The weekend arrived with the promise of peace.
Rayan didn't believe in peace.
He spent most of Saturday in the library, alone, phone on silent. He'd found a tucked-away corner near the linguistics shelves where no one ever went. It was the first time in days that his shoulders weren't drawn tight, expecting Kael's voice at any moment.
Still, his eyes drifted toward the entrance every few minutes. Every shadow across the window made his heart skip.
He hated this.
Not Kael.
Not yet.
But the version of himself that had slowly stopped feeling like he was in control.
When he returned to the dorm later that night, the lights were dimmed and the air smelled faintly of bergamot and cedar—Kael's scent, soothing to some, suffocating to him now.
Kael was at his desk, reading, long fingers flipping through a book of philosophy.
"You weren't answering," Kael said quietly.
"I was studying."
"You didn't reply all day."
Rayan tossed his bag on the bed. "I don't owe you a schedule."
A pause.
Kael's voice was gentle, but it pressed like a thumb to the base of Rayan's spine. "I worry when you disappear."
"I'm not disappearing," Rayan muttered. "I'm just… breathing somewhere else."
Kael stood. Slowly. No sudden movements.
"I can give you space," he said. "If that's what you want."
Rayan stared at him. "You've said that before."
Kael stepped closer, not touching. "Then tell me how much is enough. A few hours? A day? A week?"
"I want to not be watched."
"I don't watch you."
Rayan's expression turned flat.
Kael's eyes softened.
"I look after you," he said. "There's a difference."
That night, Rayan couldn't sleep.
Every noise set him on edge. The faint rustle of Kael turning in his bed below. The hum of the building's heater. His own thoughts clawing at the inside of his skull.
He climbed down from the top bunk and left the dorm, wandering across campus in the moonlight. Cold air bit at his cheeks, but it cleared his head.
He sat on the empty bleachers near the sports field and stared up at the sky.
For a moment, he thought he was alone.
Then:
"You always do this when you're overwhelmed."
Rayan flinched.
Kael was behind him, hands in the pockets of his coat, face unreadable.
"How did you—"
"I saw your jacket was missing. Figured you wouldn't go far."
Rayan laughed softly, bitterly. "So I'm a habit to you now."
Kael climbed up beside him and sat. "You're… more like a rhythm."
"I don't want to be followed."
"Then stop being someone I need to follow."
The words were quiet. No anger. Just… ache.
Rayan looked at him for a long moment. The wind tousled Kael's hair, softening his features.
He didn't look dangerous like this.
He looked young. Lonely.
Like someone reaching out in the only way he knew how.
But Rayan couldn't afford to forget.
Not what Kael was capable of.
Not what he might become.
Back in the dorm, Kael didn't speak again.
He simply climbed into his bed, turned off the light, and whispered as if to himself—
"I'll wait until you stop running."
.
.
The university courtyard was unusually lively that morning. The seasonal festival was approaching—an outdated tradition where Alphas and Omegas were encouraged to "mingle and form natural bonds" under the guise of "cultural engagement."
Rayan hated every second of it.
There were stalls lined with scent-neutral flowers, faux bonding games, and artificial heat dampeners built into the festival space. Omegas were treated like glass—fragile, ornamental. And Alphas… like lions kept on leashes.
Kael, of course, had been nominated for the event committee.
And of course, no one had asked Rayan.
He stayed on the outer edge of the courtyard, watching from under the shade of a tree. He would leave soon. Just a few minutes of presence to keep suspicion off him.
"Didn't take you for the festive type."
A voice. Smooth. Sweet. Too sweet.
He turned.
An Omega stood a few feet away, dressed in a pristine blazer, posture flawless. Thick lashes, soft face—almost too perfect. Their name echoed in the back of Rayan's mind from the orientation week: Arin Vell. Omega. High class. From a scent-matched lineage. The kind people whispered about marrying into.
Rayan didn't respond. He rarely did when spoken to by strangers.
Arin didn't seem bothered. "You're Kael's roommate, right?"
Still no answer.
"I just think it's funny. Someone like you—quiet, unscented, practically invisible—being near someone like him."
Rayan turned his head slightly.
Arin smiled, wide and plastic. "It must be hard. Being so… forgettable."
"I prefer it," Rayan said, voice low.
"Of course," Arin said smoothly. "That way you don't notice when someone's taking what should've been yours."
Rayan's jaw tensed.
Before he could speak again, a shadow blocked the sun.
Kael.
