starts, drawling the word.
"You seemed worked up enough as it is without me saying anything. So settle petal. 'Don't think I don't appreciate smelling your true scent at least. By the way, you stop taking your suppressants?"
As if to emphasis his point, Slade then nudged his nose back into the side of Oliver's neck.
At the gesture, Oliver was reminded of the fact that he hadn't taken any suppressants since last Friday, over a week now. He almost couldn't believe that after being on and off hormone suppressants for over a decade, it was the idea of sex with Slade that got him going off them. Despite how much Oliver despised going into heat, sex would be easier when he could produce more natural slick, off the suppressants.
"What gave it away?" Oliver asked, though it was obvious what did.
Leaning over, Slade brushes his nose over Oliver's scent glands, taking a deep inhale of his mate's scent. Somehow Oliver seems to allow the former even as Slade feels the Omega staring at him while he gave the younger man a good sniff.
Slade knew Oliver would bend over at the prospect of a good fucking (and he would definitely get his Omega to do just that), even if that meant going off his suppressants to make the process easier.
It was the potency of Oliver's sweet, vanilla scent that Slade truly relished. That difference between were before Slade had to be close to Oliver like now to enjoy his scent, but today the Omega's scent wafted off of him.
Watching Slade give him a sniff, Oliver again noticed the lack of grey in the Alpha's hair.
"You dyed the grey out of your hair," Oliver mused, a smile re-gracing his face.
At the Omega's comment, Slade craned his neck back from Oliver's throat. The Alpha grinned.
"Ah, but you noticed," Slade growled lowly, the words practically rolling off his tongue.
The Omega let out a laugh. Maybe the old man comment really had been getting to Slade, though Oliver hardly minded either way. Grey hair or no grey hair, Slade was still his old man. Just as Oliver likely wouldn't be able to get away from the kid comment regardless of the fact that he was near on thirty.
As the Omega remained still and rooted to the spot, he found himself gazing at his Alpha. The Alpha's eyes held a warmness and Oliver found himself drawn to them, as well as to the roses in Slade's hand.
Stroking Slade's hand within his own, Oliver offered his Alpha a coy smile.
"You gonna give me those flowers?" Oliver questioned playfully.
Tilting his head to one side, Slade made a hmm sound.
"You didn't ask," Slade then purred, hugging the bouquet of roses closer to his chest.
Oliver couldn't help but quirk his eyebrows and purse his lips at the Alpha's statement. If one of his hands wasn't intertwined with Slade's, he's pretty sure he would have crossed his arms so as to just further emphasis his point.
It wasn't like Oliver had to ask for the last six bouquets Slade had sent him. They were more or less forced onto him.
After a moment, a genuine smile softened Slade's features, the knowing smirk disappearing, and Oliver muffled a sound of amusement.
Straightening up, Slade untangled his hand from Oliver's before the Alpha wrapped both his hands around the bouquet he had.
"Here," the Alpha stated, outstretching his arms and offering the bouquet of roses in his hands to Oliver.
"These are for you, kid."
Oliver opened his arms to accept Slade's gift as the Alpha passed the flowers to him with a surprising amount of attentiveness.
As Slade passed Oliver the bouquet, the Omega leant forward, catching his Alpha's mouth in a kiss.
Slade's lips met and melted warmly onto his own in a quick display of passion. Stubble caressed Oliver's cheeks as he found himself closing his eyes, holding his Alpha's lips in a closed mouth kiss.
The Alpha mumbles something, or maybe he laughs, but it's inaudible as Slade's lips and forehead remained connected to Oliver's own.
Warm fuzzy feelings radiated throughout Oliver's body, and had he not been supporting the bouquet in his hands, he would have been wrapping his hands up in his Alpha's.
Oliver deeply inhaled through his nose, relishing his Alpha's musky, sandalwood smell and the taste of Slade's chapped lips upon his.
It's Oliver who draws himself back from their single but lingering kiss. Otherwise, they could have been there for awhile and things would have likely escalated between them to more than just a mild peck.
'Couldn't risk a boner that Oliver wasn't sure he'd be able to just will away.
Staring at Slade, Oliver found the Alpha gazing back at him with a look, the older man's features softened by what was surely Oliver accepting Slade's roses.
Supporting the bouquet against his chest, Oliver freed up his right hand before guiding that hand back to Slade's.
Opening his own palm, Slade let Oliver tangle their fingers back together.
"Come on," Oliver says, flicking his head to one side in the direction of a white bench sat across from the fountain centerpiece.
"Let's sit."
Oliver takes a seat at the bench whereas Slade sort of more plonks down beside him, slumping down with little grace. A low groan escapes Slade as the Alpha shoves himself upright on the bench more, making Oliver think Slade's awkward process of transitioning from standing to sitting was due to his spinal injuries still mending.
As Slade righted his seating so that he was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Oliver, the Omega pressed his knee to the side of his Alpha's and shimmied over on the bench so that he was as close to Slade as could be.
Slade let out an exasperated sigh as the Omega watched the Alpha bite his top lip for a second.
Without really thinking about his actions, Oliver finds himself slotting his head into the space between Slade's cheek and shoulders. Their hands quickly re-entangled together after Oliver brushed his fingers over the Alpha's knee.
The roses lay on Oliver's lap.
His lips lightly brushed over the side of Slade's stubble, not quite a kiss, as the Alpha responded by covering Oliver's hands with his own and then beginning to stroke them.
For a moment, Oliver waited for Slade to release another low noise of discomfort, the Alpha seemingly like he was having difficulty sitting without aggravating his back. But it didn't happen, Slade remained silent.
