𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐇𝐢𝐯𝐞
The mark of the fugitive
The leaves were falling gently on the ground, the brief breeze was giving way to the calmest season of the year, and a soft shiver crossed the back of the man sitting on a bench.
He was playing between the pockets of his coat, thinking about the suppressants he should take before entering that old building with its ancient façade. The sky was cloudy, allowing him to think about his life in that instant, or at least how he had arrived to an unknown state leaving behind all the customs and people that have marked him. He adjusts his dark glasses over the partition and sighs thinking about how complicated it will be to attend classes with that darkness in his eyes.
To his regret, his cycle had started the day before, taking him by surprise. It was most likely stress that had influenced his hormonal change, or perhaps his new landlord. An alpha who doesn't even need to breathe to know he completely dominates in the food chain. Tall, thin, milky skin, thick lips, slanted eyes and a broken voice, as if he was tired of leaving thousands of haunted hearts behind. But he was sure she was younger than him, which took away all the charm, or almost all of it.
A sudden heat whipped his neck, that makes him get up from the seat and without thinking too much he took two pills that scraped his throat, a small punishment for thinking irrationally about a guy just said his name. He walked towards the entrance of the small campus, a university only known by the locals, and very forgotten by the world.
Avoiding the gaze of others felt like drudgery, some whispers reached his ears and made him shiver. Townies were sometimes so gullible or imaginative; vigilante, bandit, badboy, spy, model, bully, soon to be spider-man.
He took a seat in the front row of the class, the large windows giving him an almost full view of the backyard and the trees shedding their clothes in preparation for winter. His laptop lit up his face and when two classmates also pulled out their laptops to take notes, the posh feeling left him.
The professor in the class was a neat old man with a leisurely voice and avant-garde dress. He paid attention until his senses were numb, that's why he didn't like taking the meds, they made him feel lethargic, and in his condition, the repercussions hit twice as hard. He closed his eyes behind his glasses, and let himself drift a little among the memories that haunted him.
He was running through bushes, branches scratching his skin. He had delayed his physical examination as long as possible, he knew it was not normal, he could feel it. Just looking at his face, the evidence in his eyes was enough, his own mark. But at nineteen, the obligation to determine what social class he would belong to caught up with him.
A hybrid.
An abomination, a disgrace, a disgrace.
His family watched him with such revulsion that he couldn't help but fall to his knees. The mixture of smells from all the alphas that dominated his clan made him retch constantly. They could accept him being a simple omega, because negotiating an arranged marriage would benefit their clan; they could even accept a beta, he would be more capable of contributing to the enterprise if he wasn't someone who was affected by wishful thinking. But an alpha and an omega together? His mother commented that she would rather see him dead.
He had never run in such desperation.
His family had already offered him on a silver platter to another clan, confident that regardless of whether he was omega or beta, they would get something in return. But now, definitely no one would want him.
“Jeong, where are you going?!” His older brother's shrieks sounded unhinged. He was not someone he could trust. “Jeong!”
“Mr. Jeong.”
Another calm voice crossed his ears, he lifted his face suddenly. He was sweating, and the almost empty classroom made him feel lonely.
“It was a very bad impression to fall asleep during his first class.”
Embarrassment generated in him an infernal desire to have let him kill at his brother's hands.
“Excuse me, it won't happen again.”
He received no answer from the short old man, but that didn't stop him from feeling scolded. He took his things and advanced to the dean's office, he was obliged to report his situation, but it was obvious his inability to attend the other classes. The small office reeked of citrus flavoring, he moved down the hallway with disinterest.
“Young man, the dean is not available today. He has a meeting with the mayor, but you can leave your general report here and he will read it later.”
The submissive-looking secretary didn't even come up to his neck, left the sheet full of quadrants in his hands that finalized his enrollment in that university extension of art, and returned to her little country table.
Jeong breathed a sigh of relief, it was better this way than having to say out loud that he was a genetic alteration that the world would not accept. He filled in each quadrant calmly, he had stopped showing how disappointed he was in his life a couple of years ago, no one cared.
Name: Jeong. C.
Age: 21
Height: 1.85
Weight: 76k
Clan: Orphan.
Career: Modern literature.
Credits: Book club
Diseases: Hybrid. Heterochromia.
His hand shook a little, but he continued to fill in the quadrants as if nothing had happened. He handed in the sheet and walked out without looking back, not wanting to feel judged by the little omega. He closed his coat as the breeze messed up his hair, and walked briskly down the stairs.
