Eamon did not rush his explanation.
For a few seconds after his last words, the line stayed quiet except for the faint background sounds from Acheron's room. The soft rustle of sheets. The tiny patter of paws crossing the floor, followed by a faint kitten chirp that sounded suspiciously like a complaint.
Eamon closed his eyes briefly before he began.
"There are several articles," he said carefully. "They appeared overnight. Some of them are… deliberately misleading."
On the other side of the call, Acheron had climbed back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged in the tangled blankets. Nimbus immediately seized the opportunity and crawled into his lap like a conquering prince reclaiming his throne.
Acheron listened quietly. His fingers absentmindedly scratched beneath the kitten's chin.
Nimbus purred.
Eamon continued, choosing every word with the same precision he used in courtrooms.
"They released an edited clip," he said. "From a time you were with Hadeon."
Acheron's hand paused for the briefest moment.
Then it resumed petting the kitten.
"They cut it," Eamon added softly. "The footage begins when you ask for drugs."
Acheron lowered his gaze slightly, watching Nimbus attempt to attack the drawstring of his sleep shirt. The kitten missed twice before successfully capturing it between his tiny paws.
Acheron made a quiet tsk sound.
"That's not for you," he murmured to the kitten, gently untangling the string from Nimbus's teeth.
Eamon could hear the faint rustling of movement through the phone. It grounded him slightly.
"They're presenting it as consent," he continued. "The articles suggest that the encounter was… voluntary."
Acheron's shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath. Nimbus, apparently sensing a shift in mood, climbed higher into Acheron's arms and pressed his small head against Acheron's chin.
Acheron automatically nuzzled the kitten's forehead.
"That sounds like something the Blackwells would do," he said quietly.
There was no anger in his voice.
Just a tired kind of understanding.
Eamon leaned forward in his chair, one hand tightening around the edge of the desk
"There's more," he said gently.
Acheron nodded to himself even though Eamon couldn't see it.
"Okay."
"The articles also mention your time in rehab," Eamon continued. "They're implying your addiction makes your testimony unreliable."
Nimbus decided this was the perfect moment to chase Acheron's hair.
The kitten leapt upward and tangled himself in a loose strand of silver.
Acheron blinked in surprise.
"Hey—!"
He carefully untangled the tiny paws from his hair, cradling Nimbus against his chest like a captured bandit.
"You're very rude," he whispered to the kitten.
Eamon heard the soft scolding and something warm twisted in his chest.
Acheron had just been told the internet was dissecting his worst moment.
And he was gently lecturing a kitten.
Eamon exhaled slowly before finishing.
"They're also framing the video as proof that you participated in BDSM willingly," he said. "Their argument is that you regret it now and are calling it abuse."
Acheron fell quiet again.
For several seconds, the only sound was Nimbus's steady purring.
Acheron stared down at the kitten curled in his arms, absentmindedly rubbing the soft fur behind his ears.
Nimbus responded by stretching dramatically and placing one tiny paw directly on Acheron's cheek.
Acheron blinked.
"…Sir," he whispered very seriously to the kitten.
Nimbus did not move.
Acheron gently lowered the paw.
Then he let out a small breath.
"Are people believing it?" he asked.
Eamon did not lie.
"Some are," he said. "Some aren't."
Acheron nodded slowly.
"That sounds about right."
He tilted his head slightly, listening to the quiet static on the line as if he could hear Eamon thinking.
Then Acheron spoke again, his voice softer.
"You stayed up all night, didn't you?"
Eamon hesitated.
That was answer enough. Acheron's lips curved into a small, almost helpless smile.
"You didn't have to do that."
Across the room, Nimbus suddenly launched himself onto the pillow and skidded face-first into the blankets.
Acheron gasped.
"Oh no."
He scooped the kitten up immediately, inspecting him with exaggerated seriousness.
"Are you okay? That was very embarrassing."
Nimbus blinked slowly.
Acheron pressed a kiss to the kitten's head before settling back against the headboard.
When he spoke again, his voice was steady.
"They're wrong," he said simply.
Eamon's chest tightened.
"I know."
Acheron tucked Nimbus under his chin again, rubbing his cheek against the kitten's soft fur in a small unconscious gesture of comfort.
"They only showed the part where I asked," he said softly.
"Yes."
"They didn't show what happened after."
"No."
Acheron nodded once.
"Okay."
The word was quiet, but it held more strength than Eamon had expected.
Acheron gently tapped Nimbus's nose with one finger.
"Well," he murmured to the kitten, "we're famous now."
Nimbus yawned.
Eamon let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
Then Acheron spoke again, a little more thoughtful this time.
"Eamon?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for telling me first."
He scratched the kitten's ear, watching it twitch again with sleepy fascination.
"I think… it would have been worse if I found out from someone else."
He paused, then added shyly,
"Also, Nimbus says you sound very stressed."
Eamon blinked.
"…Nimbus says that?"
Acheron nodded seriously.
"He's very perceptive."
Nimbus chose that exact moment to bite Acheron's finger.
Acheron squeaked.
"…sometimes."
Eamon finished explaining the video as gently as he could.
He left out certain details. The worst comments and the way strangers had dissected Acheron's body, his voice, his desperation. Instead, he summarised the situation carefully, choosing his words the way a doctor might approach an open wound.
But even softened, the truth was still sharp. For several seconds, Acheron said nothing.
On the other end of the line, he sat frozen on the bed, Nimbus tucked loosely against his stomach. His fingers had stopped moving, resting awkwardly against the kitten's fur.