"You're such an old man," Oliver mused lowly with a chuckle, amused by Slade having momentarily struggled to sit down without discomfort.
"Shut it kid," Slade responds, though without any real bite in his voice.
His hands remained encompassing and caressing Oliver's own though.
Oliver's eyes flicked over the roses on his lap, before his eyes re-found Slade's, the Alpha's gaze fixated back on him.
Attentive dark eyes watched Oliver, though the lack of tension on Slade's face made the Omega think his Alpha was content.
"So… do you wanna tell me what sending me these flowers was all about now?" Oliver asks softly.
"My mum—I suppose I call her my mum but she's my sire—she fuckin' loved flowers," Slade started, a smile growing across his face.
"And not just flowers either, but like giving 'em, growing 'em—even though she was shit at it—, the language associated with flowers."
At Slade's words, the gears start to turn in Oliver's head.
Sire? It's not a term Oliver has heard used much growing up in his family, but after a moment Oliver remembers how and why the word is used.
To Oliver, his parents were mum and dad, even though the terms of 'mother' and 'father' were often used interchangeably between dynamics and genders. It was really just a matter of what each individual parent wanted to be referred to as, though Oliver knows he wouldn't accept being called 'mom'.
Sire and dam was the legal terminology you couldn't get away from though. Slade's mum was his sire, meaning she had to be an Alpha female. And albeit Oliver liked to pretend he was a Beta male—a sire—he was in fact an Omega male. A dam, meaning he could only carry offspring as his sperm was biologically useless.
For a moment, Oliver wonders if Slade's dam was another female or an Omega male? The Omega diverts his attention away from his thoughts however when he hears his Alpha begin speaking again.
"She was kind of a crazy bitch—about a lot of things, yeah—but flowers in particular. And I mean that in the nicest way possible," Slade remarked with a smirk.
A slight chuckle left Oliver. Trust Slade to speak about his own mother that way.
"She was always very adamant about letting me and dad know just how much she loved flowers. 'Gave my dad flowers for several consecutive days during one of their initial meetings. My mum insisted that was a proper display of courtship."
The Omega grinned at Slade's words. It sounded to Oliver like Slade's mother's appreciation of flowers had eventually taken root in Slade.
"Was that why you set me flowers?" Oliver asked, his eyes watching Slade as the Alpha continued to seemingly stare off into the space in front of them.
Because that's how your mother taught you how to court an Omega, Oliver's mind supplied.
"I already told you—" Oliver starts softly, however Slade's hands tensing around his own causes the Omega to grow silent.
Slade shakes his head, eyes closed, before turning to look at Oliver.
The Alpha's palms around Oliver's own suddenly felt hotter and clammier than they did before.
When Slade's gaze met Oliver's, the Omega could tell there was some hidden emotion behind his Alpha's heavy lidded eyes. Whatever it was though, it wasn't quite apparent in the Alpha's voice when he spoke in a gruff, stern tone.
"I don't care if you say we're already Bonded, kid. I wanted to do it, I wanted to send you these flowers. And not just 'cause if my mum was here, I'm pretty sure she would have scolded me otherwise. No, I wanted to do something about you and I… us. 'Give yah something, show yah that I'm here to stay. And I hope you understand what I mean from those flowers I've been sending yah."
As Slade looks Oliver dead in the eyes, the Omega can feel his stomach fill with butterflies. His tongue flicks out over his lips at the knowing look Slade was giving him.
Oliver fixes his gaze on a spot behind Slade's shoulder as his mind began to run rampant with thoughts. All the meanings of the various flowers Slade had sent him flitted through Oliver's head.
On Monday, the purple hyacinths, Slade was sending him an apology, a plea for forgiveness. No doubt the Alpha had felt bad about the way things had come to be between them. About the fact that Slade and he were once at each other's throats.
Tuesday, the pink azaleas, Slade was telling him to take care of himself. Even if it was only just for Slade's sake.
Wednesday, the blue violets, Slade was telling him that they'd make their relationship work no matter what.
Thursday, the lilies of the valley, Slade was telling him that his life was complete with Oliver in it.
Friday, the marigolds, Slade was telling him that he was devoted and committed to him.
Saturday, the gladioli, Slade was telling him that he was infatuated with him.
And today, with the roses, Slade was sending him a declaration of love.
Instantly, Oliver wonders if he should say I love you back to Slade. It was after all, how he felt. But embarrassment flooding through Oliver makes the Omega think if Slade was implying that he loved him, Slade should say it to him first.
Quickly, Oliver thinks to say something, change the subject before Slade notices his silence.
"I've never heard you talk about your parents before," is the first thing that spills out of Oliver's mouth.
At Oliver's words, Slade's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes narrowed. Before the Alpha then dragged his eyes away from Oliver.
"They're gone," Slade states flatly.
Oliver's heart sinks in his chest as he looks at his Alpha. He instantly feels bad for saying anything. The Omega strokes Slade's hands as best he can even as the Alpha's palms were mostly encompassing his own.
"My mum had Hep C," Slade muttered out.
Hepatitis, Oliver thought to himself.
"Isn't there a vaccine for that?" Oliver asks.
Slade shook his head, his hands tightening slightly around Oliver's.
"That's Hep A and B. There's no vaccine for C. C is the worst."
Oliver's mouth thinned into a line.
"I'm sorry," Oliver apologises after a moment.
Immediately, Slade turns to face him, offering Oliver a pained smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then the Alpha squeezed Oliver's hands still within his own.
