The world around him was soft, bathed in a golden, warm glow. The air was filled with a gentle, comforting scent—something faintly sweet, like fresh herbs, floral and the warmth of a hearth. It was a scent Dorian couldn't quite place, yet it tugged at something deep inside him, a part of him that he couldn't remember but longed to.
In the haze of his dream, he felt small—tiny, even, as if the world itself was much larger than it should have been. He couldn't see everything clearly, only flashes of light and shadow, shifting faces, and soft laughter that wrapped around him like a blanket.
And there were voices—two of them, warm and filled with love.
"Dorian," One of the voices called, gentle and filled with affection.
The sound of his name, spoken with such tenderness, made his heart ache in a way he didn't understand. There was something so familiar about it, even though the voices and faces belonged to people he had never met—or at least, had no memory of.
He could see them now, in brief flashes—a man with gentle hands, his hair dark and tousled, smiling down at him. And another man with soft, warm eyes, his touch light as he brushed his fingers across his cheek. Their faces weren't entirely clear, like looking through fogged glass, but the love in their eyes was unmistakable.
Their laughter filled the air, bright and joyous, and for a moment, Dorian felt safe. He felt wanted. He felt... loved.
He reached out toward them, his tiny hand grasping for the warmth of their touch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to reach them. His fingers brushed the air, but the warmth faded, slipping away from him.
The scent—the soft, unfamiliar scent that made his chest tighten with longing—grew faint, and the faces began to blur, disappearing into the distance.
"Don't go," Dorian tried to say, but his voice didn't come.
The warmth faded into darkness, the laughter growing quieter, more distant, until there was nothing but silence.
And then, there was a sudden jolt, a loud beeping noise cutting through the dream like a knife.
Dorian's eyes snapped open.
The golden warmth was gone, replaced by the cold, sterile reality of his bedroom. His chest heaved as he blinked away the remnants of the dream, his heart still racing as the familiar walls of the Vaelis mansion came into focus.
The beeping continued—the sharp, relentless sound of his alarm clock.
He reached over with a groan, slapping the button to silence it. The quiet that followed was almost too loud, pressing in on him as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The dream lingered in his mind, the faces—those unfamiliar faces—still hovering just at the edge of his memory.
Who were they?
The warmth, the laughter, the way they had called his name with such love—it all felt so real, so vivid. And yet, it was impossible. Dorian had no memories of those people. He had always known his parents as Eryx and Cassandra Vaelis, and their world had never been one of warmth or laughter.
The ache in his chest grew heavier as he lay there, the remnants of the dream slowly slipping away like sand through his fingers. He couldn't hold on to it, couldn't make sense of it. All he was left with was the hollow feeling of loss—of something he had never known, but now craved more than ever.
With a heavy sigh, Dorian sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down his spine, grounding him in the present. Another day awaited him—a day filled with responsibilities, expectations, and the constant weight of perfection.
There was no room for dreams like that.
He stood, running a hand through his tousled hair as he moved toward the window. The early morning light was just beginning to creep over the horizon, casting the mansion grounds in a soft, pale glow. The day ahead would be like all the others—a strict routine, meetings, expectations.
But as he stood there, staring out at the carefully manicured lawns of the Vaelis estate, the feeling from the dream—the warmth, the love—still lingered, like a distant memory he couldn't quite grasp.
Dorian shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. It was just a dream, nothing more. Whatever it had been, whatever strange longing it stirred inside him, it wasn't real. His life, his responsibilities, his family—that was real. That was all that mattered.
With a steadying breath, he turned away from the window and began his morning routine, the dream slowly fading into the back of his mind, though the ache it left behind remained.
_
The dining room was bathed in soft morning light, the large windows overlooking the perfectly manicured grounds of the Vaelis estate. Dorian sat at the long dining table, a quiet, lonely figure in the otherwise grand room. His breakfast had been laid out with precise care by the staff—perfectly arranged fruit, eggs cooked to perfection, and a slice of toast, just as he liked it.
But he barely touched his food.
His mind was elsewhere, still lingering on the dream from the night before—the warmth of it, the unfamiliar faces, and the strange feeling of love and care that he couldn't shake. It clung to him, even now, like a distant echo he couldn't quite grasp.
It was unusual for Dorian to let his thoughts wander like this, especially in the quiet of the morning. But the ache the dream had left behind hadn't faded. It gnawed at him, reminding him of something he couldn't name, something that felt impossibly far away.
As he stared down at his untouched plate, the silence of the house pressed in around him. His parents were, as usual, nowhere to be seen. Eryx and Cassandra rarely joined him for breakfast; in fact, it wasn't unusual for Dorian to go days without seeing them. They were always busy with their own affairs—Eryx with his work, Cassandra with her social circles and the family's reputation.