“Don't worry too much, today all the classes will be introductory. Calm down, Jeong.” He whispered to himself, and bit his lower lip feeling guilty.
He wanted to get to his new cave, bury himself under the covers and pray that his cycle would pass quickly, but the heaving in his chest wouldn't go away. He tripped over his own feet and almost fell, but a tug on his arm stopped him. His glasses slipped from his face, however, and he struggled in the air to keep them from touching the floor.
“Interesting.” That broken voice made her skin crawl, and she couldn't stop her eyes from focusing on that impassive face with its curious expression. “Gold and blue, my favorite colors.”
Enough, that was the epitome of what she could bear. His face and neck turned pinkish and he struggled to put his glasses back on, but he couldn't control that smell that began to characterize him a couple of years ago.
Chocolate, it could be sweet or bitter, it depended on which of his two monsters came out.
A hand grabbed him tightly by his coat.
“Are you an omega?” The question didn't have a hint of kindness in it, so Jeong pulled away sharply.
He was sick of feeling rejection.
“What do you care?”
He started walking briskly towards his destination. And of course that young man cared, being an alpha and his landlord, he had to watch out for omegas.
Jeong had ruined him.
La marca del fugitivo
Las hojas caían con delicadeza en el suelo, la breve brisa abría paso a la estación del año más tranquila, y un suave escalofrío cruzó la espalda de aquel hombre sentado en un banco.
Jugaba entre los bolsillos de su abrigo, dándole vueltas a los supresores que debía tomar antes de entrar en aquel viejo edificio de fachada antigua. El cielo estaba nublado, lo que le permitía pensar sobre su vida en ese instante, o por lo menos cómo había llegado a un estado desconocido dejando atrás todas las costumbres y personas que le han marcado. Se ajusta los lentes oscuros sobre el tabique y suspira pensando en lo complicado que será atender a las clases con aquella oscuridad en su mirada.
Para su pesar, su ciclo había comenzado el día anterior, tomándole por sorpresa. Lo más seguro era que el estrés haya influenciado en su cambio hormonal, o quizás su nuevo arrendador. Un alfa que ni siquiera necesita respirar para saber que domina por completo en la cadena alimenticia. Alto, delgado, piel lechosa, labios gruesos, ojos rasgados y voz rota, como si estuviera cansado de dejar atrás miles de corazones embrujados. Pero estaba seguro que era menor que él, lo cual quitaba todo el encanto, o casi todo.
Un repentino calor azotó su cuello, aquello le hace levantar del asiento y sin pensarlo de más se tomó dos pastillas que rasparon su garganta, un pequeño castigo por pensar de forma irracional sobre un tipo solo dijo su nombre. Caminó hacia la entrada del pequeño campus, una universidad solo conocida por los locales, y muy olvidada por el mundo.
Evitar la mirada de los demás se sentía como un trabajo pesado, algunos murmullos llegaban a sus oídos y le hacían temblar. Los pueblerinos a veces eran tan crédulos o imaginativos; justiciero, bandido, badboy, espía, modelo, bravucón, pronto sería spider-man.
Tomó asiento en la primera fila de la clase, los ventanales le deban una vista casi completa del jardín trasero y los árboles que se despojaban de su ropa para prepararse para el invierno. Su laptop iluminó su rostro y cuando dos compañeros también sacaron su laptop para tomar apuntes, la sensación de ser un pijo le abandonó.
El profesor de la clase era un anciano pulcro, de voz pausada y vestimenta vanguardista. Prestó atención hasta que sus sentidos se vieron entumecidos, por eso no le gustaba tomar las medicinas, le hacían sentir letárgico, y en su condición, las repercusiones pegaban el doble. Cerró los ojos tras sus lentes, y se dejó llevar un poco entre los recuerdos que le perseguían.
Corría entre arbustos, las ramas arañaban su piel. Había atrasado su examen físico todo lo posible, él sabía que no era normal, podía sentirlo. Solo con verse el rostro, la evidencia en su mirada era suficiente, su propia marca. Pero a sus diecinueve, la obligación de determinar a qué clase social pertenecería le alcanzó.
Un híbrido.
Una abominación, una desgracia, una deshonra.
