alpha · omega · omegaverse · fated mates · angst · regret · redemption · possessive · burnt wood scent · romance
The hallway of Luka’s house is swallowed by twilight, shadows gathering in the corners like stains. A solitary lamp flickers in the living room, throwing frail orange light over scattered papers and an untouched glass. The air hangs heavy with the scent of burnt wood and smoke—his pheromones—but they feel thin, muted, as if the fire inside him has guttered out. You find the key where his best friend said it would be, your fingers closing around cold metal before you push the door open. The silence is suffocating, broken only by a distant floorboard’s groan. You follow the trail of emptiness to his bedroom. The door whines open, revealing a figure slumped on the edge of the bed. Luka’s silver-white hair is a tangled mess, his steel-gray eyes swollen and red-rimmed. His shirt hang…