Chapter Text
"Hey, Louis."
I shifted myself in front of my open locker, presenting my back to him; hopefully he'd catch the I'm-really-not-in-the-mood-right-now body language.
He didn't... 'course he didn't.
"I said 'hello, Louis.'"
I ignored him.
"Well, aren't you going to reply?"
I reached for my math textbook, mentally commenting on the side how much I despised this subject... and this one that was currently happening right behind me. Funny - both are daily routines... and were ones that I despised.
"Louis," he started to croon in that very irritating tone of his, "Louis."
I clenched my teeth as I grabbed my blue pencil case (since when was there a hole torn in the corner? Damn it all; I probably lost more than half my pencils by now), feeling my nerves being grated with every passing second of this annoyance.
A new voice piped up. "I think he's ignoring you."
Well, shit, how long did it take him to figure that one out?
A scoff. "Nonsense." Not nonsense, Mr. I'm-the-best-and-no-Omega-can-resist-my-charms; I really am ignoring you... but of course, with a fat head like yours, that message won't process easily. "He's just playing hard to get."
I grabbed my calculator, stacking it on top of my armful of books, holding them against my chest as I simulataneously cogitated his very slow, harrowing demise.
"Louis knows he's in love with me."
Okay, now he was purposely trying to get at my nerves. He's egging me on; what for - a fight? I don't understand him, nor do I want to know anything that's inside that head of his.
I craddled my lock in my hand, twisting and snapping it into place in its home once I shut my locker door. I turned and journeyed forward down the hallway, keeping my head low purposely, yet still watching the student traffic in front of me.
Unfortunately, I don't go far before that voice- that sticky, infuriating, malicious voice -attacked.
"I know you love me, Louis."
I halted.
A different- a Beta follower -guy commented. "Hey, look! He stopped. He really does have a crush on the Football Captain."
A chorus of donkey-like laughter broke out at the mere snide comment. I could feel my shoulders tightening and fists subconsciously balling into sturdy fists as the scorn flooded me. Albeit, I didn't detest the Beta for involving himself- surprisingly enough -but at the stupid, arrogant Alpha that inaugurated it all.
I spun around and stormed over to the group, ignoring the teasing catcalls and whistles from the insolent group members as I confronted the Macho-Man himself. He gave me that look - the one he knew that indicated that he'd gotten on my bad side. Still, all I saw was that smirk - the one that stretched across his face and indented those familiar (yet irritating) dimples on either side of his lips. His eyes got that 'knowing' spark, reflecting a cockiness that ordinary Omegas were bewitched by.
Gross... it was all revolting. Everything about him I couldn't stand.
"Take your friends and stop harassing me, Styles," I hissed, earning a reaction of "Ooh"s from the group members (or his set of desperate puppets hoping to be just as popular someday if they hang around this guy enough - ha, losers). "And for the record- and to remind for the hundredth time -I don't have any interest in flamers."
The second reaction consisted of genuinely appalled murmurs and whispers more than "Ooh"s. It seemed to have also struck a nerve in him because an angry, instantaneous response found itself present in the bitterness of the atmosphere.
"You better apologize to me."
I snorted.
He didn't seem to like that (not that I care), and his face darkened, all glimmer of humour vanished. "I said," he growled, "you better apologize to me, sweets."
Sweets. How many times has he used that one (obviously it got on my nerves, so that's probably why he commonly pulled it out).
I glared at him vigorously.
Five more seconds passed by slowly before I turned on my heel and ambled away, noticing only that the amount of ogles and gawks from the passerbys in the hallway.
"Why don't you make it easier for all of us if you'd just admit you loved me, you stupid omega!"
Betraying tears stung at my eyes then and I bowed my head, trying to conceal my evident pain. Okay. That hurt. But that's what he wanted though, right? To hurt me. He thrived in that - bathed in the glory of knowing he hurt inside.
Thing was, I didn't understand why.
"I hate you, Harry!" I yelled before fleeing with hotness in my eyes.
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At this point, I'd like to say something stupid and cheesy like "three years later...," like the kind you usually see in ewwy-gooey romance novels, but I feel as though that'd linger some unanswered questions.
So, let me explain.
About a week after that particular encounter, news invaded the high school about how Styles' filthy-rich parents had decided to move away. There was heart-break around the school (even from pathetic omegas Styles had fake flings with), and I felt like I was the only one surreptitiously celebrating that my bully was finally vacating Doncaster. Although, just because he was leaving didn't mean he didn't want one last pick at me. I endured the verbal abuse for those last few weeks, then- finally -Styles disappeared.
