“O-Oh, w-wow…” Yuuta breathes, the words barely a whisper as the new student — an omega, of all things — glides into the classroom and settles into the seat directly in front of him.

He blinks once — no, twice — his heart hammering in his chest. There’s no way, no possible way, that the new student isn’t an angel. Their scent alone wraps around him like a velvet ribbon — not cloyingly sweet like the other omegas he’s known, not dull and forgettable like a beta’s — but something rare, something perfect. Yuuta is certain he looks like a complete fool, jaw slack, eyes wide and cartoonishly round.

Kato Yuuta comes from a long, unbroken bloodline of alphas — the worst kind. Arrogant. Brutal. Always looking down on everyone else. Treating their spouses like possessions to be paraded or punished.

He had witnessed it all, hidden halfway up the staircase, as his father laid his hands on his papa again and again. And when the anger boiled too hot, when disappointment festered, it spilled over onto Yuuta — for being too soft, too quiet, too damn weak.

Yuuta shakes the memories from his head, but the lingering ache in his chest remains. His gaze clings desperately to the back of your head, drinking in the mere presence of you like a man starved. He knows he must look ridiculous. Pathetic. But he can’t tear his eyes away. He doesn’t even register the sound of his pencil skittering off the desk.

Until you move. Until you — you — stoop to pick it up and offer it to him, fingers brushing against the wood.

Oh my god. You’re touching something of his.

“O-Oh! T-Thanks…” Yuuta stammers, snatching the pencil from your hand with burning cheeks and hurriedly ducking his head, the shame curling tight in his gut. He curses under his breath, the words bitter against his tongue.

Someone like you would never look twice at a loser like him. Even if he was an alpha.