Chapter Text
The noise inside the St. Jude’s International School cafeteria was a physical, almost suffocating weight. It was a chaotic symphony of scraping metal chairs, shouting teenagers mixing rapid-fire Thai slang with English, and the overwhelming, colliding scents of hundreds of unbonded adolescents frantically trying to figure out who they were. Outside, the stifling, oppressive Bangkok humidity pressed heavily against the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the glass with condensation. But inside, the aggressive, industrial air conditioning made the air crisp, dry, and cold enough to raise goosebumps.
It was a daily minefield of raging hormones, shifting social hierarchies, and unspoken rules. And for an unbonded Omega, it was utterly exhausting.
Fourth kept his head down, gripping his plastic tray so tightly his knuckles turned a translucent white under the harsh fluorescent lights. On his tray sat a plate of uneaten khao man gai and a sweating plastic cup of iced pink milk, neither of which he had the stomach to consume. As an M.5 student—a junior—survival meant flying under the radar. He wasn’t submissive by nature. In fact, his quick temper, sharp tongue, and tendency to challenge authority usually kept people at arm's length, much to the constant chagrin of his guidance counselor. But he was smart enough to know when he was physically and biologically outmatched.
He valued his autonomy more than anything else in the world. He had meticulous plans for his life: secure a top scholarship to Chulalongkorn University, earn a degree in architectural design, and build a future that absolutely did not involve being tethered to some arrogant, posturing Alpha before he even received his high school diploma. In their elite, high-society circles, bonding early was a trap that forced Omegas to abandon their ambitions for their mate's legacy. Fourth refused to be a trophy.
He just needed to make it to the empty table by the far windows, put his heavy noise-canceling headphones over his ears, and disappear into his sketchbook to draft a modern twist on a traditional Thai stilt house for the next forty-five minutes.
He didn't make it.
A heavy hand slammed flat against the cinderblock wall just inches from Fourth’s face, the impact cracking like a whip over the dull, vibrating roar of the cafeteria. Fourth flinched violently, his sneakers squeaking sharply against the polished linoleum as he abruptly stopped to avoid crashing into a broad, muscular chest blocking his path.
The air instantly grew thick with the oppressive, suffocating scent of burnt rubber and sour pine. It was the scent of an Alpha pushing his pheromones to the absolute, suffocating limit, weaponizing his biology to enforce compliance and strike fear into anyone nearby.
"Going somewhere so fast, Nong'Fourth?"
It was Top. He was an M.6 senior, the notoriously ruthless captain of the football squad, built like a brick wall, and entirely used to getting whatever he wanted through sheer intimidation and his family's deep pockets. For the past three weeks, what Top wanted was Fourth.
"Move, P'Top," Fourth said, keeping his voice carefully level, using the polite honorific out of basic survival rather than an ounce of respect. He refused to bare his neck. He refused to look down, forcing his gaze to remain stubbornly fixed on the intricate gold-embroidered school crest on Top’s chest rather than meeting his predatory eyes. But beneath his ribs, his heart kicked into a frantic, rabbit-fast rhythm. His flight instincts were screaming at him to bolt, the adrenaline making his fingertips buzz.
"I don't think so," Top sneered, taking a deliberate, heavy step closer. The proximity was a blatant violation of space, pressing Fourth dangerously close to the cold cinderblock wall. "I told you I was taking you to that private party at my condo in Thong Lo this weekend. You haven't replied to my Line messages. I've sent six. I don't like being ignored, Omega."
"That wasn't an invitation, P'Top, it was a demand. And being left on read was my answer," Fourth snapped, his temper briefly overriding his caution. He tried to step sideways, to slip past the heavy arm blocking his path, but Top shifted seamlessly, boxing him in between the wall and a row of overflowing trash cans. The smell of discarded spicy papaya salad and rotting mango mixed violently with Top's sour pine, creating a miasma that made Fourth’s stomach violently turn.
"You're playing hard to get. It's cute, but it's getting really old, really fast." Top leaned down, invading Fourth's personal airspace so completely that Fourth could feel the heat radiating off the larger boy. Top inhaled loudly, wetly, near the sensitive scent gland on Fourth’s neck. The blatant, non-consensual invasion sent a spike of genuine, icy panic straight down Fourth’s spine. His own scent—usually a mild, clean citrus and soft vanilla—flared involuntarily with the bitter, sharp, acidic tang of profound distress.
