THE DAY THEY BECAME ENEMY (side story)

Zack slid down the door, knees giving out beneath him as he locked it from inside. His breath came out uneven, chest heaving as heat spread through his veins, making his limbs weak and uncooperative. He curled in on himself, fingers clutching the edge of his hoodie, teeth sinking into his lower lip to keep himself quiet.

He hated this.

Hated how his body betrayed him at the worst moments.

“Hey—!”

A voice cut through his fog.

Zack startled, his head snapping up. Only then did he notice someone lying sprawled across the infirmary bed, jacket thrown over his face, clearly having been asleep.

The boy sat up abruptly, messy hair falling into sharp, annoyed eyes.

“What the hell are you doing—?” he stopped midsentence.

Because Zack didn’t look fine.

His face was pale, skin flushed unnaturally, body trembling as he struggled to stay upright.

“…You okay?” the boy asked, irritation fading into something more cautious.

Zack shook his head, not trusting his voice. He pushed himself up and staggered toward the medicine cabinet, hands fumbling through the drawers until he found what he needed—heat suppressant pills. His fingers were shaking so badly that a few slipped and clattered onto the floor.

Before he could react, the other boy was already crouching down, picking them up.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he muttered, handing the pills over. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

Zack hesitated.

He didn’t know this boy.

Didn’t trust him.

But his body didn’t care.

He swallowed the pills dry, pressing his back against the cabinet as relief came slowly, painfully. Sweat gathered at his temples. His breathing remained uneven.

The boy straightened, watching him closely now.

“So,” he said, arms crossing. “You gonna tell me what that was about, or should I pretend I didn’t just witness an omega dying on my nap time?”

Zack bristled.

“I wasn’t dying.”

“Sure looked like it.”

Zack glared at him, pride flaring despite his condition. “And you shouldn’t ditch classes just to sleep.”

That earned him a sharp smirk.

“Ambrose Nostitz,” the boy said. “Future problem for teachers everywhere.”

Zack scoffed lightly, pushing himself upright. “Zack Bruce.”

Something flickered in Ambrose’s eyes.

“The swimmer,” he said. “The annoying one who keeps winning everything.”

Zack stiffened. “You have a problem with that?”

Ambrose shrugged, but his gaze lingered longer than necessary. “Guess I do now.”

Silence settled between them, thick and uncomfortable. Zack could still feel the aftereffects of his heat clinging to him, making him acutely aware of Ambrose’s presence.

He turned toward the door.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Zack said quietly.

Ambrose didn’t answer immediately.

Then, just as Zack reached for the handle, he spoke.

“You shouldn’t rely on pills forever.”

Zack paused.

“I don’t need advice from someone who skips classes to sleep.”

That did it.

Ambrose laughed—short, sharp, almost offended. “And I don’t need attitude from someone who can’t even control his cycle.”

The words stung more than Zack expected.

He opened the door and walked out without looking back.

Behind him, Ambrose watched the door close, something unfamiliar settling in his chest.