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Draken’s world is small.
From the brothel’s pink curtains to his school’s white walls, that’s everything Draken knows. Despite living in Tokyo, the things that an eleven year old can do - especially an eleven year old without parents - are scarce.
He makes do with what is given to him, though. Soon, his world expands, grows through busted lips and bleeding knuckles, the taste of ash in his mouth and the smell of cheap cologne older boys wear. And it’s not all bad, if the rush of adrenaline that makes his blood sing in his veins is anything to go by; but it’s also not yet what he’s looking for, it’s not the life he dreams of, his world still small and lonely, shared between him and the dragon on his head.
Then he meets Mikey.
It feels intoxicating, being with Mikey. Talking with him, laughing about some weaklings from the other school they beat up together, meeting with the rest of the group which soon turns into a gang, into friends, into family. And Draken has never felt like this, like he finally belongs, like his world is just the right size. His heart is full and his smile is bigger, brighter, realer.
All thanks to this one person who miraculously gave him a chance.
(He doesn’t notice that in reality his world is now so painfully small, although in a different way than before. It begins with Mikey’s sleepy yawn and dishevelled hair and ends under Mikey’s old blanket, with their legs tangled as they fall asleep next to each other.
Draken’s world is barely contained in the small yet fierce body of his friend.
Unconsciously, he hopes it will stay this way forever.)
—
They turn fourteen. At the end of the summer, not long after his birthday and to no one’s surprise, Mikey presents as an alpha.
Two weeks later, Draken also presents.
(Because wherever Mikey goes and whatever Mikey does, Draken always follows.)
“Mitsuya…” he pants heavily into the phone, gaze foggy and head swimming. He feels so much, too much, he’s about to go crazy; only the shirt Mikey forgot at his place the last time he came by, still smelling so sweetly like the younger boy, keeps him somewhat sane. He clenches his fist over it and brings it hesitantly to his face, shame and dread and heat filling his whole body. “There’s… there’s something wrong with me.”
“Breathe, Ken,” Mitsuya replies in the calmest, kindest voice possible, as if trying to soothe him from the distance. “I will be there soon, okay? Just breathe. It’s gonna be fine, I promise. I think you’re just in rut, I will bring you some–”
Draken’s world falls apart.
—
“Of course our vice captain is an alpha! Damn, I’m so jealous…”
“He really has it all, huh. I bet cute omegas will line up to him in no time…”
He knows he should have expected that. He knows he’s like the posterboy for alphas: tall, strong, well built. Before, he would have been glad to be one, he would have taken pride in it, like every teenage boy his age would.
Hearing the Toman members talk about him like that, though, feels like rubbing salt into the open wound.
Because now he knows Mikey; he knows what he can’t have because two alphas are not meant to be.
“What’re ya boys chatting about?” Baji chimes in, throwing his arms around the shoulders of two gossiping members of the first division. “Care to share?”
Draken takes the chance to walk away, without sparing them a second glance.
He doesn’t notice the way that Baji’s grip tightens and the two boys have to bite their lips to not let out painful whimpers.
(Later that night, nothing stops him from secretly craving, from dreaming about the sweetness of Mikey’s sweat on his tongue, from imagining the taste of his blood while his fangs are buried deep in Mikey’s neck, bonding them forever.)
—
Draken does his best to act like nothing's wrong. Despite his secondary gender he’s still everyone’s good friend, Toman’s trusted vice-captain and Mikey’s shadow. There’s no fight for dominance, unlike in some other gangs where secondary genders often times fuck up the hierarchy; Draken would never disobey Mikey and he sure as hell makes it clear that anyone willing to try would have to go through him first.
No one does.
—
Then, Baji dies.
Soon after, as if to mock them, Emma is killed.
One after another, people building Draken’s world crumble to pieces and disappear. No matter what, he stays strong; he stays next to Mikey.
—
Then, Mikey destroys him, too.
“Toman is no more.”
When Mikey says that, eyes void of emotions and knuckles red from Pah’s blood, surrounded by the barely conscious bodies of the remaining founders, something in Draken finally snaps.