"Don't be," Slade responded, "It was a long time ago."
When Oliver remained staring at Slade though, the Alpha knew his Omega didn't quite believe his words. That the death of his parents didn't still affect him.
A stabbing sensation in Slade's chest told him that the former was a half-truth. The pain of losing his parents was gone, but the pain from their betrayal was not.
Slade's eyes flicked over the roses on Oliver's lap as he remembered the flowers he had left for Oliver at Verdant yesterday. The gladiolus, the birth flower of August. Though Slade wondered if Oliver even noticed that they were a birth flower.
For seemingly the longest time, the gladiolus had been Slade's least favourite flower. He hated that fucking flower even, couldn't stand the sight of it.
Letting out a sigh, Slade couldn't help that his mind was plagued with grief and memories. His eyes stared back at Oliver but his mind's eye was elsewhere.
xxxxxxxx
When Slade was thirteen he remembered finding out his mother had Hepatitis C, or more importantly Cirrhosis.
His father had called him to the kitchen table as he stood around the hallway listening to his parents talk in hushed whispers. As of recently, they'd talked a lot, late at night in quiet tones. For all he knew, they could have been talking about him. Often Slade got in trouble at school for punching other boys that called him a shorty or a nigger.
When Slade sat at the table with his mother and father, he had no idea of the bombshell they were about to drop on his world.
His mother—Sherry Wilson, simultaneously the toughest and nastiest bitch Slade knew… Her liver was failing, and Slade knew that was also the only reason he ever got to know of his mother's condition.
Somehow Slade's father had remained poker-faced the entire time as Sherry did most of the speaking.
Slade didn't ever remember abusing his mother as much as he did that night. Swearing at her until he was blue in the face and then running to his room, slamming it behind him so he could cry where his parents wouldn't see him.
For all the times that his mum forced him to watch her sow seeds in their mostly dirt garden, or sit with her as she fried up barramundi in their kitchen for seemingly hours on end… None of those occasions, the annoyance he felt for his mum, came close to rivalling the hatred Slade felt for his mother over the passing months.
His mother had been a heavy alcoholic—which Slade likely inherited from his mother—often enjoying to break out a bottle of Bundaberg Rum for dinner while she cooked. And just because his mum had been diagnosed with liver failure, that didn't mean she was going to stop drinking.
Slade and his father—Marama Henare, Sherry often just called him Mara—spoke with his mother relentlessly about her giving up alcohol and more importantly seeking treatment for her failing liver. Usually this meant Marama would sit their tight-lipped next to Slade's mother while the young Alpha pleaded, more often screaming at his mum.
Sherry and Marama had often struggled to make ends meet, working as a farmhand and plumber respectively, and Slade knew of his parents hardships. There were times where he'd went to school without any food, and bullying money out of other kids for tuckshop was the only way Slade knew how to feed himself.
Knowing he and his parents didn't have the money didn't make it any easier on Slade though when his mum told him she wasn't going to pursue treatment.
Most of all, Slade despised his mother for that, for seemingly giving up when she could still fight.
Even if they had the money, Slade still didn't think his mum would pursue treatment. She was too proud and stubborn to ask for help. Valued leaving money for her fiancé and son over using that money to help herself.
Somehow Slade's dad was never abusive with her like Slade was. More often, Slade's parents would sit on the couch while his father cried, or so that's what Slade thought based on having his ear up to the living room's brick wall.
As time passed, Slade's brimming hatred towards his mother—for her decision to leave him and his dad—lessened, though not because he understood her decision any better. She was selfish, but Slade could put that to the back of his mind when he was spending time with her.
No more did Slade complain when his mother dragged him out into her mockery of a garden to water the plants. He even took an interest in helping her prune the cut flowers that she had occupying their house, and Slade would also listen to her gabble for ages on end about birth flowers and the significance of flowers.
Eventually, Slade's mother's skin grew fish-belly yellow and the whites of her eyes looked more like the yolks from the insides of eggs. His mother resigned from her job as a farmhand, spending more time taking naps during the day, and Slade could see she was growing thin.
Around this time, Slade also stopped picking as many fights at school with people who just simply glared or looked at him funny. Usually when Slade got pulled up at school for bashing other kids, his mother would scold him relentlessly when she found out, whereas his father seemed to understand that Slade's skin tone got him picked on.
Yet, Slade didn't think now that his mum would put as much effort into berating him for getting into petty squabbles. The Alpha female never said anything to him about it, but Slade imagined she was often in pain. Often he'd hear his mum complain about her back aching or her feet being sore to his father.
His mother was going downhill. She bled more easily and her wounds seemed to piss out blood from simple things like a prick from a rose's thorns.
Her stomach became very rounded, bulging out, which looked odd considering the rest of her body had grown thin. If she was a Beta or Omega, Slade might have thought she was pregnant, but Alpha females couldn't get pregnant. And so, his Alpha female's mother's stomach becoming rapidly distended like it was… clearly wasn't normal.
Slade's father couldn't afford not to work to stay home with his deteriorating mother. In fact, his father ended up picking more jobs—mostly pipe laying—to try to provide for the three of them. As such, Slade picked up more jobs around the house and always walked the blocks home from school as quickly as he could.
At first Slade watered what flowers had actually grown in their front yard, which mainly turned out to be daisies and asters. Loyal love and contentment respectively is what his mother said the flowers meant. It took a lot of effort on her part to grow anything in their dry yard and Slade sometimes wondered why his mother didn't just buy proper plant soil and pots. Maybe it was because of her very 'do-it-yourself' attitude.