"Back off," Fourth warned, his voice shaking slightly despite his best efforts to keep it firm. He hated the tremor in his tone. He hated the sudden, claustrophobic realization that the cafeteria was too loud, too chaotic, for anyone to notice what was happening in this dark corner. Even if they did, the unwritten, cowardly rules of St. Jude's dictated that no one—not even the Betas or other Alphas—stepped between a high-ranking posturing Alpha and his chosen target.
Top grinned, a cruel, satisfied slant of his lips, mistaking the biological fear for submission. His large hand reached out, the heavy fingers gripping Fourth’s hip with a bruising, possessive force. "Just say yes. Stop fighting it. You’re giving yourself a headache. It’s easier for everyone when you Omegas just accept how things work."
Desperation clawed at Fourth’s throat, thick, choking, and metallic. He needed an out. He needed a deterrent immediately, before Top decided to drag him out the side doors. He threw his gaze wildly across the crowded room, scanning the sea of oblivious, chattering faces. He looked for an Ajarn on duty, a friend, a fire alarm to pull—anything to break the trap.
His eyes locked onto a solitary figure sitting two tables away.
Gemini.
Even in the chaotic, overstuffed, hyper-social cafeteria, Gemini sat in a bubble of complete, untouchable isolation. He was the undisputed apex of St. Jude’s hierarchy, the sole heir to a wildly wealthy Bangkok real estate empire, but that wasn't what kept people away. It was his terrifying presence. He was tall, intimidatingly quiet, and possessed a cold, aristocratic sharpness that kept everyone, even the most arrogant M.6 Alphas like Top, at a highly respectful distance. He was currently reading a battered English paperback book, completely unbothered by the noise, sipping an iced Americano with methodical, unhurried precision. His silver watch caught the fluorescent light. His scent was legendary but rarely felt—a cool, distant petrichor and dark woods that only drifted through the halls like a ghost, completely unbothered by the emotional turbulence of the students around him.
Fourth didn’t think. If his analytical brain had paused for even a microsecond to analyze the absolute, suicidal insanity of his plan, his feet would have remained glued to the floor.
Operating purely on a massive surge of adrenaline and a primal, desperate need to preserve his own autonomy, Fourth shoved his hard plastic tray directly upward, catching Top just under the ribs. The iced pink milk tipped, splashing a bright, sugary streak onto the senior's crisp white uniform shirt. As the larger boy grunted, his eyes widening in shock, and stumbled back in surprise, his bruising grip slipped from Fourth's hip.
Fourth didn't wait. He ducked under Top's heavy arm and crossed the five yards between the trash cans and the center tables in a dead, frantic sprint. His pulse was roaring in his ears like a jet engine.
He crashed directly into Gemini’s table, his hip hitting the edge hard enough to rattle the Alpha's iced Americano.
Gemini slowly looked up from his book, his dark, calculating, impossibly deep eyes narrowing slightly at the sudden, violent intrusion into his quiet space.
Top recovered almost instantly. His face flushed a dark, mottled red with rage and the public embarrassment of being physically rebuffed by an Omega. He stalked toward them, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles popped, his sour pine scent turning completely rancid and suffocating with anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Fourth? Get back here right now!"
Fourth swallowed hard. His chest was heaving, his lungs burning as he gasped for the cold, air-conditioned air. He looked down at Gemini's impassive, flawlessly sculpted face, then back at Top's furious one.
I am going to die, Fourth thought hysterically, his mind racing. Gemini is going to snap my neck for touching him, or Top is going to drag me out of here by my hair. But I am not going with him.
Fourth reached down, his trembling hands grabbing the lapels of Gemini’s immaculate navy school blazer, and hauled the Alpha up to his feet. Gemini was significantly taller, a solid, immovable wall of muscle beneath the tailored fabric, so Fourth had to tilt his head back to look at him. He expected resistance, but Gemini allowed himself to be pulled upright, his expression unreadable. Fourth didn't let go. He pulled Gemini incredibly close, plastering his side tightly against the Alpha's rigid chest, gripping the fabric of the blazer for dear life, and turned to glare defiantly at Top.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, P'Top," Fourth yelled, his voice carrying over the din of the surrounding tables, sharp, clear, and desperate.
The chatter nearby abruptly died out. The silence spread outward like a ripple in a pond until half the cafeteria was turning in their seats, staring at them in absolute shock. "Because I'm already taken. Gemini is my Alpha. We're a mated pair."
The silence that blanketed the room was absolute, heavy, and suffocating. Someone in the back dropped a metal spoon, and it clattered against a ceramic noodle bowl with the finality of a gunshot.
