Chapter Text
Louis is not like most omegas.
He’s tiny at 5'3 in height. He’s got dainty wrists and ankles, and soft, beautiful curves. He’s so pretty, too pretty in a way that always gets people looking.
But he’s not like most omegas, no.
Because most omegas resign to their fate. They wholeheartedly accept the fact that they’re practically cursed into society as some alpha or beta’s baby-making, house-cleaning machine. But no, that’s not what Louis is. Everyday he douses himself in scent-neutralizing spray, takes his heat-suppressing pills and harmlessly flirts with omegas like he isn’t one himself. He’s a male beta, he insists to others who question his true gender. Of course a few people don't completely believe him, but they don't matter and often mind their own businesses most of the time. They can't smell him anyway and that's how betas are supposed to naturally smell like: like nothing.
People might argue with Louis and his massive hate for the omega lifestyle. Omegas are loved and cherished by everyone, most especially their mates. They’re respected just like any other class, and just because they go into heat and male omegas can get pregnant unlike male betas or alphas doesn’t mean that they’re treated poorly like sex dolls or slaves. Louis would beg to differ, though.
When he was only five years old he had heard his biological father shout such mean things to Louis’ omega of a mother that the words had left a permanent impact on Louis’ way of thinking.
Omegas are supposed to obey their alpha’s every whim.
Omegas are nothing but for the pleasure of their mate.
Omegas are worthless save for their wombs.
You're nothing but a toy. A slave to our desires. A slave to your own desires.
Worthless.
Louis had only been a scared, innocent child at that time and as he grew older his fear of becoming an omega became deeper as well. When Louis presented as an omega at thirteen years old, experiencing his first heat in the middle of class, he had pushed all his worried classmates away and ran all the way home. Since then he has been taking suppressants for his heats, and has been using neutralizing sprays for his scent.
Whether Louis is a beta or an omega, a lot of people genuinely like him. Despite his extreme hatred for his own being (the omega part of his being) he’s nice, funny and sweet to just about anyone as long as they don't try to put their greasy hands on him. Under the impression that he is a beta, alphas, omegas and betas never stand a chance with him no matter how much they hit on him. He isn’t asexual or aromantic, really, but he can’t ever find someone he genuinely likes. He won’t date alphas, he finds most betas absolutely boring, and as sweet and lovely other omegas are, he loses interest in them quickly.
Louis is now twenty and is studying Architecture in university. That’s another thing about him: Architecture.
There are hardly any omegas in Louis’ classes and out of the hundreds of Architecture students that he knows there are only a handful omegas: five, including himself. So basically there are two mated omegas, two unmated oned and Louis who nobody knows as one.
Lately his mother has been pressuring him to just go and try to leave the neutralizer at home, to test the waters. “You never know if that sweet scent of yours will attract the sweetest alpha you could ever meet, Lou,” she would tell him. Her current husband is great: he treats all of them nicely, and he loves Louis’ mother to the extent that he had cried during their wedding day and had given her two beautiful twins that the family adores. Louis likes him and calls him dad, but he also can't forget his real father and the names he had called omegas.
Louis doesn’t listen to his mother and always keeps his scent-neutralizing spray with him wherever he would go.
It’s one day, only one week into the term when there’s a new student sliding into the empty seat next to him where his friend Zayn is supposed to be sitting in.
“That’s not your seat,” Louis immediately tells the newcomer without even sparing the other a glance as he’s busy drawing misshapen doodles on his own forearm.
The professor is nowhere to be found at it’s so typical of Professor Samuels to be absent on a Monday morning. Typical for Zayn to be absent as well (then again, when did Zayn ever show up in his early morning classes?)
“Sorry,” the surprisingly deep and slow voice of the boy next to him drawls and Louis could hear the sheepishness in his tone. “I’m new.”
Louis lifts his head up, turns to the new person seated next to him and then freezes. Who is this person, he screams in his mind. And why are they drop-dead gorgeous?
Green eyes. Pink lips. Luxe brown curls that fall over the shoulders. Pale skin.
Louis’ eyes drift down to the man’s chest for a second. The first three buttons of his ridiculous silk blouse are unbuttoned, showcasing smooth skin and a hint of black ink. He raises a brow as he crinkles his nose. Never mind if this person is handsome— Louis can tell that he’s alpha just by his scent and the built of his tall, lean body (and the big biceps outlined by his sleeves).
He’s not interested.
“You are?” Louis asks anyway.
His grip on his pen gets tighter when he sees the other look at the array of tattoos and doodles scattered on his arm with the sleeve pulled up.
“M’Harry.” Pink lips stretch into a smile and Louis actually finds himself smiling back. “Harry Styles. I, uh. Moved from Cheshire to London a few weeks back and had to retake this class because they wouldn’t credit the class I took in my old uni… this is Contemporary Architecture right?”
Louis nods. “Contemporary Architecture.”
Honestly, it’s an interesting class save for the fact that their teacher is always either late or absent, and that it’s held at eight in the bloody morning on Mondays and Fridays.
Harry stares at him for a few seconds before his eyebrow cocks up and Louis realizes that he’s waiting for a name. “I’m Louis,” he supplies shortly and goes back to where he’s drawing a triangular leaning tower covered in red spots. At the bottom of the drawing are the words “The Leaning Tower of Pizza”.
“Nice tattoos.” Harry grins. It’s a very boyish grin, Louis notes. He eyes Harry’s arms but the skin is covered by the sleeves of his top, so Louis can’t see if he’s got tattoos scattered all over his skin as well. He's got big hands, though. “Thanks.” Louis mumbles and recaps his pen.
He can’t concentrate on making masterpieces on his skin if this good-looking alpha Harry is observing his every move. “Did you need anything?”
Harry’s smile falters for only a second. “Um. I’m new.”
The poor thing is only trying to make conversation with Louis, but Louis doesn’t like being friends with alphas. Especially unmated ones like Harry who may seem genuinely nice in their conquest to find the perfect omega but may actually be just like Louis’ pathetic, horrible excuse for a father.
Louis looks at the clock hanging above the whiteboard, sees that it’s already been thirty minutes since class was supposed to begin, and grabs his bag. “I know. You just told me that,” he tells Harry with a light laugh. He stands up and quickly exits the room.
Harry watches Louis' back as the omega walks away and he smiles to himself.