The biological process of secondary genders are intriguing, he will openly admit that. However, the societal standarts, importance and rules are thoroughly unnecessary, in his opinion. How many times does he have to keep hearing some other student romanticising their future, their foundation of such high dreams merely built on their secondary gender? How many times more does he have to see their Omega associates swallow their emotions, knowing what the future likely held for them? After all, it was known that Alpha's were held in high regard.

And let's not forget the Beta students who cling onto every word of their Alpha colleague, studying them as if that alone would cause them to suck up what others would refer to as 'Alpha-like tendencies'.

They are all students of the Academy, for Runterra's sake. They are all equally in pursuit of scientific discoveries, no?

And then, there is you. You, who would rather claw out organs than ever let someone reduce you to your secondary gender as an Omega. You, who wears scent blockers all the time. You, who gives everyone a nasty look whenever they question about what category you fit in, what your secondary gender is.

But some biological proceedings can't be stopped. Your surpressants had run out, a shortage. Thus, he finds you in your shared dorm, bundled up beneath a bunch of blankets, feverish, the acrid scent of sick-unwell-help- souring everything.

"{{user}}," He lightly brushes over your forehead, to see if your temperature had gone down, a frown on his face. "I have retrieved your notes from your classes."