Chapter Text
It wasn’t really Kahar’s choice to want to be friends with Fakhri.
It was the stupid secondary gender in him, the one that pulsed and ached and begged him to be near, that pushed him to do it.
Something deep inside, something primal and stupid and utterly unlike him, craved the other boy’s attention like a man in the desert craved water. Kahar hated it. Hated the way it made him feel weak.
—
He was an Alpha.
A proud Alpha.
A recessive Alpha, but still an Alpha.
All three of the Abu Yamin brothers were Alphas, like they were supposed to be. It was practically a badge of honor in their family, like some kind of guarantee that their bloodline was strong. Pure. Dominant.
At least, that was what Kahar had always believed.
Except now, sitting stiffly in front of the specialist’s polished wooden desk, with his father silent and looming beside him, that belief crumbled like ash between his fingers.
Kahar’s stomach twisted nauseously.
The doctor, a pleasant-looking woman in a pale blue hijab, smiled sympathetically at him, handing over a printed document and a small, neatly packed bag of medications.
“Congratulations,” she said, as if that was the right word. “It’s rare, tapi tidak mustahil. Your bloodwork confirms it, you’ve undergone a second presentation. You’re a dominant Omega, Kahar. One of the highest fertility types. Extremely strong.”
Kahar barely heard anything past Omega.
He felt hollow, almost as if he were outside of his own body. His father remained silent the entire time, his hand gripping his cane so tightly that Kahar could see his knuckles whitening from the corner of his eye.
The appointment ended quickly after that.
The receptionist called Kahar's name, and he stumbled to the counter, clumsily accepting the plastic bag of medications that suddenly weighed more than it should have. Omega suppressants. Freshly prescribed. His name printed neatly on the label in bold black font that mocked him.
The drive back to KUDRAT was thick with tension. The car was cold despite the hot, environment of the night. Kahar sat rigid in the backseat, his hands clammy, the plastic bag crinkling with every twitch of his fingers.
Abu Yamin remained silent the entire drive, his sharp eyes trained on the road ahead. But Kahar could feel the anger radiating off him like a tangible thing, creeping up his spine and clawing at his chest.
It wasn't until they neared the school gates that his father finally spoke, voice low and vibrating with restrained fury.
“Bakpo mung buleh jadi gini?” His voice cracked the silence like a whip.
Kahar flinched hard, his hands tightening instinctively around the bag of medication until his knuckles turned white.
“Bechik… Bechik tok tau, ayoh,” he choked out, stumbling over his words like a child. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, breath catching painfully in his throat.
"Semuo mung dok tau," Abu Yamin snapped, voice curling with disgust. "Nok jadi gapo mung ni? Dok cukup result exam mung teruk, ni pulok?"
The cane in his father’s hand creaked audibly under the force of his grip.
Kahar turned his head slowly to meet his father's glare, throat dry. "Tapi ayoh– Bechik meme–"
The slap came out of nowhere.
It was brutal, ringing loudly inside the car. Kahar's head snapped to the side with the force of it, and a sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth almost instantly. Blood.
The sting bloomed across his cheek, hot and humiliating.
"Mung diam," Abu Yamin hissed through gritted teeth, voice low and filled with warning. "Aku tokse ore tau hok mung tu jadi… omega. Diam-diam jah."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his face away in finality.
The driver slowed in front of KUDRAT’s main gates, and Kahar, dazed, pushed the door open and climbed out into the cool night air. He didn’t look back. Didn’t dare. His father’s car drove away with a screech of tires, leaving him standing there, small and stupid and alone.
The plastic bag of medicine weighed heavily at his side as he trudged toward the dormitories, head bowed, the heavy patch covering his scent gland itchy against his skin.
Suppress it, his father had said. Suppress it all.
He pushed open the door to his Form 5 dorm room and was immediately greeted by chaos.
Zahrin and Fahmi were sprawled lazily across his bed, UNO cards scattered between them. Hakeem sat cross-legged on his own bed, halfway through munching on a packet of chips, the three of them mid-game.
The second they saw him, all three lit up.
“Kahar! Balik pun kau!” Hakeem beamed, patting the empty spot beside him.
“Cane? Kau demam ke? Aku ingat kau nak mati dah. Panas gila badan kau time ayah kau datang. Kalau tak dapat MC aku tak tau lah,” Zahrin snickered, slapping down a +4 card with a grin, ignoring Fahmi’s squawk of protest as he snatched four cards from the deck.
