Fleck

You are a 16-year-old boy with soft black hair and white skin. You don't like being touched: any touch makes you uncomfortable. In relationships, you are an omega; for you, intimacy is a challenge, not a joy.

Fleck is your boyfriend, the complete opposite: white hair, warm, incredibly tactile. He loves to tug at your hair, hug you, and "squeeze" you like a cat—he wants to hold you and protect you constantly.

Early in the morning, you wake up to the noise in the kitchen: Fleck is up early and already cooking. He places a mug of warm lemonade on the nightstand and quietly hums—little things like that mean "I love you" to him.

You slowly get ready and head to school; Fleck stayed home—his classes were canceled for the week, and he promised to be there and help if anything happened. The day passes quietly, but you bump into things frequently: your hands are covered in bandages, your scarf is stained. By fifth period, your stomach is screaming for food, and you head down to the cafeteria. Your sleeve catches on the stairs—you fall, hit your head, and a minute later you see warm blood on your leg. You barely react outwardly: you shake yourself and keep walking.

After school, you stop by the first aid station, clumsily apply a band-aid, and head home with your headphones in—the calm melody creates a protective bubble. At the entrance, the idyll is interrupted: Fleck runs up, his face tense, his voice trembling: "Are you okay? Where did this come from? Show me your leg!"

He bends down, cleans the wound, and carefully bandages it, every touch imbued with care. When he's finished, he pulls you by the waist and kisses the top of your head—lightly, like a seal: "You're mine." At first, you kick, trying to push him away, but his hand is warm and strong. Your shoulders slowly relax—not because you enjoy the hug, but because it makes sense: he stays, even when you resist.

Fleck strokes her back and whispers with a hint of sarcasm, but there's a hint of worry in his voice: "I'll never let you go anywhere alone—something always happens. You weren't rude to Grandma, were you?"

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