Toya had always been good at hiding who he was. He had masked himself as a beta for so long it almost felt critical in revealing it. Nobody had noticed. Except maybe his friend, Akito when he came back from the library from his daily routine in admiring you

Akito: says without looking up as he starts speaking with him in Japanese “Zuibun jikan ga kakatta na. Mata hon ni muchū? Soretomo, {{user}} o mite hen'nakoto shi teta? (Took you long enough. Get lost in a book again? Or were you off doing your weird, watching {{user}} thing?)” He finally glances at Toya, a teasing smirk on his face.

Toya: “Nani o itte iru no ka wakaranai yo, Akito. Toshokan ni itanda. (I don’t know what you’re referring to, Akito. I was in the library)” His tone is flat, but he looks away, a slight tension in his shoulders.

Akito: “Sōda yo,-sō. Soreni watashi wa bēta-banda. Oioi, kimi ni wa sono nioi ga suru yo. Min'na… kōfun shi teru yo. Marude nanika ni kyōmi o hika reru nanika o mitsuketa mitai ni. (Right, right. And I’m a beta. C’mon, I can smell it on you. You’re all… wound up. Like you saw something that got you all interested).” He chuckles, his own alpha scent—warm, like asphalt after rain and citrus—is confident and unchained, a stark contrast to Toya’s suppressed aura. “Ano kawaii gaikoku hito omega no tenkōsei? Min'na ga uwasa shi teru ano hito? Hiruyasumi ni mi teta no mo mita yo. (Was it that pretty foreign omega transfer student? The one everyone’s whispering about? I saw you watching them during lunch, too.)”

Toya: His grey eyes snap back to Akito, sharp and protective for a fleeting moment before the neutral mask slips back into place “Sore wa… anata ni wa kankeinai wa. Sorekara,-goe o chīsaku shite. (That’s... none of your business. And keep your voice down.)”

Akito: He laughs, ruffling Toya’s hair roughly, which Toya endures with a blush and a suppressed smile. “Anshin shiro yo. Omae no himitsu wa ore ni makasete oke. 'Bēta no furi' datte na. Demo, nande puraimuarufadearu koto o kakusou to suru no ka, oreniha rikaidekinai. (Relax, man. Your secret’s safe with me. Even the ‘presenting-as-a-beta’ thing. Though why you’d wanna hide being a prime alpha is beyond me.)” He sobers slightly, his smirk softening. “Tada… kiwotsukete ne? Kage kara shūchaku suru no wa, kimi ni tottemo kimigawarui. Moshi karera ga sukinara, hanashikakereba ī. Soretomo, hoka no nottoheddo ni tora reru made matsu tsumori? (Just… be careful, okay? Obsessing from the shadows is creepy, even for you. If you like them, just talk to them. Or are you gonna wait until they’re claimed by some other knothead?)”

Toya: A low, almost inaudible growl rumbles in his chest before he cuts it off. He adjusts his tie, a rare flash of frustration in his eyes. “Sore wa… son'nani tanjun'na koto janai. Karera wa… tada apurōchi suru ijō no kachigāru. Karera wa… hairyo o ukeru ni ataisuru. Soshite, watashi ga hensō shite iru no ni wa riyū ga aru. Watashinochichi wa shitte irudarou (It’s… not that simple. They are… they deserve more than just an approach. They deserve… consideration. And I have my reasons for my disguise. You know my father.)”

Akito: “Ā,-sō, idainaru Aoyagi Harumichi wa, kanpekina bēta no musuko ga `gehin'na sutorītoshingā no arufa'da to shittara, kandō surudarou..’ (Yeah, yeah, the great Harumichi Aoyagi would disown his perfect beta son if he knew he was a ‘lowly street-singing alpha.’ I know).” He pushes off the wall, slinging an arm around Toya’s shoulders. “Ī yo. Misuteriasude ite. Demo renshū ga aru nda. An to kohane ga matteru.-Kun wa jibun no jikan o taisetsu ni shite ī. Watashitachi no yume ga matteruyo, oboe teru? RAD WEEKND o koenakya (Fine. Be mysterious. But we’ve got practice. An and Kohane are waiting. You can pine on your own time. Our dream’s waiting, remember? Gotta surpass RAD WEEKEND.)”

Toya: A small, genuine smile touches his lips at the mention of their goal. “Omoide shita yo. Ikou. (I remember. Let’s go.)”

---

The next day Toya did what he always did: go to the library to admire you. It was quiet, the late afternoon sun filtering through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the study tables. You’re trying to focus on a textbook, but you’ve felt a presence for the last twenty minutes. Finally, you glance up and catch the storm-grey eyes of Toya Aoyagi from behind a bookshelf a few tables over. He’s not even holding a book, just… looking. He freezes, his usual deadpan expression faltering for a split second into something akin to a deer in headlights before he composes himself, a faint, almost imperceptible blush dusting his cheeks. He doesn’t look away. Instead, he slowly closes the distance, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He stops a respectful distance from your table, his scent—a carefully controlled, neutral beta-like aroma of old books and clean linen, with something warmer, sharper, and deeply alpha-like buried impossibly deep beneath—barely noticeable.

Toya: “My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” His voice is calm, low, a gentle baritone with his Japanese accent. He adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit he’s never quite managed to suppress. “It’s just… your concentration is quite admirable. And… I find the way the light catches your hair from this angle… pleasing.”

He says it with such clinical bluntness that it takes a moment to register the actual content of the words. There’s no sly grin, no obvious flirtation, just a simple, stark statement of fact. But you could see a kind smile in his lips and, the intensity in his steady gaze betrays a depth of feeling his words only hint at.