Julien woke the next morning with a pounding headache and the faint scent of rain still clinging to his clothes. He had barely slept—every time he closed his eyes, Damien's voice echoed in his mind.
"Not until I know you're steady."
Julien curled deeper into his blanket, trying to shove the memory away. He shouldn't care. Damien didn't matter. He was just another alpha, one who had been too stubborn to ignore him.
And yet…
Julien's chest ached at the thought of those steady eyes, that careful restraint. He hated it—hated the way it made him want to trust, when trust had only ever been a blade waiting to cut him down.
---
At school, whispers followed Julien down the hall. He had grown used to it: the curious glances, the half-hidden smirks, the way people talked just loud enough for him to hear.
The weird omega.
Always hiding in his hoodies.
Probably defective.
Normally, Julien ignored them. But this morning, with his body still weak from the faltering blockers, every word scraped raw against him. His steps quickened, breath shallow.
He didn't notice Damien until the alpha fell into step beside him.
"You look pale."
Julien flinched. "Leave me alone."
"Not happening." Damien's voice was low, calm, but unyielding. His hand brushed lightly against Julien's bag, steadying it when it slipped off his shoulder. "Eat lunch with me today."
Julien's glare was sharp enough to cut. "Why do you care so much?"
Damien stopped walking. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something Julien couldn't face for long.
"Because you don't," Damien said simply. "Not about yourself, at least. So someone has to."
Julien's heart lurched violently. He spun on his heel and stormed into the classroom before Damien could say more.
---
Lunch came faster than Julien expected. He tried to hide in the library, sketchbook open, pencil scratching lines that refused to take shape. His hands trembled too much.
But Damien found him anyway.
He leaned against the bookshelf across from Julien's table, arms crossed, looking every bit the infuriating alpha who refused to take a hint.
"You're bad at hiding."
Julien snapped his sketchbook shut. "Or maybe you're just stalking me."
"Maybe," Damien said without shame. He slid into the chair opposite Julien. His scent was warm, grounding, filling the small corner of the library with pine and smoke. "But I brought food."
Julien blinked as Damien set a neatly packed lunchbox on the table.
"…What?"
"You skipped breakfast," Damien said, as if it were obvious. "And yesterday you barely ate anything. So I made this."
Julien's throat went dry. He stared at the lunchbox like it was a trap. "You—cooked?"
Damien shrugged. "It's just rice and chicken. Don't look so shocked."
Julien's hands curled into fists under the table. "Why are you doing this?"
Damien leaned forward, his voice quiet but steady. "Because I want you to stop looking like the world is about to swallow you whole."
The words hit Julien like a punch. His vision blurred for a moment, anger and something dangerously close to tears burning together.
"You don't know anything about me," Julien whispered.
"Then let me," Damien said.
Julien's breath caught. He snapped his sketchbook into his bag and stood abruptly. "You don't get to say things like that."
"Julien—"
But Julien was already gone, the echo of his footsteps carrying the storm inside him down the silent hall.
---
That night, the rain came harder. Thunder shook the windows of Julien's small apartment as he sat curled on the couch, sketchbook balanced on his knees.
His pencil scratched furiously across the page, pouring every tangled emotion into lines that made no sense. Faces blurred into shadows, eyes too dark, hands reaching only to be torn away.
Tears splattered the page before Julien realized he was crying. He dropped the pencil, pressing his palms to his face.
Why was Damien doing this to him? Why couldn't he just leave things alone?
Julien was fine in his loneliness. Fine behind his walls. Fine pretending he didn't need anyone.
But Damien's words clung to him like rain to glass, impossible to shake off.
"Then let me."
Julien sobbed into his hands until exhaustion dragged him under.
---
The next day, everything shattered.
It started in the hallway between classes, when Julien felt the first sharp crack of heat pulse through his veins. His suppression patches had given up completely.
Panic clawed at his chest. His scent flared uncontrolled, sweet and sharp, curling through the air before he could smother it.
Students turned. Whispers rose.
"Is that—?"
"An omega?"
"No way, it's him—"
Julien's vision blurred. He shoved through the crowd, desperate to escape before it got worse. But his body betrayed him—knees weak, breath trembling.
He stumbled.
And then Damien was there.
Strong arms caught him before he could hit the ground. Julien gasped, half from the sudden contact, half from the way Damien's scent wrapped around him—steady, anchoring, drowning out the sting of his own.
"Julien," Damien's voice was rough, urgent. "Look at me."
Julien tried to push him away, but his strength was gone. His body burned, every nerve alight, his instincts screaming for safety, for shelter, for—
No. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
"Let go," Julien rasped.
"Not until you're steady," Damien said again, voice fierce this time, as if daring anyone around them to challenge him.
Julien's heart broke against his ribs.
Because in that moment, surrounded by whispers, held steady by arms too strong and too careful, Julien realized the truth he had been fighting since the beginning:
Damien Santiago was no longer someone he could ignore.