The vegetable garden that Dylan had organised was a hit with the over 50's crowd, drawing in practically every Bluewood OAP in a ten mile radius. He was a little disheartened by the lack of Ironhill enthusiasm though. Only four people from their pack had shown up to help tend the soil.

Not particularly surprising, especially not after the attempted attack on him in Ironhill. But he doesn't let it phase him. He can't. The vegetable garden was just a small side project, something easy and low maintenance. He's focused on the mural.

The mural is to be painted on a low lying wall that runs along the boundary line of both packs. It's a shared wall, and he wants something commemorative to be painted there, to signify their peace treaty, and he wants everyone to get involved.

"You do realise that means you too, Dylan." Sam signs.

Dylan scoffs.

"No, I don't need to be there." He says.

"He's right. No one's going to participate if their Alpha's don't." Kieran says from his place in the lounge. He's sprawled across one of the sofas, looking plenty comfortable and very at home.

Dylan's eyes narrow as he glares at him. Since the altercation, the Ironhill Beta has been getting a little too comfortable around here. Dylan had decided to let things run their course between the Betas, but Kieran is starting to grind on his nerves. He's outspoken and brazen with his opinions. Opinions that Dylan doesn't need or want.

"I don't have an artistic bone in my body. I don't think my presence there is necessary." He mutters, halfheartedly signing as he does.

"Don't whinge when no one shows up to do it then." Kieran says, not even bothering to look up as he continues texting.

Dylan glares at the side of his head again.

"I do not-..."

Sam interrupts his Alpha, his hands moving quickly and drawing Dylan's attention away from his stupid, cocky mate. He makes a mental note to send Kieran home for a little while. The thought makes his heart ache, but he's been taking some liberties. Some of the excuses as to why he has to stick around are frankly absurd and Dylan's not an idiot.

"We've already got the outline sorted. We'll sketch it out, all you need to do is show up and slap on some paint." Sam signs, an optimistic look on his face.

Dylan sighs, but nods.

"Fine." He murmurs.

"With Orion." Sam adds quickly.

Dylan's shoulders crumple, his expression melting into a thunderous frown. It's not that he doesn't want to see Orion. Quite the opposite. It's the hurt that comes with it that Dylan can't stand. He isn't sure how much more he can take.

The Beta's arrange a date and time before Sam swiftly kicks his mate out of his territory. Kieran goes home sulky and sad that night. Sam, on the other hand, isn't too worried. His mate will live. What he's more worried about is Orion and Dylan somehow putting on an amiable show for the packs.

The longer this false friendship goes on, the more they bicker and argue, a dark, bitter cloud forming whenever they're close. It's getting harder and harder to ignore.

He only hopes to god they can get their act together, otherwise they're all screwed.

But when Dylan rises bright and early on the morning of the mural painting, Sam knows for a fact that they are, indeed, screwed.

His Alpha is wearing a tight blue button down shirt and a deep, angry scowl. His eyes are dark and weary, a result of yet another poor nights sleep. He watches silently as Dylan makes himself a triple espresso, downing it like a shot.

Christ help them all.

"Dylan..." Sam begins signing, but Dylan shakes his head.

"Don't. Don't give me the lecture. I know what I have to do. Just...let me be until then. Just let me...feel what I feel." He says desperately.

And that's when Sam sees the distress that lies behind the anger. The awful, turbulent pool of longing, hurt and vulnerability thrashing together.

Sam nods, looking back down at his plate. His stomach turns, suddenly no longer hungry.

He watches as Dylan makes another coffee, this one for the road, before smoothing down his hair. He doesn't bother with breakfast himself and Sam notices that that too has slowly become a habit of his Alpha's.

Dylan closes his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breathes before nodding. When his eyes open again, they look calm. Calm and eerily blank. Sam doesn't know where Dylan has gone, the real Dylan, but he knows he's not here. The image in front of him scares him more.

They leave the house together, arriving at the shared mural wall at the same time as Orion and Kieran. There's already a small crowd waiting for them, budding artists who have been eagerly awaiting the start of this project.

