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In the quiet solitude of the restourant's office, Richie sat at the desk that once belonged to Mikey. The faint scent of leather and whiskey still lingered, a silent reminder of the man who had filled this space with life. His fingers traced the grooves in the wood, the same grooves that had been witness to countless laughs and arguments, plans and promises. The walls were adorned with photos of them, together, smiling, and Richie couldn't help but feel the ache in his chest that came with every glance at those moments frozen in time.
The restaurant buzzed with activity beyond the door. The clatter of pans and the murmur of conversations filled the air, a pattern that used to be their sanctuary. Now, it was a constant reminder of the emptiness that had settled in Richie's heart. He could almost hear Mikey's voice echoing through the kitchen, barking orders with a hint of playfulness that made everyone's hearts flutter.
The day had been hectic, as usual. Carmy, Mikey's younger brother, had taken over the management like a storm, bringing a new energy that was both jolting and comforting. His eyes, so much like Mikey's, darted around the room as he spoke with the staff. But it was the scent that hit Richie hardest, a scent so similar to Mikey's that it made his inner omega clench with a bittersweet longing.
As the dinner rush grew closer, Richie found himself drawn to the kitchen, a place where he had always felt most at home with Mikey. The heat washed over him as he stepped through the swinging doors, the smells of garlic and roasting meats mingling with the aroma of spices that Mikey had taught him to blend. The sight of Carmy, looking like a younger version of his beloved, stirring a pot with the same furious concentration Mikey had, brought a sad smile to his face.
___________________________
They were in the kitchen, the scent of spices and sizzling oil filling the air as they prepared lunch. Richie moved with his usual confidence behind the counter, but Mikey’s silence made his senses go on high alert.
He turned and found the other still, staring into space, the spatula clenched in his hand like he’d forgotten he was holding it.
“Mikey?” he called, trying to mask the worry in his voice.
Mikey took a few seconds too long to answer. Then he blinked, like he was waking from a dream, and turned to him with a tired smile.
“Mh, what, love?”
Richie frowned. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” Mikey replied, his voice slightly thick. Then the smile grew, becoming more genuine, more him. “My omega’s worried about me. I’m so lucky. So damn lucky.”
He paused, his smile softening into something more thoughtful. He stepped closer to Richie and pulled him into a hug, burying his nose in the other’s neck and taking a deep breath to inhale his scent.
“I should put a ring on your finger.”
Richie laughed at that, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, Mikey. Maybe when you stop burning the meat.”
Mikey laughed too, nudging Richie with his shoulder, and just like that, the moment melted back into normalcy.
Everything was fine.
Or at least, that’s what he liked to believe.
_____________
Richie leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched the frantic movement of the kitchen staff. Everything was the same, and yet the absence of his alpha was a gaping hole.
It had been a month since the reopening of The Bear, and the tension, the smell of butter sizzling in the pan, the yelling over the clatter of pots, it still felt like home. But without Mikey, it was also a home where he was starting to feel like he didn’t belong.
Carmy doubted him. His abilities, his place in the restaurant.
It wasn’t a secret. Richie saw it in the sideways glances, the barely suppressed sighs, in the way Carmy took control without even consulting him, like he was the only one who knew how to handle things. Sometimes it felt like he was being treated like a kid who needed to be looked after.
Carmy didn’t think he was good enough. And maybe, come to think of it, Mikey hadn’t really believed in him either. Otherwise, why leave everything to his brother? Why trust their restaurant to Carmy and not to him, who had been there every single day, even when Mikey had begun not showing up?
Carmy stopped plating for a moment and looked up, brows furrowed. “What is it, Cousin?” he asked, his voice just a touch softer than usual. The concern in his tone warmed Richie’s chest a little, but didn’t do much to ease his tension.
Richie shrugged, trying not to show how much it got to him to be called that. Carmy said it so casually, but the sound of that word twisted his stomach. It was the same voice, the same tone, the same tired affection Mikey had used when they’d stop for a cigarette out back after service.
