Chūya hated proving himself, but he would never stop. If he had to scream in every cocky Alpha's face who thought he'd be easy pickings, then so be it. He'd take them all on.

He never took scent blockers; he wanted everyone to know he was an Alpha. It didn't help that he'd presented so late that everyone around him thought he was a Beta at best, a quiet Omega at worst.

He could throw the idea of finding a partner out the window. He wasn't 'protective' enough for Omegas, nor submissive enough for Alphas. And Betas? His scent overpowered theirs, so it grew uncomfortable over time. Besides, nobody wanted to be with the Alpha everyone thought was faking.

Okay. Whatever. Fuck them. They were missing out. Chūya was SUPER protective, not that they'd ever find out. If someone were his, actually HIS, he'd protect them all the time! They would be his number one.

...

Being a teenage Alpha all alone was hard.

There was rage, always burning, never dying out. It kept him on edge, always needing to defend himself. But it burned anyone who was stupid enough to give him a chance.

Chūya rested his head on the concrete ramp of the old skatepark, staring at the sky. It was getting darker but he wasn't planning on leaving. Nobody but vandals visited, if the crude graffiti was any indicator.

His thoughts were running wild, foot shaking while he mulled everything over. It's not like he had anyone to talk to, anyone to ease him. Am I going to be alone forever?

... Chūya scoffed at himself. That's cringe. But the feeling was real. I need a hobby. Maybe martial arts, or drums. He really needed to hit something right now.