Fourth squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, waiting for the inevitable destruction. He waited for Gemini to shove him away in disgust. He waited for the cold, humiliating, public rejection that would leave him utterly defenseless and socially ruined. He waited for Gemini to tell Top he could have the crazy, lying Omega.
Instead, a heavy, radiating warmth settled deliberately over Fourth's shoulders.
Fourth snapped his eyes open. Gemini’s arm was wrapped firmly around Fourth’s waist. A large, warm, impossibly steady hand was splayed flat against his hip—exactly where Top had grabbed him moments before, but with an entirely different, grounding intent. The grip was possessive, undeniable, and shockingly secure. It didn't feel like a trap; it felt like a titanium shield.
Then, the scent hit.
It wasn't the aggressive, choking smog of dominance that Top used. Gemini’s scent rolled over the cafeteria like a sudden, freezing monsoon thunderstorm breaking over a suffocating April day. Dark, ancient woods, crushed mint, and the sharp, metallic, electric ozone smell of a lightning strike. It was staggering in its purity and overwhelming power. It wasn't just a warning; it was a physical wall, a definitive territorial line drawn in the very oxygen of the room that dared anyone to cross it.
Gemini looked at Top. His expression didn't change from its usual mask of aloof, aristocratic indifference, but his dark eyes were dead flat, entirely devoid of mercy, staring at the senior like he was an insect on the bottom of his shoe.
"Is there a problem here?" Gemini's voice was low, smooth, and dangerously calm. It didn't need to be loud to carry absolute, crushing authority.
Top froze in his tracks, his forward momentum halting instantly. All the bravado, the arrogance, and the color drained from his face in a single heartbeat. Facing down an unbonded, terrified junior Omega was one thing. Challenging Gemini—who was currently radiating a territorial aura so thick and protective it was making the Betas at the next table cough and avert their eyes in submission—was social and physical suicide. The wealthy heirs of St. Jude's did not cross the heir to the Titicharoenrak empire.
"N-no," Top stammered, taking a rapid, stumbling step backward, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. His own scent curled entirely inward, souring into something deeply frightened and submissive. "No problem. I didn't know. He never said... My bad. It's my bad, Gemini."
Without another word, without even attempting a wai, Top turned and practically sprinted toward the cafeteria exit, aggressively pushing through the stunned crowd of students to escape the oppressive weight of Gemini's aura.
Fourth let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a year. The massive spike of adrenaline vanished in a flash, leaving him completely hollowed out and trembling. His knees went weak, buckling slightly under his weight, and he swayed.
Gemini’s arm tightened around his waist instantly, effortlessly taking Fourth's weight and keeping him upright against his side.
"Fascinating," Gemini murmured, the deep, rich vibration of the word rumbling pleasantly against Fourth’s shoulder.
Fourth looked up, his wide, panicked eyes meeting Gemini's. The coldness in the Alpha's gaze was entirely gone, replaced by a sharp, gleaming amusement that caught Fourth so off guard it made his breath hitch.
"Walk," Fourth whispered frantically, grabbing Gemini’s wrist with shaking fingers, his nails digging into the Alpha's skin. "Please. Just walk with me to the hallway. I can't stay in here with everyone staring."
To his profound credit, Gemini didn't argue. He allowed Fourth to drag him out of the stunned, silent cafeteria, down the long, echoing corridor lined with metal lockers, and into an empty, sunlit chemistry lab at the far end of the science wing. Fourth slammed the heavy wooden door shut, flipped the deadbolt lock, and leaned his back against it, pressing the heels of his hands forcefully into his eyes.
His heart was still beating a frantic tattoo against his ribs. The silence of the lab, broken only by the hum of the AC unit, was deafening after the chaos of the cafeteria.
"I am so sorry," Fourth gasped, trying to pull oxygen into his lungs, his chest heaving under his uniform shirt. "I'm so, so sorry. I panicked. He cornered me by the trash cans, and I couldn't breathe, and he was going to force me to go to that party in his condo where I know what happens, and you were just there. I know I crossed a massive line. I know I had absolutely no right to touch you or use your name. I'll fix it. I'll go back out there right now and tell everyone I was lying. I'll say I made it up because I was desperate and having a panic attack."
Gemini walked slowly, with his predatory, unhurried grace, over to the black slate of the main lab table. He leaned back against it, crossing his long legs at the ankles, and slipped his hands casually into the pockets of his slacks. He watched Fourth panic with an expression of mild, detached interest, like a brilliant scientist observing a particularly energetic, unpredictable chemical reaction.