“Just checking,” he replied, avoiding Carmy’s eyes as he ran a hand down his face.
Carmy sighed and went back to his dish, but Richie caught the way his jaw tightened slightly, a nervous tic he knew all too well. Mikey did the exact same thing when he was holding something back, when words knotted in his throat and refused to come out.
Richie looked away, a heavy feeling in his stomach. He felt so fucking stupid. How could every gesture, every glance, every breath from Carmy bring him right back to Mikey? It was like his brain refused to let go, kept searching for him in everyone left around him.
The air suddenly felt thick, too dense to breathe, and Richie felt his body tremble with restlessness. He needed something. A breath of air, a cigarette, a damn break from everything.
Richie turned quickly and headed for the locker room, not even noticing Carmy’s eyes who followed him until the door slammed shut behind him.
The neon light above his head buzzed, the air heavy with sweat and that mix of cheap soap and exhaustion that built up after hours in the kitchen. Richie collapsed onto the bench, hands trembling as he ran them through his hair.
He needed something to calm down. Something to numb the dull ache inside him.
He opened his locker, pulling the backup pills from a pocket of his jacket. There weren’t many, but they’d be enough. He hadn’t touched them since the funeral, but taking just one couldn’t hurt. Just to quiet the noise in his head for a few hours.
He took one in his hand, slowly bringing it into his mouth, but before he could swallow the pill, the door slammed open and Carmy stormed in like a thundercloud, releasing a wave of pheromones that would’ve made a younger omega’s head spin.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, and before Richie could respond, Carmy was on him grabbing his jaw, his grip firm against his skin, two fingers prying between his lips, forcing him to open. Richie had no choice but to spit it out.
The pill hit the floor with a sharp clink.
Carmy’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling quickly. His gaze was furious, something raw and possessive burning in his eyes.“From now on, don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, and his voice had that deep, commanding tone that made something inside Richie vibrate.
It was an alpha’s command voice. And he was using it on him.
And Richie’s body recognized it.
He froze, his heart pounding in his ears.
Carmy wasn’t Mikey, but his body was reacting like there was no difference.
Like Carmy was his alpha.
“You’re not taking any more pills,” Carmy continued, not loosening his grip. “No more booze. No more smoking. You’re not destroying yourself like this, you hear me?”
Richie opened his mouth, more out of shock than a real attempt to respond.
Carmy stared at him, still so close, his breath brushing against Richie’s skin.
And for a moment, for one damn moment, Richie felt his legs go weak.
Because he wasn’t Mikey. He would never be Mikey.
But right now, Carmy was the closest thing to an Alpha he had left to rely on.
Satisfied that the message had been received, the alpha exhaled through his nose, and turned to head back into the kitchen, leaving the older omega astonished.
As Richie stayed in the locker room, his heart hammering in his chest, he could hear that the kitchen was still in full chaos, clanging dishes, voices raised. The sound filled the air like white noise.
He ran a hand over his face, still shaken by the confrontation. Since Mikey had been gone, Carmy had started acting in a way that made Richie want to scream at him The first time they’d seen each other after Mikey died, they’d hugged, it was only a moment, a deep breath, Carmy’s nose barely brushing the skin of his neck, and something shifted.
He’d heard stories of Alphas taking care of their Omega relatives’ widows, offering them protection and stability after losing their mate. But Mikey had never even marked him.
There was no bond to honor. No obligation to respect. And yet, Carmy was there. Always.
Carmy had started looking at him differently. Following him with his eyes. Hovering too close, like he was waiting for Richie to fall apart at any moment. He asked what he ate, how much he slept, where he went after shift. He grabbed his wrist when he tried to go out for a smoke, like he wanted to stop him.
It was suffocating. It was annoying.
And yet, fuck, it helped.Richie felt so alone without Mikey, and now there was Carmy, with those eyes too much like his, that voice that wasn’t the same but almost. Who touched him with hands that didn’t know whether to hold on or let go.
He hated himself for the way he sought that attention even when it pissed him off, for how close he kept getting, like Carmy could fill even a part of the void that was eating him alive.
