Story Update: This short story is officially continuing! If you haven’t yet, please read the earlier parts first—some details have been updated to better align with the expanded plot. From here on, the narrative will follow Kaiseng’s POV and move in a nonlinear structure, shifting between past and present. There’s no strict posting schedule... chapters will come when they come.

All previous trigger warnings still apply.

A quick note: This series is Omegaverse, though the elements were intentionally subtle in the original short story. They’ll become more prominent as the chapters progress.

Enjoy, Elijah

Kaiseng surfaced slowly, like someone dragging him up through dark water.

His head throbbed—heavy, dull, the kind of ache that felt like a hangover even though he hadn’t had a drink in days. He tried to open his eyes, but his lids resisted, weighted and slow.

When they finally lifted, he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling: plain, gray, featureless. Not the hospital. Not home.

A sharp discomfort pulled at his left wrist. Instinctively, he tried to move it—and the resistance jolted him fully awake.

Cold metal bit into his skin.

He sat up too fast. Pain flared in his ankle, a stabbing reminder of the events prior, and he winced, teeth clenching as he dragged in a breath. His scrubs were still on, wrinkled and smeared, the faint scent of antiseptic and Rian lingering on the fabric.

Then he saw it.

His wrist was cuffed to the headboard—steel ringed tight around bone, the chain short enough to pull his arm up and back in an awkward, suspended angle. His free hand reached instinctively, fingers brushing the metal, testing it, tracing along the bars of the bed frame in search of a bolt he could twist free.

Nothing. It was solid. Too solid. He exhaled, slow and unsteady, and forced himself to take in the room. Stone walls. No windows. The air stale and cool, like a basement or bunker. A single door—metal, heavy, the kind that stayed locked from the outside. 

Small. Bare. Contained. A place someone didn’t wander into. A place someone was put. And with every passing second, the truth steadied inside him, cold and precise. Rian had found him and taken him.

The door creaked open, slow and deliberate, before Rian’s broad frame filled the doorway. He stepped inside, blocking most of the view behind him. Kai couldn’t see anything past him—only the silhouette of a man who knew exactly where they were, and exactly how impossible escape was.

“Hope you slept well, Kaiseng.” The wolfish grin came easy to him. 

Kaiseng glared, jaw tight. “What the fuck is this, Rian?” He lifted his cuffed wrist, metal rattling sharply against the bedframe.

“I feel like you’re smart enough to know the answer to that.” Rian’s voice was maddeningly casual, with a sly edge to it as he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the bed. Turning just enough to rest his head in Kai’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I missed you,” Rian murmured, settling in. “I planned to be here when you woke up, but something came up.” His hand reached beneath him, sliding a gun out from where he’d been lying on it. He set it at the foot of the bed with a soft thud.

Rian’s gaze lifted, warm and heavy. “Tell me you missed me.”

If this were a normal relationship, some people might call it sweet. Maybe needy. Maybe affectionate. But here—now—it was delusion wearing the skin of intimacy. Kai wasn’t feeding it.

Instead, his free hand lifted the hem of Rian’s shirt. Tan skin. A fresh white bandage, clean and new, covering the wound Kai had packed.

Rian’s fingers traced along Kai’s forearm, gentle but claiming, before sliding down to take the back of Kai’s hand away from his shirt. “Are you still mad at me?” he asked softly, lifting Kai’s hand to his face and pressing a kiss into his palm.

“You can’t force me to be with you,” 

Brown eyes flicked up to meet gray, amusement flickering. “Maybe.” His tongue flicked out, sliding along the length of Kaiseng’s fourth finger before he drew it deep into his mouth, sucking gently at first.

“Rian,” Kai exhaled wearily at the wet heat wrapped around his digit, the other man’s tongue pressing flat against his skin, tracing slow circles. But then came the sharp pinch at the base—Rian’s teeth clamped down. Kaiseng jerked his hand back, but Rian held firm, biting deeper while his gaze bored upward, face a mask of calm intensity. “Rian!” Kaiseng shouted. The pain seared, hot and insistent, like fire licking his flesh.

At last, Rian released the finger with a wet pop, pinning it straight while his other hand curled Kaiseng’s remaining digits into a fist. A vivid ring of teeth marks encircled the skin, broken and blooming red where blood welled up in tiny beads.

“Looks like a wedding ring,” Rian observed flatly, eyes fixed on the raw imprint of his claim.