Next, Slade started to make dinner more often while his mother oversaw his actions and later just instructed him from afar. Slade ended up going down the neighbourhood to the shops with the coloured dollar bills his mother gave him for groceries. He always brought a receipt back with him.
The young Alpha tried to do everything for his mum, anything he could to seemingly make her stay here in this life with him. Although Slade's father wouldn't openly show it in from of him, Slade could feel the grief and depression roll off his dad in waves.
In early May, Slade decided to give his mother a gift. Or more precisely grow her one in time for her birthday, though the young Alpha doesn't dare ask how old she is.
On the weekend, Slade brought a few packets of flowers seeds with his pocket money, or rather spare tuckshop money that he'd bullied out of kids over the years. He had allocated himself plenty of time to grow the flora for his mum's birthday on August 10th, as he had learnt from a gardening centre store clerk that these flowers could take anywhere from nearly two and a half to three months to fully flower.
Slade was adamant though about growing his mum some gladiolus, the birth flower of August, otherwise known as the sword lily. He'd learnt from his mum during one of her many ramblings about flowers, that the gladiolus was shaped like a sword and was said to pierce the heart of whoever you sent it to with love. Or was it the other way around, that sending gladiolus to his mother would mean that Slade's heart had been pierced with love?
Either way, it was a flower that represented love, which meant it was perfect for Slade to give to his mother, in addition to it being her birth flower.
His mum seemed to be getting sick more frequently as of late. Often she was asleep when Slade got home from school and she never seemed to eat much of what the young Alpha cooked at dinnertime. Often she had a bottle of VB in her hand however, so that was something.
With her yellowed-pale, gaunt skin but distended stomach, flushed palms, and red blood vessels sticking out in her arms and legs like spiderwebs, Slade knew his mother looked haggard.
Recently, she'd been to the doctor, and Slade only knew that because of the appearance of some medicine bottles that weren't there before by the jar of flour on the kitchen counter. The medicine bottles had his mum's name on them—SHERRY WILSON—and Slade figured they were for pain. Pain his mother would never admit to him existed but Slade knew must have when his mum made grunts of pain or swore about her 'damn back' or 'fuckin' ascites'.
Yet, Slade also didn't think any pills or medicine out of a bottle was going to save his mum. He remembered over a year ago—before his mum got bad… before she got worse—hearing his dad talk to his mum about her possibly looking into a liver transplant.
Apparently a liver transplant could give his mum a new liver, and that would mean she wouldn't have a failing liver or Cirrhosis anymore. His mum would still have Hepatitis C but Slade's dad said to her that if she gave up alcohol and looked after her liver, she could be ok. She shot that idea down in flames though, apparently they just didn't have the kind of money for that.
Slade wondered now if his sickly skinny mother could still be saved by a liver transplant? Could she get better?
He didn't really know and he didn't want to think about it.
She was always still really narky at him though,—Slade thinks he learnt of the existence of the word 'cunt' from her and that if he said it at school it would offend. Often she would berate him for so much as showing concern for her. Sometimes, Slade didn't get his mum, he understood his dad more. His dad who seemed to share Slade's sadness over his mum's declining condition.
However, Slade knew what he could do for his mother. Something she would like as the Alpha female rarely left the house or walked far anyway due to her swollen legs and feet.
Watering her flowers had once been among Slade's responsibilities, but those plants had long since withered and died and his mum had yet to plant anything since.
Out in the garden, Slade planted all of the gladiolus seeds partially in the shade of a large dying gumtree.
The seed packets for the gladiolus showed all different coloured flowers, from mellow yellows to blood reds, so Slade hoped when they bloomed he'd be given a whole rainbow of colours from which to create a bouquet for his mother from.
When Slade was at the garden centre he'd also learned that just because the coming months were winter, that shouldn't too badly diminish the chances he had of the gladioli flowering. In fact, the blistering Australian summer heat was apparently worse for them, the harsh warmth more likely to reduce the flowers lifespan. It didn't snow in Darwin so the wet, but still steamy, Australian 'winter' should be fine to grow the flowers in.
As the gladiolus naturally grew over time, so too did Slade's mother naturally worsen over time. However, she continued to be a nasty bitch even as she spent more time asleep and Slade's father spent more time by her bedside. She was close… Slade knew that, and because of that the young Alpha allowed himself to cry into his mother's side most days of the week.
As his mother spoke to him of poppies, golden wattles, and kangaroo paws—'traditional Aussie flowers'—she'd stroke her blunt-nailed fingers through his hair.
Apparently he had fluffy hair for an Alpha boy, she said. He needed an Omega to toughen him up, she said to which Slade frowned at. Omegas his age had barely a scent at all, they were just like Betas, so why should Slade like them? His mum told him they would however, one day he'd like Omegas. Otherwise, his mum would kick his ass if he preferred the smell of Betas or other Alphas.
Her words comforted Slade and the Alpha always kept the growing flowers he had in the front yard a secret from her so he could surprise her with them.
Day in, day out, Slade would water the gladiolus outside as their stems popped up through the earth and they began to grow.
Quickly enough, Slade's dad found out about the flora he'd been sowing in their front yard. Slade hadn't known how to explain wanting to do what he was doing, but his father seemed to understand regardless. His father had ruffled his hair, offering him a sad smile and told him Slade's mother would like the flowers.
Some of the flowers died, or rather Slade just didn't think they were growing anymore when they were barely a stem poking out of the ground and the flora around them was starting to open up towards the sun. The young Alpha disregarded his failings though, certain that he had to grow something for his mother. He just had to!
When the gladioli started to bud, revealing petals of red, pink, violet, yellow, and orange, Slade was ecstatic. His mother would love these, hopefully just as much as Slade loved his mother.
Indoors however, Slade was more openly starting to wear his heart on his sleeve. Without his mother working, all three of them had to eat less to just even try to cover all their expenses but Slade was never really that hungry anyway. His stomach often felt like it was filled with dread, which ate away at everything else inside him.
Giving his mother these flowers… This might just be one of the last things he ever does for his mother.
Slade wipes away the wetness threatening to spill down onto his face from his tear ducts. He didn't want to be sad anywhere near his mother, or in the house where she could potentially hear his sobs. Making his mum feel bad was the last thing Slade wanted, even if this really was all her fault. All her fault for doing this to him.
One day in early August, Slade came home from school to find his gladiolus flowers in what he would consider to be full bloom. Each individual flower's stem was at least two feet tall and the petals of the gladioli formed multiple different coloured funnel-shapes.
If Slade continued to water them and just kept doing what he'd been doing, he's sure he could keep these flowers alive for a while.
Smiling to himself, his heart filled with expectation and excitement about what his mother would think of his gift, Slade decided that the day before his mother's birthday he'd arrange her a bouquet of flowers from what he had in the garden. Somewhere in the house, Slade would be able to find one of his mother's old vases, which he could fill with water and place the flowers in.
Then, on August 10th, when Slade came home from school, he could present his creation to his mother.
Slade was ecstatic and over the coming days, he behaved himself in anticipation of his mother's approval. He made sure not to get in any punch-ups at school, or rather not retaliate when he was verbally or physically abused. At home, Slade continued to do everything his father and mother asked of him—especially what she asked of him as she seemed particularly sickly and bedbound now.
Things with his mum were really shitty, and his dad had to work more because of it, but Slade would have just been content for things to continue this way. Because at least things were familiar now to Slade, and he'd learnt how to become used to it in some aching, numbing sort of way.
On August 5th, Slade bounded home from school, checked on his gladioli out in the garden, and then went about all his other chores bar making dinner.
He'd do that later, after waking his mum and seeing what he could make her that she'd like.
When Slade walked over to his parents shared room, he immediately noticed something really reeked around the area. It was like all those times that Slade and his parents had found rats in their home, seemingly the vermin finding their way in through every nook and cranny of their house. Rat shit smelt, but the odor around his parents room smelt more like a rat had died.
Disregarding the likelihood that there vermin in their house again, Slade crept into his parents room and was unsurprised to find his mum asleep, still in bed.
She usually was having a nap this time in the afternoon. Though Slade found his mother looked quite a sight, what with her mouth hanging open in her sleep and her skin looking more pale than yellow at the moment.
Frankly, his mother looked worse asleep than she did conscious.
As Slade expected, his mother didn't stir when he entered the room so the young Alpha went to her bedside to rouse her.
Reaching his hand out to give his mother a light shake awake, Slade noticed putting his palm on her forearm that she felt a bit cold. Immediately, Slade then gave his mother a shake to which she didn't elicit any response at.
Unease grew in Slade as he gave his mum a more violent jostle with both hands.
Wasn't one of the symptoms of end-stage liver failure that the affected person could go into a coma? Where they would maybe never wake up and would need machines to then feed them to keep them alive? Slade remembered his mum mentioning the term coma at one point, though he doesn't remember in what context, and his breath hitched in his throat at the thought of it.
Looking at his eerily still mother—who hadn't even so much as opened her eyes at Slade half-manhandling her—Slade wondered if it was common for comatose people to breathe a lot less than normal people.
Dread runs through Slade's veins like ice as his face contorts with anxiety. Both of his hands were still on his mum's arm as he just stared at her for a moment.
His mum didn't appear to be breathing at all, there was no steady rise and fall of her chest underneath the sheets covering her thin frame.
Immediately Slade found himself wrenching the blankets back down over his mother's hips, dropping his head upon her chest.
She's gone into a coma, she's gone into a fucking coma, Slade's mind screamed.
What did he do, what did he do?!
As Slade laid his ear over his mother's sternum, he waited to hear the lub-dub sound of her heartbeat that would hopefully ease his worries before he descended into panicking.
Slade waited… and he waited.
Still and focused, he could feel his own heart thumping away behind the back of his ribcage. But his ear heard no sound or felt no movement coming from his mum's own heart.
His mother didn't have a pulse…
If she wasn't breathing and her heart wasn't beating, she couldn't have been into a coma then...
She's just gone. His mother was just gone.
Slade thinks he screamed when he realised he was touching his mum's dead body.
He ran outside, not sure what to do or who to call. His dad likely wouldn't be home for a few hours. Did Slade call the police to tell them there was a dead body in his house?
Tears welled up in the back of Slade's eyes as he staggered outside. But it was his mum… his mum's dead body.
Wetness spilt down onto Slade's face as a great sob wracked his body.
Dropping down onto his knees in the dirt, Slade looked at the gladioli in full bloom that he had intended to give to his mother in five days for her birthday. They were such beautiful flora, a rainbow of colours with long stems that seemed to reach up towards the sky.
Slade's chest heaved just looking at the flowers and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around his midsection. The young Alpha didn't bother trying to contain his sobs, letting his tears rain down his cheeks as wails of pain left him.
He was only fourteen, he would be fifteen in two months. His mum wasn't supposed to leave him when he was this young. Parents weren't supposed to die until you were an adult too, moved out, and you didn't need them anyway.
