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𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷 (𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓷)

Chapter Text

The skies above rumble with contained thunder, ominous clouds keep on bumping into each other, creating the worst of frictions just as booming lightning branches across the celestial sphere in thin webbing zaps.

The first droplet pats against the window I'm leaning into evoking an inaudible sigh from my lungs as even more join in, the relentless pelting doing nothing to quench my escalating anxiety. I reach over to the barely hanging in there sun-visor in my Da's ancient Chevy truck, uncovering the hidden mirror to flash myself a smile that clearly doesn't mimic the reflection of my navy dull eyes.

My shitty crooked teeth shine in all their disgusting glory, the small piece of barbell pierced into my frenulum doing an amazing job of bringing my molars into the spotlight. The tip of my tongue teases my smiley piercing, moisture already collecting behind my orbs. I couldn't afford braces so in a rebellious act of pure unadulterated ire I had the brilliant idea of getting a piercing in the pathetic hopes that it would take off the attention of my parallel gapped ridiculously twisted canines. You'll think being an Irishman would grant me an ounce of luck in situations like this but nope, not only did the stupid piercing bring out the hideous qualities in my crooked denture but it also brought up a slight overbite that was never there to begin with!

"You know is not too late to make a U-turn and head home bud, grab a stack of Pancakes from that IHOP place you treasure so much and hit than mini-golf court we made in the garage, Greg even sent us real golf sticks so we can finally ditch the broom ones we crafted with overcooked macaroni and glue?"

My left hand stretches to the callous overworked one in the gearshift for a short-lived squeeze. Da's words are a balm to my frantic nerves, giving me that last push I so desperately seek. A genuine beam takes over my features and I blink away the residual tears in my field of vision.

"Can I take you up on that offer during winter break? I won my scholarship fair and square and I believe it'll be a waste to just throw away all those years and months of arduous work. I need that campus Da' specially if I want my skills in the field to be spotted, you know rugby back in Mullingar ain't the great deal 'n' being an omega things are only um tougher-----

"Promise me you won't forget to take your pills and the sprays your essence is everything son. We could face serious repercussions if your cover is blown. Remember the fewer Alphas interactions the better, Betas tend to be neutral and pretty chilled don't------

"Go displaying any unnecessary skin, don't provoke any fights, stay low, camouflage with the entourage, seek friends that are worth it, don't skip your suppressors, shower at night and avoid communal lockers, restrain all submissive behavior and if faced by an alpha voice do not bare your neck no matter how hard your instincts scream you to, don’t whimper and most important of all keep your slick at bay, use an extra pair of pants if needed be. Trust me Da' I know the gist of it all, have even gone over it in my Zzzzs. It'll be okay, 's only three years yeah? I've got this. Plus, I'll be home during the holidays and any off-campus weekend I can grab for mehself."

"That's a good chap. Am I right in assuming I'm the only one who knows you enrolled on the Alpha ‘n’ Beta rugby program?"

"'Duuuh, Ma' would never approve 'n' Greg’s an overbearin' worrywart, aye need to do this for mehself so please Da', don't go snitchin’ on me 'kay? Can’t have meh dream shutdown before it commences." I was acutely aware of my accent becoming even more pronounced as I fought off my case, but it always happened when my emotional walls were tanked, that rasp that came with swallowing vocals and stretching on sentences was unavoidable.

"You have my word bud but I expect weekly updates and Skype calls got it?"

As I’m nodding my head a white limousine materializes out of thin air and takes on our cued intersection, Dad stomps on the breaks and veers leftwards in the perfect nick of time for the majestic vehicle to zoom by, cutting as of with such elegance I'm left gaping at the windshield. The designated chauffeur is behind tinted windows, but that doesn't spare the bloke from my boiling road rage as I grab the vintage handle to roll down my window, a trizillion curses flying from my lips as the speed of the handle only gives me a sliver of breeze to peek by. Nevertheless, I manage to shove my arm through it to flip off the arsehole on the backseat, who's probably skulling down bubbles and binging on HBO + in a smart TV flat screen.

Fucking Richlings.

The small London flags wave amusingly as if laughing at my own ridicule, the golden epaulettes adorning the rear lights blinding me for a moment in time in which it finally dawn's on me, whoever's on that over-the-top carrousel is heading towards the same Academy we're soughing after. Woodcreek High. The school’s seal spanning the boot should have been a ginormous giveaway if I wasn't so damn focused on the piece of shite inside it.

The smallest breach in my window eventually spreads wide enough for my head to lean fully into the exterior the very same moment the roof of the ostentatious limousine slides open and a mop of curls pop in my vision. The perfume of fully developed alpha skims my nostrils sending my head spinning whilst my hormones go on a rampant riot.

