The clock on Avery's desk ticked steadily, each second reminding him that time was slipping away. Three days. Only three more days before the suppressant would lose its hold, and the rut would come crashing in like a storm he could no longer contain. He had planned his life down to the smallest detail. Deals, schedules, routines, but the thought of losing control in front of Noël gnawed at him with merciless persistence.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his sharp eyes scanning the documents spread across his laptop screen. The virtual meeting had just ended, his investor's grating voice still ringing in his ears.
"Mr. Cheng, you run a fine empire. I don't care what your business builds or who you hire. As long as I see growth every quarter, I'll put my money in. I'm not here for passion projects, I'm here for profit."
The man had repeated variations of that phrase for over an hour. Avery, who normally respected directness, found himself unusually irritated. He could almost feel Noël's quiet passion for cooking, for details, echoing in the back of his mind. Profit alone was never enough for him. He wanted control, vision, order. Yet, the investor's wallet was too valuable to dismiss.
He shut the laptop with a controlled snap. "Tch… people who only see numbers," he muttered under his breath.
The faint sound of laughter drifted in from the kitchen. Avery's sharp ears caught it instantly—Noël's soft chuckle, joined by Jay's louder, teasing tone.
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Jay had been… around. Too much. Avery noticed the way the man lingered near Noël, asking questions, pretending to be clumsy just to prolong the moments. At first Avery thought it harmless, even irritatingly foolish. But Jay wasn't a fool. Slowly, he had started to mirror Noël. Softening his voice, picking up some of his phrases, even dressing in calmer, looser colors instead of the loud patterns he usually wore.
Avery had caught him once, watching Noël with an intensity that set his instincts on edge.
Noël, of course, didn't notice. He was kind, naturally open, letting Jay tag along as though it was normal.
"Pathetic," Avery muttered under his breath, though he wasn't sure if he meant Jay's games or his own inability to keep calm. It was about time he starts thinking of ways to get Jay out of his house. The only problem is that he signed a six months contract that clearly stated that Jay was under his care. Avery just didn't expect his father to not continue pushing on his relationship with Jay as much. At least he is still useful just in case Avery needs to fake another couple scenario.
________
The next day, over breakfast, Jay sat opposite Noël, his chopsticks moving awkwardly but his grin perfectly in place. "So, Noël," he said lightly, "you always make Avery eat this healthy stuff? Doesn't he ever ask for fried food, like the rest of us mortals?"
Noël looked up from his bowl, blinking in surprise before letting out a quiet laugh. "Avery doesn't like oily food. He says it slows him down."
Jay leaned back, his eyes briefly sliding toward Avery. "Right, right. Efficient, controlled, perfect Avery. I guess that's your type, huh?"
The words hung in the air for a moment, sharp and deliberate. Avery's chopsticks froze mid-air. Noël, oblivious, tilted his head. "Type? I don't—"
"Don't worry about it," Jay cut in quickly with an exaggerated grin. "Just teasing."
But Avery caught it. The way Jay's eyes flickered, studying Noël, then darting back at him. Testing. Measuring.
He forced himself to finish his meal in silence, even though the air around him was thick with unsaid things. His rut stirred faintly, a restless hunger that made his skin too tight. If Jay pushed any further, Avery wasn't sure how long he could suppress his instincts.
That night, alone in his study, Avery pulled out a hidden notebook. His pen scratched across the page, lines of plans forming with his usual precision.
It was about how he would manage his rut this time. He had too much to do so his rut period felt like he was going to noticed time doing nothing but deal with the desires of his body. His plan also included where he would spend his rut.
He decided to fake a business trip to escape Noël during this crucial period.
His chest tightened as he stared at the words. He imagined Noël's expression when he'd tell him—perhaps surprise, maybe a quiet disappointment. Noël had been growing comfortable in the house, slowly opening up. For Avery to disappear suddenly, even for a few days, felt like abandoning the progress.
But what was the alternative? To stay and risk snapping—risk touching him, marking him, dragging him into a heat neither of them were ready for? No. Avery Cheng did not take risks. He controlled outcomes.
" just 1 or 2 weeks," he whispered to himself. "I can last 2 weeks."
But even as he said it, he knew the truth: How he could turn into a beast when he is in rut.
__________
When Avery told the household he would be leaving for a business trip that would last a week and a half, Noël didn't think much of it. Avery was always traveling, always attending meetings that Noël didn't understand, so this felt like nothing new. If anything, it gave him a small sense of relief.
For once, he wouldn't need to wake up early to prepare meals. Noël carried his laptop upstairs with a lighter step than usual. It almost felt like a holiday. Finally, he could devote more time to his studies without the pressure of juggling house chores with his studies.
Settling onto his bed, Noël logged into the school's website. Coincidentally, the new academic year's calendar had just been published. His eyes lit up. Two weeks, just two weeks before classes resumed. His heart swelled at the thought of returning to school, of reclaiming a life he thought had slipped away from him forever.
But his joy dimmed just as quickly as it had come. The exam results still hadn't been released. They had promised news within a week, but the wait felt like months. Noël refreshed the page again and again, as if the results might magically appear. They didn't.
He sighed and decided to browse the requirements for the new year instead. Most of it looked manageable until his eyes froze on one word: Internship.
This year, practical assessments outweighed theory. Every student was expected to complete an internship in order to graduate. Noël's throat tightened. His mind unwillingly dragged him back to those difficult days before Avery. Wandering the streets, walking into restaurants and offices only to be turned away again and again. The humiliation, the polite but firm rejections, the cold stares, it all came rushing back.
His hands trembled slightly over the trackpad. Could he go through that again? Did he have the confidence to try? The thought of failing, of being told he wasn't good enough, made his chest ache. He shut the laptop with more force than necessary, his heartbeat unsteady.
__________
Meanwhile, Avery's car rolled smoothly into the driveway of another estate he owned, tucked away an hour from the city. He wanted to get there before his suppressant wore off, before his control slipped. His rut loomed like a stormcloud, and this was the only way to ensure Noël would never be caught in the middle of it.
Miss Reed accompanied him, as she always did in such times. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to managing the quiet chaos of Avery's ruts. Preparing the secluded house, arranging meals, even ensuring no one could breach the tight security he insisted upon.
Of course, there had been times when things hadn't gone smoothly. Times when Avery's restraint broke, and he had sought out willing Omegas. Miss Reed had learned not to ask questions about those nights, though she knew Avery always insisted on consent—and if not, he compensated heavily afterward. But for the most part, the lockdown method worked.
As she finished settling him in, Miss Reed turned to him with her usual composure.
"Your sister called a few moments ago, asking to meet up," she reported. "What should I tell her?"
Avery stilled. His sister rarely reached out without a reason. Their relationship had never been one of casual affection, which meant this was important. Very important.
But he couldn't leave. Not now, not with his rut clawing so close to the surface. His jaw tightened. "I can't meet her. Go in my place. Find out what she wants."
Miss Reed gave a small nod, already preparing herself for what might be waiting on the other end of that meeting. Avery sank back into the chair, tension pulling at his muscles.
His rut was coming. And this time, he would have to weather it alone.