Dylan makes his way towards Orion and Sam watches as his Alpha smiles softly, their hands meeting as they shake amiably. Dylan is a fantastic actor, but the sight only serves to worry him further.

Orion watches the Bluewood Alpha carefully, never sure what version of Dylan he's going to get. To his joy, today seems to have brought him soft, easy-going Dylan.

Their hands meet and sparks fly as, for a single moment, both of their chests feel light and full. Mates meeting, stars colliding, together at last.

And then Dylan pulls his hand away.

There is no formal announcement, no instructions as such, just painting. There's a committee who had already decided on the mural's design and colours, so all the Alphas have to do is follow instructions and slap paint on the wall.

Orion watches as Dylan nods slowly, his full attention turned toward the shy, enthusiastic teenage girl who is directing him. He says something quietly and she smiles, blushing and nodding eagerly as he laughs.

He picks up a paintbrush and dips it into the blue paint. He applies it to the wall, the first spot of colour on a soon to be vibrant mural. He's somewhat slapdash in his approach, but a lot neater than Orion had anticipated.

Orion snaps out of it, picking up his own brush as he gazes at the wall.

He has no idea where to begin, the instructions he had been given already forgotten. He stares at the blank space that is his, wracking his brain for what colour it's supposed to be.

"Red." Dylan mutters.

Orion turns, glancing at his mate who is still staring intently at the wall in front of him.

Dylan's eyes glance over, his brows raising.

"Your colour is red." He says again, his voice a mere whisper and Orion nods.

The Alpha's stay for the entire day. The actual amount of painting they get done is slim to none, but that's not really why they're here anyway. It's all a show. They're here to set an example, to speak to their people, to be available and make a good impression.

It's all fake and Dylan can feel it in his bones. He wonders if the packs can too.

They stay until the last person leaves, just before the sun dips behind the blue mountains.

"I'm going to drop Sam home." Kieran says, interrupting Dylan's conversation with an older gentleman from Ironhill. It had been going pretty well, all things considered.

"Okay." Dylan calls.

"Would you mind dropping me back, Beta Lee?" The gentleman asks and Kieran nods.

"Sure, Greg. Hop in." Kieran says, an easy smile on his face.

Dylan watches them go, turning back to face the mural.

It looks good. He didn't mind the painting as much as he thought he would. He finds it almost relaxing, the forwards and backwards strokes of the brush, the repetition of each dip into the paint. He walks over to the paints, his fingers shaking as he lifts his brush again.

In his peripheral vision, Dylan watches as Orion glances towards him, then behind him. His body shifts closer, until their shoulders are just an inch apart.

Dylan swallows harshly, dipping his paintbrush back in the pot of paint. It's the first time in nearly ten years that they've been alone together and the electricity in the air is overwhelming. Dylan wishes he didn't like it so much.

"Dylan..." Orion begins, but Dylan is tired of that tone.

The heartbreaking, apologetic nature of that tone, which is all Dylan ever gets to hear these days. He's sick of it.

He lifts his paintbrush and swipes it against Orion's nose.

It's childish. He knows that, but that does nothing to stop the shit-eating grin that crawls onto his face.

Orion's mouth hangs open, the wet, gloopy paint already itching the skin of his nose. He glances at Dylan, and any anger that he may have felt falls away. Dylan's face is light and open, the mischievous, characteristic grin that he had grown up with stretched on his lips. The dimple in his cheek is shining like a beacon, calling him home as ocean blue eyes sparkle with the faded memory of child-like humour.

"I can't believe you just did that." Orion mutters, but there's no malice in it.

"What are you going to do about it?" Dylan asks petulantly, shrugging.

Orion hesitates, glancing at his own brush in his hands.

He's not...

He's better than that. He's twenty-six years old for christ's sake...

He reaches forwards and smears his brush down the side of his soulmates face.

Dylan watches him wide-eyed, the red streak on his face alarmingly bright. For one, terrible second, Orion's stomach twists in anxiety.

Then Dylan laughs, and it goes away.

And then he lunges.

Orion steps back just in time, although his white shirt doesn't escape unscathed. Spots of blue paint arc up his chest, a spot landing just shy of his jaw.