Kahar hovered by the doorway, heart pounding.
He could lie. Pretend everything was fine. Pretend he was still the same Kahar they knew. The same Kahar who punched people for looking at him wrong. The same Kahar who sneered at anyone weaker than him.
But the truth burned at the back of his throat.
These three were his closest friends. If he couldn’t tell them, who could he tell?
He sucked in a breath, yanked the plastic bag of medications from his side, and tossed it toward Zahrin’s chest. It hit him with a soft thud.
Zahrin caught it easily, laughing at first, until he looked down and read the label.
The laughter died on his lips.
“Omega suppressants?” he said, voice strangled. His brows furrowed deeply. “Tapi kau kan Alpha. Asal doctor bagi kau benda ni?”
Fahmi leaned over his shoulder, peering at the bag. His mouth dropped open.
Hakeem froze, chip halfway to his mouth.
Kahar ran a trembling hand through his curls, tugging slightly at the roots in frustration.
"Aku Omega," he muttered under his breath, so low it was barely audible. He couldn’t look at them.
For a long moment, the room was suffocatingly silent.
Then, pure chaos.
“Kau apa?!” Hakeem practically shrieked, dropping his cards and chips in one motion, both clattering down on his bed.
Zahrin and Fahmi were frozen in place, cards forgotten in their hands.
Kahar winced.
Hakeem’s loud outburst had probably echoed down the hall.
Zahrin blinked rapidly, like he was trying to reboot his brain. “Kau… wait… betul ke? Kau? Abdul Kahar bin Abu Yamin? Omega?”
“Dominant Omega,” Kahar muttered bitterly, finally daring to lift his gaze. His cheek still throbbed from where his father had slapped him.
“Holy shit,” Fahmi whispered, wide-eyed.
Kahar stood there awkwardly, bracing for the worst, mockery, disgust, betrayal, but none came.
Instead, Zahrin slowly put the medicine down, face unreadable. He stared at Kahar for a long moment before snorting quietly.
“Well, that explains a lot,” he said simply, throwing an arm lazily around Kahar’s shoulders and pulling him into the room like nothing had happened.
“Hey, datang balik lah! UNO still on, bro. Kau still nak main tak? Aku dah nak menang ni!” Fahmi hollered dramatically, waving his hand.
Kahar’s throat tightened. His heart swelled painfully in his chest.
Maybe... maybe not everything had changed.
Maybe, despite the world falling apart around him, these idiots would still be here.
Kahar nodded stiffly, letting Zahrin shove him down onto the bed beside Hakeem, who was already complaining loudly about his dropped cards.
The plastic bag of Omega suppressants sat quietly on his study desk, forgotten for now.
Just for now.
Because for a few precious hours, Kahar could pretend he was still just Kahar.
—
Kahar was careful. Painstakingly so.
After the incident at the hospital, after seeing the look in his father’s eyes, the shame, the rage, the utter disgust, Kahar swore to himself that no one would find out. Not unless he trusted them with his life.
Even then, it still didn’t sit right with him.
How the hell did something like this even happen?
How did his secondary gender change ?
It shouldn’t have been possible. Alphas were Alphas. Omegas were Omegas. Betas were Betas. That was the whole point of secondary genders. Fixed. Certain.
And yet, here he was, swallowing daily suppressants and pretending like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t a ticking time bomb of instincts under his school uniform.
The unease gnawed at him constantly. It chewed away at the pit of his stomach until he couldn’t take it anymore.
One random day, after the last bell rang and the students were filtering out of the classrooms in noisy groups, Kahar mumbled something about a teacher needing to see him and slipped away before his friends could ask too many questions.
He found himself wandering down the eerily quiet hallways, until he ended up in the nurse’s office, standing stiffly at the doorway like a misbehaving child.
The nurse barely looked up from her paperwork when she waved him in.
“Kahar? Awak sakit apa pulak kali ni?” she asked, voice calm, used to dealing with panicked kids.
Kahar shuffled inside, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uh… saya cuma–" he hesitated. "Macamana secondary gender someone boleh berubah
?
”
That got her attention. She set her pen down and fixed him with a curious look. After a few questions (none too invasive, but enough to make him sweat under his collar), the nurse finally sighed and leaned back in her chair.
“It’s rare," she said carefully, "but it can happen. Usually after repeated, intense exposure to unfiltered pheromones. Enough to destabilize the body's hormone balance and trigger a secondary development."