If Mikey could see him, he’d probably look at him with nothing but contempt.
He wasn’t even cold in his grave, and Richie was already clinging to another Alpha. And not just any Alpha, his younger brother.
He felt like shit.
And now that asshole was taking away his pills, his booze, the only things that made him feel even remotely normal.
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It had started with a drunk kiss. One of those messy, too-long nights where laughter mixes with music and no one really takes anything seriously. Richie didn’t even know who had made the first move, maybe him, maybe Mikey, but after that kiss, there had been another. And another. And then neither of them could find a real reason to stop.
They never talked openly about what was happening, they just started spending more and more time together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A T-shirt left by Mikey, a charger of Richie’s that “I only use there now anyway,” then the toothbrush, the keys, a shoebox in the back of the closet. In the end, they were together without ever having to say it out loud.
Richie had often wondered what Mikey saw in him. He never thought of himself as a good catch, with a failed marriage, and not stable enough, not clear-headed enough, not enough of anything. Mikey was everything: brilliant, charismatic, full of flaws but with an energy that pulled everyone in. Richie always felt one step behind, like he was just waiting for the moment Mikey would realize he’d made a mistake.
Their relationship, as the restaurant, had its ups and downs.
Some days it worked perfectly, a chaotic but harmonious orchestra where everyone knew exactly what to do. Other days it was a disaster: late suppliers, no-show staff, debts piling up like dirty dishes in the sink.
And Mikey… Mikey had slowly started to change.
At first, it was just moments. Tiny cracks in his usual confidence, a lost expression that showed up when he thought no one was looking. Then it became whole days, weeks. Mikey was more and more unmanageable, more and more distant, and Richie didn’t know what to do.
He thought it could all be fixed. That it was just a phase.
Nothing was going right.
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Richie had always loved food, but now… now he was constantly hungry.
He couldn’t drink anymore. He couldn’t smoke. Carmy was on him like a damn bloodhound, watching his every move and making sure he didn’t slip back into his usual self-destructive habits.
So he started eating.
At first, it was just little snacks between shifts. A sandwich grabbed on the fly, some leftover pasta from service, a few sweets Marcus had experimented with and left on the counter for anyone to try.
Then, without even realizing it, he started eating all the time. He’d go home with bags of fast food to eat in front of the TV, scoop peanut butter straight from the jar with a spoon.
And the weight started coming on.
Not too much, at first. Just a bit of bloating around the waist, a few extra pounds that made him feel heavier on his feet. Nothing weird. He had a damn stressful job, didn’t sleep well and his body was simply reacting to the change.
It was normal, right?
The aches were more annoying, though. His back would start hurting after just a few hours standing, his ankles always felt swollen, and sometimes he’d get these little cramps that clenched his abdomen. But that was normal too. He was in his forties, for fuck’s sake, his body wasn’t that of a kid anymore.
Then came the nausea.
Not constant, but annoying. A faint queasiness in the morning, coffee that made him sick, certain smells in the kitchen that turned his stomach.
“Stress,” he told himself. “That’s all it is.”
And Carmy was watching him.
Watching him too much.
With those sharp eyes, that look like he was always about to say something Richie didn’t want to hear. He asked too often if Richie was okay, if he was eating enough (enough? He was eating like a damn pig, for God’s sake), if he needed anything.
And it was so annoying. So frustrating.
Carmy’s attention made him feel like someone still cared about him, like he wasn’t completely alone. And yet… sometimes he just wanted to scream at him to stop, to leave him the hell alone, to quit treating him like a damn child.
Until one day, he just exploded.
“Stop acting like you’re my fucking alpha, Carmy!” Richie yelled, his voice full of the frustration he’d been carrying for way too long.
Carmy, caught off guard by the harshness of the words, reacted instinctively with a low growl slipped out before he could stop it.
Richie flinched, stunned. He hadn’t expected that, he thought the alpha would just glare at him and walk away.
“Sorry, cousin,” Carmy said, realizing what he’d done, his tone calmer now but still tense. “I just worry about you.”
Richie let out an angry sigh. “There’s nothing for you to fucking worry about,” he snapped, his words sharper than usual.
Carmy paused, studying him, then replied more gently: “Okay… okay, I’ll try to give you some space.”
-----------------
When the call came, Richie wasn’t ready. No one would ever be.
He’d known Mikey wasn’t doing well. He could see it in his eyes, in his tired voice, in the way his smiles had become rarer. He’d stayed by his side every time, clenched his teeth, hoped it would be enough, but he’d never would have thought Mikey would take it that far.
Richie spent the rest of the day curled up in bed, on Mikey’s side, with his face buried in his pillow while trying to breathe in his scent, like it might be enough to keep him alive a little longer.
He couldn’t process it. Part of him was convinced Mikey would walk through that door any moment now, say one of his dumb jokes and lay down beside him.
His Alpha was dead.
And with him went the future Richie had imagined, a whole life together, growing old side by side. He’d made plans, even if he’d never said them out loud, Richie had kept them for himself hoping time would make them real.
But now there was nothing left. Only silence, and a bed far too big.
---------------
It had been a long shift. Endless. Richie was wrecked, and all he wanted was to go home, crash on the couch, and eat something greasy and salty while the TV played some mindless crap.
He was untying his apron when a customer approached him with a beaming smile.
“Congrats, man.”
Richie stared at him, confused. “Huh?”
The customer nodded enthusiastically at him. “For the baby. Must be a special time.”
His blood turned to ice.
“…what the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, a shaky laugh escaping him.
The customer chuckled, like he thought Richie was joking. “C’mon, man. My cousin had a baby last year and his wife had the same energy. You know… that kind of special glow.”
Panic clenched Richie’s chest like a vice.
Around him, the restaurant had gone unnaturally quiet.
He turned.
Everyone, Sydney, Tina, Marcus, Fak, was staring at him, frozen, their faces tense like they were holding their breath.
A part of him wanted to laugh it off, crack a joke to break the suffocating air. But something crept into his mind.
An idea. A suspicion.
As if he sensed the coming storm, Carmy stepped out from the kitchen still wearing his stained apron, and hands freshly dried on a dish towel. His gaze went straight to Richie, and in an instant, Richie understood.
He understood why they’d all been sneaking glances at him.
Why everyone kept trying to help him with even the smallest tasks, and he’d just laughed it off with jokes about “not being that old” while they exchanged uneasy looks.
And why Carmy treated him like he might break at any second.
And then it all hit him at once. His chest tightened, his vision narrowed, his hands began to shake. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Everything around him went muffled, like he was hearing it from underwater.
Just before the darkness swallowed him, right at the moment his knees gave out, he felt two strong hands catch him before he hit the ground.
Carmy was there, grabbing him before he could fall.
-----------------
At Mikey’s funeral and in the days after, silence followed Richie like a shadow.
Every corner of the apartment still smelled like him, the sheets, the clothes left on the chair, the shaving cream in the bathroom. But how much longer would his scent last? How long before the final traces of Mikey vanished completely?
And then what would be left?
So much pain for an Alpha who, in the end, had never even marked him.
And yet, as the days passed, all those little gestures from Mikey, things Richie had either ignored or accepted at the time, began to take on a different meaning.
He’d always suspected, deep down, that Mikey hadn’t marked him because he didn’t love him enough. But maybe… maybe it was the opposite.
Maybe Mikey had been trying to protect him. Maybe he didn’t want Richie to carry the weight of their bond, didn’t want him to feel the depths of his despair through it, to be pulled into that darkness.
Everyone knew how devastating it was when a bonded pair lost one of their own. Maybe Mikey couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Richie shattered, marked by a connection that would only bleed in his absence.
Mikey had been a fool, he hadn’t realized how devastating it would be to lose him anyway. Because the love had been there, bond or not.
And the cruelest question of all remained:
How long had Mikey been planning to die?