Slade still needed his mum, he wanted her to still be here.
She should still be alive…
Pain gripped Slade's heart as he bit into his bottom lip to want to keep himself from screaming.
Why did his mum get Hepatitis C? Why did she get Cirrhosis? Why did she keep drinking even when her liver was failing? Why didn't she seek treatment? Why did she have to die? Why didn't she try to save her own life?
Why would his mother do this to him, why would she leave him?
So many 'why' and 'what-if' questions and scenarios ran through Slade's head. None of it did anything to ease his grief though, if anything in only intensified the spite he felt for his mum.
His mum who didn't try to say her own life and left him without her.
Slade screamed.
How could she?!
The young Alpha's hands wound around the gladiolus in front of him, gripping the stems and fraying the flower's petals between his fingers. Then Slade yanked the gladiolus up out of the ground, throwing it as far away from him as he could. Parts of the stem and petals ripped beneath Slade's force but the Alpha didn't care.
He wanted that to happen even.
Getting to his feet, Slade ripped up the next bunch of flowers closest to him. He stomped on another lot of gladiolus with his shoe, crushing them beneath his heel. He hated these flowers, HATED THEM, Slade seethed inwardly to himself. Even as tears streamed down his face, Slade somehow mustered up the anger within himself to keep ruining the gladioli.
After Slade had destroyed most of the flowers, eventually he couldn't even bring himself to want to keep wrecking them anymore. Very quickly, the rage brought on by the heartache inside of him dissipated, leaving only the grief within him there as that emotion consumed his psyche.
Letting out a low whistle of air as Slade tried to control his breathing from wracking the rest of his body with its intensity, the young Alpha collapsed onto his haunches in front of some of the gladioli that had escaped his wrath.
Slade still hated these bastard flowers though. They were supposed to be the perfect gift for his mother, a way that Slade could show her that his heart was pierced with love when he thought of his mother. But instead, looking at the gladiolus—looking at his dead mother's body who he had intended said gladiolus for—pierced, no violently stabbed, Slade's heart with agony.
Despite that looking at the flora reminded Slade of grief—of failing his mother, of not being able to give them to her—for some reason the young Alpha couldn't draw himself away from them.
He stayed there even after the sky grew dark and you could hear bats screeching overhead until his father eventually came home.
Time seemed to blur for Slade somewhere inbetween the death of his mother and the beginning of what would be the rest of his life.
His father hid his grief well over the days proceeding up to Slade's mother's funeral. Or maybe Slade just didn't notice his father's own anguish, too wrapped up inside his own torment to notice anyone else's.
On the day of his mum's funeral—the day she would truly leave him and enter the ground—Slade's dad noticed the gladioli outside. The still intact flowers that Slade hadn't watered for a couple days, not the mess Slade had made of the ones he destroyed (he'd cleaned that up).
Slade didn't remember the comment his father had made about the flowers, but the young Alpha did remember shrugging his father off. Until his father told him that his mother would have appreciated the gladioli, that Slade could still give them to her.
At the service for Sherry Wilson, Slade didn't remember much more than his father finally breaking down and visibly crying in front of him. And the fact that before his mother's coffin was closed, taking her away from Slade's world completely, Slade had placed a bouquet of flowers in her coffin with her. A bouquet of flowers that Slade had assembled from the still living gladioli in their yard, made up of a variety of different colours—bright yellow, orange, red, pink, and violet.
On the day they closed his mother's coffin, Slade shut down, and it seemed his father did too.
It was weird that even though Slade's dad had given birth to him and raised Slade mostly alone for many years while his mum worked solely, Slade hated the idea of existing without his mum. His dad would never be able to make up for or replace her presence. She could be an asshole sometimes, getting up Slade sometimes for seemingly no reason, but she was still his mum. And Slade wasn't supposed to live without his mum.
After his mother's death, Slade took to looking after himself. Not just because his father would have to continue to work alot to support them, but mainly because his dad was visibly a wreck as well. His father, who seemed to have been stricken by a great depression after his Bondmate's death… Slade knew he wasn't coping.
So Slade decided that while his father worked to provide for the two of them, so too would Slade learn to cope and do what he could for both of them.
Slade learnt to shoplift, little things mainly. Things like an apple from a market store, things that perhaps nobody would ever notice were gone, but things Slade knew would help himself and his father.
When Slade got home from after school—and sometimes after going shopping or shoplifting—he would make dinner. Enough food for himself and his dad, and for leftovers.
Every day—bar a few—Slade's dad came home, showered and went to bed, then got up to go to work again, repeat. Slade always stayed up waiting for his dad to get home, tried to ensure his dad actually ate.
The young Alpha thinks the spite he continued to harbour for his mother after her death, helped him cope with the loss of her. Or at least made that pain easier to deal with, as Slade had another emotion that he associated with her to distract him from his grief.
Slade thinks this is the reason why he began to notice his father's anguish more so than his own. His father just didn't seem to be coping as well as Slade was.
You always saw and heard about it in movies, the idea that when a Bondmate died, the still living Bondmate felt it… they felt something. Whether it was a sixth sense inkling that told them that their Bondmate had passed, or pain that the once-Bonded experienced similar to whatever their Bondmate felt when they died, the ideas and concepts had been around for a long time.
Though who knew what truth movies held on the subject.
Slade's parents had never been married, maybe because of lack of money or caring on his mother's part, but they had been Bonded. On his mother's left wrist there'd been a bite mark etched into her skin that his father had no doubt left there. Wherever the Bonding mark on his father was, Slade didn't think he wanted to know.
One day—on a day that Slade's dad had off work, and mostly stayed home and slept during that time—Slade approached his dad. His dad was sitting on the sofa, the TV in front of him switched off.
Recently his dad didn't do much of what he used to like to do, like going down to the beach to look at the creatures in the tidepools. Instead, Slade's dad always seemed depressed.
Slade wondered about that and out of the blue decided to ask his dad:
"Dad, when mum died… did you feel anything?"
At the time Slade's dad had turned to look at him with a rather bewildered look on his face, shoulders slumped and hands steepled beneath his chin.
His dad responded to him with, "Nothing… You feel and know nothing when your Bondmate dies, Slade. The same goes for me and your mother."
Pain behind his father's eyes betrayed the fact that answer was a lie though. But Slade continued to ask that question over the passing months, and his father continued to give him the same response on the matter—the same lie.
Over time, Slade ended up getting in more trouble at school. Mainly because he'd just stopped giving a flying fuck about his education, or anything really for that matter. His and his father's grief seemingly radiated into every aspect of the young Alpha's life and it was easy for Slade to want to take out those built up emotions inside of him out on something, or someone, else.
The schooling and strictness of the place Slade went to was shithouse, so not only did the Alpha get bullied far more than he thinks he could tolerate, but he also got away with doing far more shit than he otherwise thinks could have ended him up in juvenile court.
Slade finally had a growth spurt and filled out in his mid-teens, which made bashing fuckwits and retaliating against said fuckwits a lot less draining on him. At school, Slade often got pulled up for—or rather mostly got away with—swearing, verbally abusing the hell out of other students and teachers alike, wagging school, what would no doubt be considered assault, and bringing a concealed weapon to school (it was his mum's old pocket knife).
There was also one time Slade accidently lit a bin on fire with a match from a box he'd pulled off an older boy's person.
If Slade had the money he's pretty sure he would have been drinking and smoking like some other kids his age. It would have been a relief to be able to drown his brain and senses in alcohol or nicotine that would help him forget, or at least take away his pain temporarily.
A greater part of Slade though was uneasy. Uneasy about the idea of smoking or drinking, at the idea that he would go like his mother did. That he would potentially kill his lungs or liver and not allow anyone else to help him.
Maybe that was secretly what Slade wanted or deserved though. To go like his mother did and join her in death.
Slade continued to ask his father if he experienced pain when Slade's mother died. As expected, his dad continued to lie to him.
When Slade was 16, he decided to join the Army Cadets. As a way to get himself away from just being at home or school, but more so as a way to get himself away from his father's and his own grief.
He needed some sort of outlet, a way out of his own life.
For some reason, when Slade brought his father the paperwork that his legal guardian would have to sign for him, his father approved of Slade going into Cadets. After signing all the relevant paperwork, Slade's dad even took him back down to the local Army Cadet Unit to finalise Slade joining up.
On the days that Slade didn't have school, and often after school, Cadets was gruelling, as Slade expected it to be. That in itself Slade was thankful for as it diverted his attention away from the pain brought on by his mother's death.
During the year that Slade was in Cadets, he learnt basic First Aid, how to live safely in a tent in the wilderness, how to navigate maps and compasses, and how to march like he was in the army.
On the more fun side, during his time in Cadets, Slade got to abseil, go boating and canoeing, do obstacle courses and go on long hikes, and most fun… learn how to operate standard guns.
Of course, when Slade turned 17 though, he was quickly kicked out of Cadets. Probably because once you were old enough to serve your country (even if the Defence Force wouldn't actually send you out into the world until you were 18), it was that or fuck off back to where you came from.
The latter was never in the equation in Slade's mind, so he reluctantly (because the young Alpha didn't quite expect his father to approve) went to his dad with his decision.
Going into the Army would do away Slade's need to look for another job, and possibly even housing for a time. It also would likely allow Slade to leave his shitty town and life behind which the young Alpha most definitely could get behind.
The premature loss of his mother was still an open, gaping wound inside Slade, but he thinks it was at least starting to scab over now.
At around 17, Slade had filled out physically more than he'd ever expected he would, but always hoped he would do so. From Cadet's training and getting into fights over the years, Slade had started to put muscle on. Mainly in his arms and shoulders, the latter of which were starting to look broad, though Slade wasn't what he would consider quintessential Alpha… yet.
He wasn't a shorty and as easy to bully anymore, however at 5'11" Slade would have appreciated a bit more height. His mother and father were never really that tall, as evidenced by the fact that when Slade went to talk to his dad, he stood a head above the Omega.
Slade's father barely looked at him with downcast eyes, but offered the young Alpha a smile as Slade told his dad of his decision. Although the Alpha wasn't sure if his dad's smile had been fake or not. He was essentially telling his father he wanted to leave, fly the coop, and Slade opposition to that.
There wasn't any though, which maybe Slade shouldn't have been surprised at as his dad had always been more soft-spoken and lax than Slade's mum was. His dad seemed to accept, or rather didn't really care, if Slade wanted to leave school early. However, Slade did decide to wait the few extra weeks until he'd finished high school before deciding to go to the Army.
Slade didn't know why he waited until he finished his final year of schooling to leave for the Army. Maybe it was because he wanted to be merciful on his father and allow the Omega time to let him go on his own terms. However Slade expected that his dad had already let him go.
After Slade had joined up to the Army but before he'd done anything in sorts of training, he decided to go to his father and ask him one last time:
"Dad, when mum died… did you feel anything?"