It wasn’t the first time Rian Vue marked him with his teeth.

The memory rose unbidden, sharp as the sting itself, dragging Kai back to the very beginning—to a middle school hallway.

Back to the heat of a fight.

Back to the first time Rian Vue sank his teeth into him.

Kai had been nearly thirteen then, and the new transfer kid was shorter than him, wiry, and clearly unaware of the correct way to make himself known. He couldn’t remember what started it—someone bumped, someone muttered something—but he remembered the shove. The sharp jolt to his chest. The way his sneakers squeaked across the polished tile before his ass hit the ground.

Embarrassment flared hot.

Stubbornness shoved him back to his feet.

He lunged before he thought, weight crashing into the new kid, fists messy and instinctual. And somewhere in the scramble—sharp, unexpected pain tore across his arm.

Rian’s teeth were in his skin.

“You bit me!” Kai yanked back, clutching his forearm, red and furious. He reeled his fist back to swing again, but a hand curled into his shirt and hauled him off the ground.

“He fucken bit me!”

“Enough!” a teacher snapped, dragging them both apart. “Principal’s office. Nurses’ office. Both of you, now.”

Kai glared over the teacher’s arm.

Rian sat on the floor, one knee drawn up, lip split, nose already bleeding.

And he was smiling.

Not apologetic.

Not intimidated.

Amused—eyes fixed on the angry bite mark on Kai’s arm like he’d left something there on purpose.

They didn’t cross paths again after that. Not for years.

At least, not until high school.

Kaiseng barely recognized him at first—taller now, broader through the shoulders, grown into his face in a way that made people look twice. Handsome. Confident. Clearly someone who’d figured out how to get attention the right way.

It wasn’t until a classmate nudged him and said, “Isn’t that the kid who bit you in middle school?” that it clicked.

That smile was the same.

Those eyes were the same.

He didn’t approach Rian in high school. Not at first. He watched from a distance—the way most people did—except Kai pretended he wasn’t doing it. 

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe he wanted to know if Rian was still that same delinquent who’d sunk his teeth into his arm years ago. But whatever the reason, Kai couldn’t help the way his attention drifted—too easily, too often—as they passed in the halls.

In class, he’d catch himself looking across the room instead of at the board, cheek propped against his palm, pen tapping absently against the desk while his gaze lingered on Rian.

He seemed… normal. Ordinary, even.

Below average, if Kaiseng judged by the standards he’d been raised with—though the thought came from privilege he knew he possessed. Unlike Rian, he’d been handed a map for his life: opportunity, stability, a future carved out in clean lines. All he had to do was follow it.

Rian, on the other hand—Kai had heard the rumors.

He lived with an aunt and uncle somewhere on the edge of town, flown in only after bouncing from one foster home to another following his parents’ deaths. Nothing stable. Nothing certain, until now.

His grades weren’t good enough for sports—not because he lacked ability, but because he lacked the foundation. Kai could see the athleticism in the way Rian moved, the coiled efficiency of his steps, the sharpness that suggested he’d been relying on instinct more than structure his whole life. He would’ve thrived on a team. Any team.

Maybe channeling all that aggression into something sanctioned would’ve even stopped him from biting people.

Kai had quipped that to himself once—privately, silently—and immediately felt guilty for it.

Despite everything stacked against him, Rian moved through rooms like he owned them.

He had no pedigree, no polished edges, nothing that should have given him that kind of presence. And yet people were drawn to him anyway. Teachers noticed him. Students orbited him. He carried some silent magnetism—the kind that didn’t have to try, didn’t have to impress, didn’t have to explain itself. Kai couldn’t name it. Couldn’t understand it. But he couldn’t look away from it either.

“Kaiseng.” A voice broke through his thoughts, a gentle nudge to his shoulder pulling him upright just in time to see the rest of the class rising from their seats.

He blinked, straightened, and closed his notebook as students began filing out the door—while across the room, Rian’s laughter carried lightly over the noise, snagging Kai’s attention all over again.

Leo walked beside Kaiseng as they slipped into the hallway, swallowed instantly by the afternoon bustle. “Are you still coming after classes today?”

Kai paused mid-step.

“We’re supposed to study for the exams tomorrow? Remember?”

Kai dragged a hand through his hair, sighing. “Right. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Hana’s bringing her new boyfriend,” Leo went on as they reached their lockers. “She wants his grades up so they can apply to the same college.”

Kai spun his lock, listening only half-heartedly—until the next words dropped like a stone.

