The boy was a head and a half taller than Eron, though still on the shorter side for a male Omega. Fluffy, light brown curls spilt in every direction atop his head, and his warm eyes, nearly the same shade, sparkled with curiosity. A splash of freckles dusted his nose and cheeks, softening his otherwise alert features.
He looked surprised to see the room already occupied, but smiled politely nonetheless.
"Hey," the boy greeted, his voice light and friendly. "I'm Alaric Saxe."
Behind him stood a much taller male Omega, with the same warm freckles and a similarly sun-dusted shade of brown hair. It was Alaric's mother. He wore the same bright, unshakable smile and eagerly stepped forward to introduce himself to Eron's parents.
"Eron is my youngest," Ivy said fondly, wrapping an arm around her son's shoulders. Eron's mind had wandered, and he wasn't sure how the conversation had arrived at this point. It felt like watching something from behind a glass wall; he was present, but slightly out of sync.
"It makes my heart ache, sending him so far from home," Ivy continued, "but I'm grateful his older brother is attending the affiliate high school just across the street." She gave Ivo a little nudge forward.
Ivo let out a short, awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head as he sheepishly slid his phone into his pocket. Clearly not thrilled about being drafted into introductions.
"Hello, I'm the aforementioned brother," he said with mock grandeur, shaking hands politely. "Ivo Desrosiers."
"Ivo will be accompanying Eron each time he leaves campus," Oaklen added, his tone firm but kind. "And Alaric is welcome to join them. It's safer for Omegas to travel with a trusted Alpha."
"I'll be checking out the town's market after orientation," Ivo offered, now with polite sincerity. "You're welcome to come with."
"He would be happy to," Alaric's mom replied before he could answer, beaming. "He's my only child, and I was hesitant to send him so far from home, but knowing he'll have a trusted roommate and someone to look out for him makes me feel much better."
Ivo offered her a tight-lipped smile. When had he agreed to play babysitter for two Omegas? Still, he didn't protest. It wasn't like it would cost him much, and the sooner they were settled, the sooner he could escape.
"I'd love to join," Alaric said brightly. His excitement seemed genuine, the nerves beneath it barely noticeable. Behind him, his mother was already fluffing pillows and straightening the edges of a pastel pink duvet cover. The matching floral pillows made the whole side of the room glow softly, and he pulled out a few action figures, characters from his favourite video games, and lined them neatly along a narrow shelf above the desk.
On the other side, Ivy arranged Eron's space with quiet precision. She carefully unpacked jars of paint, art pencils, brushes, and leaned a few crisp, clean canvases against the wall, like white flags awaiting battle. Eron noticed the curiosity in Alaric's eyes as he watched, but he said nothing, continuing to sort through his belongings in silence.
Eventually, with all the boxes empty, the small room felt suffocating under the weight of five people. Oaklen cleared his throat and extended an invitation for lunch, promising something lavish to celebrate the big day.
Eron and Alaric barely had time to react before a loud, tinny announcement blared through the dormitory speakers, calling all first-year students to the orientation assembly in the main auditorium.
Ivy sighed, clearly disappointed that they had to say goodbye so soon. She reached for Eron, but he gently stepped back. Oaklen, always the quieter one when emotional, placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder instead.
They exchanged no dramatic goodbyes.
Eron's face was still, unreadable, indifferent, almost. But as he watched them walk away, something in his chest shifted; he couldn't name the feeling.
Alaric and Eron made their way toward the assembly hall. Although the walk was quiet, the silence between them felt neither awkward nor strained. There was something calm and companionable about it, like they were already falling into an easy rhythm.
At first glance, Eron had assumed Alaric might be a little on the simple or even slightly silly side, but after just a few minutes walking beside him, he realised the boy had more emotional intelligence than he'd given him credit for. Alaric knew when to talk and, more importantly, when not to. It was rare, and oddly comforting.
"Alaric!" a tall, wiry boy called out across the bustling auditorium, waving both arms like a windmill.
Eron fully expected Alaric to sprint off without him. But instead, Alaric grabbed Eron by the wrist and dragged him toward the cluster of students with a grin.
"Hey!" he beamed, slightly breathless from excitement. "This is Acheron, he's my roommate. Isn't he just the cutest ?"
Without warning, he reached up and gave Eron's cheeks a playful tug, giggling.
Eron flushed. He opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't quite bring himself to say anything.
"Nice to meet you, cutie. I'm Nick," the lanky boy said with a snort, clearly amused by Alaric's theatrics. Still, he extended a hand toward Eron with an easy smile.
Then he turned and reached behind him, pulling forward a tall blonde girl who radiated an effortlessly commanding presence. Her steely gaze and confident posture left no doubt that she is an Alpha.
"This is Tori," Nick introduced. Then he pointed over his shoulder toward another nearby group. "And that over there, making all the noise, is Hadeon."
In the crowd, Eron spotted the red-haired Alpha from earlier that morning. He stood out like a flame. He was unmistakably tall and laughing as if the world were his for the taking. People surrounded him, drawn to him like moths to a fire. But his eyes weren't focused on them but rather scanned the room as if seeking something… or someone.
"The three of us have been friends since primary school," Nick explained casually.
Just then, Hadeon clapped someone on the back, offered a final word to his admirers and began strolling over. At first, his gaze skimmed past Eron; however, the closer he got, the more his attention sharpened, his eyes drawn to the small Omega standing slightly behind Alaric.
He noticed the delicate features, the slight roundness in Eron's cheeks, and the faint scent that hung in the air, although subtle, it was undeniably enticing. Without knowing it, he tried to fill his lungs full of roasted coconut. It wasn't overwhelming, just a whisper of scent that clung stubbornly to Eron's skin. It was intoxicating.