-----------------
Richie slowly woke up, lying on the floor with something soft under his head, his eyelids heavy as the world came into focus around him. The first thing he saw was Carmen's tense face, too close, his blue eyes scrutinizing him with that usual intensity. Then he noticed Sydney, Tina, Fak, all of them watching him with a mix of concern.
He felt his mouth dry, there was still a faint ringing in his ears, but the reality hit him all at once. He sat up quickly, his eyes wide as the truth slipped from his lips before he could even process it.
"I'm having a baby."
The silence in the room was deafening. As he looked around at the faces surrounding him, the lack of surprise hit harder than any words could have, like a punch straight to the chest
Richie blinked, a lump formed in his throat.
"I'm having a baby," he repeated, more slowly this time, as if trying to convince himself that those words were real. His eyes darted from face to face, desperately searching for a different reaction, someone who was as shocked as he was.
"You... you knew already?" he asked sounding lost.
Sydney looked down. Tina bit her lip. Fak seemed unsure whether to speak or not. And then there was Carmy. Always with that unreadable face, his gaze fixed on him, hands on his knees as if ready to intervene at any moment.
It was Sydney who answered. "We just assumed you knew, Richie. You're the one directly involved, after all."
"What?!" Richie's voice rose an octave.
Sydney raised her hands in a defensive gesture. "We just wanted to give you time, Richie. After everything that's happened, we didn't want to put pressure on you. We thought... you knew already and were just waiting to tell us."
Richie ran a trembling hand over his face. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum. "Holy shit."
It was Tina who broke the silence, with that calm maternal tone she only used in the most delicate moments. "Your scent changed, Richie. It was... sweeter, warmer. We didn’t have to be geniuses to figure it out."
Fak nodded. "I noticed it too. It's like... when the air changes right before a storm."
Richie stared at them like they'd all gone crazy. But a part of him knew they were right, had he really spent so much time searching for Mikey's scent, that he never noticed his own changing?
Carmy stared at him, his eyebrows slightly raised, then shook his head with a brief exhale. "Not realizing you're having a baby is pretty dumb, even for you, cousin."
Richie felt the anger flare for a moment, but then it faded almost immediately. He didn’t have the energy to get truly angry. He was too stunned, too overwhelmed. Around them, the others exchanged glances, sensing the tension in the air. one by one they disappeared with the excuse of getting back to work, leaving the two of them alone.
Richie ran a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to collect his thoughts. "I... after what happened... I heard that many omegas, after a loss, don't go into heat for a while and..." His throat tightened. His eyes burned. "I never would have imagined this."
Carmy stayed silent, his eyes locked on him.
Richie dropped his head back with a shaky breath. "That son of a bitch Mikey, he never bit me, you know?" His voice cracked on those words, the weight of that admission crushing his chest. "And yet, he left me with a damn baby, Carmy. A baby."
"Fuck." His eyes widened suddenly. "I've never had a check-up until now. I've drank, smoked, gotten high. Oh God, oh God, I’ve..."
Again panic gripped him at his throat, a sudden, suffocating wave that stole his breath away. His heart hammered in his chest, too fast.
“Richie, stop.”
Carmy’s voice cut through the chaos, low, steady, calm in a way that demanded to be heard. Richie felt him draw closer, the heat of his body radiating beside him. Then something shifted as the air thickened, and Carmy’s scent intensified, familiar and soothing.
Richie felt the effect almost immediately, his muscles loosened and his breathing slowed.
“What the hell do I do, Carm?” His voice cracked, raw with fear and exhaustion. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
Carmy didn’t miss a beat, he stepped in closer, hands firm on Richie’s shoulders, eyes locked onto his.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
Richie let out a short, bitter laugh. “How the fuck can you say that?” His voice trembled.
"Because we're a family. We'll get through this together." Carmy’s hand rested gently on his shoulder.
Richie felt the weight of it, like an anchor in the midst of everything spinning out of control. It wasn’t a gesture of pity or sympathy, but a quiet promise. A reminder that, despite everything, he wasn’t standing alone anymore.
Richie swallowed, he looked at Carmy.
For the first time in months, Richie felt like he could start to hope again.