Sweat gathered in his palms, and he slowly moved his hands to curl into the blankets.
The words Eamon had spoken echoed in his mind, overlapping with images he tried very hard not to revisit. That cold room, the stupid camera and the sound of his own voice begging.
He suddenly felt as if the air in his bedroom had grown thinner. The shame burned beneath his skin, deeper than he expected. Not only was that video spreading everywhere… but Eamon had seen it.
That moment.
That version of him.
Broken, desperate and willing to do anything just for another dose.
Nimbus wriggled in his arms and let out a tiny questioning chirp.
Acheron blinked, as though waking from somewhere far away. His hand automatically resumed petting the kitten's back, smoothing the soft black fur in slow, absent strokes. The kitten leaned into the touch with enthusiastic approval.
"T–Thank you, Eamon," he said quietly.
Eamon leaned back slightly in his chair, staring at the pale light creeping through the windows of his parents' house. He wanted to give Acheron space to process the information, but the quiet on the line made his stomach tighten. Silence could become a dangerous place for someone whose thoughts liked to wander down darker corridors.
So he spoke again, gently forcing the conversation forward.
"Don't worry too much," Eamon said. "I'm already filing takedown requests for the videos. And we're preparing legal action."
The words sounded steadier in his head than they did aloud. He just realised how clumsy reassurance could sound when spoken through a phone.
"I'll clear your name," he continued firmly.
The words came out before he could soften them, carrying the weight of a promise instead.
Acheron's fingers stilled.
Eamon continued, his voice more measured now.
"The media isn't just targeting you. They're trying to drag my family into it, too. Some of the articles are already attacking the Sauveterre name."
Acheron immediately looked up.
"Is this the Blackwells as well ?" he asked, concern slipping into his voice.
"Most likely."
That answer settled heavily in the space between them.
Acheron fell quiet again. His skin began to prickle, and the warmth in his chest crept upward, curling around his throat like invisible fingers.
"What are your next plans?" he murmured.
"For now, damage control," Eamon said. "We're pushing takedown notices. I've also contacted a few omega activist journalists. They're preparing response articles that challenge the narrative."
He paused.
"But the most important thing right now is for you to stay off social media."
Acheron wrinkled his nose slightly, even though Eamon couldn't see it.
"Don't read the articles. Don't check the comments. And don't release any statements," Eamon continued. "Let me handle it."
Acheron nodded to himself.
"Mmm. Okay."
His hand drifted down to Nimbus again, rubbing the kitten's tiny head in slow circles. Nimbus responded immediately with an enthusiastic purr and rolled onto his back, exposing his round belly like a fluffy offering.
Acheron gasped softly.
"Oh my goodness," he whispered to the kitten. "Sir, have some dignity."
Nimbus kicked his tiny back legs in protest. Acheron poked the little belly again anyway, smiling to himself. The sweetness of the moment lasted only a heartbeat before the familiar burn in his chest began to crawl higher.
It reached his throat now. Acheron tried to clear his throat quietly. The dryness, however, wouldn't go away.
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. His thoughts became equally muddied; it has become increasingly harder and harder to process. He reached blindly for the water bottle on his bedside table and took a long drink, nearly finishing half of it in one go. The cool water helped for exactly three seconds.
Then the craving stirred again. It was subtle and quiet but unmistakable. His gaze drifted toward the small jar beside his bed, where he kept a handful of lollipops.
Acheron unwrapped one slowly and placed it between his lips. The sweet sugar coated his tongue, and his eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment of relief.
Across the phone line, Eamon had grown quiet.
He could hear small movements, soft rustling followed by a faint crinkle of plastic.
Then a pause.
Something about it made unease crawl up Eamon's spine.
Meanwhile, Acheron's thoughts had begun to drift somewhere he didn't want them to go.
It would be so easy. Just one dose, just one. The noise in his head would soften, and anxiety would fade into warm, heavy quiet. He could sleep.
Sleep through the storm.
Sleep until the internet finds a new victim to devour.
His fingers twitched slightly.
A small, rough tongue suddenly licked the centre of his palm.
Acheron blinked.
Nimbus stared up at him with round, innocent eyes and immediately attempted to chew on his thumb. Acheron huffed a quiet laugh.
"Well," he murmured, rubbing the kitten's tiny head, "that's one way to interrupt a bad idea."
The kitten purred louder.
"Are you okay?"
Eamon's voice broke through the moment, low with concern. He had noticed Acheron drifting further and further away from the conversation.
Acheron hesitated.
"Yeah," he said, the word which came out softer, flat and lifeless.
"I'm okay."
Eamon didn't fully believe him, but there were some distances a phone call couldn't cross. So he had to let it go.
"If it gets too hard," he said quietly, "call me."
"I will."
The answer came almost automatically.
"Try to get some more sleep," Eamon added.
A small pause followed.
Then the call ended.
The room fell silent again.
Acheron slowly lowered the phone onto the bed beside him, his gaze lingered on the glowing screen. There were so many apps, so many little portals leading directly to the chaos Eamon had warned him about. He wondered what people were saying, wondered how bad it was.
His thumb hovered slightly above the screen.
Nimbus chose that exact moment to flop sideways across the phone like a fluffy roadblock.
Acheron blinked.
"…You're very controlling for someone who weighs half a kilogram," he told the kitten.
Nimbus only yawned as a response. Acheron sighed softly and leaned back against the headboard.
He will obey Eamon's advice, and his phone will stay untouched. But the restless knot in his chest refuses to loosen.
The morning suddenly felt much longer than it should.