"If you go out there and tell them you lied," Gemini pointed out calmly, his voice a soothing, rich contrast to Fourth's frantic, high-pitched rambling, "Top will be waiting by your locker tomorrow morning with half the football squad. He's an idiot, but he's a persistent idiot with a severely bruised ego. He'll make your life a living hell for embarrassing him publicly."
Fourth dropped his hands, glaring at the Alpha across the room, feeling his defensive anger flare up to mask his fear. "I know that! I'm not stupid! But I can't just expect you to—to pretend to be my mate! That's insane! You don't even know my last name, let alone want to be dragged into my pathetic drama!"
"It's Nattawat," Gemini said evenly, not missing a single beat. "You sit two rows ahead of me and one seat to the left in M.5 Advanced Calculus. You chew on your pencil eraser until it's ruined when you're frustrated by derivatives. You argue with Ajarn Nawat about the grading curve at least twice a week. You always order iced pink milk, and you're currently trying to design a house in that sketchbook you carry everywhere."
Fourth blinked, genuinely taken aback, his mouth falling slightly open. His anger faltered, replaced by profound confusion. "You... you noticed all that?"
"I notice most things." Gemini tilted his head, studying Fourth’s flushed cheeks, his messy hair, and his wide, anxious, expressive eyes. The amusement in Gemini's expression deepened into something genuinely intrigued, his dark eyes tracking the rapid pulse still visibly beating at Fourth's throat. "I also noticed that right before you used me as a convenient human shield, you looked about three seconds away from throwing a punch that would have absolutely gotten you expelled, and likely resulted in Top breaking your jaw."
"I was going to aim for his throat, actually," Fourth muttered defensively, crossing his arms tightly over his chest to hide his trembling.
Gemini huffed a soft laugh. It was a rich, startling, beautiful sound that instantly warmed the sterile air of the lab. "I believe you. Which is exactly why I played along. I find Top pathetic, and his methods barbaric. And frankly..." Gemini’s eyes dragged slowly down Fourth's frame, taking in his defensive, fiercely proud posture, and back up to his eyes. "...I find you highly entertaining, Fourth Nattawat."
Fourth bristled, his Omegan instincts rebelling against the perceived condescension. "I'm not a joke for your amusement, Gemini."
"I never said you were," Gemini replied smoothly, pushing off the slate table and taking a slow, measured step toward Fourth.
Fourth forced his feet to stay planted, refusing to shrink back against the door. Up close, without the threat of Top's violence clouding the air, Gemini's scent was actually incredible. It wasn't overwhelming, suffocating, or demanding submission. It was deeply grounding. It smelled like the earth after a heavy monsoon downpour, clean, vast, and refreshingly cool.
"I am saying," Gemini continued, stopping just a foot away, leaving exactly enough space so Fourth wouldn't feel trapped, "that I have no objections to continuing this... arrangement."
"You want to fake-mate." Fourth stated flatly, staring at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Why? What could you possibly get out of this? You're Gemini Titicharoenrak. You don't need protection from anyone. You own the school."
"I don't need protection. I need peace and quiet," Gemini corrected him, a hint of genuine exhaustion flickering in his eyes for the first time. "As you are well aware, my family's status makes me a walking target. My mother has been trying to set up 'accidental' meetings with the children of her board members for two years. Half the unbonded Omegas and Betas in this school spend their days contriving ridiculous ways to get my attention, drop their heavy textbooks in front of me, or 'accidentally' scent me in the crowded hallways. It is exhausting. I just want to finish my M.5 year without dealing with courting rituals."
Gemini leaned slightly closer, his dark eyes locking intensely onto Fourth's. "But if everyone thinks I'm bonded to a fiercely protective, terrifyingly angry Omega who is willing to cause a screaming scene in the middle of the cafeteria... they'll leave me alone. They will respect the claim. My mother will back off, assuming it's teenage rebellion. You get Top permanently off your back. I get to read my books and attend my classes in peace. It's a mutually beneficial transaction."
Fourth chewed on his bottom lip, his mind racing through the variables. It was insane. It was a terrible, disastrous idea. The school's rumor mill was vicious, and pretending to be bonded to the most elite Alpha on campus was putting a massive, glowing neon target on his own back.
But as he thought about Top's heavy hand on his hip, the sour, sickening scent of coercion, the terrifying lack of control over his own body... he knew he didn't really have a choice. He needed the titanium shield Gemini was casually offering.
"Fine," Fourth breathed, finally dropping his arms, yielding to the logic. "I'll do it. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right. I'm not giving Top, or anyone else, a single reason to doubt it. If we look fake, they'll tear us apart. You have to commit."
Gemini extended a large, elegant hand, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I look forward to the performance, Fourth."
