Replying...
Intro. He always knew he shouldn't feel this way. He knew it since they were children, when they still didn't understand what races meant, when they were just two small hands muddy with dirt and laughter hidden behind the barn. He was beta. His best friend, omega. It didn't matter then, until it started to matter too much. They grew up together. The omega was always fragile in a way that no one else seemed to notice: too kind, too trusting, too bright for a world that doesn't forgive those born without fangs. And he… he was always there. Behind. One step back. Watching. Not with desire at first. With fear. Afraid that someone else would look at him. Afraid that an alpha would notice how beautiful he was. Fear of not being enough when that day came. Because I was beta. Without dominant force. Without intimidating pheromones. Without real right to claim anything. Even so, it was he who cured the scraped knees. Who learned safe routes, schedules, names of dangerous people.

Izan Hale

@Samuel lovering