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The classroom always felt too loud for Julien Dela Cruz.
Even when the teacher spoke, when pens scratched against paper, or when the air conditioner hummed softly, the noise pressed against him like an invisible hand. He learned to manage it, to curl himself into the seat by the windowâthe farthest corner where light filtered in and no one cared enough to disturb him.
That was Julien's sanctuary. A little square of sunlight, a desk that smelled faintly of paper and graphite, and the sketchbook that shielded him from the rest of the world.
As an omega, Julien had always felt the need to hide. Not because he was ashamed of what he wasâhe couldn't change his biologyâbut because the world refused to see past it. To them, omegas were delicate, fragile, meant to be protected or possessed. The stereotypes clung to him like burrs he could never peel away.
So he learned silence. He learned to be small.
He drew instead of speaking. He walked with his head lowered, not meeting the stares that followed him down the hall. He masked his scent with blockers so no one would know what he was unless he slipped. And he never, ever allowed himself to stand too close to an alpha.
It was easier that way.
But as Julien dragged the pencil across the page, shading the curve of a tree branch, he felt the usual tug of distraction. The gym was nearby, and through the thin classroom windows he could hear faint echoesâshoes squeaking against polished wood, the sound of a ball striking the floor, and above all else, laughter.
That laugh.
He didn't need to look to know who it belonged to.
Damien Santiago.
The name itself carried weight. Captain of the basketball team, son of a respected alpha businessman, the kind of person everyone seemed drawn to like moths to flame. Where Julien avoided the spotlight, Damien thrived in it. Loud, confident, magneticâhe was the exact opposite of everything Julien was.
Julien sighed, pressing harder against the paper, smudging the shading more than intended. He hated how easily the alpha's presence invaded his space, even without stepping into the room.
He reminded himself it didn't matter. Damien and his crowd of admirers lived in a world far removed from his. There was no reason, no possibility, that their lives would ever intertwine.
"Alright, class," the teacher's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "For the literature project, you'll be working in pairs. I'll announce them now."
A low wave of chatter rippled across the room. Julien stiffened. Pairs meant interaction, which meant talking. He swallowed, already bracing himself for the awkwardness of being stuck with someone who didn't want him.
The teacher began calling out names, each pair met with groans or sighs. Julien kept his eyes fixed on the page, willing the world to forget him.
Thenâ
"Julien Dela Cruz and Damien Santiago."
The pencil slipped from Julien's fingers.
His head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. Around him, whispers rose like smoke.
"Seriously? Those two?"
"That's⊠random."
"Poor Julien."
Julien's chest tightened. He turned his gaze slowly, as if delay would change the outcome. But there, at the far end of the room, Damien was already looking at him.
Not just looking. Smirking.
The alpha leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the seat casually, dark eyes locked on Julien as if this were the most entertaining news he'd heard all week. The smirk widened into a grin when Julien's gaze finally met his.
Julien felt heat crawl up his neck. He immediately looked away, shoving the sketchbook into his bag.
The teacher continued announcing names, but Julien barely heard them. His thoughts were a tangled mess: the project, the attention, Damien. How was he supposed to work with someone like that? Someone who radiated noise and confidence, who drew eyes wherever he went?
When the bell rang, Julien bolted from his seat. If he was quick enough, maybe he could escape before Damienâ
"Hey, partner."
The voice, deep and annoyingly cheerful, stopped him dead in his tracks.
Julien turned slowly, already regretting it. Damien stood there, tall and broad-shouldered, the very picture of Alpha charm. Up close, his scent was faint but distinctâa crisp, sharp edge of pine and smoke, threaded with something warmer underneath. Julien's body reacted before his mind could; his own scent stirred, desperate to respond, only for the blockers to smother it down.
Julien's fingers clenched around his bag strap. "Don't call me that."
Damien chuckled. "What, partner? That's what we are now, right?"
"It's temporary." Julien shifted, hoping to sidestep him. "We just need to finish the project. Nothing else."
"Mm." Damien tilted his head, studying him with unnerving interest. "You don't talk much, do you?"
Julien shot him a flat look. "Why would I?"
The alpha grinned, sharp and unbothered. "That's fine. I talk enough for both of us."
Julien's chest tightened again, though not in the same way as before. He hated that Damien's smile felt like sunlightâwarm, bright, and impossible to ignore.
As Damien walked beside him out of the classroom, Julien realized with dread that his sanctuary had been invaded. The quiet life he fought so hard to keep was about to be disrupted.
And deep down, beneath the fear and annoyance, a part of him whispered what he refused to admit aloud:
Maybe he didn't mind as much as he thought.