Although Slade wasn't quite sure what answer he was expecting or looking for—perhaps the truth after all this time—, but he felt compelled to ask the question anyway.
When Slade sat down one night with his dad on the couch, he asked the question gingerly though somewhat out of the blue. A long and great silence then lingered between him and his father.
Slade's father inhaled and exhaled deeply as he seemed to process the Alpha's words. When Slade's dad spoke, it was with a shaky voice and tears in his eyes.
"I didn't know what it was… the pain in my gut, my heart, radiating throughout my whole body. I felt it at work, and then as seemingly as it had come on, it was gone. She was gone. That pain was Sherry's as her liver finally reached its limit and the rest of her body was so thoroughly poisoned by its failing. She was in pain, she died in pain. Maybe she even let go so she wasn't in pain anymore.
I should have been here for her. I wish you weren't the one to find her. I should have known that my pain was her own. I should have known…
It was the worst thing in the world... Not knowing that she was gone when I had felt her go."
It was at that point—after his mother had been put into the ground over two years ago—as Slade watched his father break down on the couch in tears, that he knew his dad would never be the same. Slade would never be the same. They could never go back to the same people they were when they were the poor, yet content family of three.
The depression Slade's dad suffered was by no means easing up, forgiving, or going away. He worked himself to the bone, perhaps so he'd spend less waking hours in the house that was once home to his Bondmate.
Slade himself had, and would continue to grown into, a less-than-normal functioning young man. The friends he'd had in high school, he'd virtually pushed away. Same with the few Omegas and Betas he'd fallen into bed with.
Pain from losing his mother coloured almost every aspect of Slade's life. He wouldn't—couldn't even—form strong, meaningful, long-lasting connections with people because he was too afraid of those bonds being destroyed from the inside out. Not by himself, but by the other person. Someone he trusted but by allowing them that trust, Slade was allowing them to hurt him.
Just like his mother had hurt him.
So Slade kept people at arm's length, so he could leave and possibly hurt them whenever he pleased, but they wouldn't be able to do the same back to him. He wouldn't let them.
The one girlfriend Slade had that had slipped through his guard was a mistake. As an only child, Slade had never really learned to share, and that combined with the paranoia of the pain that would follow if he lost anyone else in his life, created a typical, almost stereotypical Alpha, possessiveness in Slade.
Slade had been very reluctant to let that girl go, for her to leave his presence at all. Because when she went she could form another connections with people that would perhaps undermine her connection with Slade. She could choose to leave him, she could hurt him.
He could not allow himself to be hurt and further broken, so Slade had dumped her and utterly broken her heart so that she would never come back.
He didn't want to be Bonded, or risk becoming Bonded to an Omega even if a pseudo-Bond could be broken. He didn't want to lose anyone else.
He didn't want to become his father. Because Slade knew that his father would kill himself.
And he did.
For a long time, Slade waiting for the news of his father's death. Of his suicide.
At 17, Slade continued to live with his father as he went through the motions in the Army, mostly training both mental and physical. Coming home, Slade always expected the worst. Sometimes his dad wasn't home before he was, but when his father was home, Slade always expected to find his dad dead. Or to at least have made an attempt on his own life.
As far as Slade was aware, his father had never made an attempt to take his own life. For what reason, Slade didn't know. Perhaps Slade's dad felt guilty about the idea of Slade being the first person to find not just his dead mother but also his dead father.
When Slade turned 18, he sort of officially moved out of home. The Army would finally start sending him on missions as he was legally an adult and that meant leaving home behind for Slade. It is all too easy for Slade to leave his shitty brick house where his mother died behind.
It is harder however for Slade to leave his dad behind, but the Alpha knew there was nothing he could likely ever do or say to prevent his father's death. He didn't want to be there when it happened. He never wanted to return home.
So for months, Slade waited. And he waited. Waited uneasily for the call of his father's death.
When Slade was 19 that day, that call, came. His father's number was up.
Someone—a police officer, Slade thinks—had been the one to ring Slade. Apparently someone from his dad's work had come to the house to investigate when Slade's dad had no-showed at work for several days in a row.
Slade had wondered at the time who had been unfortunate enough at the time to find his father's body.
The officer hadn't initially disclosed to Slade the details of his father's death but Slade had asked about it over the phone, even when he knew it was a suicide. There had been no wounds or signs of physical trauma on his father, so the police were not able to identify if his father's death had been by natural causes or not.
They didn't have to.
Slade imagined if he had returned to his childhood home, he might have found his mother's bottle of pain medication—oxycodone—missing, or perhaps empty of all its contents. An overdose seemed like something his father would do, less violent a death then something like hanging himself.
However, Slade never did return home or further investigate the details of his father's death. He didn't need to. Nor did he need to attend his father's funeral—being over in a different country was a good enough excuse for 'why not' at least.
First his mother, and now his father had abandoned him. The people who were supposed to protect and raise him in life, had been the first ones to betray him. And for that, Slade despised his parents.
Slade could never allow himself to be hurt again, because inside it had already destroyed him.
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Author Notes: So… that flashback turned out longer than anticipated.
I'd like to thank user MyLittleAngel though from Archive Of Our Own for commenting on the last chapter about the matter of Slade sending Oliver the gladiolus. Initially, I didn't intend to do anything with the fact that the gladiolus are the August birth flower but MyLittleAngel bringing the subject up made me want to tie the gladiolus in to this pre-planned flashback.
I also changed my Tumblr url again, but I'm back at sladiver now considering the big burst of muse I had for writing this chapter.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and next chapter, back to present day.