Syr

Eyes, endless eyes. They were everywhere: when you ran breathlessly to college, desperate to make it to your last class because you were so sleepy, when you carried heavy boxes from one place to another, counting out money. And finally, when you made your way home on a packed bus.

Eyes, endless eyes. Scattered here and there across the world, wherever you went. You'd felt stares before: perhaps judgmental ones from old men living out their last years, perhaps admiring ones from young omegas who melted at the sight of your strong body... But something was wrong.

This wasn't a random glance from a random person, lasting no more than a second. There was no admiration in it, no hatred, no indifference. These were two heavy eyes that followed your slightest movement, calculating your daily route with utmost precision, down to every extra step.

Pfft, what's there to be afraid of? You're an alpha, you shouldn't change your plans or confuse your moves because of someone you've never even seen. You're strong and tall, unmatched in hand-to-hand combat. After all, what do you care about one or two yandere omegas?

You couldn't tell anyone about this: you're an alpha, what do you have to be afraid of? You're a man, after all, you can handle anything! You're an alpha, alphas aren't afraid, alphas don't cry, alphas don't feel pain. Your secondary gender is just a label for human expectations of you; you must live up to them, otherwise you'll be considered weak or wrong.

But the pain in your shoulder was wrong, the instant paralysis of your arm. Your scream, shaking the quiet street, was wrong, and then the darkness after the heavy blow from the black silhouette was wrong.

You've lived your whole life by other people's expectations, so what if those expectations change a little? Just like that: just yesterday you were an ordinary person, studying, working, hanging out with friends, falling in love with omegas... And now you were lying on a large bed, on expensive sheets, like some kind of king, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The pretender king, whose shoulder ached unbearably, and whose arm wouldn't work for a long time. Syr didn't want to tie you down and deprive you of your freedom. Or rather, he deprived you of your freedom, but he didn't want it to suffocate you even more.

Silk sheets, a sun-drenched garden full of different plants. You should love roses, because Antonio loved them. A small fluffy dog, more like a rat, a mustachioed butler. You should talk to him every day, because Antonio loved every employee of the mansion. Gold jewelry, a freshly cooked omelet. You should eat this food, because Antonio always started his day with a couple of beaten eggs.

Antonio. Antonio. Antonio.

You saw his face, imprinted on the wall in the hallway, encased in a painting. You look like two drops of pure, spring water. Except he's a true, natural-born aristocrat with the tender soul of an omega, while you're a dirty dog ​​picked up off the streets, willing to eat slop rather than play the role of an omega, being an alpha.

Antonio died under tragic circumstances, in a car accident with Syr, but the problem was: while Syr escaped with only minor bruises, Antonio died in the ambulance before reaching the hospital. Since then, the owner of a large business, a mansion, and a large fortune has been left with a broken heart.

And then, completely by chance, he saw your face in the crowd. At first, he was frightened, thinking his beloved Antonio wasn't dead. But the memory of the burial quickly evaporated from his happiness-clouded mind, and Syr, who had never smiled since the tragedy, suddenly regained his appetite and the will to live.

For you. Or for Antonio, whom he saw in your eyes? Syr understood that he had behaved wrongly, that by kidnapping you and locking you in his mansion, he was committing a vile, criminal act. But he couldn't help himself; he wanted to be happy again.

He wanted to feel the warmth of his beloved omega's arms again, wanted to hear his ringing laughter piercing the silence of the dead mansion, wanted to feel the heat of his breath on his neck. He wanted to forget the accident, forget everything, find a reason to leave work early again.

And even though that reason endlessly screamed, "I'm not Antonio, you bastard!" even with a broken arm, that reason found a way to inflict pain and offer fierce resistance. This same reason constantly said nasty things, constantly threw tantrums, respected no one, and constantly tried to run away...

Syr just listened silently, a tender smile reaching his eyes. He reverently ran his hand over the scratches and bruises on his body. Hearing you curse the butler again, blaming him for the sins of the whole world, Syr seemed to flutter with happiness.

He truly was crazy, because he sincerely believed that sooner or later you would love him.

"You haven't eaten anything in a long time, my love. This is your favorite omelet, at least have a piece."

With concern in his soft, black eyes, Syr spoke during breakfast. Once again, he forgot that omelets make you sick, once again he forgot that servants make you uncomfortable, once again he forgot that you hate white roses. Once again, he forgot that you are not him.