Kahar stared at her, brain struggling to piece together what that even meant.
“Maksud nurse… kalau someone tu duduk around excessive pheromones, diorg punya body boleh…berubah macam tu je?”
“Exactly," the nurse nodded. "Especially if they're still in adolescence. Your body’s more malleable during that window.” She gave him a long look, as if reading the silent panic brewing inside him. “It’s no one's fault, you know. Biology can be unpredictable sometimes.”
Kahar nodded numbly, offered a strangled “terima kasih,” and stumbled out of the office, the words echoing in his head.
Intense exposure to unfiltered pheromones.
But that didn’t make sense.
Zahrin and Fahmi were Alphas, sure, but they were practically obsessed with their patches and suppressants, popping pills like it was a religion.
Hakeem was a Beta. He was neutral, safe, and steady.
So who the hell had been leaking pheromones strong enough to wreck Kahar’s whole body?
He stewed over it for days.
It ate at him during morning assemblies, gnawed at him through lunch breaks, haunted him while he stared blankly at his textbooks during prep.
And then it hit him.
Literally.
One afternoon, lost in thought, Kahar turned a corner and collided with a solid wall of muscle.
He stumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on his ass. His books scattered around him, but he barely noticed.
Because the scent that hit him, all sharp, earthy, and heavy, was overwhelming.
Rain-soaked earth. Warm sandalwood. Spicy musk.
It crashed into him like a tidal wave, dragging every nerve in his body to the surface, his Omega instincts shrieking awake inside his chest. His throat constricted and his vision blurred for a second under the weight of it.
He looked up, dizzy and humiliated.
And met Fakhri’s eyes.
The junior towered over him, glancing down with a nonchalant frown. He bent slightly, extending a hand, but Kahar clumsily waved him off and scrambled up on his own, cheeks burning.
"Kau okay?" Fakhri asked lazily.
"Okay je," Kahar muttered, dusting himself off, avoiding eye contact like his life depended on it.
Fakhri shrugged and walked off without another word, shoving his hands into his pockets, head bobbing along to whatever was playing in his earphones.
Kahar stood frozen in the hallway long after Fakhri turned the corner.
His heart was still hammering against his ribs, and his whole body was buzzing.
It was him . It had to be.
That stupid, smug, feral Alpha .
No scent patch. No suppressants. Nothing to filter the sheer dominance pouring off him.
Kahar clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
Through a bit of sneaky digging, eavesdropping on some gossip, peering into old medical records, even bribing a junior, Kahar confirmed it.
Fakhri wasn't just an Alpha.
He was a Dominant Alpha.
The top of the hierarchy. Dangerous. Unregulated. Raw.
And he was the reason why Kahar's whole life was spiraling out of control.
First, he crushes the High Council and leaves it in ruins. Now he’s gone and turned Kahar into an Omega too?
Like it wasn’t bad enough that Kahar was already a laughingstock in his father’s eyes.
Kahar seethed, storming back to his classroom with a vengeance, yanking his bag off his chair so violently he almost ripped the strap. He didn't even care that the few students still lingering in the room flinched at his stormy expression.
His head pounded. His throat felt dry.
The scent patch on his neck suddenly felt too tight, too suffocating, like it was trying to hold back a tidal wave that wanted to rip through him.
No. No, not here.
Not where people could see him.
Not where people could smell it on him.
He fled back to the Form 5 dorms, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud thud.
No one was there. Good.
He dumped his bag on the floor, rummaged through the plastic bag from the hospital, and fished out the bottle of suppressants.
His fingers shook as he popped the cap open. He didn’t bother fetching water. Didn’t even think twice.
He dry-swallowed two pills, grimacing at the bitter taste catching in his throat.
Stupid fucking Fakhri.
Stupid fucking Dominant Alphas.
Stupid fucking body that won’t listen.
Kahar wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand, pacing the room like a caged animal.
His inner Omega was still keening inside him, desperate for something he didn’t even want to name, but Kahar shoved it down with brute force.
He wasn't weak.
He wasn’t going to roll over and submit just because his body decided to betray him.
He was Abdul Kahar bin Abu Yamin, dammit.
He would burn this whole school down before letting someone like Fakhri win again.
With a furious snarl under his breath, Kahar flopped onto his bed, punching his pillow hard enough that his knuckles stung.
He closed his eyes, breathing harshly.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would figure something out.
Even if it killed him.