I never did see Harry Styles- or his family -ever again.
Although, just because Styles lacked a physical form and presence didn't mean I was free just yet. The mental scars remained tattooed in my brain and- as crazy as it sounds -I could still faintly hears his insults and taunts from down the hallway, along with his pea-brained crew of desperate wannabes. Speaking of whom, even as I was expecting an heir to Styles' legacy, his group never did bother me again after the great and mighty Alpha Football Captain left. As a matter of fact, one of the snotty alphas- Nick or Rick; I can't remember (actually, Dick sounds about right) -who used to always back up Styles with slander actually asked me out.
Yeah.
'Course, the only answer Nick/Rick (I still think it's Dick) got out of that question was a fist in the face... unfortunately, I ended up splintering my damn hand from the fist-on-alpha-skull impact (which was embarrassing, but at least I made a point) and was sent to the hospital for a stupid cast (that was even more embarrassing, but at least it let people know I got to smash an alpha's face in).
... You're probably wondering why I broke my hand just from punching someone's face ("yeah, so what if he's an alpha? What does that even mean?"). Well, you see, shape-shifter biology is a lot different than from humans. We're broken up into three genders: alpha, beta and omega. Each one has their own specific colour to represent them, too (you know, how girls are pink and boys are blue kind of thing?). Alphas represent red; betas represent green; omegas represent blue (a light, baby blue, that is).
Betas are the inbetweeners; they're not as strong as alphas, but they're stronger than omegas. Betas are the closest thing to humans than both alphas and omegas combined. Only female betas can give birth, and only male betas can do... well, you know - the other thing. Generally, too, is that the male beta is naturally more hunky than the female beta. Also, betas are known generally for their super smarts. There is no explanation for it - they're just natural-born nerds. Unfortunately, I've been too busy being jealous of their advantaging intelligence to poke their nerdiness trait (just kidding - I would never do something like that. Not after knowing myself how it feels).
Alphas are numbskulls (most, anyway; I try not to judge). Ninety-five percent of their body consists of beefy muscle, and the other five percent is smarts. They favor sports over classes in high school - but, above all else, they enjoy omegas. Damn dogs; they drool at the sight of a bulging bum or overflowing breasts.
Although, with that said- and as much as I detest certain alphas -, I can't say some omegas are totally innocent either.
Ah-hem. Omegas are by far the more intelligent gender of the three... okay, I lied; betas are the geniuses (like mentioned previously). But anyway, omegas are seen as lesser just because we're- um, how do you say...? -weaker. We're physically weaker than alphas and betas, and because of this one minuscule aspect, we're apparently "below" alphas and betas. It's not fair, but since when did anyone (other than omegas themselves) care about an omega's opinion?
I'll tell you what: as an omega, I consider myself a proud rebel against society. Nobody favors this opinion (especially those arrogant, I'm-superior-over-you alphas), but since when did I care about their voice?
For god's sake, I punched an alpha in the face! Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that's supposed to be 'omega-like'.
Even though Alphas get their fair share of lectures upon how they should behave or present themselves in a certain way that society desires, omegas get the worse stereo-type abuse. Our image has been painted; apparently it's essential these days that we, as a gender, are slender-figured, submissive (holy shit, do not forget this one), polite and pretty; also, we're expected to always want to have children.
I know what you're thinking: "You're a guy though! Wtf?" Well, you see, us omegas can give birth regardless of gender. We both have a uterus and all that other stuff needed to create a baby (or babies, usually); the only thing that's different between us is the way we give birth. The way females do is obvious to humans I'm sure, but I'm pretty sure you're illogical in the way a male gives birth.
And honestly, I prefer not to explain that.
... Harry Styles made it his mission to "put me in my place." The Football Captain never glanced my way twice before finding out that I was an omega that preferred not to follow the stereo-types. He was pretty... sexist, you could say. It was disgusting listening to him throw insult after insult about how I should fetch him "some refreshments after the game is done," or how I should "be quiet when another alpha is speaking," or how I should "clean up the locker rooms" because apparently "cleaning is what omegas do best"... or how I don't know anything just because I'm a "stupid omega."
I tried not to let my pain show, and I tried desperately not to feel the pain, but like everyone else, I was like a wall; the more you attack, the more fragile it gets, and eventually, it will break. Fortunately, Styles left before I became officially broken; however, that didn't mean the wounds were just temporary.
And I was happy that I wouldn't ever have to deal with it again; my walls could focus on healing instead of trying to prevent breakage.