Su familia le observaba con tanta repulsión que no pudo evitar caer de rodillas. La mezcla de olores de todos los alfas que dominaban en su clan le hacía sentir arcadas constantes. Podían aceptar que fuera un simple omega, porque negociar un matrimonio arreglado beneficiaría a su clan; hasta podían aceptar a un beta, sería más capaz de contribuir a la empresa si no era alguien que fuera afectado por los deseos. Pero ¿un alfa y un omega en conjunto? Su madre comentó que prefería verlo muerto.
Nunca había corrido con tanta desesperación.
Su familia ya lo había ofrecido en bandeja de plata para otro clan, confiados en que sin importar si era omega o beta, obtendrían algo a cambio. Pero ahora, definitivamente nadie lo querría.
—¡¿Jeong, a dónde vas?! —Los alaridos de su hermano mayor parecían desquiciados. No era alguien en quien podría confiar—. ¡Jeong!
—Míster, Jeong.
Otra voz calmada se cruzó en sus oídos, levantó el rostro de golpe. Estaba sudando, y el salón casi vacío lo hizo sentir solo.
—Una muy mala impresión dormirse durante su primera clase.
La vergüenza le generó un deseo infernal de haberse dejado matar en las manos de su hermano.
—Disculpe, no volverá a ocurrir.
No recibió respuesta de aquel anciano bajito, pero eso no evitó sentirse regañado. Tomó sus cosas y avanzó hasta oficina del decano, estaba obligado a reportar su situación, pero era obvio su incapacidad para asistir a las demás clases. La pequeña oficina apestaba a aromatizante de cítricos, se removió en el pasillo con desinterés.
—Joven, el decano no está disponible hoy. Tiene una reunión con el alcalde, pero puede dejar su reporte general aquí y él se encargará de leerlo luego.
La secretaria de aspecto sumiso no llegaba ni a la altura de su cuello, le dejó en las manos la hoja llena de cuadrantes que finalizaban su inscripción en aquella extensión universitaria de arte, y volvió a su pequeña mesa rural.
Jeong aguantó un suspiro de alivio, era mejor así que tener que decir en voz alta que era una alteración genética que el mundo no aceptaría. Llenó cada cuadrante con calma, hace un par de años que había dejado de demostrar lo decepcionado que estaba de su vida, a nadie le importaba.
Nombre: Jeong. C.
Edad: 21
Altura: 1,85
Peso: 76k
Clan: Huérfano.
Carrera: Literatura moderna.
Correo: jeongliteratura@gmail.com
Créditos: Club de lectura
Enfermedades: Híbrido. Heterocromía.
Su mano tembló un poco, pero siguió rellenando los cuadrantes como si nada. Entregó la hoja y salió sin mirar atrás, no quería sentirse juzgado por la pequeña omega. Cerró su abrigo cuando la brisa desordenó su cabello, y bajó a paso rápido las escales.
—No te preocupes demasiado, hoy todas las clases serán introductorias. Cálmate, Jeong. —Se susurró a sí mismo, y mordió su labio inferior sintiéndose culpable.
Quería llegar a su nueva cueva, enterrarse bajo las sábanas y rogar que su ciclo pasara rápido, pero la agitación de su pecho no se iba. Tropezó con sus propios pies y casi cae, pero un jalón en su brazo le detuvo. Sin embargo, sus lentes resbalaron de su rostro, y batalló en el aire para evitar que tocaran el piso.
—Interesante. —Aquella voz tan rota erizó su piel por completo, no pudo evitar que sus ojos se enfocarán en aquel rostro impasible y de expresión curiosa—. Dorado y azul, mis colores favoritos.
Suficiente, eso era el epítome de lo que podría soportar. Su rostro y cuello se pusieron rosáceos y luchó para volver a colocarse los lentes, pero no pudo controlar aquel olor que comenzó a caracterizarlo desde hace un par de años.
Chocolate, podía ser dulce o amargo, dependía de cuál de sus dos monstruos salía a flote.
Una mano le tomó con fuerza de su abrigo.
—¿Eres un omega? —La pregunta no tenía ni una pizca de amabilidad, así que Jeong se alejó con fuerza.
Estaba harto de sentir rechazo.
—Qué te importa.
Comenzó a caminar con rapidez hacia su destino. Y claro que a aquel joven le importaba, al ser un alfa y su arrendador, debía tener cuidado con los omegas. Jeong lo había arruinado.
. All rights reservedTranslated with DeepL Free version.