If there was one thing Fourth was not going to do, it was half-ass his own survival.
By the end of the week, the entire St. Jude's student body was vibrating with the gossip. It was the only thing anyone talked about from the library to the football field. To make the lie utterly bulletproof, Fourth leaned into the role with a terrifying, calculated dedication. If people thought he was Gemini's mate, he was going to act like the most aggressively possessive, fiercely devoted partner in the history of the academy.
It started small, testing the waters and establishing the physical boundaries. On Wednesday morning, Fourth waited for Gemini by his locker in the M.5 corridor. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, his palms slightly slick with sweat in the humid morning air. When Gemini closed the metal locker door, Fourth took a deep, steadying breath, stepped directly into his personal space, and boldly slipped his hand into Gemini's.
It was like touching a live, sparking wire. A jolt of pure, electric shock traveled up Fourth's arm at the skin-to-skin contact, making his breath catch. He waited for Gemini to flinch, to pull away, to quietly tell him he was doing too much for a simple ruse.
But Gemini hadn't missed a beat. He didn't even look surprised. He simply looked down at their joined hands, smoothly laced his long, warm fingers expertly through Fourth’s, adjusted the strap of his expensive leather backpack with his free hand, and let Fourth lead him down the crowded hallway. As they walked, Gemini's thumb brushed a slow, grounding, mesmerizing rhythm against the back of Fourth's hand, entirely ignoring the wide eyes and frantic whispering of the students parting like the Red Sea before them.
Once he realized Gemini wasn't going to pull away or reject him, Fourth escalated his tactics.
They needed to be seen outside of the school walls to make the relationship undeniable. That Saturday, Fourth dragged Gemini to Siam Paragon, the luxury mall in the heart of Bangkok, under the guise of "studying." It was a strategic move; half their classmates spent their weekends there.
They sat at a high-end cafe. Fourth had fully expected Gemini to treat the outing like a chore, but instead, the Alpha had arrived looking devastatingly handsome in a casual linen shirt. When they went to order, Gemini hadn't even asked what Fourth wanted. He simply ordered an iced Americano for himself and a premium iced pink milk with extra pearls for Fourth, paying for both before Fourth could even reach for his wallet.
When they walked out of the mall later, the sky opened up in a sudden, torrential downpour. Gemini smoothly opened a large black umbrella and pulled Fourth close to his side, his arm wrapping securely around Fourth's waist to shield him from the rain. Fourth looked up at Gemini's sharp profile against the gray sky, a strange, warm fluttering starting in his chest. He realized then that Gemini wasn't just playing a part; he was actually a deeply considerate person. He was a gentleman.
Back at school, Fourth made sure to leave his scent heavily on Gemini to biologically deter anyone else. During lunch, instead of sitting across from him at their newly claimed, highly visible table, Fourth would slide onto the bench right beside him, pressing his thigh flush against Gemini’s leg. He would lean over, pressing his nose briefly against the crook of Gemini’s neck under the guise of whispering a joke or a secret.
It was a classic, undeniable Omegan claiming behavior. It left Fourth’s clean, citrus-vanilla scent smeared heavily over the collar of Gemini’s white uniform shirt, broadcasting to every Alpha and Omega in a ten-foot radius that Gemini was spoken for.
Whenever he did it, Fourth could feel the deep, steady, powerful thrum of Gemini’s pulse against his lips. It sent a strange, hot, intoxicating shiver down Fourth’s spine, making his breath hitch—a physical reaction he aggressively ignored.
It's just biological, he told himself firmly late at night, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom while the AC hummed, desperately messaging his friend Ford to complain about how annoying Gemini was, completely ignoring the fact that he was wearing one of Gemini's spare hoodies because it smelled like rain. He's a powerful Alpha, I'm an Omega. It's just baseline instincts responding to his physical proximity. It's a transaction. It's not real.
But the easiest part of the ruse, to Fourth's growing horror, was the jealousy.
Fourth found, to his slight alarm, that he didn't have to fake snapping at people. Biologically, Omegas who had chosen a mate were fiercely, almost violently territorial. Fourth naturally hated when people stared at them. When a group of giggling M.4 Betas lingered too long by Gemini’s desk before morning assembly, Fourth would drop his heavy textbooks loudly onto his desk, fix the group with a venomous glare, and slide his chair so close to Gemini’s that their shoulders physically overlapped.
"Can I help you?" Fourth would snap, his voice laced with a low, thrumming, deeply territorial warning. The Betas would instantly scatter, apologizing profusely with hurried, fearful wais.