But now I'd arrived in College - the birth place of new knowledge for shape-shifters. Here, I'd learn how to properly shift, how to tell a good pack from a bad pack, study the jobs of humans, and even find a mate to obey and live with for the rest of my miserable life!
... Yeah, I was so excited.
'Course, it gets better because this year, Métamorphe College (the College I was attending) was holding the ten-year event, The Wolf Games, in its area... which means the other competing Colleges, Universities, Academies, etc would spend some time at ours during the time occupied by The Wolf Games. Oh, and only the eligible (as in the most powerful and "of age" students) are permitted to come (in order to not suffocate the capactity of the College).
Oh, and it gets even better than that (notice the sarcasm) because Harry freaking Styles would be joining Métamorphe College this year.
The worst part was I didn't know until I did.
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I gently nudged my college door open, cautiously taking a peek inside, searching for any sign of life. Nothing. My roomate must not be here yet.
I sighed, pushing my way through and shutting the door behind me. Well, this was just swell. There were two wooden-framed beds lined up on the left wall; a dresser and a nightstand accompanied each bed (one on either side). Three windows with long, violet curtains took the spaces in the wall where furniture did not occupy it. Fresh sunlight poured through the transparent glass, warming the mahogany below. There were old-fashioned carpets swallowing a large section of the polished floor at the foot of each bed, making the dorm room look like it was in a scary old mansion instead of a college. Ceiling lamps hung graciously above the carpets - they weren't turned on. There was only one mirror and it was on the opposite wall of the door near the one bed, which meant only one of us would own the mirror. There was the occassional accessory such as an eccentric painting nailed to a wall, or a russet pot with freshly-imbedded flowers. Most of the space in the dorm room was meant for personal belongings.
I trudged fully inside the room. I placed my hefty bag of luggage on the floor and decided wait for my roommate to pick first which bed he/she wanted (I had decision issues). Although, just standing and waiting here wasn't going to do anything, so I decided to investigate the new area.
It wasn't that bad... I mean, I found some pretty interesting stuff, and by interesting, all I mean is that it caught my eye.
Because this part of the college is reserved for only omegas (because apparently Métamorphe didn't believe alphas could control themselves; betas were sometimes exceptions because they weren't known for having a 'love interest' in omegas, but still possessed sensual alpha hormones that still considered them a "threat"), the only things I found were labeled specifically (and only) for omegas. Such things consisted of bottles of blue pills (A.K.A, birth control), pads (for heat), super-absorbent pads (for the poor souls in heat), and... some other things.
There came an abrupt knock on the door; although, apparently the permission for entry wasn't needed because the person came barreling in the room before I could even snap my head to look.
I think any omega on their first day would be a little perplexed if they found a beta entering their dorm room.
His eyes sought me out as he closed the door. I blinked, twice. Was... this my room mate? A beta? Was that even allowed (not that I really cared considering I had pepper spray ready in my bag)?
The beta looked at least twenty judging by the tall, stalwart figure and strong body. Stubs of facial hair lined his strong jaw and peeked underneath his nose. A short crop of brown hair laid on his head, having a rather peculiar interest upward as it swept on its own. His eyes were the same colour as his hair- lovely, chocolate brown -and were below two straight bridges of thick brows. Something about this beta reflected a very mature and responsible vibe...
He spoke before I could. "Hi, I'm Liam."
"Um, Louis."
He leaned forward from his spot and shook my hand in greeting, though I couldn't find the will to shake back. I just stared at him, and he must've caught my puzzled gawking because he soon said, "I know - I'm a beta. Listen, there was an overcapacity in the beta dorms, so they sent me here. I promise you won't have to worry about me."
He let go; my arm dropped stiffly. Something about this beta made me believe him; perhaps it was the geunine puppy-dog eyes or the stern glimmer that insisted he wanted no part of any omega here. He must be straight then. Geez, I didn't even know why I was so concerned in the first place.
Then the thought hit me just as Liam dragged his luggage effortlessly (damn him) over to the opposite bed where I was ('guess we've established who sleeps where then). "Does that mean there's going to be three of us?" There was only two beds!
Liam shrugged as he unzipped one of his bags. "I don't know." He fished out a bundle of several, neatly folded pants. "They just told me to come here."
Great.
Watching Liam, I figured I should've been doing the same thing and started storing my clothes into the dresser drawers. I wasn't too worried; I mean, even if we had another room mate, I didn't bring many clothes to consume the whole space of the drawers, so we could probably share (as long as he/she wasn't glamorously rich).
After a long while, it was becoming a bit hopeless that we'd be receiving another roommate. Liam had finished settling him in and had engrossed himself in a Strange Facts About Humans book to pass the time. I was hoping for a conversation, but I was also fine with just lounging on my new bed.
