“I don’t think I understand this assignment anymore…”

“Ilex,” River said gently. “Struggling to find a reference doesn’t mean you need to give up entirely.”

“What if I really want to?”

“No,” Rowan grunted. “We’re suffering together here. No one gets to quit.”

Their study session had followed a cyclical pattern for most of the day: they made an ounce of progress, someone got stuck on something, River reassured them or Rowan gave them a kick up the arse, rinse and repeat. Whatever there was to be said about their methods, words were getting put down on paper and that’s all they needed.

By lunchtime, their brains were fried.

“Text me your orders and transfer me your money,” Sky demanded, standing up with an exaggerated stretch.

They had agreed on a local sandwich place - take-out so they could keep their hold on their table in the student study zone: the ground floor of one of the blocky buildings spread out about campus. It was in hot demand at this point in the term.

Sky had the biggest arms, therefore he could carry the most sandwiches. River, Rowan and Ilex kept their butts on the benches either side of their table strewn with laptops and printouts.

“So, anything new with your scenter?” Rowan attempted to sound casual, but there was a nervous look in his eyes. He was keeping quiet watch of the area around them. Awaiting Elliott’s magic appearing act.

“Not really.” We ground against each other on a dance floor till I came on him.

“Oh, yeah?” Liar.

“Yeah, same as before.” River shrugged. “Waiting out the fade.”

“Alpha stink lasts ages,” Ilex commented. “Or, so I’ve heard.”

Rowan nodded. “What’re you on now? Ten days at least?”

“Nine.”

“Not that you’re counting.” He gave him a strange look, as though he weren’t sure what to make of him, or maybe his situation.

”It’s been an interesting experience,” River offered, diplomatic as he could be. “And I’ve learned a lot.” He arranged his papers into perfect rectangles in front of him, dropping his eyes from their interest.

“But?”

“But I’m ready to be rid of it now.” Not ready to be rid of the alpha that supplied it, perhaps. But ready to be treated like a normal omega again. If there was any such thing.

“Ouch,” Ilex laughed awkwardly. “I’d be real hurt if someone said they were sick of my scent.”

River rolled his eyes. “Willow loves you.”

The boys shared a mischievous look and leant in over the table top. Ilex whispered, “Maybe Elliott loves you.”

“He doesn’t know me,” he whispered back.

“It’s hard not to know you, River, you make a friend out of passing birds.”

“I just-” He cleared his throat, overcome with a need to explain himself, but also desperate not to let the words out. Not to admit that he wasn’t as confident as he appeared. “I feel like if I don’t make the effort with others, they won’t make it with me.”

“Why would you think that?”

He gave them a dull look. “You know why.”

Ilex blasted him with his best cheeky grin.“I would have still been your friend, even if you hadn’t forced me.” The teasing fell flat, and Rowan winced.

“You wouldn’t have approached me first, and you know it.”

“I- The thing is-”

“No one wants to be the dominant hassling an omega,” Rowan blurted. “It feels like the safe thing to do is… you know-”

“Handle these things with care,” Ilex supplied.

“Yeah. Don’t come in too intense or eager.”

“We’re intimidating.”

“Yeah.”

“Not intentionally.”

“No,” Rowan echoed.

“And maybe… the safest solution of all… sometimes…”

“Is to avoid the problem completely,” River finished for them.

Rowan’s eyes rounded, sad. “You’re not a problem, River,” he said, soft and sore. River shrugged instead of replying.

“I just want omegas to feel at ease around me,” said Ilex, “but I don’t know how to approach without overthinking everything.” He slumped forwards, chin in hands. “What if I’m too close or I’m too loud?”

“Should I shake their hand or is that unwanted touch and sweat scent?” Rowan added. “Is it rude to not shake their hand?”

River sighed, tucking his curls behind his ears. “You know you could just ask me these questions, right?”

“You’re different.”

“Yeah, River, you take no prisoners. You’re not scared of us or even an alpha.”

“I’m still an omega.”

“Then… what is the answer?”

River took a deep breath. “Approach, but leave an arm’s length distance - your arm’s length, so they know you’re not going to touch them if they don’t know you. Talk at the volume you would with a submissive beta. Don’t touch them in any way that will cause skin-on-skin if you’re not friends. It’s not rude to not shake their hands, it shows you’re considerate. Anything else?”

Rowan was still scrawling his answers down on a scrap piece of paper but Ilex had more to ask. “What if there’s two of us and one of them, won’t that seem threatening if we approach out of nowhere?”

“Then split up, have one come over and one hang back. Explain what you’re doing. Don’t be creepy.”

Ilex nodded. “Got it.” Rowan did, he had filled the paper with scribbles.

Sky returned with the sandwiches, and the boys discussed what they had learned between enormous mouthfuls. River listened to them, nibbling, and hoping it would mean more dominant friends for lonely omegas.

×

In preparation for the party River pulled free tiny cream shorts from his barely-closable wardrobe. It sat firmly in the category of clothes he wouldn’t wear to anything but a house party - events that were at least partially invite-only and he knew the invitees. Everyone was a friend or a friend-of-a-friend. Despite his best efforts to assimilate, he was still an omega. And an omega in booty shorts could guarantee unwanted interest from dominants. It wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t safe to pretend things were anything else. The shorts were embroidered with tiny flowers spread sparsely around the material, and it fit like a glove, the hem resting just beneath the crease where River’s thighs met his butt. He tucked a thin white tee into it, added a gold-coloured necklace with a daisy charm, plus some matching bracelets, and slipped his feet into strappy heels that almost brought him to the height of a submissive beta.

He shared an uber with his housemates, who he had invited, and they got to Hawk’s building fashionably late. It had once been some kind of workshop or small factory, converted into a bunch of open-plan flats, when they got inside, they found all the doors welcoming in partyers.

“River!” Hawk called over pounding music and jumping bodies. River didn’t have to squeeze to reach him, his scent brushed back anyone in his way. The dominants gave him wary, sometimes accusatory, looks. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” River shouted.

“Let’s get you a drink!” Hawk nodded towards a kitchen through one of the doors. “We all put our collections together for a sick bar.”

It was a pretty impressive display of bottles, all opened and some a little crusty-looking. He accepted a shot and Hawk poured himself one to match. On the count of three they downed them and performed a synchronised gag.

“Okay, let’s switch to something sweet,” Hawk gurgled. He snatched a bottle of Sourz from the line-up and mixed it with lemonade in two plastic cups. “Cheers!”

They bumped cups and sipped. Much easier on the throat.

“River!”

They turned in unison to watch JJ wriggle his way through dancing bodies.

“Hey JJ!”

“What’re you drinking?”

Hawk offered his cup with a cocky grin. “Have a taste.”

JJ looked him up and down pointedly, smirked, and accepted the drink. When he swallowed the cupful in one go, Hawk bit his lip on a chuckle.

“How do you two know each other?” River asked.

Hawk retrieved the Sourz bottle and emptied it into what once was his cup. “We don’t, but please feel free to introduce us.”

River laughed. “JJ, this is Hawk, and this is his party.” Well, his and all of his neighbours within the building’s.

“Hi Hawk.” The eyes JJ gave Hawk over the rim of the cup as he took a neat nip of the Sourz should have come with a warning. Something above PG13, at least. “Nice party. I came with Cypress.”

“Ah, the loudest complainer the rowing club has ever had the misfortune of listening to.”

JJ’s brows bounced. “You row, too?”

River answered for him. “He’s co-captain of the club.”

“Ooh, a man with authority.”

Hawk laughed loudly and River slipped away, uninterested in watching his friends devour each other with their eyes, and soon their mouths.

His new drink went down far too easy, but Sierra appeared at his side with a bottle of vodka to tip in a couple of shots worth and he shook his head in faux disapproval. They danced together, without any skin contact, of course, until Marigold shimmied in close with the clear intention of getting the dominant beta’s attention.

River yelled over the music, “Sierra, this is Mari, take care of her while I go to the bathroom.”

Sierra’s grin was all white teeth and pointed canines and Mari fluttered under the intensity of it. River left them to wrap themselves around each other.

“Have a mini!” was yelled into his ear on his way to the corridor.

“Huh?” He turned, and a small bottle of gin was pressed into his palm.

Beck, a submissive beta that he had met through the Art Society, was swigging from a tiny plastic fireball bottle. He waved it at River as though to cheers.

“Later,” he promised. “I need to slow down!”

Beck laughed and bumbled away, leaving him holding the mini gin. When another friend attempted to hand him a shot, he palmed it off on them and kept walking.

He stumbled into a bathroom, possibly Hawk’s, and locked the door behind him. He didn’t actually need to go, he just needed a moment to breathe, the alcohol was already meddling with him to a point that he struggled to keep his head still long enough to assess his appearance in the grubby mirror.

He took a few breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and patted a bit of cold water on his forehead and cheeks. He was fine, he just needed to take it easy. Dance off the effects of his drinks so far…

Sliding out of the bathroom, he was halted by an enormous dominant hanging around outside. He jerked back, but not before she could comment, just loud enough to be heard over the rabble, “That’s some powerful alpha armour you got.”

River shrugged, stumbling a little, and hurried back to the group of people shuffling and grinding to the music. Familiar faces welcomed him, and another cup appeared in his hand. He sipped at it slowly, carefully, and bopped to the beat.

His thoughts were swimming in the goop that his brain had become after an hour… or maybe more? He’d politely turned away a lot of gifted drinks, and accepted a couple - he needed to drink something. Dancing was drying him out. Beck was back, he spun him and swayed them together. River needed the help, his body was barely co-operating with staying upright. He stumbled and felt a flash of panic in his stomach. Sick? No. But the realisation that he’d had far too much.

He tried to excuse himself, babbling something against the side of Beck’s sweaty head. He didn’t understand him, but when River pulled away he let him go with a glassy-eyed grin.

Back in the bathroom he hid. It stank now. Others also hadn’t handled their drink well. He put the lid down on the toilet seat and tried to pull himself together. His hands and feet were shaking. He wanted to go home, he wanted to curl up somewhere he knew he was safe. He was scared.

River pulled his phone from his pocket. He stared at the screen until someone rattled the door handle.

“Shit.” He hit dial.