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Aaron Minyard hated being an omega. He had always been shorter than the other boys in his grade, and the lack of food in his home growing up meant that he’d been skinny too. He was much too young when he got into his mom’s drugs, and they had only made him sicklier, a skin and bones boy hiding black and blue under long sleeves. Being an omega was one more reason for others to mock him, one more item on the list of reasons Aaron Minyard was a freak, reasons he could not be loved.
He’d been on scent blockers since his first heat, cheap ones with a laundry list of side effects, but at least they worked. The drugs had gotten rid of his heats for some time, when he’d been at the height of his addiction, destroying his body in some ways beyond repair. It had taken months for his heat to return after his forceful rehab at the hands of his brother, and it had nearly caused a relapse.
He was on proper scent blockers now, ones given to him by Abby. The world saw him as a beta, and he needed it to stay that way, so he wore them constantly despite the instructions stating they were only meant to be worn six hours a day. He supposed if there was one thing he didn’t hate about himself, it was that his animal traits were reminiscent of wild felines, and unlike many species, there weren’t any designation stereotypes in place for them – it was just as likely for someone to be alpha, beta, or omega.
One of the very few places he felt safe removing his blockers was Katelyn’s dorm. He felt most comfortable there, more so than he did in his own dorm. She and her roommate were both betas, their scents subtle and soft. Inside Katelyn’s room, it was only her, though Aaron’s own scent was mixed in now, a pleasant consequence of how often he spent time there. It felt like home, like the two of them building a life together.
Telling her his true designation had been a struggle. He’d been convinced she would break up with him, had a list of reasons in his mind detailing her potential thoughts, but she had hardly reacted at all. Later, she had called him an idiot for thinking something so small and insignificant could ruin their relationship and had pulled him into a kiss.
It had still taken some time afterwards for Aaron to trust her words, but now it was second nature to peel off his scent blocker patches as he walked into her dorm. It was overstimulating, scents rushing towards him all at once, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at his temples. The blockers obstructed his own scent glands, preventing others from knowing he was an omega, but in turn affected his own ability to smell. The intensity all at once always felt like a punishment, for being an omega, for requiring them in the first place.
Katelyn’s scent was soft, a hint of floral but not to an overbearing extent, like a spring day carried on the wind. Even in the cold winter, on days where the world was dark and dreary and the world was gray, Katelyn seemed to create that warmth simply by walking into a room.
She hugged him, and Aaron pressed his nose to her neck, her carotid artery, where her scent was strongest. He focused only on her, giving his body time to recalibrate to the fact that he was now aware of the world around him again. He could tell she’d had friends over not long ago, could smell alpha on the couch of her dorm, and two omega scents that were familiar enough for Aaron to recognise them as cheerleaders, but not familiar enough for him to put a name to them.
“My room?” She asked, as if the question would ever have a different answer, and Aaron had to unfortunately pull away for the short duration of the walk.
Katelyn’s room was always a mess. She called it organised chaos, and Aaron supposed it was organised in some way, because Katelyn always moved around like she knew exactly where to find anything. She had lights hung up, wrapped around fake ivy; posters of celebrities and movies, media she’d forced Aaron to watch with her; and small collected trinkets decorating every surface. It was cluttered in a way that felt homey, and that was so novel to Aaron, he always had to take a moment when he entered the space, to remind himself that this was real, he was allowed this.
She led him to her bed, where she had folded all her blankets, piling them at the foot of the bed. It was a little surprising, usually at least two throw blankets were messily tossed on her bed at all times – she wrapped them around her shoulders or draped them over her lap as she read or studied. It wasn’t odd enough for Aaron’s attention to linger on it any longer than necessary, not when Katelyn was tugging him on top of her and giggling as she leaned up to kiss him.
After a long day of classes, Katelyn’s touch was everything he needed, and minutes passed that way, her hands on his back and shoulders and the nape of his neck.
They eventually separated, both because they needed air and because Aaron had a limit for touch, even when it came to Katelyn. He craved her, so desperately wanted her body curled into his, the gentle comfort of it, but his mind and body rebelled. His skin would grow too tight over his bones and muscles, a feeling Aaron could only describe as claustrophobic, except it wasn’t something he had the privilege to escape, it was inside his own body.
He didn’t want to think about all the ways in which he was broken, so he found a topic to discuss. It wouldn’t actually serve to distract Katelyn, she could always read him too easily, but she also wasn’t the type to bring up Aaron’s discomfort unless she thought it was a necessary conversation for them to have. This was one they’d had before, he knew what Katelyn would say, and Katelyn knew that her words could only do so much when Aaron’s insecurity had been built over years, so they both dropped it.
