Ren didn't sleep.
Not that night, not the next. Not in the strange cot, not with the lights dimmed automatically every six hours, not with the ventilation humming softly like it was pretending to be wind.
He couldn't even close his eyes for long. Every time he did, his mind played a version of the same scene:
The lock clicking behind him.
Luka standing in the center of the room like he belonged there.
The collar. The silence. The word mine.
He sat hunched in the corner most of the time, knees drawn to his chest, head against the cool glass of the wall. The air had a processed, sterile quality - like a hospital lobby that hadn't been touched by a real person in years. Everything smelled faintly like citrus, but under that, there was something else.
Him.
No matter how often he changed the scent patches, his body was burning through them faster than before. His system had stopped listening. Or maybe it had just decided it was done pretending.
Luka barely spoke.
He didn't press, didn't crowd him, didn't even touch the damn collar again. Just stayed at a distance. Always awake. Always watching. Always too still.
Ren couldn't decide if it was worse than being locked in with a stranger. At least a stranger wouldn't have known the shape of his voice from a keyboard. At least a stranger wouldn't have been WOLFHEART.
He felt a cruel sort of grief for the in-game version of Luka - the one who said fewer words but made them count. Who built him armor and stayed up late and laughed at his stupid dungeon jokes. The one who whispered things in raid chat he'd never say out loud. That Luka wasn't in this room.
Or maybe he was, and Ren just couldn't see him anymore.
The next time Ren spoke, it wasn't planned. It just tore out of him.
"You should've let them assign me to someone else."
He didn't even look up when he said it. His forehead was pressed to his arm, voice flat, throat dry.
Luka didn't respond right away.
"You know what they do to unpaired omegas in the first heat, right?" Luka said finally, tone quiet. Measured. "When it hits like that, unprovoked? They cage them. Like animals."
Ren squeezed his eyes shut. "So you thought this would be better?"
"I thought this would be safer."
"That's not your call."
"No," Luka agreed. "But you weren't making one."
Ren laughed bitterly, pushing off the wall to sit upright. "And now I'm your responsibility? Is that what you want - a helpless omega you can pat yourself on the back for not touching?"
Luka turned to him. Not sharply. Not with anger. Just... facing him, finally.
"I don't want you helpless."
Ren barked a laugh. "Well, you're in the wrong system then."
He stood, pacing now. Slow, restless, like a caged animal. Which - he supposed - was the whole point.
"They locked the door," he said, as if Luka didn't already know. "There's no handle on the inside. No override."
"There's a release button," Luka said. "But it only works if both partners press it."
Ren stopped pacing. Turned.
"You're kidding."
Luka shook his head once. "It's part of the Pairing House protocol. If either person is uncomfortable, both have to agree to cancel the bonding phase."
Ren stared at him.
"And if one of us doesn't agree?"
"Then the system assumes compatibility."
Ren took two slow steps forward. "So you're saying I can't leave unless you say I can."
Luka didn't blink. "That's how it works."
"You do realize how insane that sounds, right?"
"It's the law."
"I don't care."
Luka tilted his head. "You think I wrote this system?"
Ren clenched his fists. "You're using it."
"No. I'm abiding by it."
"That's the same thing!"
"No," Luka said again - sharper this time, the word like a line drawn in the air. "If I were using it, you'd already be marked."
The room went still.
Ren's heart thudded against his ribs.
Luka didn't move. His voice softened again.
"But I'm not. And I won't. Not unless you want it."
Ren's mouth was dry. "You think I'm ever going to want that?"
"No."
Then, softer: "Not now."
He didn't know how long it had been - hours, probably. The lights hadn't changed. The room never really shifted, just hummed along at a manufactured pace that didn't care whether they ate or spoke or sat in silence for an entire day.
Ren finally lay down. Not because he was tired - his body wouldn't stop twitching - but because standing made his legs ache and his vision fuzzy. The cot was barely wide enough to hold his frame, but he curled into it anyway, one arm slung over his eyes.
He heard Luka shift across the room, maybe near the glass, maybe toward the corner where he always sat when Ren needed space.
He didn't say anything.
That was maybe the worst part.
Luka had the patience of someone who knew he could wait you out.
Ren woke in a sweat.
Not from a nightmare. Not from fear.
From heat.
Real. Physical. Low-burning pressure that curled in his spine and sank into his hips like it had always been there, just waiting.
"No," he breathed, sitting up too fast.
His hands were clammy. His shirt was soaked through at the back. His throat felt raw.
Luka was already standing.
Ren backed up to the far wall instinctively, every muscle tight.
"Don't," he said.
"I'm not coming closer."
"You're reacting," Ren snapped. "I can smell it."
Luka's expression didn't change, but he took a slow step back anyway, showing both hands. "I'm still not coming closer."
Ren could barely think. His chest felt tight and open at once, like his whole body wanted out of his own skin.
"Something's wrong," he said. "It's not just the suppressant - it's accelerating."
"You're going into your first full heat," Luka said. "You haven't had one. Your body doesn't know how to regulate it."
"I can't-" Ren gritted his teeth. "I can't-think."
"I know."
"No, you don't. You've never had your body hijacked by something you never agreed to."
"I know what it looks like."
"I'm not asking what it looks like!"
Luka closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his voice had shifted.
"You need the collar."
Ren stared at him.
"No."
"You need something."
Ren took a ragged breath. "Then I'll deal with it."
Luka didn't speak.
He walked to the table, picked up the collar, and laid it on the floor halfway between them.
Then he stepped back.
Ren stared at it like it might bite him.
"I'm not touching that," he said.
"Then don't."
Luka sat down near the far wall, lowering himself slowly like a guard dog settling for a long night.
"I'll be here," he said. "I won't move unless you ask me to."
Ren didn't answer.
His body burned.
And the worst part?
He didn't know what he was more afraid of:
That Luka would come closer.
Or that he wouldn't.