It was the third week of classes, and things were going surprisingly smoothly for young Arthur Kirkland.
Arthur learned quite quickly that Matthew's little brother was garrulous and silly, even for a freshman. He shared lunch with the boy and Matthew, who he suspected had planned his own class schedule so they would be together. Matthew always spent the first ten minutes of lunch fretting over what, and how much, his poor Omega brother was eating, before grilling him about his assignments and plans for the day.
"—but then I was like, okay, but you can do the same thing quicker and easier if you just divide it like this, and he didn't even know what to say to that, he was just like, cool, sure, but then the next time he explained it that's how he did it! And like, I kind of want to go show him some alternate solutions but like—"
It somehow didn't help that behind that ridiculous laughter and obscure anime t-shirt Alfred was really fucking smart. Perhaps Arthur was simply annoyed he did not fall so neatly into the cute blond American stereotype.
Still, it was nice to grow their little circle of friends, Arthur mused, even if Alfred was so loud all the time my God and behaved like a middle schooler.
Arthur had also learned that the boy made a habit of rarely acting like an Omega unless he had something to gain, or only displaying some of the, er, less favorable behaviors typical of his nature. Dear Matthew seemed to be particularly weak to these tactics, and often left lunch with either an empty wallet or an empty stomach.
"You ought not indulge him so." Arthur said lightly. He and Matthew were on their way to World History, passing through the courtyard, still bright and lovely in the late-August heat.
They had dropped Alfred off at the gym. The first two weeks of PE were always the classroom lecture portion—where everyone learned about heart disease and cancer and to never ever touch each other— and now that it was finished, the actual exercise would begin. Alfred had been buzzing with excitement, ready to show off his "skills." Whatever that could mean.
Matthew smiled guiltily, answering in a singsong voice.
"Trust me, I know. He's spoiled rotten and it's totally my fault." He laughed sheepishly, one hand brushing the back of his neck, a habit he had passed on to his little brother.
Matthew had opened his mouth to say more, but snapped it shut at the sight of who was walking toward them—the formidable figure of Ivan Braginski loomed before them. He stopped in the middle of the pathway, unnerving smile in place.
"Privet little Matthew and Arthur." He looked them both up and down with his wide, odd-colored eyes. "Your hair is not green anymore, my friend. But you are still as small as a rabbit. You should eat more."
Arthur felt heat bubble up in his belly, spreading through his muscles and urging him to pounce on the larger Alpha. It was instinctual, but not inevitable, and he had made a promise to his mother to come home with fewer injuries after his lively Freshman year.
"Ivan, we'll be late if we don't hurry." Matthew said quietly, eyes darting for escape. He was always terrified of Ivan, though he had never made a move to hurt him. Ivan was what Arthur's brother had always called an "Alpha's Alpha." He liked riling up other Alphas. He liked to fight.
"Hurry away then little rabbits. Arthur, I hope your balls drop soon!" How Ivan said something so mean so cheerfully, Arthur did not know. He returned the sentiment with a rude hand gesture, his cool composure not giving away any of the raw, powerful anger inside him that only a teenage Alpha could produce.
When they reached the inside of the building, neither of them commented on the breaths they both exhaled in relief.