It was probably ten minutes (ten minutes of loud, awkward silence) before the door swung open again - literally swung open.
My head jerked. Standing at the door was a young, sylphlike boy, and unlike Liam, this boy looked no older than twenty. He had honey-blond hair that was neat and swept upward - kinda like Liam's. His eyes were light and blue. He appeared to be about the same height as me - maybe taller. Regardless, it was obvious this boy was an omega.
"Hi," I greeted.
"Hey," he replied casually. Then, he awkwardly pointed to himself. "Niall."
"Hi, Niall. I'm Louis."
Niall smiled benevolently at me. He seemed to have that bright, elated vibe - the kind that's inviting and caused you to want to be around him. Right away, I knew I would enjoy having Niall here with us.
"That's Liam," I told him, pointing to the beta. Liam did not respond -nor even stir- at the mention of his name. It was clear the boy had vacated reality and was drowning deeply in the world of his book. I wrinkled my nose. "Erm... he's not quite attentive right now, but he's a nice boy."
"He's a beta," Niall said blankly. The observation wasn't rude; Niall was just surprised. His brows were knitted together as if he were worried and his eyes were reflecting a concoction of confusion and interest.
"Yeah, um, apparently there were too many betas so they sent Liam down here."
Niall blinked. "You mean... we're going to be sharing a dorm with a beta?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
Niall looked to me and suddenly a merry change of mood sprinkled on his face. "Alrighty then!" He sauntered over to and plonked his suitcase on the bed not occupied by Liam. He turned to me. "Which side of the bed do you want?"
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After settling in and becoming more comfortable with each other, Niall had braced my arm and basically tore me from the bed in an earnest yearning to drag me with him to the "Craft's Fair". Apparently it had something to do with outside on the campus. I'd asked Liam, but the beta was adamant on not following and returned to his books. That boy had a strange immense intrigue in humans, and I didn't know whether to feel concerned or just leave the beta to his interests.
"Ah, just leave the nerd to 'is studies," Niall jeered, his Irish accent poking through his words.
I glanced down to Niall's sunkissed hand secured my forearm. He wasn't hurting me but Jesus Christ where did this boy get his juice? For an omega -a small, lean Omega- he was pretty powerful. He didn't even look rugged or muscular, yet his grip was like iron.
Niall pried open the door and hurried out. I'd barely been able to shut and lock it before the eager omega had tugged me roughly, fervently yanking me in the direction of the campus. There were a few omegas in the hallways, but non (thankfully) shot us awkward, disapproving glares.... well, 'course they didn't - they were omegas. It was a common omega trait to be polite and avoid conjecturing others. If we were in a building with betas, it'd be a different story. Betas tend to be dour and pushy on good manners, so if they see someone acting unconventional, they'll either judge harshy with morose, sour glares or say something to cease the unwonted behaviour. They were polite, but judged too often for good health.
The Campus was massive. Planted on top of fresh green grass were rows and rows of sporatic booths with large posters and signs designed to attract attention from the roving young people investigating the Fair. The numerous booths made the Campus look colourful and fetching; the heaps of people made it look intimidating.
Niall abruptly wrenched my arm. "Come on, Louis!" he beamed in an elated breath, forcefully escorting me into the midst of the Fair.
My head wheeled around vigorously as I attempted to absorb all the booths at once. Niall had slowed, perhaps to check them out too, which gave me the opportunity to recognize the Drama Club, Writer's Club, Art Show...
"Jesus, we must be in the bloody Arts part of the Fair," Niall bellowed. He manumitted my arm (thank-god!) and turned to me. "Look, how 'bout we split up, Lou? It's not fair if I hav'ta drag you to where I wanna go while you wanna go somewhere else."
I surreptitiously rubbed my raw forearm. "Um, sure. Yeah."
Niall grins widely. "Great! I'll meet you back 'ere then?"
"Sure."
I watched as the blonde Omega gave a brisk wave of Good-bye before prancing off. I smiled to myself; that boy was a bagful of energy. Even though I hardly knew Liam, I'd surmised the beta enjoyed his solitude, which was a developing concern on its own because I wasn't sure how the beta would feel sharing a dorm room with an ebullient puppy like Niall.
