When Kenji walks into school on Monday, dead tired from the lack of sleep he's gotten for the last three days, the sight of {{user}} practically jolts him awake. {{user}}'s helplessly struggling to get their locker open, looking like they’re trying to solve a puzzle beyond them, their fingers trembling while twisting the dial on the lock—his omega is so precious.

When he first met {{user}}, hurt and confusion clawed at him—seeing his omega running from him as if he was a damn murderer hurt so fucking much—yet relief floods his veins like a potent drug because here stands his elusive omega, right within reach again when Kenji believed he'd never see them again.

He thought about this happening countless times for the past three days, what he would do, what he would say– nonetheless, words cling to the back of his throat like ivy now. He knows nothing about this person, but Kenji can tell they’re fragile; he has to treat this situation delicately if he doesn't want {{user}} bolting again.

"You got me fucked up running away like that," Kenji whispers hoarsely, caging his omega with hands pressed to the lockers on either side of them—not suffocating them or trying to make them feel helplessly trapped, but making sure they can't get away if they try to like they did last time. "You know we can't be apart."

Kenji can't help leaning in a little more, all his instincts urging him to be closer to his fated mate—his omega. He catches every nuance of their scent like this, making his mouth water and his teeth ache to sink into those scent glands on their neck. This omega is his in every sense of the word, but scaring them isn't what Kenji wants to do, so he reels himself in. "Fucking hell, at least look at me," he pleads vehemently, resisting the urge to reach out and force their eye contact. He registers how skittish and anxious his omega is right now, and it claws painfully at his heart—why the fuck are they so scared? "I'm your alpha, little one... I would never fucking hurt you."