It had been like that for as long as he could remember.
He let out a soft sigh, picking at a slice of fruit before finally pushing his plate away. There was no point in dwelling on it. His parents' absence had long since become a part of his life—just like everything else.
Without a word, he stood and made his way toward the entrance, where the driver was already waiting to take him to school. The Vaelis family's black car gleamed in the driveway, polished to perfection like everything else in their world. Dorian slid into the back seat, his gaze drifting to the window as the car pulled away from the mansion.
Today was going to be different.
Instead of attending his usual morning classes, Dorian would be heading to a meeting with the student council and several teachers. They were finalizing plans for the upcoming fundraiser event, which would be held in the gardens—the very same gardens Dorian had been forced to clean during detention.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
As the car smoothly glided through the streets toward Haleworth Academy, Dorian's mind wandered again, this time drifting to thoughts of Rhys. He hadn't seen him since detention, and yet, Rhys' presence still lingered at the edges of his mind, irritatingly persistent.
Why was it that Rhys had gotten under his skin so easily? Dorian prided himself on control, on not letting things—or people—affect him. But Rhys had disrupted everything, pushing him to the point of losing his composure in front of the entire class. And yet, when he thought about it now, it wasn't just the irritation or frustration that lingered—it was the strange, almost magnetic pull that Rhys had over him.
Rhys was different. Unpredictable, yes, but also... carefree in a way that Dorian couldn't understand. He seemed to float through life without the same weight of responsibility pressing down on him. And that, in itself, was unsettling.
Dorian leaned back against the cool leather seat, letting out a slow breath. He had more important things to focus on right now. The fundraiser was a big event, and as the student council president, it was his job to ensure that everything went smoothly. There was no room for distractions—not from Rhys, not from his own wandering thoughts.
Still, the memory of Rhys' lazy grin, the way he had effortlessly sidestepped every rule, every expectation, lingered in Dorian's mind, as if daring him to question the rigid world he had been raised in.
The car pulled up to the entrance of Haleworth Academy, the grand building standing tall and imposing against the morning sky. Dorian straightened his jacket as the driver opened the door for him, stepping out onto the stone pathway with his usual composed grace.
He had a job to do, and there was no room for distractions.
But as he made his way toward the council room for the meeting, the strange tension in his chest—born from both the dream and his thoughts of Rhys—refused to fade.
_
The student council room buzzed with focused energy as Dorian took his place at the head of the table. The upcoming fundraiser event was the topic of the morning's meeting, and Dorian could already feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He had reviewed the plans meticulously, and now it was time to finalize the details with the teachers and his council members.
Seated around the long table were the familiar faces of his fellow council members, each of them busy with their notes, while several teachers sat at the far end, ready to oversee the final preparations. Talia sat beside Dorian, as always, her tablet in hand, prepared to record the final agreements.
Dorian glanced at the detailed itinerary in front of him, taking a moment to ensure that everything was in order. The fundraiser wasn't just an internal school event; it was open to the public, which meant the stakes were even higher. Visitors—parents, alumni, and community members—would attend, and everything needed to run seamlessly. It wasn't just a school function; it was an opportunity to present Haleworth Academy at its best.
"Let's get started," Dorian said, his voice calm and commanding as he looked up at the room. "The fundraiser is only a few days away, and we still have several tasks to finalize. As you all know, this event will be open to the public, so we'll need to ensure everything runs perfectly, especially with outside visitors attending."
There was a murmur of agreement from the council members and teachers. Dorian continued, his eyes scanning the event layout once more.
"First, we still have a shortage of manpower. The student council members are doing all they can, but we'll need additional help to manage the event, especially with visitors coming in and moving through the garden area."
Talia, ever efficient, tapped her pen against her tablet. "We could open it up to the rest of the student body for volunteers. A lot of students would want to get involved, especially if there's some sort of incentive."
Dorian nodded. "That's what I was thinking. With the public attending, we need more students to help with setup, managing booths, guiding visitors, and, of course, cleanup. But we can't expect them to volunteer without a reason."
One of the teachers, Ms. Devereaux, spoke up. "Offering community service hours is usually enough to get students to sign up for these kinds of events. We can also offer extra credit in certain subjects for students who participate."
Another teacher, Mr. Calloway, leaned forward in his seat. "We could extend that to offering letters of recommendation for students who need them for college applications. It's a good way to get the more ambitious students involved."
Dorian noted their suggestions, his mind already processing the logistics of managing so many moving parts. More volunteers meant more coordination, but it was the only way to ensure the event went smoothly.