 Alpha's hair is long enough to reach the arch of his shoulders and I find myself unconsciously pouting, fingertips twitching with an imperative desire to feel the silkiness of his lion-ish mane as he gathers his caramel strands in a messy up do, revealing the contrasting profile of a prominent diamond-shaped jaw. The influx of saliva in my mouth is suddenly too large to swallow. This bloke is the epitome of beauty in its rawest moments. A small banana appears in his ring-clad hands and he maneuvers it gently in an upside-down position to peel it from the bottom something that would strike anyone as odd has me completely in enraptured awe. My fantasizing reverie is extremely short-lived the moment my countenance is fully smacked by the skin of an already eaten banana. 



Know your place, Niall.



The repetitive rising of my middle finger is promptly subdued by Bobby Horan’s cawing cackles, spittle’s of saliva now coating the windshield. Letting my discomfort play on pouting wobbly lips I leaned over the console to punch my Da’s trembling bicep just where his Claddagh piece of everlasting ink rests. The design was neat enough considering he got it from his best pal during a handstand bet. It somehow complemented his chalky-white-please-lord-let-us-not-caught-on-fire skin, although the edges of the tat were already reddened and a bit puffy due to the wild heat of sun rays filtering through the partly cracked windshield.

Without sparing a thought I reached over to knock down the sun-visor on Da’s side not that handy-made protection would do shite for him now… But the thought is what counts, aye?

 “Watch it ol’ geezer I still ‘ave some torthaí (fruit) in meh left ‘n’ since yeu ‘luv to constantly preach about the importance of a ‘ealthy breaky who am I to discourage such words of wisdom, huh? In fact, feel free to stuff yeurself special offer ‘tis on the house...” No longer had my words abandoned me that I was shaking like a deranged blender my unkempt darker roots in every possible direction aiding my mocking charade by using my hands to give the pieces of sticky residual fruit one last good old shake, sending them soaring all over Da’s redden blotched up countenance. The sounds that ensued past my throat were the ones of a complete ratcheted maniac.

“Well played, my good sir.”For emphasis, he lifted the brownish peel of the banana on top of his balding head, like tipping the hat of a chivalrous gentleman. I, of course, wasn’t buying into his antics in the slightest.

“Such a pity though chap... ‘ere see?” he tapped an imaginary rhythm mid-air. “You really over missed a spot, lucky for your Daidi(dada) these things won’t go amiss.” I tried to duck out of his meaty grip to the best of my abilities while uncontrollable rows of giggles assaulted me.

Mental note to self: NEVER, and I shall parrot this enough times for it to sink, EVER give Bobby Horan the upper hand in a raunchy fight, bloke is, sure enough, a force to be reckoned with....Chiefly because in a flawless, almost imperceptible motion he had the entire peel of the aforementioned banana putridly tucked inside my button-up, staining the white daisies embroideries a pucker murky brown, the stench of stale-ish fruit rapidly feeling my nostrils.


“Oi now seamair (clover) don’t be a poor sport. Learn to pick your battles and when to end victorious and on that note, you may also wanna learn when there’s time to ogle Alpha flesh. Don’t get too easily dazzled by those Pantene curls, he’s the kind of  tycoon you wanna get as far as possible from, just take a good look at those flauntin’ epaulettes! They are pink eye inducers for a driver, gimme a break.”

Bobby Horan did have a solid point in him and yet, I wanted to be the one judging this over the top Alpha. Something within me told me he couldn’t be a pompous-know-it-all prick, maybe that silver spoon in his mouth was shareable and warm to the touch. I’m definitely giving Pantene guy the benefit of the doubt even if Da was right on those fucking epaulettes bringing you conjunctivitis from just staring at them, damn!

I opted to roll down the remaining half-a-quarter of my window to  concentrate on the beautiful scenery, letting the expanding silence cue da of my disapproving views in the matter. I was, after all, venturing into uncharted territory, an Academy for the most prestigious elitist pupils, and being the only one given a full-lets-cover-everything-you-ever-dreamed-of-scholarship in centuries of well-enclosed tradition was sure to bring up an upheaval. I wasn’t foreign to bullying and all the cruel creations a bunch of psychos from my old school downtown could bring up, in fact, I was more than well accustomed to the laughter, the names, the never-ending jokes and the physical unconsented tousles. My teeth were solid proof of that.

I have gone through pretty much all and yet here I stand, crooked teeth and gender pool status be damned. I’m here to stay and NO ONE can convince me otherwise.

At least the pissy weather had finally decided to depart with its menstrual cramps kissing the last bumping clouds good riddance to bestow one neck turning bouquet of precisely accommodated colors, including every single hue in the spectrum. The rainbow was magnificent. Breathtaking.

Acting on complete auto-pilot I didn’t refrain myself from thieving one of Da’s greasy KFC napkins, the pen tucked behind my right ear already doodling away the arch of colors levitating in a clear pastel blue sky. The shades and mixed hues spreaded even further as if you were witnessing them through the lens of a kaleidoscope. A mandala. This one shall be mine. My one good omen for what’s to come.

If only I had awared myself of its lack of golden treasure by the end of its journey...My oh my and what a journey awaited me.