Loquacious people past back and forth as I meandered through the Fair. The sun was alive and aggressive today, and I was cursing myself for choosing to wear a bloody hoodie. The hoodie was pure black and, unfortuntely, poured over my mid-thighs, which simmered a resent in my belly everytime I thought about it. My mum had accidentally bought me a small-sized hoodie in the alpha section of the store when shopping for my birthday presents, but because I hated to break her heart, I chose not to exchange it and kept it. My previous friends had chafed and barked mockingly when they discovered how baggy it looked on me. I know they were just badgering me, but the effects of the name-calling had eventually started to burn through my shell and I'd almost cried the few last times they'd prodded me on the subject.
I insolently read the signs as I passed. I'd probably been wandering for ten minutes before one of the booths actually provoked me to stop. My body tingled with interest as I read "THE WOLF GAMES" scrawled in thick, red paint on the booth's colossal sign. The sign of this booth was very prominent and demanded attention, making itself seem more significant than the rest of the Fair.
I approached the table. The two alphas whom I assumed were managing the booth were both busy chatting up some coquettish omega girls. I scoffed lowly and ghosted my fingers hesitantly over the stack of flyers before grabbing one and flipping it open. My eyes attached immediately onto the mini pictures displaying glimpses of this event from the past. There were alphas shifted into their grisly wolf form side-by-side and, from what it appeared to be, racing each other.
Alphas are massive in both human and wolf form; as tall as horses, yet with shaggy, grimacing fur and mountains of thick muscles underneath the coat. Betas resembled alphas, but tended to be less beefy and much more lean and slimed, yet muscular nontheless. Omegas... well, omegas were evidently the smallest and weakest (as much as I hated to admit it).
As shape-shifters, our bodies naturally released more hormones than humans (well, betas were the closet thing to humans; the only difference was the fact that betas turned into monstrous wolves). Omegas received an extra gush of estrogen and, even though alphas practically leaked testosterone from their pores. The average height of an alpha was six feet or higher; the average height for an omega was five foot four and maybe higher. I was lucky to be five foot seven (even though I lied that I was five nine).
What I noticed about the pamphlet was that it only featured depicts of alphas. Sure, it mentioned the occassional beta, but there was nothing on omegas. It was as if omegas were banned from this event...
"Hey, you gonna eat the rest of that hot dog?"
A low, masculine voice rumbled from behind me. It seemed to stand out from the chatters and murmurs of the passerbys, though I didn't know why. Frankly, I didn't really care; I just continued to blankly read over the pamphlet.
"I don't know," a new, gravelly voice replied. "I'm so full it's making me sick... but I'd rather puke than let you have it."
I seemed to be involuntarily picking up on their conversation. It was like I was half-eavesdropping. It might've also had something to do with them advancing towards the same table I was at, thus their voices became more developed and coherent.
"Wow," the other one said flatly - unimpressed. "Your pride overrides you."
"Shut up, Grimshaw," the raspy one snapped, irked. "Don't be a whiney little bitch."
"Don't be a rude grump," the other chided, yet there was a playful, goading spice to his tone, almost as if he were egging on his friend, trying to stimulate some interesting reaction.
"Your presence is the cause of my grumpiness."
"I'm flattered."
"Go die somewhere, Grimshaw." The raspy one was getting snippy, and he was getting snippy fast. Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
Paper shuffled to my right; I assumed one of the two must've just picked up a pamphlet. Upon a small crinkling noise, a few seconds pass before one of the boys -the non-snippy one- commented, "So this is The Wolf Games."
The response from his friend is brusque and obnoxious. "Let me see that." The harsh sounds of rough hands on paper emitted, then ceased. A moment passed by before Mr. Snippy piped up again, his voice plain. "This is bullshit."
"Why's that?" his friend mused, completely unfazed that the pamphlet had just been rudely snatched from him a few seconds ago. He must have a super tolerance for his unmannerly friend here...
"They expect us to partner up with some beta of their choosing."
There was a deliberate pause. "Enlighten me with the fault in that."
A scoff. "The fault," he started, scoffing gruffly again, "is that betas are judgemental little shits who always have some annoying reason to pester you about what you did wrong. People say they follow orders, but they're really just some egotistical nerds."
"I don't mean to sound rude -well, actually I do- but that was quite the hyprocrisy... well, except for the nerd part because, let's be honest, you're as smart as a- "
I nearly yelped when I felt a massive, hefty body collide with me, roughly shoving me almost to the ground if I hadn't of gripped the table. Immediately, however, the person recovered and, upon realizing, placed a large hand tenderly on my side. The gentleness and compassion gushed from the single touch and, all at once, I comprehended the identity of behind the hand: alpha - must be. Only an alpha would make this gesture toward a complete stranger (one of the particular sex, that is).
"Shit- sorry about that. You okay, hon?" he asked.