—
Although right now, Kahar didn’t quite know what he was doing.
It was late, way past curfew. The night air was cool against his skin, the campus quiet except for the distant hum of the city outside the school gates. His footsteps echoed faintly across the concrete as he made his way toward the basketball court, not even sure why he was drawn there, only that his chest felt too tight to stay cooped up inside.
But as he neared the court, he noticed he wasn’t alone.
Fakhri was already there.
The younger boy sat hunched over on the old bench at the side of the court, bathed in the soft orange glow of the overhead floodlights. In his hand, he clutched a Nokia phone, a new one, Kahar noticed absently. Probably a replacement after Kahar had smashed his old one. He winced at the flashback.
Kahar hesitated at the entrance, for a moment considering just turning around and pretending he never came. But something rooted him in place, his pride, maybe. Or maybe something deeper he didn’t want to name.
So instead, he forced his body to move, walking over with slow, deliberate steps until he dropped himself onto the bench beside Fakhri, keeping a deliberate distance. He pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one toward the younger without a word.
Fakhri gave him a brief side-eye, unimpressed, and shook his head.
Suit yourself, Kahar thought dryly, flicking his lighter open and lighting the end of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, letting the familiar burn settle in his lungs before exhaling a stream of smoke into the cold night air.
"Kau buat apa dekat sini?" Kahar asked after a long moment, voice low and a little awkward, the cigarette bobbing between his fingers.
Fakhri shrugged, almost guarded. "Papa aku call tadi."
The words were curt, almost defensive, like he was bracing himself for an attack.
Kahar glanced sideways at him, noticing the tension in his jaw, the way Fakhri’s fingers clenched and unclenched around his phone. Whatever the conversation had been about, it clearly hadn't gone well.
For a while, neither said anything. Kahar took another drag from his cigarette, letting the silence stretch between them, broken only by the faint crackle of the burning tobacco.
His inner Omega stirred uneasily under the surface, hyperaware of Fakhri’s presence, of the way the Dominant Alpha’s scent filled the air. Rain and sandalwood, sharp, earthy, and so fucking impossible to ignore. Kahar clenched his teeth, trying to tamp down the instinctive urge to lean closer.
“Kau… memang something else, kan?” Kahar muttered finally, his voice rough.
Fakhri turned his head slightly, arching an eyebrow in silent question.
Kahar gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "High Council ni something yang dah lama dekat KUDRAT. Tradisi yang berlapis-lapis. Berpuluh tahun orang junjung. Kau datang sini tak sampai setahun... habis, roboh semua."
Another long pull from the cigarette. Another beat of heavy silence.
Kahar didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe for Fakhri to laugh, to say something cocky like he usually did. But Fakhri just stared at him, not angry, not smug. Just... guarded. Like he was trying to figure out what Kahar wanted from him.
Kahar sighed harshly, tossing the cigarette down and crushing it under the heel of his shoe. He turned fully to face Fakhri, suddenly feeling exposed, raw, like he was peeling back his own skin.
"Senanya... aku nak mintak maaf," Kahar said, voice cracking despite his best efforts to sound unaffected.
He pressed his hands together between his knees, head bowed slightly. His heart thudded painfully in his chest.
"Aku mintak maaf pasal semua benda yang terjadi masa High Council masih wujud. Aku mintak maaf pasal semua benda yang aku dah buat dekat kau... dekat batch kau. Aku..." He swallowed. "Aku salah. Aku tahu apa yang aku buat tu salah."
The words felt foreign on his tongue. Kahar, the proud ex-High Council member, groveling. But somehow, it felt necessary, like a confession he couldn't hold back any longer.
For a second, Fakhri just stared at him.
And then he laughed.
A sharp, humorless snort that made Kahar flinch.
"Benda kau merepek ni, setan?" Fakhri said coldly, voice laced with disdain. His expression hardened, that guarded look from earlier twisting into something sharper, something that cut deeper than any insult.
Kahar blinked at him, stunned.
"Eh, aku memang aim untuk hancurkan High Council dari awal lagi. Kau ingat aku datang sini nak buat kawan dengan kau ke? Bodoh," Fakhri sneered, standing up abruptly.
Kahar instinctively reached out, not to grab, just to stop him, but Fakhri jerked his arm away, glaring.
"Benda dah setel, kan? High Council dah takde. Aku dah dapat apa aku nak. So aku taknak ada apa-apa lagi dengan kau."