"Already forming your own little fan club, huh?" Nick teased, slapping Hadeon's shoulder with a grin.
"This is exactly why I regret being your friend," Tori added, rolling her eyes, though the warmth in her voice belied her words.
Eron hadn't realised he was smiling until Hadeon's gaze lingered on him, watching, calculating. It was a soft smile, more reactive than intentional, brought on by the playful teasing between old friends.
And just like that, Acheron found himself folded into the circle.
There had been no grand invitation. No need for one. The group simply accepted him, made space for him, and within the week, most of his free time was spent with them between classes, during meals, and long after curfew when laughter whispered through the halls.
For the first time in a long time, Eron felt something stir quietly in his chest.
Something almost like belonging.
"At some point, we found a good hangout spot behind a secluded building," Acheron murmured, his gaze unfocused. "There were no cameras, and it was hard to see unless you knew exactly where to look. It was tucked behind the old greenhouse, way at the edge of campus, furthest from the teachers' building."
He swallowed, then let out a breath tinged with something almost like nostalgia.
"Hadeon brought a pack of cigarettes near the end of that year. I don't know how or where he got them; he never said. But I still remember the taste. Bitter. Harsh. The smoke burned all the way down my throat, but it felt… exciting." He hesitated. "Doing something I knew I probably shouldn't."
Dr. Pace leaned slightly forward. "Was there any pressure to smoke?"
Acheron shook his head slowly. "Not really."
Pace nodded and made a quiet note in his journal. There was something significant in that detail: choosing rebellion, rather than being coerced into it. Still, the blank look on Acheron's face gave him pause. He discreetly glanced at the clock. The session was nearing its end. Part of him hated interrupting when a patient had reached an emotionally charged memory, but he also knew, sometimes especially then, it was best to let things settle between sessions. Emotional processing didn't always happen on the couch. Sometimes it needed silence and time.
He looked back up and noticed it immediately: Acheron had gone pale. His stare fixed somewhere past the window, eyes glassy. Still tangled in the memory, or maybe caught between two.
Not a good sign.
Cloe followed the line of sight for a beat before his gaze drifted, inevitably, to the thick collar snug around the boy's throat. The custom design was decorated beautifully and carefully, uniquely his. Still, it was unmistakably a collar. A safety mechanism, true. But also a symbol and a wound.
Almost unconsciously, Dr. Pace reached for his own neck, his fingers brushing over the phantom of the collar he once wore. His fingers found the faint ridge of his Alpha's bond mark instead, and it still felt sensitive to touch. Yet for a second, he swore he could still feel the cold metal.
He'd never told his husband just how grateful he was to no longer wear it.
Cloe let his hand drop from his neck, and with a gentle, trained voice, he spoke.
"That's all for today, Acheron."
The boy blinked, as if waking from a dream. He turned his face away, visibly trying to ground himself in the present. His fingers moved to the blanket on his lap, fidgeting with the edge.
"You did well," Cloe said, rising from his chair. "Take the rest of the day slowly, alright? Hydrate. Journal, if it helps. And remember you're safe."
Acheron gave a small nod. His voice was caught somewhere behind his clenched throat, so he simply gathered the blanket closer before quietly rising and making his way to the door.
Once it clicked shut behind him, Cloe allowed himself a long exhale. He turned to the window, watching the soft blur of Acheron's silhouette disappear beyond the clinic's entrance.
Later that night, the therapist lay stretched across a sun-warmed sofa, his head in his Alpha's lap. The living room was awash in amber light, the television playing some nature documentary neither of them had truly been watching.
"I saw Acheron again today," Cloe murmured. His fingers toyed absently with the edge of his shirt, comforted by the rhythm of his husband's hand slowly brushing through his hair.
The man above him hummed thoughtfully. "How's he doing?"
"Better… in some ways," Cloe said. "He's talking more. Remembering. But he's afraid of his own memories, like they might drag him back if he doesn't keep them sealed tight."
His Alpha, August, was older by nearly ten years, stoic but gentle. He had the kind of calm that came with time, and the kind of patience that had made Cloe fall hard for him while he attended university. Of course, it had taken three years of relentless chasing from August before Cloe had finally agreed to a proper date.
"Sounds like he's starting to dig into the root," August murmured. "Which means he's almost ready to start healing for real."
Cloe nodded, shifting slightly. "He wore his collar today."
That gave August pause. "The new one?"
"Mhm. A custom one. Beautiful, actually. But seeing it made me sick. Not because of him, but because of what it represents."
August's hand stilled briefly on his scalp. "Did he tell you what happened to the old one?"
"He didn't have to. I read it in the medical report. Hadeon had cut through it to get to his glands. He wasn't marked, thank the stars, but his body's still recovering."
August's lips thinned. "That collar was made to protect Omegas. The idea that someone would force their way past it—" He didn't finish. His jaw was tense. "And no one's been charged yet."
"No. But Eamon's is his Lawyer."
That made August lift an eyebrow. "Sauveterre?"
Cloe gave a small smile. "You sound surprised."
"I'm not. Just… curious. He usually takes high-profile, high-reward cases. Not ones like this."
"I think he might have taken it for good public reception at first, but I think it's now more personal."
August chuckled lowly. "The Omega or the Blackwells."
Cloe only responded with a smile.
August laughed. "Do you think he'll win?"
Cloe shrugged lightly. "He's one of the best lawyers out there, and Acheron… he's stronger than he knows. If anyone can pull justice out of this mess, it'll be those two."
August nodded, thoughtful. Then leaned down, brushing a kiss against Cloe's temple.
"You're doing good work," he said quietly. "Don't carry it all alone."
"I've got you," Cloe whispered, smiling.
"And you always will."