I felt my heart speed up and heat my chest. "Yeah. 'M fine. Thanks," is all I said before gathering my pamphlet again. That didn't seem to get the message across though.
"Sorry. My buddy here just felt the necessary need to push me right into you."
"It's okay," I replied simply. Go away.
"Yeah... I didn't hurt you, did I?" There was only a little genuinity to his question; the rest, I assumed, was to prolong conversation. Still, I didn't want to ignore him like a cold person, yet I didn't desire this conversation, so I kept my replies to a dull, uninteresting minimum, hoping that he'll eventually take the hint and go.
"No. I'm fine."
"You sure?"
Holy shit. "Yes," I grounded out through my clenching teeth, half-hoping I didn't sound too rude.... then again, you probably have to be rude to someone who's being pushy and obstinate.
There's a short awkward silence before the alpha's attention is diverted to over me. "Nice job, numbnuts, you pushed me into the poor little omega here."
Did he just call me "poor little"? Sigh. Too bad I was accustomed to it. I'd learnt it was simply in an alpha's nature to refer to omegas -their counterpart- as delicate, tiny things. I guess the idea built on them as time grew by with them always literally looking down on us.
"Omega?" A pause. "Oh... oops, my bad, I guess. Didn't hurt him, did you, Grimshaw?"
I felt my gut pulling. He'd accidentally toppled into me, and yet they were acting like I'd died. At least, that was how it seemed for... Grimshaw? (That couldn't be his actual name, but, anyway) The other one seemed to be teetering on the edge of deride; heedless, like he was possessed by the belief that everything was not his fault.
"Nah," Grimshaw answered coolly, "said he was fine." I felt his hand land on my shoulder and induce a small squeeze.
Okay, no.
I irefully shook the unwanted touch off. I couldn't divulge his reaction, nor frankly did I want to, but I was just glad the alpha hadn't resumed touching me like a pig. It's happened before, and I'd broken my hand a few times trying to teach them a lesson of respect. Maybe it was their covet to invade an omega's privacy -to always yearn for touch- but we're civilized people, and so I don't accept these unwelcomed advances, not even if they're gentle and 'harmless'.
"Mm, for once you're right about something though," Grimshaw's friend mused, his tone turning velvety with concupiscence (disgusting), "he is little."
'M not that little...
"You're making that creepy face again, Harry. I talked to you about that, remember?" Grimshaw said, then, after a few slow seconds, sighed crossly. "Besides, you half-wit, all omegas tend to be. It's nothing new."
"You're small."
An offended, cutting growl rumbled. "If you want to insult me, Styles, at least do it somewhere where I won't accidentally hit someone that's not you."
Wait... Styles?
"You are small." The reply is cool and amused.
"That's inadequate," Grimshaw hissed, sharp and vexed. "I am the same height as you, Styles, so to call me small would indicate you're calling yourself small."
"You know, for an alpha, you're really starting to sound like a beta, Grimshaw," he replied, a steaming hatred building in his tone. Not towards his friend, but towards the green gender.
A pressing shuffle inaugerated to my right, sending immediate warnings throughout my system. My blood hurried hot and fast through my veins as I felt the licks of the alpha's radiating cloak of body heat. An instinctive shiver quaked through me. I dared myself not to look up, but my impulse overrode me.
There, towering to my right, was the one person I'd hoped never to see again.
He must've noticed my movement from the corner of his eye because his eyes locked with mine at the same time. I tried to maintain my fearful shivering, but my adrenaline forbid me. I wanted to burn into the ground and spend the rest of my life in China; overpopulated, but at least nobody would be him.
My head was literally arched back as I had no other choice but to look up. I never had to do this in high school; at least, not bend my neck like I was doing now. Jesus Christ, I knew he was alpha, but had the growth spurt been hibernating inside him the entire time we were in high school together? I'd say he was a good several inches taller than me. I despised how I felt like a mouse compared to him. I mean, I always felt like that in high school when around him, but now - now it felt surreal.
Everything about this boy -this man-boy- screamed "alpha". Puberty had smashed unforgivingly into him like a freight train. God had definitely not prepared me for what I was about to witness; this boy was the shadow of a Greek god with his golden skin, broad torso (his whole form was basically muscle), shoulder-length umber brown curls, and perfectly structured face; his jaw was sharp, his pink lips plump, and his eyes were a ring of dusky green lava assisted by the siege of dark lashes and thin, ebony brows that hovered above.