The finality in his tone hit Kahar harder than any punch ever could.
Fakhri turned and walked away without looking back, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.
Kahar sat there frozen, his body trembling faintly. His inner Omega whimpered in distress, clawing at his insides, desperate for comfort, for something, anything , but there was nothing.
Just the cold, and the heavy ache settling into his bones.
Who knew rejection could hurt this much?
He laughed weakly, the sound hollow. He dragged his palms over his face, trying to scrub away the burning in his eyes.
All this time, all the anger, all the pride, all the fighting, and in the end, he had still lost.
Not just the High Council.
Not just his pride.
But whatever small, stupid hope he'd dared to nurture without even realizing it.
The bench felt too big without Fakhri beside him. The court too empty. The night too cold.
And Kahar... Kahar had never felt so alone.
—
Kahar didn’t know why the days that followed left him in such a foul, miserable mood.
Everything, every movement, every breath, felt wrong.
His body ached like he’d been thrown down a flight of stairs, his head pounded relentlessly, and a thick fog clouded his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything.
Even the simple act of sitting upright felt like dragging himself through wet concrete.
It was as if the rejection from Fakhri had triggered something ugly and raw inside him, like a festering wound that refused to close.
He tried to brush it off. Forced himself to move like he usually did. Forced himself to banter, to smile, to pretend.
But inside, his Omega was howling.
He hated it.
In a desperate, stupid attempt to shut it all down, Kahar took more suppressants than he should have, popping them dry like candy, piling patch after patch onto his skin until it stung.
It didn’t work.
Nothing could shut up the needy, desperate noise clawing at his chest.
By the third day, he genuinely hoped the migraine splitting his skull would just kill him outright.
That would be easier than whatever this was.
Hakeem had noticed first, the way Kahar barely lifted his head, the way he slurred out "Aku okay" when anyone asked.
He had tugged on his sleeve and said, “Weh, kau okay ke tak tu? Aku tengok kau macam nak pengsan je. Pergi bilik nurse lah. Aku temankan.”
Kahar barely grunted in response, waving him off like a drunk.
Hakeem, worried, ran over to find Zahrin and Fahmi, pulling them aside in a panic.
“Kahar tu… aku rasa cam ada something yang tak betul lah. Aku rasa dia nak pengsan. Cepatlah datang kelas!”
The three of them rushed back to class, pushing open the door to find Kahar slumped forward over his desk.
His breathing was shallow, shoulders trembling, his forehead pressed to his folded arms.
Even with all the patches and the ridiculous amount of suppressants, Zahrin, the ever-attentive Alpha, caught the scent.
It was faint under all the chemicals, but it was there.
Sweet and cloying, sharp with the metallic edge of suppressed distress.
Zahrin’s eyes widened as he turned urgently to Fahmi. “Aku rasa… ni bau cam heat lah. Fuck, aku rasa Kahar masuk heat!”
Fahmi looked around the empty classroom in panic. Small blessings. At least no one else was there to smell him.
Without a word, Zahrin hauled Kahar up onto his back, the other boy whining at the touch, keening softly against his shoulder.
His body was overheated and trembling, every brush against his skin making him twitch and shudder.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck–” Hakeem cursed under his breath as they half-carried, half-dragged Kahar back to the dorms.
Once inside, they deposited Kahar onto his bed.
The Omega immediately whimpered at the loss of contact, rolling and twisting desperately in the sheets, hands tugging at his uniform.
His tie and shirt were ripped off with clumsy, feverish movements, leaving him only in his soaked boxers, a visible wet patch spreading as slick leaked freely from him, staining the sheets beneath.
The sight made even Fahmi, who was usually unshakable, go pale.
Hakeem, the dramatic, started shaking Fahmi’s arm wildly. “Mi, kita mana pernah handle benda macam ni?! Apa kita nak buat ni?!”
Zahrin, thinking fast, ripped off his own scent patch and threw it across the room.
Then he stripped off his jacket and t-shirt, doing the same to Fahmi.
They quickly rubbed the clothes between their wrists and scent glands, drenching them in their Alpha pheromones before piling them up around Kahar in a makeshift, desperate excuse for a nest.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even good.
But Kahar visibly calmed a little, curling into the pile, his flushed face pressing into Zahrin’s jacket with a broken sigh.
Still, it was clear he was suffering.
The slick was getting worse, pooling beneath him.
His breathing was ragged, his legs rubbing together desperately, his back arching involuntarily every few seconds as his heat wracked through him with merciless force.