“You made your bed,” He commented, glancing over at the folded blankets on the foot of the bed, the way even her plushies were lined up on the windowsill instead of half laying on her pillows.
Katelyn hummed. “I thought you could make a nest here,” She offered, her voice as kind as ever. There was no mocking in her tone, and yet Aaron bristled anyway, because nesting was an instinct reserved solely for omegas, and as such, Aaron had spent years shoving the instinct to the very back of his mind.
He could only vaguely remember his first heat, but he remembered pulling together old sheets and a few pieces of his softer clothing into an awful attempt at a nest, remembered flashes of pain and anger as it was kicked apart by his mom. She had shouted at him, but that was such a common occurrence in his childhood that his brain hadn’t bothered to remember her exact words. No doubt it was something along the lines of worthless omega or mistake.
Katelyn caught onto the tension in Aaron’s body much too easily. He had spent his life lying, hiding, claiming to be fine because he knew he couldn’t trust anyone with the truth, and here Katelyn was, breaking through every wall despite the force and willpower he’d used to build them up. “Or have you changed your mind on spending your heat here?”
Aaron swallowed back bile. The mere mention of his heat was an uncomfortable thing. But he had spoken to Katelyn about it – she’d brought it up first, when he’d confessed to being an omega – and they’d come to a decision. Of course, ignoring factors such as Aaron’s self-hatred, there was nothing he wanted more than to spend his heat with Katelyn.
It was bad for an omega’s health to spend heat alone. They needed to be surrounded by their pack, or at the very least by their scents. At this age, packs were almost arbitrary, they changed with the fluidity of water for most, and omegas would often choose a sexual partner to spend their heat with them.
The origin of the practice was somewhat historical, many alphas didn’t want to waste their time taking care of their omega emotionally during their heats, so the compromise was sex. Biologically, it filled the omega’s needs during heat, the scent of their pack and physical closeness.
Aaron hated sex, and he hadn’t told Katelyn that yet. It was bad enough that he was a short, weak, omega. She had accepted that, but how much more would she be willing to accept?
Katelyn, though, had told Aaron she didn’t want to sleep with him during his heat, at least not the first few they spent together. She stated research she’d done on emotional vulnerability during heat and the intense hormone fluctuations, and since they hadn’t had sex yet at all, heat was not a good time to be trying it for the first time. Aaron was relieved that he at least had a few months before he had to inevitably broach the subject, a few more months before he might have to say goodbye to the best thing that had ever happened to him.
“No,” Aaron finally answered, “I still want to.”
“Okay,” Katelyn said. She reached out for Aaron’s hand, fingers tracing the back of his palm. She was watching him, pondering, and Aaron could tell she was considering her words, considering the best way to ask her question to minimise Aaron’s discomfort. Minimise, because they both knew it was impossible to have this conversation without some negative thoughts coming forward, haunting Aaron’s thought process.
Aaron decided to speak first, a rush of words that had to come out at once or he wouldn’t admit them at all. “I don’t know how.”
Katelyn’s fingers against Aaron’s hand paused for a second, a mark of her surprise along with the very slight furrowing of her brows. She was good at hiding her initial reactions to certain revelations. She’d told him once that she’d been too emotional as a child, had reacted before thinking most of the time, and often regretted it once she’d actually processed the situation. Sometimes the processing took weeks, sometimes only seconds, but by then it was too late, and the people around her would react to her reaction.
“You’ve never made a nest.” She, correctly, guessed. After his first lackluster attempt – and honestly he didn’t think that mess deserved to be called a nest – he had never made the mistake again.
He shrugged. It was enough of an answer, possibly even spoke more than any words could.
“There isn’t a right or wrong way to do it, you just follow what feels right. Nesting is an instinct.” Katelyn said. “You can use my blankets as the base, then add other items that have the scent of your pack. Or, we don’t have to do this today. Your heat is in a week. I thought it would be nice to either practice or have one made before then, but it’s not necessary. Whatever you want.”
Aaron considered it. It still felt odd to have a choice, to be given the freedom to make his own decisions. For so long he had lived under the strict control of someone claiming it was for his own good, first his mom, then Andrew. Katelyn expressed the same sentiment sometimes, that she was doing something for Aaron’s sake, but it felt genuine when paired with the easy way she offered Aaron the space to retreat when things became too much, the way she smiled at him and kissed him softly and didn’t mind waiting for him to be ready.
In the end, that was what finalised his decision.
“Okay,” He said. He realised it wasn’t a complete answer when Katelyn cocked her head, waiting for him to continue. “I want to. Try.”
Katelyn’s responding smile was as soft as the way she treated Aaron, not as though he was weak or broken, not as something in need of fixing, but full of love and a genuine desire to share small moments of peace. He was so grateful that she had chosen him, that he got to experience being loved by Katelyn Mackenzie.
