The smell of alpha was spread across his sheets through the night, leaving an obscene scent scene by daylight. Anyone who entered his room would assume a night of passion had ensued. River felt a throb between his legs at the mere possibility of anyone thinking he and Elliott would… He shook his head against his pillows. New thoughts, please. Somehow, sharing the scent with his bedding hadn’t dimmed it on his own skin. Scent-marking, properly, on another person, affected their very glands, he remembered as he laid in a tangle of duvet. Secondary school biology that his brain had tossed aside when none of his crushes had gotten beyond the awkward dating stage. His body would continue to hold Elliott’s unique scent profile until it ran its course - time would fade it only, no matter how much he scrubbed or sweated. At least this meant he wouldn’t lose it before bowling…

He peeled himself free of his blankets and plodded out to the shared bathroom on his floor to get washed up. Body aching from rolling around all night, and head sore from lack of sleep, he could only hope a shower would sort him out in time for his day to begin.

A mental health morning was the most he could spare, he decided as he brushed his teeth. Instead of working through his feelings of being doused in eau d'Elliott, he'd spent all night tossing and turning in worry about the fencing club. They only needed an hour of his time, he couldn't let them down. 

All he skipped was a single lecture in the end. Disrupting his sleep with guilt over what he would and wouldn’t bail out of only meant he spent his self-care time napping in between a face mask and some sketching. He tried not to let it feel like a waste.

He had a bundle of daffodils that had yet to open, they sat stubbornly in a thin glass vase atop his dresser. He drew them from a slew of angles and hoped to have more than buds to put to paper by the end of the week. Flowers were his favourite to paint, and he always made sure to have a bouquet in his room - even if it was just a couple of plucked stems gifted to him by the bee-keeping society. They had the most incredible smelling lavender.

Folding away his sketches, River gave the room a quick gloss-over with his eyes to check anything he might have forgotten to pack in his tote. Satisfied at the state of his cluttered space, he left for his afternoon lectures.

After all that fuss, the fencing competition had been postponed to Monday. River confirmed by text that he could make the updated date and time as he walked into the theatre. He needed to bring his focus back to the room if he was going to ignore the stares and note-passing for another two hours.

×

Post-lecture, River hurried to the baking society’s monthly bake-off. He had been asked to be part of the judging group by a classmate in his first year and had devoured more cake than he had fingers on a monthly basis ever since. They wanted as many judges as possible to make the competition fair, since none of them were experts, more taste-testers.

River mingled amongst his fellow paper plate carriers, exclaiming at every bite how good the treats were. The crowd of nibbling judges didn’t gather as closely to him this time, the protective scent of Elliott forcing them back. He didn’t feel any offence at their distance, and it didn’t stop him making new friends. He chatted happily with betas of both divisions, only closing his mouth to chew.

He ranked a victoria sponge cupcake with thick fresh cream first on his judging sheet, and a slightly dry shortbread last. After everyone handed in their sheets, and the winners were announced, River headed home for the evening with new names on the tip of his tongue.

×

Friday finally arrived the next morning, the day that his stinky situation had been set in motion for.

Bowling with the girls was the only extracurricular in his planner for the day, but he still had to get his classes out of the way. Two back-to-back morning sessions were separated by a short walk with a member of the art society in which he got roped into agreeing to a Pinot’n’painting night in a couple of weeks.

He had lunch at home: a sandwich and carrot sticks, while scurrying about his room trying to choose the best clothes to wear to a bowling alley. Poking clutter with his toe, he managed to make the room look slightly better - if a little more crumb-covered - by the time he was ready to leave.

A t-shirt painted with a variety of cacti completed his outfit for the afternoon, it hung loose over blue jeans that Savannah had embroidered with leaves for him (cosplay-creation skills were surprisingly transferable). He tied a portion of his hair up and let a selection of curly strands fall around his face, a dab of lip balm threatened to catch them if the wind blew too hard.

He hopped down the stairs and out the door with his tote bag slapping his hip and took himself to the bus stop.

A half-hour ride later, and he was in a very different part of town. Not that any part of a uni town was without its faults… but the industrial estate that he alighted at set off alarm bells as soon as the bus doors shut behind him.

It was... rough. That was the only word for it. Broken bottles, cigarette butts, and half-melted plastic littered the pavement. River kept to the bare concrete with his trainers, knowing the flimsy rubber soles would not protect his feet from tetanus. The GPS on his phone claimed it was only a twelve minute walk from the bus stop, already it felt like too long with eyes on him from around corners or under railings. The watchers were dominants, no alphas, but more than capable of overpowering him, and showing far too much interest. He tried to keep his map-checking to a minimum to reduce the amount of time he spent looking down or holding his phone out. He didn't want him or the device snatched.

They leered, some whistled, and one called a dirty joke across the street - something about omega's slick that got a laugh out of those near him. It was hard not to rush, to stay calm and appear unbothered. His heart was pounding painfully, a cold feeling leaking through the middle of his chest. They didn't come close, they wouldn't dare, no matter what they were inebriated with, he told himself. For all intents and purposes, he was an alpha's mate. He was safe. His breaths still got trapped in his throat, a stuttering reminder that his alpha wasn't here to defend his claim.

He was safe. He smelt of Elliott. He was an alpha mate.

The route directed him to turn into an alleyway pried between two tall, cement buildings, and River hesitated, scanning the map for alternate entrances. Black bin bags were stacked against the walls, and tall figures crouched by them, whispering amongst themselves. It was dark, and it stank of urine, and the figures suddenly stopped talking, taking stock of him hesitating at one end.

Breathe. Step. Keep breathing. Keep stepping forward. River wanted to stride with purpose and confidence, but it was more of a wheezy shuffle. They watched him, licking their lips between mumbled words. He was sweating in places he didn't know he could sweat, and restraining shivers at the same time. Fear pulsed through him, faster and faster as he passed a pair of men. Dominant betas. Scarred and haggard. One bared his teeth at him, he didn't have many. The other was excited, chuckling softly at nothing in particular. Would they be able to smell his scent mark over the pee stink? Maybe they wouldn't realise until it was too late, for either them or him. River forced his gaze ahead, he was halfway. Breathe and step, that was all he had to do. Anything else was out of his control.

A rustle of plastic behind him sped his steps. Then a growling, gurgling laugh that echoed through the alley. Footsteps followed sluggishly. River hurried, so did the feet behind him.

Panting noises at his back brought bile to his throat and it took everything he had to keep his body facing forwards. Don't turn and look, he's probably touching himself in a puddle of his own piss. Don't give them any attention, because you don't want attention. The heavy breathing drew closer and River whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he braced for a grab.

A thwack and a yelp sounded from behind and River lurched out the other end of the alleyway without care for who had hurt themselves and how. Out of their line of sight, and out of the enclosed space, his sense of security rushed back into him. He had made it to the other side, and a neon sign at the back of a half-filled car park announced he had arrived before his phone could.

The gaggle of girls at the entrance of the bowling alley was the most beautiful sight River had ever laid his eyes on. He ran the home stretch like there was prize money waiting for him and they enveloped him in a group hug on arrival. They hurried inside the double doors into darkness to get started.