The day was unusually warm.
Heat clung to the halls of the upper division wing, making scents heavier, harder to mask. The air thickened. Ayan walked through it like mist — quiet, detached, and with his usual precision.
But today... his suppressant was starting to fade.
Just enough that he felt the edge. That slight burn behind his eyes. The way his body felt restless beneath the skin, like it knew something before his mind admitted it.
And worse—someone else noticed.
---
📍 Hallway – Between Lectures
A group of older students passed Ayan near the chemistry block. Most ignored him—like usual.
Except one.
An Alpha.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind who thought his scent was permission.
He slowed when he passed Ayan, nostrils flaring slightly. Head tilting.
> "...Hey," he muttered, more to himself.
"You smell—"
Ayan froze.
His throat tightened. He didn't flinch, didn't blink, but his hand reached for the edge of his bag where his emergency injector was hidden.
But before the Alpha could finish his sentence—
> "Back off."
The voice cut sharp and sudden through the hallway.
Kairo.
He stepped in like a shadow falling across fire—calm, but firm. One hand casually gripped the strap of his bag, the other slid into his hoodie pocket. But his tone? Not soft.
> "Didn't your nose ever get you in trouble before?"
The older Alpha stared. "What's it to you?"
> Kairo shrugged. "Nothing. Unless you want your next class to be at the nurse's office."
A tense pause.
Then the Alpha scoffed and walked off, muttering.
Kairo didn't look at Ayan yet. Didn't ask questions.
He just stood beside him, back to the lockers, breathing steady.
> "You alright?"
Soft. Measured.
But Ayan didn't answer.
He stared forward, face blank. Ice behind the eyes.
> "I didn't ask for help," he said finally.
Flat. Almost bored.
Kairo smiled, faint and infuriatingly warm. "Didn't say you did."
A beat of silence.
> "You're annoying."
> "I've been told."
Ayan turned away then, walking off without another word, without a glance back.
---
🌑 Late Night – Ayan's Apartment
The room was dark, save for the cold blue light spilling from the bathroom mirror.
Ayan stood over the sink, sleeves rolled, suppressor vial between his fingers.
He didn't rush.
Every movement was precise. Practiced. Like ritual.
He inserted the needle beneath his skin, jaw clenched as the familiar burn spread up his neck.
Not pain. Just control.
He exhaled slowly.
> Not relief.
Just containment.
He looked up at his reflection.
Same sharp eyes. Same blank face.
No crack. No flicker.
> "Why did you stop him?"
The question left his lips like poison in water—quiet and cold.
He wasn't asking Kairo.
He wasn't even asking himself.
It was just... noise.
A thought he couldn't suppress like the scent burning just beneath his skin.
He wiped the needle clean, tossed the vial into the metal bin, and turned off the light.
Darkness swallowed the room again.
> Alone.
Just how he wanted it.
Or so he kept telling himself.
---
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