"You little shit. I just bought this shirt." Orion says, glancing up.

Dylan's grin is near maniacal, his eyes wide and full with excitement. It's frightening, but contagious.

Orion takes a step forwards, brandishing his brush and watches carefully as Dylan reacts, his entire body alert and responsive. Orion gives into the chase, unable to resist. He lunges forwards, and as he had suspected, Dylan flits away faster than he could have imagined. The cheetah speed and lithe body that Dylan possessed in childhood has served him well.

Paint is flung back and forth, small giggles transforming into almost uncontrollable laughter as Orion finally manages to pin Dylan against the mural.

Dylan can feel the paint behind him seep into his shirt, decorating him with the colours of the moment. Their chests heave as Orion seizes the opportunity in front of him, his paint covered palm smearing down Dylan's cheek.

But as he does, his fingers linger, the sparkling warmth they find beneath them too good to give up. His hand moulds to the shape of Dylan's face, cradling it now as hazel eyes find blue. Orion's free hand leans against the mural, a large red hand print left in it's wake.

"Dylan..." Orion murmurs, their lips just moments apart.

Orion remembers the feel of them against his. The memory is foggy and dim, but it's there, amongst the other guiding lights of his turbulent childhood. He wants to feel it again. He isn't content to give it up, to rely upon a memory that has served him ten years already. He wants new memories to cling to. He needs them.

His loneliness claws at his chest, pressing him further into his soulmate.

Dylan's head shakes minutely, his eyes shining with a horrible soup of fear and longing instead of excitement, but Orion is too far away. The Ironwood Alpha feels only his own loneliness, sees only his salvation.

He leans forwards and presses their lips together.

The feeling is sublime. Otherworldly. The memory of their first kiss pales in comparison and Orion wonders how he ever thought that that one kiss, nearly ten years ago, would be enough. It would never be enough. Dylan's lips move against his own, tentative but soft and willing.

Dylan's hand presses against the wall behind him, his mind soaring as he wraps himself closer to the only man he's ever come close to loving. His chest feels open and free, his heart wandering as the warmth of Orion's kiss seeps into every inch of his body.

Then Orion pulls away, and Dylan see's the look in his soulmate's eyes.

And suddenly his mind isn't soaring.

It hits the ceiling and when it does, the heart that he thought was free tugs against the tether that ties it to his chest. It's like an elastic band snapping, and everything that once felt so good now feels rotten and tainted. The lust in his blood dies and moulders, turning into shame and hurt.

He feels as though he can't breathe.

He rips his face away, his head thudding painfully against the wall behind him and for a moment, he's grateful for the pain. With it comes clarity, and the world comes back into focus.

Guilt is riddled into every facet of Orion's features. The paint that litters his face is drying, flaking away from his skin and in Dylan's mind those curls of paint transform into the mask of his seducer, peeling away inch by inch to reveal the cruel, lonely villain behind.

The sight makes his stomach roll.

He feels used. He loves the man in front of him, would do anything for him, but the cheap worthlessness that rises in his throat chokes him. Is this what love is? Is this the price he will always have to pay for happiness?

He isn't sure he can live with it.

Orion's lips press firmly together, that same sickening sympathy edging into his features as he looks upon Dylan like an adult might look upon a troubled child.

Dylan moves away, his eyes falling as shame floods every sense.

Because despite everything, he liked it. To be close with Orion, to be in his arms, felt like heaven. He wants to live in that feeling. But he can't. He knows that he'd do anything, sacrifice everything to chase those fleeting moments, for they are what make him feel alive.

But they are also what eat him up at night. They taunt him with the future he can never have, belittling every inch of confidence he has built and overturning his idea of his own self-worth until he has nothing left. And he hates Orion for it. Or he wants to. Because the truth is, he hates himself more. He hates that he's not strong enough to say no. To walk away. To reject the thing that is eating him alive. All of it reveals the weakness of his character and the leverage that Orion holds over him.

But mostly he hates himself because, despite all of that, despite everything, he knows that he'll come back for more

_

A/N

Another long update- I hope you guys enjoy!

Let me know what you think, whose side are you on? I love to hear your thoughts :)

-F