Chapter 1

Instead of the usual cawing of crows, the heavy drumming of rain against the window heralded the morning long before his seven o’clock alarm could ring. Rubbing his stiff eyelids, Alex hauled himself up, his medium-length black hair falling in loose disarray across his forehead.

He peered outside. Raindrops streaked down the dust-caked glass, washing away the grime to reveal a world painted entirely in shades of ashen gray.

It’s raining, he thought, the realization piercing through the lingering haze of sleep. Given the relentless downpour, it looked set to continue for hours, meaning morning practice would undoubtedly be canceled.

Ever since the news report about the youth football team’s training conditions had aired, the coach had established a strict policy: on rainy days, practice was automatically canceled, even without formal notice. There was no need to leave early. Despite knowing this, Alex swung his legs out of bed.

The damp, cold wooden floorboards groaned beneath his weight, sticking uncomfortably to the soles of his feet with every step. Built at least fifty years ago, the two-story flat was a miserable place to live, failing to block the biting drafts in winter and suffocating its residents with a musty stench of rotting wood in summer. Alex Yeon had spent his entire life in this dilapidated flat, considering it a sheer miracle that they hadn’t been overrun by bedbugs yet.

He crept down the stairs with practiced caution. In the living room, a half-empty bottle of vodka his father had left behind rolled lazily across the floor. The harsh, eye-watering scent of the clear liquor filled the air, the spilled alcohol soaking a dark stain into the living room carpet. Judging by the absence of a disheveled head on the sofa, the man must have actually stumbled into his bedroom to sleep.

He probably didn’t even bother checking the laundry hung in the backyard, Alex mused bitterly.

Bending down to snatch up the offending vodka bottle, he stepped straight out the back door. He gathered the sopping wet clothes into his arms, just as drenched as when he had first hung them, tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, and trudged back inside.

The living room clock struck seven, sending a sudden jolt of urgency through him. If he didn’t leave immediately, he might miss the train at that specific time.

Shoving the ruined laundry into the washing machine, he rushed to the bathroom. He finished his shower in less than ten minutes, threw on his school uniform, roughly towel-dried his hair, and jammed his feet into his sneakers. Snatching his umbrella, he fished for his keys, but his frantic haste caused him to drop them twice. He snatched the dirt-smudged keys from the ground, locked the door, and checked his phone. If he sprinted to the station, he would just barely make it.

“I’m heading out,” he murmured to the empty air, a hollow farewell with no one to receive it.

Alex spun on his heel and broke into a run, his legs pumping harder and kicking off the pavement with more force than he ever exerted on the football pitch. The umbrella quickly became a nuisance in his mad dash, so he ultimately collapsed it, shoved it into his bag, and sprinted on through the downpour.

He burst into the subway station entirely soaked. His rain-drenched uniform clung uncomfortably to his skin, and heavy water droplets dripped steadily from the ends of his plastered, pitch-black hair.

The platform heading toward the outskirts of London was sparsely populated. Standing at the very end of the platform, Alex stared down at the ground. The bright yellow text warning passengers to mind the gap between the train and the platform seared into his vision. It was a phrase he had seen his entire life.

You don’t have to tell me, he thought bitterly. I already know.

Rainy days always brought an onslaught of unwanted thoughts. His pathetic reality of warming the bench because he lacked natural genius, his ambiguous existence as a mixed-race kid who never quite fit in anywhere, all of it felt like a glaring reminder of the insurmountable gap between him and the rest of the world. A sudden wave of foul mood washing over him, Alex dragged his shoe over the yellow text, deliberately covering it up.

A moment later, the stiff, dry automated announcement echoed through the station. The mechanical rumble of the approaching train steadily grew louder until a rush of damp air heralded its arrival, the massive cars screeching to a halt. Staring down at the pitch-black gap about a hand’s span wide, Alex waited for the doors to slide open.

Will he be there?

Heart in his throat, he lifted his head. The rearmost carriage was more crowded than usual, but the blond boy he was searching for was nowhere to be seen. A crushing weight of disappointment crashed over him. The entire reason he had run through the pouring rain vanished in an instant, and a heavy, defeated sigh slipped past his lips.

“What are you doing?”

The voice floated over from his left, prompting Alex to whip his gaze around.

“Not getting on?”

Leaning against the left side of the subway doors, a pale wrist gripped a backpack strap with effortless grace. Alex’s eyes traced the long, elegant fingers with their beautifully pronounced knuckles, traveling up the straight curve of a pristine neckline to a halo of radiant blond hair. And finally, those striking, vivid green eyes.

Ah, he’s here.

A furious blush bloomed across Alex’s face. Forgetting how to breathe, he simply blinked, completely captivated. Blood rushed wildly through his previously chilled body, warming him up so rapidly that it left him frozen in place like a statue.

Snapping out of his daze just a fraction of a second before the doors closed, he scrambled forward. His bag nearly got caught in the shutting doors. Damn it. He wanted nothing more than to look cool in front of him, yet here he was, making a fool of himself first thing in the morning. The mortification burned hot on the back of his neck.

“Sleep well?” Alex choked out, desperately trying to salvage his dignity.

The pale face, completely devoid of any significant expression, stared back at him. He’s beautiful again today. The thought floated unbidden through Alex’s mind as he stared blankly down at the boy.

“Yeah,” came the dry, clipped response.

The conversation died instantly after that, but Alex didn’t mind. That was just how Nathan was.

Standing without holding onto a handrail, Alex nervously gripped and released his bag straps in a continuous, restless loop. Only the mechanical hum of the moving train echoed through the carriage. Amidst that chaotic silence, Alex was paralyzed by a single, terrifying worry: What if Nathan can hear my heartbeat?

A few minutes later, the train jerked to a halt. The departing crowd shoved against him, forcefully pressing Alex right up against Nathan’s personal space. Panicking, Alex hastily slapped his hand against the wall just above Nathan’s head to brace himself. Shorter in stature, Nathan silently tilted his gaze upward. His long, curled eyelashes were dizzyingly gorgeous.

“Sorry,” Alex managed, his voice cracking from the proximity. He forced himself to look away, desperately trying to rip his gaze from Nathan’s neck, which was paler and more flawless than white plaster.

“It’s fine,” Nathan muttered.

His stoic, unreadable tone made it impossible to gauge his mood, but Alex immediately assumed he hated it. Snapping his mouth shut, Alex felt deeply guilty about his soaking-wet uniform brushing against Nathan and frantically tried to lean back. But in the midst of his retreat, he collided with another boarding passenger, completely losing his balance.

As he stumbled, a pale hand shot out to steady him. It was Nathan’s hand, surprisingly large for his height, firmly gripping the fabric of Alex’s uniform. Their eyes locked. Those vivid green irises, vibrant as summer leaves, captured Alex’s reflection with crystal clarity. Terrified that the boy would notice his furiously blushing face mirrored in those beautiful eyes, Alex held his breath once more.

“Careful.”

With that quiet warning, the hand slipped away. Alex barely managed to right himself, his stomach doing wild flips as if he had swallowed a swarm of butterflies. This was exactly what he loved about him.

An unexpectedly gentle… Nathan White.

That was the name of the Beta whom Alex Yeon, an Alpha, had been hopelessly in love with for the past two years.

☂