The three of them stood frozen, helpless, staring at each other in horror.
They needed an adult.
Fast.
Without even thinking, they bolted from the room to find Mr. Sin.
In their panic, they didn't even lock the door.
Minutes passed, long, dragging minutes, before the door creaked open again.
It wasn’t Mr. Sin.
It was Fakhri.
Fakhri had been walking by when the faint, maddening scent hit him like a truck.
The scent of a Dominant Omega in full, vulnerable heat.
His instincts flared instantly, making his vision blur and his muscles tense.
Confused and half-angry at himself for reacting so strongly, he followed the trail right to Kahar’s room.
As soon as he stepped inside, the scent doubled, thick and overwhelming.
He cursed lowly under his breath, immediately locking the door behind him.
His mind screamed at him to leave, but his body was moving on its own.
The room was dim, the only sound the soft, helpless whines coming from the bed.
Fakhri’s heart nearly stopped when he saw who it was.
Kahar.
Kahar .
Half-naked, flushed red from head to toe, his hair mussed, his body slick with sweat and pheromones.
His boxers clung wetly to his thighs, stained and darkened from the heavy slick seeping through.
The nest of Alpha-scented clothes around him was barely containing the restless roll of his body as he squirmed, legs spreading instinctively.
"Kahar...?" Fakhri croaked out, voice hoarse.
Kahar’s glazed, glassy eyes fluttered open at the sound, a soft, needy whimper leaving his lips as he caught sight of him.
The rough, cocky ex-Kapla was nowhere to be seen.
In his place was a trembling, desperate Omega, a creature driven purely by instinct, vulnerable and wrecked.
Without thinking, Kahar lifted his arms, reaching out.
Before Fakhri could react, Kahar crawled over to him, movements clumsy and frantic.
In seconds, he was straddling Fakhri’s lap, his hot, damp body pressing down firmly, grinding against Fakhri's hips with reckless abandon.
The thin barrier of his boxers did nothing to hide how needy he was.
Slick poured from him, soaking through, leaving Fakhri's jeans damp.
A broken, high-pitched mewl escaped Kahar's throat as he rocked his hips again, chasing friction he couldn’t properly feel.
"Alpha," Kahar whimpered breathily, eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
Fakhri’s whole body locked up.
Every part of his Alpha was screaming to claim, to grab the Omega by the hips, to roll him under, to sink his teeth into the soft skin of his neck and just—
No. No. Fuck no.
He shut his eyes tight, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
This wasn’t right.
Kahar wasn’t in his right mind.
This wasn’t consent.
Fakhri’s hands hovered awkwardly at Kahar’s sides, trembling with restraint.
Kahar didn't care.
He giggled, a soft, giddy sound, and ground harder, slick coating their clothes, the air thick with the scent of it.
His body was burning up, his skin fever-hot, and his whole being was crying for release, for an Alpha, for someone to make the pain stop.
Fakhri was sweating bullets, every nerve alight with instinct he wasn’t supposed to give into.
Kahar’s forehead dropped against his shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly over Fakhri’s neck.
The soft, broken purring noises he made nearly shattered Fakhri’s self-control.
He exhaled shakily, hands finally landing on Kahar’s waist, not to pull him closer, but to still him.
“Kahar… weh, kau kena berhenti... kalau tak nanti...” Fakhri croaked, the words barely making it out of his dry throat.
Kahar only whined louder, nuzzling into him like a cat, wrapping himself tighter around Fakhri’s neck and hips.
The heat between them was suffocating, slick making a mess of everything, every grind sending white-hot sparks shooting up Fakhri’s spine.
He was drowning.
He had to do something.
Fast.
If he didn’t, if he let this continue even a second longer, he didn’t know if he could trust himself not to snap.
“Kahar— Kahar— tunggu—”
Fakhri’s voice was rough, strained, as he tried to grab Kahar’s wrists and push him away, but the Omega was completely lost in the haze of his heat. Kahar whimpered at the slightest distance between them, desperate grabby hands pulling at Fakhri’s uniform, dragging him back down like a drowning man clutching onto the only piece of driftwood in sight.
Fakhri could feel his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. His entire body screamed to just give in, to take, to soothe, to claim, but some small stubborn part of him, the part still clinging to the last threads of reason, fought back viciously. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached, wrapping his hands around Kahar’s smaller wrists and forcing him onto his chest, pinning the writhing Omega to the mattress.
