Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 71: Sealed the deal

Chapter 71: Sealed the deal

"Will it kill you to dress dignified?" I scoff at Victor as he approaches, his disheveled appearance as grating as ever.

He gives a mock bow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Forgive me, us commoners tend to not dress dignified often because it’s impractical." He steps closer, and I can feel his eyes on me—dark, mocking, as if he’s always waiting for me to break. I hate him so much.

I square my shoulders, standing tall and glaring up at him. "You could at least try not to embarrass your master," I say, folding my arms across my chest.

Victor runs a hand through his unruly black hair, completely unbothered by my remark. "My master cares not for such trivial matters," he says with a shrug, his voice casual. He knows exactly how to push my buttons, and it works every time.

I look away, my frustration boiling just beneath the surface. My gaze naturally falls on Noelle, who’s completely absorbed in his plants. There’s an ease about him that feels so far removed from this conversation, a lightness that I find both infuriating and... something else I don’t want to admit.

"You’re really a masochist, aren’t you?" Victor’s voice pulls me back. I don’t need to look at him to know the smirk that’s plastered on his face.

I choose not to respond, my silence only fueling his audacity.

"You’re not getting any younger. You’re going to be a spinster soon if you keep waiting for him." His words hit harder than I expect, slicing through my defenses. I turn and glare at him, my blood boiling.

Furious, I spin on my heel and walk away before I do something I’ll regret. He’s so damn annoying. And worse, he’s right.

*

Noelle watched from the corner of his eye as Oliver stomped out of the garden, his frustration practically radiating off of him. There was a curious tilt to Noelle’s lips, a faint smile as he considered the man’s sudden interest in befriending him. What exactly was Oliver hoping to gain? Was he seeking some kind of weakness, something to exploit? It wasn’t difficult to see the affection Oliver harbored for Thorne, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

The thought didn’t trouble Noelle, though. He wasn’t one to be concerned over that—love, after all, made fools of even the strongest people. But if Oliver thought he could somehow come between him and Thorne, he was sorely mistaken. Noelle wasn’t the type to let things slide, and while he didn’t see Oliver as a bad person, he also wasn’t naive enough to let his guard down.

For now, though, he would simply observe. Oliver’s intentions, whatever they were, would come to light eventually, and when they did, Noelle would be ready. Whether it was a misguided attempt at love or something more sinister, he’d deal with it accordingly.

Noelle gazed down at the box of plants, a soft smile curling on his lips as memories from months ago flooded his mind. The warmth of the greenhouse surrounded him, a stark contrast to the cold winter day he now recalled.

It had been during one of those harsh winter months—

"Hey," Thorne’s deep voice broke through the stillness of the greenhouse, pulling Noelle from his thoughts. He didn’t need to look to know it was him; the warmth of his presence was unmistakable.

"Hello, Thorne," Noelle replied, continuing to scribble in his journal. Thorne knelt beside him, his gaze fixed on the lush greenery thriving within the greenhouse despite the frozen world outside.

"I’m always amazed," Thorne said, marveling at the vivid life flourishing around them. "It’s white with no sign of life outside, but in here, it’s still a piece of heaven."

Noelle smiled softly but didn’t glance up from his notes. "Yeah, it’s taking quite a bit out of me to keep them alive and healthy," he admitted. Maintaining such a vibrant garden in the dead of winter was no easy feat, but it was a labor of love, something that grounded him.

Thorne, never one to dwell on the difficult, chuckled. "If we have kids, do you think they’ll inherit your nurturing green thumb or my telekinesis?" he asked, a wide, playful grin spreading across his face.

Noelle stilled for a moment, then glanced at him. Thorne’s enthusiasm for a future together never failed to take him by surprise. "I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it," he said, his tone thoughtful.

Thorne, ever the optimist, shrugged. "I’d prefer it if they had your power. Mine’s too destructive." His voice dropped slightly, and Noelle caught the flicker of something somber in his eyes.

Without hesitation, Noelle responded. "It’s not destructive. It’s just making things float in the air, not like you’ve got super strength or can conjure fire. You’re the destructive one." He said it with such a straight face that Thorne couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with a hint of self-deprecation.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Thorne asked dryly.

"Nope." Noelle’s quick retort drew a dramatic sigh from Thorne.

"My beloved star, you’re so mean to me sometimes," Thorne groaned in mock despair.

He leaned over to peer at the journal in Noelle’s lap. "So, what are you working on?"

Noelle’s fingers grazed the edge of the worn pages, a fondness in his voice as he replied, "This is my most prized possession. My mother gave it to me. It’s the last gift she ever gave me. I inherited my love for plants and this ability from her, so when I record the plants here, it feels like I’m back in our little garden, talking to her again."

Thorne’s expression softened. "That’s amazing. I always see you scribbling and was curious what you were doing."

Noelle hummed in response, his focus shifting back to his work, but Thorne wasn’t done.

"So, how many have you recorded?" Thorne asked, leaning in closer, clearly fascinated.

"A little over a thousand," Noelle said without much thought.

Thorne whistled low, impressed. "That’s quite a lot. What’s your goal? Like, how many do you want to record in your lifetime?"

Noelle paused, considering the question. It was something he’d mulled over before but had never fully voiced. After a long, quiet moment, he replied, "At least 5,000."

Thorne’s eyes widened, his surprise evident. "5,000? Minimum?" He let out a whistle, laughing. "That’s ambitious, even for you."

Noelle had laughed then too, their shared amusement filling the greenhouse with warmth.

Just a few days after that conversation, Thorne had left before dawn and returned late at night, covered in frost and nearly frozen, dragging a large bag of random plants he’d somehow acquired. His fingers were frostbitten, and he looked like he’d been battling the elements for days. Furious, Noelle had yelled at him, demanding to know what on earth he was thinking.

Thorne, with a grin that could melt even the coldest winter, had simply said, "It’s the only way I could get close to my mother-in-law."

Noelle had been speechless—angry, yes—but his heart had swelled with so much love that he could barely breathe. If he hadn’t already been in love with Thorne by then, that would have sealed the deal.

Present day—

Noelle looked back at the plants, his smile softening into something deeper, more tender. The memory of Thorne, braving the cold to bring him a small piece of happiness, f

illed him with warmth.

He loved that man more than words could ever express.