He takes a deep breath, takes in the putrid smell of Mikey’s distress and dejection. He never smoked but this is how he always imagined the taste - choking ash on his tongue and in his lungs, something so extremely distant from Mikey’s usual strawberry and citrus. It’s not right , he thinks, it’s not, this is wrong, why are you doing this–
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Mikey,” he chokes out and stands up. He wipes at his nose, sees blood, doesn’t care. His eyes focus on Mikey, acting all nonchalant when Draken knows it’s all a farce, feels it in his scent, the one he memorised day after day until he could recreate it anytime.
It’s all Mikey trying to hide something from them by pushing them as far away as possible - pushing him away, useless, broken.
“I don’t need you anymore,” Mikey says. “Did I not make that clear enough?”
Draken sees red.
(He never wanted to be an alpha. He never wanted to fight, but fighting is all he knows, all he’s good at, all he could give to Mikey.
“You’re not made for destroying things,” Mitsuya says matter-of-factly in between spoonfuls of rice. “That’s Baji and Tora. They would smash things and people just for the sake of it.”
“And I’m different?”
“Yeah.” Mitsuya gives him a pointed look. “You fight to protect. That’s all you’ve been doing all these years.”)
He feels similar to that day years earlier, when he presented. There’s frantic energy thrumming underneath his skin, flowing through his bloodstream. For a split second, he sees something akin to hesitation on Mikey’s face.
Then, he strikes.
His fist connects with Mikey’s jaw and for the first time in his life, Draken doesn’t feel any hesitation. Maybe Mitsuya was right, he thinks, maybe he was made for this, for protecting Mikey and protecting Toman. Maybe he was too afraid in the last weeks, like a fool hoping for everything to go back to normal, for Mikey to see the growing distance between them and turn back.
“I won’t let you fuck this up, Mikey,” Draken chokes out. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Mikey doesn’t stay put for too long; after the initial shock, so clearly written on his face, he fights back, with powerful hits and even more deadly kicks. But Draken is not just anyone; he didn’t spend all these years at Mikey’s side to not know the rhythm of his strikes, the familiar staccato of his breaths during a fight. He feels like he could close his eyes and still sense the way Mikey moves.
Block after block, he closes in on Mikey with unrelenting fervour.
“Ken…” Mikey’s eyes are full of emotion now, so different from the beginning of the fight. With his lip busted and hair dishevelled, he looks frantic. “Get out of my way!”
For once in his life, he doesn’t listen.
He grabs Mikey and throws him to the ground, the impact enough to leave him stunted for a moment. In no time Draken is on top of him, locking Mikey’s hands in his.
“This is not…” he pants heavily, lips hovering above Mikey’s. “This is not how you call me.”
The next few seconds feel like whole lifetimes.
“Ken… chin…?” Mikey lets out a whisper. The smell of ash is gone, as if it was never there to begin with.
“I’m not gonna let you go.” Draken was never good with words, but they just flow out now, on their own. He needs to say it, otherwise Mikey is not going to understand, and he–needs to make it clear. “If you need help, we’re here. If you struggle, we will listen and help.”
He lets go of Mikey’s wrists. Instead of that, he slots his fingers between his, carefully squeezing his hands.
“I’m here, Mikey,” he breathes out. “I fucking love you too much to let you destroy it all.”
(“You know,” Taiju says while holding a sleepy Mitsuya against his chest. The beta murmurs something incoherently and buries himself deeper into Taiju’s embrace. “You don’t have to be like everyone else.”
Draken, busy with cleaning up after the hotpot Mitsuya so graciously prepared for the three of them, gives him a puzzled look. “What?”
“Mitsuya told me that–”
“Mitsuya doesn’t know anything,” Draken cuts him off.
Taiju visibly tenses, his jaw set and eyes narrowed, but he doesn’t retaliate. Instead, he shrugs and says: “Alphas don’t have to end up with omegas. That’s all. He thought you should know and maybe hearing it from another alpha would do you some good.”
Draken doesn’t reply.)
He doesn’t know which one of them moves first. The next thing he knows is the intoxicating taste of strawberries, so sweet and flavourful and exquisite that he loses himself in it.
It’s everything he imagined - feared, wanted, needed - and more.
When Mikey bites him, he sees stars.
When he bites Mikey, the ache in his chest finally subsides.
It won’t bind them, he knows; but it’s enough. When Mikey’s kisses turn salty with tears, when he clings to Draken, hands gripping the back of his uniform, he knows.
They will be fine.