Chapter Text
Move-in day always smelled like chaos—fresh paint, cardboard, detergent, and nervous excitement all tangled together under the late-afternoon sun.
The SUV rolled into the East Tower parking lot and barely had time to settle before all doors opened almost in sync. Seven alphas stepped out, and the effect was immediate. Conversations nearby stuttered. A few heads turned. There was something unmistakable about a bonded pack moving as one—easy, confident, claiming space without ever needing to raise their voices.
Felix stretched his arms overhead, grin wide and bright.
“Room keys, territory secured, and a full fridge,” he announced. “I vote we’re thriving already.”
Hyunjin snorted, slamming his door shut. “You literally just got out of the car, Lix.”
Minho adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, already scanning the building. “Let’s move our stuff in before you all start nesting in the hallway.”
That earned a chorus of laughs as they grabbed duffels and boxes, heading toward the dorm complex. East Tower rose ahead of them—clean lines, wide windows, and just enough distance from the rest of campus to feel controlled. Intentional.
They’d been assigned rooms on the same floor, an unofficial courtesy extended to bonded packs. Minho didn’t miss the way other students clocked it—the subtle looks, the whispered guesses. A pack this intact, this settled, always drew attention.
Their housing representative, a slim beta with a tablet clutched a little too tightly, met them just inside the entrance.
“Welcome to East Tower,” the beta said, eyes flicking between them before settling somewhere safely neutral. “You’ve been assigned a full wing. It should help with… scent compatibility.” A brief pause. “Laundry’s two floors down. Showers are shared, but your section has a private set. Pack access only.”
Changbin nodded approvingly. “Perfect. Fewer strangers near our stuff.”
Minho agreed, even if he didn’t say it out loud. Less interference meant fewer problems.
They took the stairs two at a time, passing clusters of students unpacking and introducing themselves. The air buzzed with voices and excitement. A pair of omegas lingered near the landing, giggling behind their hands as the pack passed. Minho ignored it—mostly.
What caught his attention was the murmured conversation drifting from the other side of the stairwell.
“Did you hear he’s back this semester?”
“The White Wolf? No way. I thought he got expelled or something.”
“Nah. Just doesn’t talk to anyone. Still in West Tower, I think.”
Seungmin slowed mid-step. “White Wolf?”
Jeongin wrinkled his nose. “What kind of name is that?”
“Sounds made up,” Jisung said. “Dramatic much?”
Minho filed it away, uninterested but alert. Nicknames like that didn’t come from nothing.
They reached their floor and split up to unlock doors, the familiar comfort of shared space settling in quickly. As Minho dropped his bag inside his room, Seungmin’s voice cut through the low hum of movement.
“You might wanna look at this.”
Minho turned, following the others toward the shared lounge. Seungmin stood by the window, one hand frozen mid-curtain.
Across the quad, on the far side of the courtyard, someone crossed the grass alone.
White hair—no, not blonde. Too pale for that. Hoodie sleeves shoved up to reveal forearms dusted with muscle. A duffel bag hung from one shoulder like it barely weighed anything. His posture was relaxed but deliberate, every step efficient, eyes fixed forward.
Even from this distance, Minho felt it.
Sharp.
Not loud. Not showy. Just… present. Like the space bent around him without protest.
Hyunjin frowned slightly. “That him?”
“Must be,” Felix said. “That hair’s not exactly low-key.”
Changbin huffed. “He doesn’t look that scary.”
Minho didn’t take his eyes off the figure until he disappeared into West Tower.
“No,” he said quietly. “But he smells like trouble.”
The white-haired stranger vanished into West Tower, swallowed by glass doors and shadow.
The tension in the lounge eased almost immediately, like a held breath finally released—but it didn’t disappear entirely. Something lingered instead. A faint prickle under the skin. Static humming just beneath awareness.
Hyunjin rubbed at the back of his neck, breaking the silence. “Well. That was… a vibe.”
Changbin scoffed, already dragging a box toward his room. “What kind of alpha lives alone in a dorm that far from everyone?”
“Maybe the kind that likes it that way,” Minho said, voice calm as he turned back to unpacking, already done with the subject.
“Or the kind everyone else avoids,” Jeongin added lightly.
Jisung barely heard them.
His eyes were still on the courtyard, on the stretch of grass where the stranger had crossed as if it belonged to him. He frowned, brow creasing.
“He didn’t look like he was avoiding anything.”
Felix dropped onto the couch with theatrical ease, boots kicked up. “You crushing already, Sungie?”
Jisung choked on air. “What—! No! I’m just saying—” He gestured vaguely toward the window. “He didn’t even look around. Like he didn’t care who saw him.”
Seungmin’s voice drifted in, dry as ever. “That’s not confidence. That’s what getting expelled twice does to a person.”
Jisung blinked. “Was that real? The expulsion thing?”
Hyunjin shrugged. “You know how rumors go. You snarl at the wrong person once and suddenly you’re a ‘danger to public safety.’”
Minho paused in his doorway, gaze sweeping the room, sharp and assessing. “Either way,” he said, tone final, “stay away from him. We didn’t move here to start shit.”
That should have settled it.
It didn’t.
Later that night, after boxes were emptied and Minho enforced a strict lights-out-for-sanity rule, Jisung lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. The dorm had quieted, the pack’s presence a familiar, steady hum around him. From the other side of the wall, Jeongin’s breathing was slow and even.
Jisung’s thoughts refused to follow suit.
They drifted back—uninvited, insistent—to white hair and sharp eyes and the way that stranger had moved through open space like nothing could touch him.
It wasn’t just the look of him.
It was the scent.
Jisung swallowed, throat suddenly dry. He could still remember it, lingering faintly in the courtyard even after the guy was gone. Clean, but not soft. Commanding, but not heavy.
Not omega.
Not alpha.
Something else entirely.
His stomach had fluttered when it hit him—no, twisted. Not the warm pull of attraction, not a crush. This had been sharper. Deeper. Instinctive in a way that made his skin prickle and his pulse jump.
Unfamiliar. Alluring.
Wrong in all the ways that felt dangerously right.
Jisung turned his head, staring into the dark.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered.