Callum didn’t know why he even bothered. Dinner with his father always left him treading water for hours afterwards, the fear of drowning threatening to pull him under. He stomped into his apartment, the air around him too hot and too cold at the same time, as he tugged off his tie and kicked away his loafers. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, and tried to take steadying breaths. Raphael had never been the fatherly type—even before Callum’s mother left. He didn’t know why he always expected that to change, for Raphael to be the father Callum wished for in his weaker moments as a child. 

But it was all business, as usual—all reminders of Callum’s inadequacies. Raphael never even acknowledged Callum for what he was—only reminded him of what he was not. And it always, without fail, got his blood boiling. 

He needed to cool off. 

Callum started by shedding his clothes and taking a long, cool shower. He couldn’t stand the thought of steam suffocating his lungs, so he let the chilled water melt over his skin and seep into his bones. Once he had washed away the dinner, he stepped out and ran a towel over his hair. 

Callum’s bathroom was all slick tile and marbled porcelain. A long, tall mirror hung over the sink, reflecting his frown back at him. It was larger than any bathroom needed to be, but even with its empty nature, it didn’t bother Callum. Maybe because it was just the same as the large, open cavern that existed in Callum’s chest. 

For a long while, Callum just stared at himself. He stared at his blonde hair, kissed by strawberries, just like his mother’s. His father’s striking blue eyes. The way his nose curved up in a graceful slope. He pinched the muscles in his arm, which had grown less defined in the days he’d spent skipping the gym. He would have to make up for it later and stop blowing Beck off. He told himself he was just busy, but that wasn’t an adequate excuse. 

By the time he was dragging himself over to his bed, half-naked with his pajamas hanging loosely around his hips, he was exhausted. He’d turned down the AC a few times, but his skin was still slick with sweat. He knew what it was. His suppressants kept him mostly in check, but he used them so often they couldn’t keep all his symptoms at bay. Especially when he was worked up, as he often was after meeting with his father. 

Callum flopped rather ungracefully onto the bed, lying on top of the covers and staring absently at his phone. It was growing late, but at the very least, it was the weekend. He had one day to wallow in the pit of his heat and feel sorry for himself before he needed to pick himself back up and prepare for the week ahead. 

In exactly one month, I’m naming you my official successor. You know what that means, don’t you? A sorry creature like you should be grateful. Don’t make me regret it. 

Callum sighed, rolling onto his back. Loneliness consumed him, swallowing him up down to his toes. And right at that moment, his cellphone dinged. 

It was Adrian. 

Of all the times in the world, it was Adrian. 

A: We didn’t get to text much this week, and it was kind of sad

A: So I’m here to sound like a total loser 

A: Who is definitely not desperate for your company at all

Callum let out a huff of laughter through his nose. He rolled onto his side, his arms hanging over the edge of the bed, when his phone slipped right from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. He cursed, scrambling as best as he could to grab it from where it had slipped beneath his bed. 

A crackling, surprised voice rose from the speakers. “Uh… Bently?” 

Callum froze, his hand halfway between his body and the phone. He felt that smooth, honey voice down to his bones, and there was an immediate answering response from his body. A shiver ran down his spine. 

“Bently? Are you there? Did you, uh… mean to call me?” 

Panic shot through Callum’s body and caught in his throat. He snatched the phone from the floor and quickly enabled the voice modulator. What came out of his mouth next was absolute word vomit. “I’m so sorry, my phone slipped, and I must have clicked the call button by mistake. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to explain, it’s fine.” Adrian’s voice was unwound, like he was pleasantly tired after a long, successful day. He held the notes of his voice a little longer, his huffing breath crackling against the microphone. 

Callum’s toes curled. “I feel like I do.” 

“Well, don’t. It’s… a happy accident. Although I must admit, the voice changer sounds a little strange.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You value your privacy, I get it.” Some shuffling scratched against Callum’s ears from Adrian’s end of the phone. 

He knew he needed to hang up. He knew it was a bad idea, that he couldn’t get any closer to Adrian than this. But his heart leapt into his throat, and the conversation started to feel like an opportunity. The cavern in his chest was a distant memory, filling with warmth. 

Maybe it was just his heat doing it to him. 

Or maybe it was some deeper, more wistful part of himself. 

“I’m a private person,” Callum agreed, curling up on the floor with his phone in his hand. His jaw ached from is smile. A happy accident. “Maybe I should have just hung up.” 

Adrian laughed, bubbly and bright. “What, I’m not good company?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Callum hummed. “But maybe I’m occupied.” 

“Are you?” 

It was almost adorable how disappointed Adrian sounded. Callum would recognize the pout in his voice anywhere. But it didn’t sound like the distasteful frown that usually decorated Adrian’s tone when Callum was involved. It was more like a stubborn toddler, wanting to get their way. Callum breathed out the last of his fight and resigned himself to the conversation at hand. “No. No, I’m not.” 

“If you really don’t want to talk, you can hang up.”

“I would have already, if I was going to.” 

There was a long, gentle pause. Callum imagined Adrian lounging on the bed in his apartment. He found himself fantasizing about what that place looked like—were there shelves mounted on the wall, filled with Austen? Did he have one of those fancy espresso machines to make coffee at home the same way he did at work? Or was he a Keurig guy, preferring not to bring work home with him? How large was his bed? Was his apartment one bedroom or two? 

“Another happy surprise,” Adrian almost whispered, and Callum found himself melting into the floor. 

“Is that what it is?” Callum was surprised by the budding sound of his own laugh. 

“Well, it is after eleven. I know it’s a weekend, but sometimes I turn in early. Plus, I was… thinking about you.” 

“I know,” Callum laughed, “I did read your texts.” 

Adrian groaned. “Okay, not my proudest work.” 

Callum’s laugh swelled, and he smothered it with his hand. He wasn’t typically someone who laughed, but Adrian just pulled it out of him. “You should be very proud. It was quite poetic. Definitely not desperate, was it?” 

“You’re the one who called me,” Adrian whined. 

“Accidentally, while responding to all of… that,” Callum reminded. 

“Oh, so you were going to respond? Couldn’t have been all that embarrassing, then.” 

Callum rolled his eyes. “You’re just lucky I’m in a mood.” 

“What kind of mood?” 

“The kind typically brought on by a lonely heat.” 

The words were out of Callum’s mouth before he thought about them. He snapped his mouth shut, iron closing over his jaws, and he let the silence ring. His heart ached in his chest, and he couldn’t believe what he had admitted. Just like that. What was he thinking? What was Adrian going to think, knowing Callum called him in a confused haze from his heat?

“You’re… in heat?” 

“I’ve taken my suppressants,” Callum rushed to explain. “So not—not really. It’s just—it never really goes away fully, you know. The suppressants only do so much. I didn’t mean—”

“You sound scared,” Adrian observed. “It’s just heat.” 

Callum scoffed. “Just heat!” He exclaimed, aghast. “Spoken like someone who has never experienced it.” 

Adrian hummed. “I suppose this is true. An Alpha’s rut isn’t the same, per se. But you don’t have to be embarrassed, that's my point. You can’t help it. You’re an Omega, after all.” 

Callum’s heart stopped. The breezy, unbothered way Adrian said that crept underneath his skin. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it wasn’t Callum’s biggest insecurity, his biggest failure. His grip tightened around his phone. “You’re not—freaked out?”

“Why would I be?” Adrian asked, genuinely curious. “You make it sound like I should be disgusted.” 

“Aren’t you?"