Gemini never stopped him. He never told Fourth to calm down. In fact, Fourth began to realize, with a creeping sense of panic, that Gemini leaned into the touches. He wasn't just enduring them; he was actively participating.
When Fourth rested a hand on Gemini’s thigh under the desk during Calculus, Gemini’s hand would immediately cover his, fingers intertwining securely, his thumb stroking slow, lazy circles over Fourth’s knuckles for the entire fifty-minute period. Even Ajarn Nawat seemed to notice, stopping his usual reprimands of Fourth's chatter, perhaps intimidated by the silent, brooding Alpha sitting beside him.
When Fourth complained about being exhausted and leaned his heavy head against Gemini's shoulder in the library, Gemini would wrap a heavy arm around him, pulling him closer. He would bury his face briefly in Fourth’s hair, inhaling deeply with a soft, contented sigh that made Fourth's toes curl in his sneakers.
It was suffocatingly intimate. The distinct lines between the transaction and reality were blurring so fast Fourth had severe emotional whiplash.
Fourth’s anxiety entirely shifted. He no longer worried about Top—the senior had taken one look at Gemini's arm draped over Fourth's shoulders and started walking the other way whenever they crossed paths.
Instead, Fourth’s anxiety shifted to a terrifying, all-consuming new thought: I am drowning in this Alpha’s scent, and I don't know how to swim. He started losing track of where the acting ended. He found himself actively looking for Gemini in crowded hallways, his heart leaping into his throat when he spotted the tall Alpha. He craved the cool, grounding scent of rain and woods when he felt stressed about an upcoming exam, finding pathetic excuses to press his face into Gemini's shoulder. He caught himself tracing the blue veins on the back of Gemini’s hand during lectures, completely zoning out of the lesson, entirely mesmerized by the warmth of the Alpha's skin.
It all came to a devastating, explosive head exactly one month into the arrangement.
It was a dark, oppressive Tuesday afternoon. The Bangkok sky had broken open, and a torrential, violent monsoon rain was lashing against the tall glass windows of the school, making the library feel isolated, like a bunker separated from the rest of the city. Gemini was seated at a heavy oak table in a quiet, dimly lit corner, reviewing flashcards for a brutal biology exam. Fourth was sitting sideways in the chair next to him, his legs draped casually, comfortably over Gemini’s lap. It was a position that had felt scandalous and terrifying three weeks ago; now, it just felt natural, right, and safe. Gemini’s left hand rested comfortably on Fourth’s ankle, holding him steady while he flipped a card with his right.
Fourth was mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, feeling a deep, profound sense of contentment, when he heard the squeak of wet sneakers on the hardwood floor.
He looked up. A senior Omega named Pete was standing by their table, holding two cups of iced coffee. Pete was notoriously beautiful—flawless porcelain skin, soft features, and a sweet, heavily cloying scent of ripe peaches that immediately set Fourth’s teeth on edge. Pete was known for collecting elite Alphas like trophies, and he had been glaring daggers at Fourth for weeks, entirely convinced that Fourth was just a phase.
"Hey, Gemini," Pete purred, his voice dripping with artificial honey, completely and deliberately ignoring Fourth’s presence.
He leaned over the table, his unbuttoned collar dipping low to expose his collarbones, and placed one of the iced coffees next to Gemini. He then placed a manicured hand directly over Gemini’s biology notes. His fingers intentionally brushed against Gemini’s wrist.
"I brought you coffee. I was wondering if you could help me with the bio study guide. I'm just so lost on the cellular respiration chapter, and everyone says you're the smartest in the M.5 block. Besides, you look like you need a break from... distractions." Pete cast a fleeting, dismissive glance at Fourth's legs draped over Gemini.
As he spoke, Pete pushed his scent out. It wasn't an accident. It was a blatant, heavy, biological invitation, a concentrated, overwhelming wave of sweet peaches meant to turn an Alpha's head and initiate a courtship.
Something inside Fourth violently, irreparably snapped.
It wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't a calculated move to keep up the ruse for the school gossip mill, or for Top, who wasn't even in the library.
It was a visceral, overwhelming wave of pure, unfiltered, primal fury. It was the purest manifestation of an Omega's territorial instinct.
Fourth’s chest seized, his lungs refusing to expand. A tight, hot knot of absolute, burning possessiveness coiled in his stomach, burning so intensely he felt physically sick. His vision tunneled, the edges of the library blurring out until only Pete's perfectly manicured hand resting on Gemini's wrist remained in sharp, glaring focus.