“Rian Vue.”

His fingers stilled on the lock. Just long enough for Leo to notice—then Kai forced himself to resume, unlatching it with practiced ease.

“Oh?” he said lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Sounds good. The more the merrier.”

He shut his locker with a soft metal click and walked away without waiting for Leo to catch up.

The rest of the day moved in a blur—lectures, notebooks, the dull rhythm of routine. By the time the last bell rang, he was already heading to the library, eager to claim one of the larger study tables before the after-school rush. The familiar hush of the building greeted him—the low murmur of whispered conversations, the soft hum of printers, the occasional shuffle of feet across carpet.

Within minutes, his things took over every inch of the surface—notes spread out in messy arcs, highlighters rolling dangerously close to the edge, textbook flipped open to a chapter he’d already read twice.

He rubbed at his temple, half-listening to the muted quiet around him. This was familiar. Predictable. Safe in a way nothing outside this room ever felt.

Footsteps approached.

Two sets—and a third trailing behind.

Leo plopped down beside him, dropping his backpack with a dramatic thud. “Man, you look like you’ve been here an hour already.”

“I have,” Kai muttered, flipping a page.

Hana arrived next, sliding into the seat across Leo with a bright smile. “Don’t scare him off before we even start. He needs to help my boyfriend with bio.”

Kaiseng forced a polite smile. “Sure. That’s fine.”

But then he heard it.

A soft scrape of a chair.

A shift of fabric.

A quiet, almost amused exhale.

Rian sat down across the table, next to Hana and directly in front of him. The open space between them felt suddenly, painfully small. Kai tightened his grip on his pen, knuckles whitening—then loosened when Rian extended a hand across the table.

“Rian Vue,” he said with a small, easy smile.

Kai shook his hand. Then Rian offered the same greeting to Leo, just as casually.

There was no hostility. No smirk. No jab. No flicker of recognition that suggested he remembered the middle-school fight. Or him at all.

Instead, Rian leaned in.

Not enough for anyone else to notice—just enough that Kai could feel it, the subtle gravity of Rian’s attention whenever their eyes met. And it was happening more often than it should.

“So… this part here,” Rian murmured, tapping Kai’s diagram with the end of his pencil. “Why does it do that?”

His voice was low. Curious.

Kai blinked. “Uh—because it’s part of the metabolic cycle.”

Rian hummed, slow and thoughtful, his gaze flicking from Kai to the page and back again. “And… this part?”

Kai explained another concept.

Then another.

Rian kept asking. Politely. Attentively. Not like someone clueless—more like someone who wanted to keep Kai talking. Every time Kai answered, Rian watched him fully, like he was memorizing the cadence of his voice. 

Hana leaned into Rian’s side, scribbling notes as she tried to follow along. Even she paused once, eyebrows raising as if she noticed how unusually invested he seemed. “You really want to pass this exam, huh?” she teased.

“Well, it’s good you joined us. Kaiseng is a nerd at this stuff,” Leo joked, grinning.

Rian tilted his head, eyes still on Kai. “Maybe you should tutor me sometime.”

Kai froze. He couldn’t tell if Rian was flirting with him—a stranger. In front of his girlfriend, also one of Kai’s closest friends. He told himself he was imagining it. That Rian was just being friendly. That he wasn’t actually paying attention to him more than necessary.

But something in Kai’s stomach tightened. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t dislike—not exactly. It wasn’t fear either—not in any way he could justify. But there was something off about Rian Vue. Something Kaiseng couldn’t name or explain. And now, somehow, he’d slipped effortlessly into Kai’s friend group.

Kaiseng kept his attention on the textbook, or tried to.

The words blurred at the edges.

His pulse was annoyingly aware of every time Rian laughed under his breath, every shift of his chair, every time their knees nearly brushed under the table when one of them moved.

It was fine.

It was fine.

He just needed to get through the session.

Just a couple hours, that’s all.

A pen rolled off the table—Kai’s, of course, because his hands were too restless to keep anything still for more than a moment. It clattered softly against the carpet and disappeared beneath the chairs.

He leaned down at the same time Rian did.

Their hands brushed.

Just the lightest contact—skin against skin, warm and brief—but Kai recoiled like he’d reached into a live socket. His fingers jolted back so fast the pen slipped out of his grasp again, tapping uselessly against the carpet.

“Relax,” Rian whispered. “I won’t bite.” A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth.