After the restaurant show my puppy put on, we are going through a rough patch in our marriage.
Honestly, I don’t know why he is so upset with me. All I did was support him unconditionally and remind him that there is a limit he cannot cross.
Nonetheless, our mundane life changed quite a bit. No more sleeping in the same bed. No more eating together. He won’t even talk to me.
I know. I know. It’s not his fault at all.
It’s my fault for putting him in the vegetative state he is in- almost like an induced coma.
But what options did I really have?
He just won’t cooperate with me and our new roommate, Damian. So I had to use a vitamin or two.
All he does these days is sit on the couch and stare.
At the wall.
At the floor.
At the TV, although I could swear he doesn’t watch it. He just stares at it.
While my wife is in depression and I am working overtime, do you know who is the only one having a good time?
Yeah. I started to regret my decision of bringing him in the house.
I should have just tied him up in the basement. The noise of his constant yapping would have been sealed by the concrete walls. Hopefully.
"I was thinking about having some chinese delivery tonight. I am getting sick of just pizza over and over again. Oh! We can get them steamy buns with red bean paste too."
Damian is talking to Luther. Holding a monologue. My dear pup isn’t even getting annoyed at the constant buzz. He just stands there. Like a doll.
This is why you should be careful when getting your pet an emotional pet-
The new intruder might just yapp him to death.
"Or should we do indian? I would love some curry. I haven’t had it in a while. I’ve been watching my figure, you know?"
Damian looked at my pup up and down, before scoffing softly:
"No, you don’t."
Then continued his rambling about tonight’s dinner. On and on.
And on.
And on.
"I would like a bit of quiet now."
I said. My tone came up a bit too irritated since Damian placed the palm of his hand on his chest while gasping.
So dramatic for absolutely nothing.
"I need sugar to get my blood pumping. I cannot be experimented on if I don’t get a quality meal. Now look for your credit cards while the men are picking dinner. Shuu, shuu!"
Did he just shush me away?
Oh.
Well, very well. Guess pet training it is since I hate unnecessary barking.
I took my time ravaging a drawer in the search for a syringe while Damian switched yet again our dinner menu-
From Chinese to Indian to Mexican.
You would think he’s doing a world tour.
As I slowly close the distance between me and Damian, I’ve met Luther gaze. His glossy eyes sparkled for a second before becoming lifeless again.
The blonde omega was too busy yapping about fibres and calories in the Mexican food, to feel me behind him.
As my needle brazed the skin of his neck, a soft voice interrupted both me and the annoying buzzing mukbang:
"I would like some soup."
I retrieved my syringe. It’s the first time I’ve heard Luther asking-
No.
Talking in two weeks.
"Soup? In this type of heat? Are you mad or just stupid?" the blonde brat yelled at Luther.
I know why Luther asked for something as ordinary as soup-
He wanted to distract me from Damian. To save him.
Despite his best efforts, the omega still buzzed his opinions like they matter while disrespecting my wife. The needle went right in.
"Soup sounds good to me."
My voice was reassuring and kind. At least, that was my intention. Luther looked at me heartbroken. His eyes got teary and unfocused and his breath got quiet.
Not a sound except the buzzing of the overloaded fridge, filled to the brim with Damian’s leftovers. And the TV news whispering almost inaudibly in the background.
"I’m not hungry anymore."
Luther whispered softly.
I rolled Damian on the floor with the needle still stuck in him. My weight shifted on the couch and my arms wrapped around Luther.
I had to make peace with my wife.
"Are you mad at me, babe?"
A scoff. It’s a good sight, right? At least I am not ignored.
"I miss you. The bed is cold."
"Get an electric blanket."
A dry response. But a response nonetheless.
That’s a total of three lines of dialogue in two weeks. Score, I guess!
"But they don’t make electric blankets that steal my pillow, cry on my chest and fill my shirts with snot only to deny it in the morning!"
The way the words left my mouth-
Whiny, needy, unfamiliar. I cringed myself so I didn’t take offense from the way Luther twitched his brow in disgust.
"Are we really gonna talk about cuddles while a man is dying on the floor with a needle in his neck?"
"He’s just napping. He’ll be ok."
Luther rolled his eyes annoyed. Killian’s omega is getting in the way of my marriage.
Yet I cannot dispose of him.
Despite his fragile look, his blood is reacting well to Luther’s toxicity. At least in the laboratory.
Today I was supposed to inject Luther’s blood directly into Damian, but now I can’t-
The tranquilizer that makes the blondie snore and drool on my carpet could mess up the experiment.
So, despite not saving him from the needle, Luther saved him from dying. At least for one more day.
Because there is no telling if Luther’s blood won’t just pop Damian’s heart like a balloon. Boom!
"So? Are you gonna come back to the bed, pup?"
I pressed my lips on his neck, feeling his pulse. Half teasing, half checking if he still had a reaction to me. Either the ’vitamins’ I give him are too weak or somebody has a little crush!
I licked the spot behind his ear, but the mood didn’t last long. The TV interrupted with something so shocking, tears started rolling down Luther’s cheek as he started to hyperventilate.
"The Prime Minister, Cassian Wilkers, was found dead in his apartment at the age of 55 years old."