How dare he. The thought was feral, echoing in his skull, drowning out all logic and reason. How dare he touch him. How dare he scent him. He is mine.
Before Gemini could even open his mouth to politely decline the coffee, Fourth moved.
He swung his legs violently off Gemini's lap, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor, the sound echoing harshly in the quiet room. He stepped directly between Pete and Gemini, invading the senior’s space with a rigid spine, squared shoulders, and bared teeth, completely blocking Pete's access to the Alpha.
"He's busy," Fourth snarled. His voice dropped a full octave into something dangerously close to a territorial rumble, a deep, vibrating sound he didn't even know his vocal cords could make.
Pete blinked, taking a startled step back, nearly dropping his own coffee, but quickly recovered, feigning wide-eyed innocence. "I was just asking a question, Nong'Fourth. You don't have to be so crazy and insecure about it. We're just talking. Gemini can speak for himself, can't he?" Pete tried to lean sideways to look around Fourth's shoulder.
Fourth slammed both of his hands down flat on the oak table, effectively blocking Pete's view entirely. His own scent flared wildly—no longer the mild, anxious citrus of a month ago. It was sharp, acidic, and entirely aggressive, a violent, biting warning cutting right through the cloying, sickening smell of peaches.
"I said he's busy, P'Pete," Fourth repeated, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage, making the polite honorific sound like a filthy curse word. "Take your cheap coffee and find someone else to tutor you. Get your hand off his notes, and back off. Or I'll show you exactly how 'crazy' I can get when someone tries to touch my mate."
Pete looked at Fourth’s white-knuckled grip on the table, the manic, furious, unyielding light burning in his dark eyes, and the heavy, acidic scent filling the air. He finally calculated that it wasn't worth the bloodshed or the public scene. He scoffed loudly, rolled his eyes to save what little face he had left, snatched up the extra coffee, and walked away, his peach scent rapidly fading into the distance.
Fourth stood there, staring at the empty space where Pete had been, his chest heaving violently. His breathing was ragged, pulling in massive, desperate gulps of air. His hands were shaking so hard they visibly rattled against the wood of the table. The primal rage was slowly draining away, leaving him freezing cold and absolutely horrified.
He wasn't acting.
The realization crashed down on him like a collapsing building, burying him in the heavy rubble of his own denial. The tightness in his chest wasn't a performance piece. The absolute, blinding rage at seeing another Omega try to court Gemini wasn't a theatrical display for the school's benefit.
He was jealous. He was actually, genuinely, terrifyingly jealous.
He hated it when anyone else looked at Gemini. He hated sharing his time. He hated the idea of this ruse ever ending, because it would mean he’d have to let go of the Alpha’s hand, give up his seat beside him at lunch, and go back to being a stranger passing in the halls. He had fallen headfirst into his own trap. He had spent a month pretending Gemini belonged to him, forcing himself into the Alpha's space, and his foolish heart had actually, truly believed the lie.
He was in love with him.
"Fourth."
Gemini’s voice was incredibly soft, breaking the heavy silence of their corner, just barely audible over the relentless sound of the rain lashing the windows outside.
Fourth squeezed his eyes shut. A mortified, burning flush crawled up from his neck, over his cheeks, all the way to his hairline. He couldn't turn around. He had just acted like an unhinged, genuinely bonded, feral mate in front of the one person who knew it was all a fake, transactional arrangement. He had ruined it. He had ruined the safe, comfortable space they had built.
"I'm sorry," Fourth whispered, his voice cracking painfully in the quiet room. He kept his back to Gemini, staring blankly down at the wood grain of the table, desperately willing the floorboards to open up and swallow him whole. "I took it too far. I know Top wasn't here. I know I didn't need to do that for the rumor mill. I just... I got caught up in the act. I lost my temper."
He heard the scrape of Gemini’s chair being pushed back. He felt the subtle shift in the air pressure as the large Alpha stood up.
Then, two large, incredibly warm hands settled gently but firmly on Fourth's tense, rigid shoulders.
Fourth stopped breathing entirely.
Gemini slowly, gently turned Fourth around. Fourth kept his gaze glued firmly to the silver pin of Gemini’s school tie, terrified of what he would see if he looked into the Alpha’s eyes. He braced himself for pity. He braced himself for disgust. He expected Gemini to tell him the deal was off, that Fourth had become too emotionally unstable to continue the charade, and that it was over.
"Look at me," Gemini murmured, the command soft but carrying an unyielding weight.
Fourth stubbornly shook his head, his lower lip trembling as he fought back tears of humiliation.