His hand rested casually on Rayan's shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"Arin," Kael said with a nod. "Is there a reason you're talking to him?"
"Just being friendly," Arin replied, voice sweetened with artificial innocence.
Kael's smile was gentle.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"You don't seem friendly."
Rayan's heart thudded once—loud, hollow.
The silence stretched.
Then Kael added, almost softly, "Go find someone else to impress."
Arin's eyes narrowed for a split second—but they bowed, turned, and disappeared into the crowd like a phantom.
Kael waited until they were gone, then finally looked at Rayan.
"You okay?"
Rayan stepped out from under his touch. "You didn't have to interfere."
"You weren't going to say anything."
"I didn't need to."
Kael's voice dropped, firm and quiet. "People like that don't go away unless you push back."
Rayan looked up at him. "And people like you?"
Kael smiled. "We stay until we're told to leave."
Rayan didn't respond.
And Kael didn't leave.
That evening, Rayan received an anonymous message.
Be careful where you walk at night, unscented boy.
Mistakes can happen in the dark.
No name. No number.
But he knew.
He stared at the screen, throat dry.
Then slowly, he turned his head.
Kael was reading on his bed again, back resting against the wall.
"I ran into Arin today," Rayan said carefully.
Kael didn't look up. "I remember."
"He seemed… angry."
A pause.
Then Kael flipped a page and murmured, almost idly, "He'll never bother you again."
Rayan's heart skipped a beat.
Kael smiled to himself.
And Rayan realized—
That smile wasn't meant to comfort.
It was a warning.
.
.
For the first time in weeks, Rayan double-checked the lock on their dorm room.
Then he checked it again.
Kael had already gone out for his morning run—he always did, like clockwork. The dorm was silent, but the echo of that anonymous message still lingered in the air like smoke.
Be careful where you walk at night.
Rayan didn't scare easily. But this was different.
This was personal.
His classes passed in a blur. People stared longer than usual—at him, at Kael, at the invisible thread stretched tight between them. Whispers seemed louder. Softer. Crueler.
He could feel Arin watching.
Not directly. Never obviously. But eyes lingered in a way that left Rayan's neck prickling and his instincts flaring. Once, as he turned a corner after his psych lecture, he caught a glimpse of a figure ducking behind a pillar.
Delicate build. Dark blazer.
Arin.
Rayan's stomach twisted.
He told himself not to run.
He'd survived worse. He knew how to blend, how to disappear, how to play the weak thing until the predators lost interest.
But this wasn't that kind of threat.
This wasn't an animal testing the air.
This was a human who had decided Rayan shouldn't exist.
By the time he returned to the dorm, he was tense, jaw locked tight. He opened the door—
Kael was there. Sitting at the edge of Rayan's bed.
His posture was stiff.
His eyes unreadable.
"You weren't answering your phone," he said.
Rayan dropped his bag without a word.
Kael's voice darkened. "Arin approached you again."
It wasn't a question.
Rayan froze.
"…I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Rayan looked up slowly.
Kael's hands were clasped together in his lap. Calm. Controlled. But his eyes—
They were storming.
"She's been following you since Monday," he said quietly. "I warned her."
"You've been following me?"
Kael didn't blink. "Protecting you."
"That's not what protection looks like."
Kael stood slowly, walking toward him—but not touching.
"I've seen her try to corner you. I've seen the way she looks at you like you're a mistake. I know people like her."
"You are people like her," Rayan said, voice low. "You think I belong to you."
Kael stopped in front of him.
"I don't think it," he said softly. "I know it."
Rayan took a step back.
Kael didn't follow. His expression stayed steady.
"I'll take care of it," he said.
"No," Rayan snapped. "You're not going to hurt her. This isn't a territory dispute, Kael. I'm not your property."
Kael tilted his head slightly.
"You're right," he said. "You're not my property."
For a brief moment, Rayan felt something like relief.
Then Kael whispered, "You're my obsession."
And the blood in Rayan's veins turned cold.
Later that night, Rayan lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't know how long he'd been lying there before he finally climbed down from the top bunk. He pulled out the USB drive from its hiding spot. It was time to update his backup. His escape routes. His exits.
He plugged it into his laptop.
Empty.
Every file had been wiped.
He sat frozen, staring at the screen.
Then slowly, he turned his head toward Kael's bed.
Kael was sleeping—or pretending to.
But Rayan saw it.
The smallest shift.
The slow inhale.
And then—
The faintest smile.