Julien hated crowds.
He hated the press of bodies, the noise, the way scents mingled into a suffocating cloud that no amount of blockers could fully mask. The gym was packed wall-to-wall with students, their voices echoing off the high ceilings, banners waving in the air.
And in the center of it all was Damien Santiago.
Julien cursed himself again for letting the alpha talk him into coming. "Just one game," Damien had said, flashing that infuriating grin. "You don't have to cheer. Just… be there."
Julien had wanted to say no. He'd even opened his mouth to refuse. But Damien had leaned down, so close Julien could smell that warm pine-and-smoke scent, and whispered, "Please."
The word had disarmed him completely.
And now here he was, squeezed into the bleachers, sketchbook clutched to his chest like a lifeline.
---
On the court, Damien was in his element.
He moved with confidence, each step sharp and powerful. The ball obeyed him like it was part of him—spinning, flying, sinking into the hoop with practiced ease. The crowd roared his name every time he scored, a chant that shook the floor beneath Julien's shoes.
Julien told himself he wasn't watching. That his pencil moving furiously across the page was all that mattered. But every few seconds, his eyes betrayed him, flicking up to catch Damien's profile—sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, muscles flexing as he jumped, the easy grin he tossed to teammates.
It was… unfair.
Someone like Damien didn't belong in Julien's world of silence and shadows. He was light, fire, noise. He demanded to be seen, while Julien wanted nothing more than to disappear.
And yet—
Julien's hand trembled as he realized what he was sketching. Not the game. Not the players. Just Damien. The curve of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way his body seemed to carry the weight of everyone's expectations without faltering.
The pencil darkened with each stroke, as if Julien's frustration could hide the truth: he was captivated.
---
"Julien!"
The sudden call jolted him. He looked up to see a group of girls from his class waving from a few rows down. Their smiles were sharp, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"You came to watch Santiago?" one of them called. "Didn't know you were into basketball!"
Julien's stomach dropped. Heat rose in his cheeks, not from instinct this time, but humiliation. He ducked his head, clutching his sketchbook tighter.
The whispers spread quickly. He could feel them, the weight of eyes turning his way, the speculative glances. Omegas weren't supposed to attend games alone. If they did, it was because they were there for someone. And Julien had no pack, no friends, no reason to be here—except Damien.
His scent spiked with nervousness before he could stop it. Sweetness slipped past the blockers, faint but unmistakable.
And Damien noticed.
Julien hadn't realized until the alpha's gaze snapped up from the court mid-play, locking on him with startling precision. For one heartbeat, Damien froze. Then he moved again, fiercer than before, like the entire game was nothing compared to the fragile boy in the stands.
Julien wanted to disappear.
---
The game ended in victory, the crowd exploding with cheers. Students swarmed the court, shouting Damien's name, tugging at his jersey, clapping him on the back. He accepted it with his usual grin, but his eyes—Julien noticed—kept flicking to the bleachers.
Julien shoved his sketchbook into his bag and stood quickly. He needed to leave before Damien reached him, before the whispers grew louder.
But he wasn't fast enough.
"Julien!"
The voice cut through the noise like a blade. Damien was already pushing through the crowd, tall enough to part the sea of bodies with sheer presence. He ignored the hands tugging at him, the cheers, the congratulations. His eyes were only on Julien.
Julien froze as Damien reached him, breathless and flushed from the game. Sweat glistened on his skin, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace. And his scent—stronger now, unrestrained after exertion—wrapped around Julien in waves.
The omega's instincts screamed again: Alpha. Strong. Close. Safe. Dangerous.
Damien leaned down, his voice low enough that only Julien could hear. "Why'd you look like you wanted to run?"
Julien forced his voice steady. "Because I did."
Damien's jaw tightened. He reached out, gripping Julien's wrist—not harsh, but firm enough to anchor him. The touch burned through Julien's sleeve.
"Walk with me," Damien said.
Julien wanted to refuse. He should have refused. But something in Damien's tone left no room for argument. So he let himself be pulled through the crowd, out of the gym, into the cool night air.
---
They stopped behind the building, where the shouts of celebration were muffled by distance. The sky was still heavy with clouds, the smell of impending rain sharp in the air.
Damien released Julien's wrist, but he didn't step back. His eyes were intense, searching.
"Talk to me," Damien said.
"There's nothing to—"
"Julien." His name again, spoken like a command, like a plea.
Julien's chest tightened. He looked away. "Everyone was staring."
"So what?"
"I don't want to be stared at!" The words burst out louder than he intended, echoing in the empty space. His hands clenched around the strap of his bag. "I don't want to be another rumor, another omega they whisper about because he's too close to an alpha!"
Silence stretched.
Then Damien stepped closer, so close Julien could feel the heat of his body, the steady beat of his pulse. His scent pressed in, strong and grounding, overwhelming everything else.
"Let them whisper," Damien said, voice rough. "They don't matter. You do."
Julien's breath caught.
Damien lifted a hand slowly, giving Julien every chance to pull away. When he didn't, Damien brushed his knuckles lightly along Julien's cheek, wiping away a smear of graphite.
"You came for me," Damien murmured. "Even if you hate crowds, even if you hate noise—you came."
Julien's throat ached. His body betrayed him again, scent blooming softly in the air—sweet, vulnerable, impossible to hide.
Damien inhaled sharply, his control fraying for just a second. His pupils dilated, instincts pushing to the surface. He leaned in, close enough that Julien could feel his breath.
But he stopped.
Stopped, even when every alpha instinct screamed at him to claim, to bite, to take.
Instead, he whispered, "You're not a rumor, Julien. You're not fragile. And I'll prove it to you, even if it takes forever."
Julien's eyes burned. He hated how much he wanted to believe it.
So he said nothing, letting the rain finally break above them, the cool drops mixing with the heat between their bodies.