One warm hand slid off his shoulder, moving up to gently cup Fourth's jaw. Gemini’s thumb brushed lightly, almost reverently, over his cheekbone, tilting Fourth’s head up until their eyes finally, inevitably met.
There was no amusement in Gemini’s dark eyes anymore. There was no cold detachment, and certainly no pity. There was only a profound, burning intensity that stole the remaining air right out of Fourth’s lungs.
Gemini’s scent—the dark woods, the rain—was shifting drastically. It wasn't the defensive, freezing wall he used against Top. It was wrapping around Fourth, heavy, thick, warm, and overwhelmingly protective. It was a courting scent. It was drowning out the rest of the world, making Fourth's knees go weak for an entirely different reason.
"Were you acting?" Gemini asked, his voice a low, rough murmur that sent a shockwave straight down Fourth's spine. His thumb stroked Fourth’s cheek again, wiping away a stray tear that Fourth hadn't even realized had fallen. The caress was so impossibly tender it made Fourth’s heart physically ache.
Fourth swallowed hard, fighting the massive lump in his throat. He could lie. He was excellent at lying; he'd spent the last thirty days doing it flawlessly to the entire school. He could blame it on adrenaline, on his temper, on the stress of midterms. But standing here, enveloped in Gemini's absolute warmth, feeling the steady, racing thrum of the Alpha's pulse against his jaw... he couldn't do it anymore. He was too tired of pretending. The lie was too heavy to carry.
"No," Fourth breathed, the confession tearing out of him like a physical piece of his soul. Fresh tears pricked the corners of his eyes. "No, I wasn't acting. I... I hated him touching you. I hate it when anyone touches you."
Gemini’s eyes darkened to near black. A slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face, transforming him from an untouchable, aristocratic statue into something dangerously beautiful and incredibly human.
"Good," Gemini whispered.
Before Fourth could even begin to process the word, Gemini stepped forward, closing the final inch of distance between them. He wrapped both of his strong arms entirely around Fourth’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest so there wasn't a millimeter of space between them. He buried his face deeply in the crook of Fourth’s neck, pressing his nose right over Fourth's scent gland, inhaling deeply.
Fourth gasped out loud at the sudden, overwhelming, entirely real contact, his hands automatically flying up to grip the broad shoulders of Gemini’s blazer to keep himself upright.
"Do you really think," Gemini murmured directly against his sensitive skin, his warm breath sending cascades of shivers down Fourth’s spine, "that I would let anyone sit on my lap, hold my hand in the hallways, and aggressively scent me every single day for a month just to deter some idiotic football player or my mother's matchmaking?"
Fourth’s heart did a violent backflip in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up with reality. "I... I thought you wanted peace and quiet. You said it was a transaction."
"I did want peace," Gemini said softly, pressing a soft, deliberate, lingering kiss just below Fourth's ear. Fourth melted against him, his legs turning to absolute jelly. "Until a beautiful, furious Omega crashed into my table and claimed me in front of the whole school to save himself. I haven't wanted peace since that second, Fourth. I've only wanted you. I've been watching you in Calculus for six months, trying to figure out how to approach you without scaring you off. You've been mine since that day in the cafeteria. I was just waiting patiently for you to stop fighting it and realize it."
Fourth let out a shaky, wet, disbelieving breath. All the tension, all the fear, all the desperate acting of the past month drained out of him, replaced by a soaring, terrifying joy. He slid his arms up, wrapping them tightly around Gemini’s neck, burying his fingers in the Alpha’s thick, dark hair. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of rain and woods.
It was no longer an act. It was no longer a titanium shield to hide behind. It was home.
"You're a terrifyingly patient, manipulative Alpha," Fourth mumbled into Gemini's shoulder, a watery laugh escaping him as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears fall freely now.
"And you," Gemini replied, pulling back just enough to look at Fourth’s flushed, tear-streaked, radiantly happy face, "are a fiercely protective, incredibly stubborn Omega. Which is exactly how I like it. Now, sit back down. We have an audience, and you have to maintain your terrifying reputation."
Fourth blinked, glancing over Gemini’s shoulder. Several students at the nearby tables had stopped pretending to study and were blatantly staring at them, whispering furiously behind their hands, their eyes wide at the highly intimate display.
Fourth looked back at Gemini, taking in the soft, adoring look in the Alpha's eyes. A genuine, radiant smile broke across Fourth's face. He grabbed Gemini by the lapels—just like he had on that first desperate day in the cafeteria—and pulled the Alpha down to meet his height for a proper, breathless, bruising kiss.
Let them stare. Let them whisper. He wasn't acting anymore.