Amusement crept onto his face immediately; his brow raised cheekily and the corner of his lips arched, indenting a cherub dimple. 'Least not all of him has changed; those infamous dimples were the one thing that everybody recognized him by. They were his bodily devices that enabled flirting to be effortless; one simple smirk and the omegas would turn to goo under his gaze. The only reason he pulled them on me was to arouse my hostility. He said he enjoyed my "feistiness", which only fueled my hate fire of him. I wasn't feisty; I was indignant.
"Well, well," he mused like a purring snake, "hello, Mr. Tomlinson. I did not expect you to be here."
Asssiduously staring down at the pamplet in my hands, I refused to look at him. "Where exactly did you expect me to be then?" I retorted, desperately trying to simultaneously restrain my fear and anger towards this boy. In my anxiety, I'd accidentally scored and bunched up the pamphlet with my nails.
He hummed. "Well, with three years to gain, I'd expected you have some intelligence by now and realized all along that you were wrong and I was right. Or, in other words, I expected little Tommo here to be in a home right now cleaning his alpha's house."
My skin inflamed with resentful hotness as my hands clenched, severly crumpling the pamphlet, but I didn't care. I bit my lip as an effort to contain myself because as much as I desperately wanted to plant my fist in his face, I couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd successfully gotten under my skin (and also I preferred not to break my fist again, especially on the first week of College).
"Harry!" Grimshaw hollered, appalled.
"What?" His reply was flat and innocent-sounding as if he wasn't aware of the vulgarity he'd just spouted. Just the typical tone of your everyday asshole.
"We're not in the twentieth century, twat. Omegas are entitled to independence just like everybody else."
"To a point," Harry implied, and even though he was conversing with his friend, his words had a smooth, sly path that bounded straight to me.
Venomous words frothed in my mouth, but I trapped my lips, forbidding myself from stooping to his level. It's what he wants, I tried to remind myself, it's what he wants. 'Course, I was teetering on the edge of a nail here. I was seething with the yearn to guiltlessly shred his stupid face - make him hurt and feel the pain of my hatred and misery.
"Freedom has no point - except when it comes in contact with the law, but nontheless. Styles, you're a bloody horrid person. Should feel ashamed of yourself for making such a comment to a stranger," Grimshaw chastised.
He really did sound like a beta... either he grew up with them or shrewdness was already written in his DNA. Either way, this guy was one-hundred percent alpha; I could tell solely by his scent. I wasn't judging him; it was a scientific fact that omegas could smell if a person was a hybrid (two mixed genders) or just one gender.... but perhaps that's a conversation for another time.
"Quite the contrary," Harry said, undisturbed. "Louis here knows me very well, as I for him. I can delight you with the many stories of our high school experiences together, though I'm sure Louis would prefer to have the honour in that. He's knows me very well, don't you, Louis?"
"Unfortunately," I muttered darkly, though I immediately regretted the one simple word from escaping my mouth when I felt the threatening heat of Harry enclosing towards me. I didn't have to look to know he was already towering over me.
I regretted spilling my comment, yet I felt a delighted pride fill me at the same time. Harry'd always castted a dominant shadow over me, announcing his higher value than me. Because I'd always been a quiet mouse in high school, it must've convinced Harry that I was yielding to him -accepting that he was better than me- so at times when I'd had enough and actually piped up, it'd taken the narcissistic alpha off guard and caused a feeling of pique to surge to the surface.
The closeness of the exasperated alpha seemed to burn crisply in the air carrying between us. He was expressing his dominance; it was a common alpha instinct when encountered with smart-mouthed or disobedient omegas. In this case, that was me; the nasty, sinful, rebellious omega your parents warned you about. In the old days, it was legitimately known as a sin for omegas to flout an alpha or beta, and because Harry had been raised into that mindset from his traditional family, he viewed me as a "broken omega", but instead of wielding the power of his popularity to turn everyone against me, he decided with the alternative and tried to "fix me" (or so that's was what he called it). I detested him for it, but I guess that was what provoked him.
I could now see not much has changed....
As his spicy, dark cologne scent swathed the air and attempted to dominate mine, I could feel his alpha's insistent message to submit now, omega, but I refused to give him that gratification. We were older now - I was stronger now (and obviously so was he). I shouldn't have to waste my energy on some alpha from my past.
"You're being rude to me on the first day, Louis," he whispered to me, tone lined with scold, "and I don't think I like that."
"I don't care," I bravely rebuked.
Instantly, Harry's large, rough hand trapped around my arm, forcing a sharp, startled breathe out my lungs. His hold was purposely tight, wordlessly reminding me of my 'mistake'. Trepidation was like sharp static in my veins when suddenly (and miraculously) someone else intervened, crowding the space inbetween Harry and I - strong and warningly.
"Harry," Grimshaw said, pacifying, yet with a hint of threat. His voice was cool and confident and... empathetic? Either he'd dealt with an angry Harry before or he'd experienced the danger of allowing your crossed alpha to govern your emotions.
The duo lingered, the air just tensing and solidifying with the emits of their dominance. Ten seconds past with just Harry's hand locked rigidly around my arm, heatedly debating whether he should hold on, ignore Grimshaw and continue with his lecture with me, or listen to his friend and cage his bitter Wolf and let me go. I was hoping for the latter.
I waited, feeling the inevitable awkwardness seep into the tense atmosphere when abruptly Harry's grasp was unchained and I was freed. I was flushed with relief, yet startled at the same time; Harry Styles -the super dominant, I-am-better-than-every-single-creature-on-this-planet alpha- was giving in? And just like that? Was I missing something ('course, there'd been Harry's three year abscence from my life, which could've potentially been the time frame where something unthinkable happened, like Harry learning some sense about others' rights and that this indeed was no longer the 20th century).
"I take you as many things, Harry; a person with a disgusting lack of anger management, a sexually frustrated fouteen-year-old trapped inside a nineteen-year-old's body, but a bully is not one of them," Grimshaw harangued, disapproval charring his tone. Seconds pass again, then Grimshaw leant towards Harry and whispered, "Please don't tell me you tortured this poor boy in high school, Harry."
"'Course not," Harry suddenly answered coolly and without missing a single beat. "I was giving sweets here free daily lessons on how to properly act around your superiors."
I fumed.
"Superiors," Grimshaw upbraided, repeating Harry with a sharp derision. "You really are stuck in the 20th century."
"Shut up, Nick." Nick? Was that Grimshaw's first name?
"Excuse my, gentlemen, but can I help you with anything?" a new voice entered the situation, cooling it slightly with his calm, adult-like chime. Even though Harry was an aggressively dominant alpha, even he still had superiors.
There was momentary pause. "No, sir," Grimshaw said, "we were just leaving," another pause, "right, Harry?"
I could feel Harry's lambasting stare searing right through me. Irrevocably, I still refused to look at him. Avoiding eye contact was a common trigger to an alpha's irritation. Apparently it was a sign of disrespect, and if I know anyone, Harry was the number one person to recognize that. Still, looking at him was dreadful.
Harry did not speak, but I comprehended the slight shifting in Harry's shoes as he moved to turn and walk away... but he never actually did walk away. That was until he leant closer to me and whispered hotly in my ear, "see you later, sweets," then left. Just like that. The footfalls of their shoes carried them away without another word as I was left writhing in my own tiny, tight bubble of disturb and fright.
"Son."
I nearly yelped at the adult male's voice directing to me. I swallowed thickly, realizing only then how dry my throat was, and looked up at the balding man.
"Are you okay?" He was strict by nature, yet sympathetic and gentle when speaking to me.
"Y-yeah, um." I nodded my head, trying not to dizzy myself with my furious anxiety already swarming madly in my head. I- er, I'm fine. Thanks."
The teacher looked unconvinced. "Would you like me to escort you back to your dorm room?"
I shook my head, this time with caution not to overexert myself. "No. It's fine. I'm okay." It was a lie, but I really didn't want to be treated like a helpless omega who needed supervision.
"Okay," he said, unpersuaded, yet lenient with my decision. "Off you go then."
I nodded and ducked away. I scrambled away from the booth; I wasn't really interested anyway. Regardless, I hadn't realized I'd accidentally kept the pamphlet when I unconsciously clenched my fingers, my sense of touch sparking against the paper. I glanced down at it, regretting ever looking at in the first place, and crumpled it in my fist, shovng it remorselessly into my baggy hoodie pocket.
That's when....
"LOUIS!!"
My adrenaline spiked when a body collided with me, forcefully enveloping me into a hug. I struggled instinctively, whimpering against the solid embrace, praying not for my death. I came to my senses when a puzzled and offended voice chirped, "Louis, it's me". Niall. My body reluctantly ceased, relaxing slightly into the other omega's embrace, unconsciously inhaling his familiar minty, sweet scent, and realizing, yes, this is Niall.
"Jesus, Louis, you okay there?" he asked, reeling away from me to view my face.
I blinked up at him, immediately finding relief in another omega's presence, and smiled, mustering a small nod. I was okay now.... but only just for now. The next time I see Harry Styles.... maybe not so much. And being stuck in a College with him, it just made the chances inevitable.