She was generally kind to everyone, preferred to base her assumptions on someone’s actions rather than the words of others, offered Aaron the benefit of the doubt despite all of their classmates warning her to stay away from him. The world got to see a curated version of Katelyn, the friendly side of her that she chose to show, but only Aaron knew that her true trust was difficult to gain. Aaron was one of very few who saw her tired and frustrated and overwhelmed, who helped her through getting bad grades and the worried meltdowns in the aftermath, who tapped up her knee and offered her ice and painkillers after practices that didn’t go the way she’d wished.
He got to see this version of Katelyn too, curiosity gleaming like stars in her dark eyes, fascinated but not cruel or judging. She came from a completely beta family, and as such didn’t have any experiences with traditional alpha or omega behaviours. She had a well of knowledge built over years of research, had found herself interested in how the medical system in their country ignored omegas, had spiraled from one topic to the next until Aaron genuinely believed she was more knowledgeable on his designation than he was.
She didn’t pressure him to speed up as he hesitantly took the first blanket from the pile, feeling the texture under his fingertips. It smelled of Katelyn’s laundry detergent and a whiff of floral that must have gotten caught in the fabric as she’d carried it from the dryer to her room, as her hands had carefully folded it, her scent stubbornly clinging to the blanket.
Practice, Katelyn had said. This first attempt didn’t have to be a finalised nest, it likely wasn’t going to be the one he used during his heat.
“Do you want help?” Katelyn asked. He startled out of his thoughts, nearly dropping the blanket as his shoulders fell from where they’d slowly crawled up towards his ears.
He pressed the blanket into her hands. “I can’t- I don’t even know how to start.”
“You’re overthinking,” Katelyn told him, her hand reaching up to trace the light, smooth fur around Aaron’s upwards pointed ears. The sensation was odd, the skin thin and more sensitive to touch compared to the rest of his body, nerve endings gathered tightly and closer to the surface. If someone else had been doing the same thing, Aaron would have wrenched himself away, but there was nothing forceful or sexual in Katelyn’s touch, just curiosity and appreciation for the differences between them.
Aaron bit back a sharp response, the instinctive need to answer any perceived criticism by building up his defenses. He wasn’t upset with Katelyn, he knew rationally that she was only pointing it out in an effort to help, but it was irritating that he couldn’t even manage to build a nest properly, even though it was meant to be a biological predisposition.
In the end, Katelyn was the one to build the overall shape of the nest, under Aaron’s watchful stare. She could follow instructions she’d read in the past, could recreate an image of a nest, but she didn’t have the instincts for nesting.
She shifted a corner on a fluffy green blanket and something inside of Aaron snapped into place, every muscle tensing in response to the intense need to reach out and fix, to change the way a stray edge was peaking out. He must have made some sort of noise, some outward indication of how he was feeling, because Katelyn abandoned her task in favour of turning towards him, making eye contact so easily, as if she’d never had to fear what she might find in someone’s gaze.
His body was a buzzing livewire as he approached Katelyn’s bed, tucking the edge of the offending blanket, smoothing out another section, his hands moving seemingly on their own accord once he’d begun. Katelyn was beaming, proud, and even though Aaron couldn’t understand how she could consider something so intrinsically omega to be good rather than a sign of his inferior role, his chest warmed.
His inner omega purred, and he forcefully shoved it down before the embarrassing sound could truly come out of his mouth. All at once, he felt frozen again, unsure how to access those parts of himself that he instinctively buried deep.
The natural way his body had known how to nest was gone. Katelyn came towards him, waiting for Aaron’s nod before she rubbed her hands over his shoulders.
They laid together in bed, in a nest that in no way felt complete just yet, but managed to soothe Aaron all the same. He lived his life carrying a sense of wrongness beneath his skin, feeling cold and empty, craving touch and hating it all at once, exhausted but forever unable to relax enough to fall into anything but a fitful sleep.
For once, his body wasn’t squirming with something he couldn’t quite name, a discomfort so clear and palpable that he could never quite understand. He tried to reach out and grasp onto the feeling, wanted to understand it, but it remained forever out of his reach. He should have expected it to be yet another side effect of being an omega.
Aaron Minyard hated being an omega. He hated where it placed him in society, hated that he would never be judged on his actions or his merit, hated that his designation could affect his dreams of becoming a doctor, hated that he was considered weak for something he had never chosen and would never have chosen for himself. It was best for him if he hid behind scent blockers, would give him slightly higher odds of success in life, odds that were already painfully low. But, maybe, being an omega didn’t have to prevent him from being loved.