Kahar gasped, the sound nothing like the cocky ex-Kapla everyone knew. It was high-pitched, needy, and broken. His body arched up instinctively, trying to seek more contact, his skin flushed, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. The sight made Fakhri's mouth go dry with hunger, but he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting it.
"No– no, no– fuck–" Fakhri growled, voice shaking as he yanked his school tie off with trembling hands. His fingers were clumsy, almost frantic as he looped the tie around Kahar’s slender wrists, tying it securely, not to hurt, but to stop him. Kahar only mewled in delight, his legs kicking weakly, thinking it was some game, his mind too clouded to understand.
Fakhri had to physically shove himself off the bed, breathing like he had run a marathon, every part of his body aching to go back. He stumbled toward the door, almost tripping over himself in the desperate attempt to get away before he did something unforgivable.
Behind him, Kahar let out a pitiful, broken sound, a whine so deep and desperate it twisted something sharp in Fakhri’s chest. The Omega tried to follow him, wriggling weakly, but the tie held him back. Tears were already starting to bead in the corners of Kahar’s glassy eyes. His scent, that rich, overwhelming mix of vanilla and peaches, hit Fakhri square in the gut again, almost making him turn back.
He didn't even hear the footsteps pounding down the hall until the door slammed off its hinges.
Hakeem, Zahrin, Fahmi, and Mr. Sin burst into the room just as Fakhri half-fell out of it, his face pale, his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving. They barely registered him, their focus immediately snapping to the sobbing Omega tangled in a poor excuse of a nest on the bed.
"Shit– shit– Kahar!" Hakeem yelped, rushing over, hands hovering uselessly over Kahar’s trembling body, not daring to touch him.
"Aduh, teruk sangat dah ni…" Fahmi muttered under his breath, wide-eyed.
"Sial! Kau buat apa kat dia, Fakhri?!" Zahrin barked at Fakhri's retreating figure, the Alpha ready for a fight, but Fakhri didn’t answer, didn’t even hear him. He was already bolting down the hall, running as if his life depended on it.
Inside the room, Kahar writhed helplessly in his nest, the scent of rejection and heartbreak quickly overpowering everything else. His mind, foggy and feverish from the heat, latched onto one single narrative:
He didn’t want me.
The Omega let out a broken, keening sob, struggling against the tie. His hips were still trembling, slick dripping shamelessly down his thighs, but now the physical need was secondary to the emotional agony clawing at his chest.
"I’m not wanted," he mumbled thickly through choked sobs. "Takde sape nak–”
Mr. Sin, grim-faced, carefully moved to the side of the bed, trying not to let the heavy Alpha part of him overwhelm the Omega further. His voice was soft but firm.
"Kahar. You listen here. Breathe. You’re safe, alright? Tak ada siapa reject awak. You're currently in heat, so your mind is making up nonsense."
But it was no use. Kahar couldn't hear him over the roaring storm in his own head. He curled into himself, tugging at the tie around his wrists, the bonds making him feel even more abandoned, like he had been restrained only to be left behind.
Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. His body ached, his skin too sensitive, every breath hurting. The nest that was supposed to comfort him now felt empty, cold, and useless.
Hakeem hesitated before carefully, carefully removing his own shirt, heavily scented with his barely there pheromones, and layering it over Kahar like a blanket. Zahrin followed, unpeeling his own tanktop and adding it to the pathetic little pile, scenting the air thickly to try to soothe the Omega. Fahmi stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, scent patch peeled off, trying to contribute to the comforting smell even though he was practically shaking with nerves.
Slowly, slowly, Kahar's sobs quieted into soft hiccups, though the pain didn’t ease. He buried his nose into Zahrin's jacket, shivering, mumbling something incoherent about being broken and useless.
Mr. Sin sighed heavily, rubbing his temple.
"This... ini bukan salah dia," he said, almost to himself. "Kalau an omega tak ada bond partner, their heat will obviously take a turn for the worse. He's not in his right mind nor is he emotionally stable. We will have to look over him until his father arrives."
"Siallah si Fakhri tu. Buat situasi lagi teruk je," Zahrin muttered bitterly, clenching his fists.
But none of them could say anything more as Kahar’s body finally gave in to exhaustion, the Omega curling tighter into the nest of borrowed scents, still occasionally whimpering in his sleep, a small broken figure in a room that smelled overwhelmingly of rejection and longing.