"Agreed," Dorian said. "We'll offer community service hours, extra credit, and the possibility of recommendation letters. We'll need at least fifteen more students to cover all the tasks. Talia, I'll need you to create a sign-up sheet and distribute it through the student portal and around the school by the end of today."
Talia nodded, her fingers already moving across her tablet. "I'll have it ready within the hour."
One of the council members, Marcus, raised his hand. "What about the budget? If we're bringing in more volunteers and we're expecting a bigger crowd with the public attending, do we have enough to cover the extra food, drinks, and supplies?"
Dorian glanced down at the budget sheet in front of him, running the numbers in his head. He had worked hard to ensure they wouldn't exceed their initial projections, but with the public invited, the scale of the event had grown larger than anticipated.
"We'll need to adjust the budget," Dorian replied. "I'll speak with the headmaster about securing additional funds to cover the extra expenses. Marcus, I'll need you to keep track of any changes as we confirm numbers with vendors."
Marcus nodded, making quick notes in his ledger. "I'll keep everything updated and let you know if anything shifts."
With the logistics of the volunteers settled, Dorian's attention turned to the layout of the event itself. The garden area, where the event would be held, was spacious and elegant, but it would need to be carefully organized to accommodate the influx of visitors from both inside and outside the school.
"We'll need to section off areas of the garden to manage the flow of visitors," Dorian said, pointing to the layout on the table in front of him. "The booths for donations, food, and activities will be here, near the main entrance. We'll need volunteers stationed at key points to guide guests through the garden and ensure no one gets lost."
He paused, his eyes tracing the path visitors would take through the garden. It was the same garden he had cleaned during his recent detention—a fact that didn't escape him, though he kept his expression neutral. The memory of that day still irked him, especially since it had been Rhys who had landed him there in the first place.
Would Rhys sign up to volunteer?
The thought flickered through his mind briefly, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Rhys, with his careless attitude and disregard for rules, wasn't the type to volunteer for anything, much less an event like this. But then again, Rhys had a habit of doing the unexpected—of showing up in places where Dorian least wanted to see him.
Dorian pushed the thought aside, focusing back on the matter at hand. There was no time for distractions—not with the fundraiser so close.
The teachers exchanged a few more ideas about managing the crowd and ensuring safety protocols were in place, especially with the public attending. The council members jotted down notes, ready to tackle their assigned tasks.
As the meeting began to wind down, Dorian felt a sense of satisfaction. They had a solid plan, and with the right number of volunteers and careful coordination, the fundraiser would be a success. But even as the details fell into place, the tension inside him remained, a lingering sense that something—someone—was about to disrupt the careful order he had built.
The meeting concluded with Dorian assigning final tasks to the council members. As the group began to disperse, Talia turned to him with a thoughtful look.
"Do you think we'll get enough volunteers in time?" She asked, tucking her tablet under her arm.
"We'll have to," Dorian replied, his tone firm. "We don't have any other choice."
_
The lunch bell rang, signaling a much-needed break after the morning's meeting. Dorian and Talia walked side by side through the hallway, their footsteps echoing in the grand corridors of Haleworth Academy. The weight of the fundraiser plans still pressed on Dorian's mind, though they had made significant progress during the meeting.
"I think we're in good shape," Talia said, glancing up from her tablet as they made their way toward the cafeteria. "The volunteers should come through once we post the sign-up. And with the teachers on board, we're covering all the bases."
Dorian nodded, though his thoughts were slightly distant. The logistics of the event were under control, but his mind kept drifting back to that morning, to the strange dream he'd had, and then to the brief flashes of Rhys that had somehow crept in during the meeting.
He wasn't even sure why he kept thinking about Rhys. The Omega had a way of slipping into his thoughts, no matter how hard Dorian tried to push him out. Maybe it was because Rhys represented everything Dorian had been taught to avoid—recklessness, carelessness, the refusal to follow rules. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something Dorian couldn't—or didn't want to—define.
As they entered the cafeteria, the familiar sound of chatter and the clinking of trays filled the air. Dorian scanned the room briefly, his eyes passing over the rows of students eating in small clusters, before he spotted something that made him pause.
Rhys was sitting at one of the center tables, surrounded by a group of students, both Betas and Omegas, all of them seemingly engaged in animated conversation. Rhys' auburn hair was unmistakable, and even from across the room, Dorian could see the easy smile on his face, the way he leaned back in his chair with a relaxed, confident posture.
He was clearly enjoying himself, and the students around him seemed drawn to his charm, laughing and hanging on his every word.
Talia followed Dorian's gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Well, looks like Rhys doesn't have any trouble making friends."
Dorian frowned slightly, his jaw tightening as he watched the scene unfold. Rhys hadn't even been at the academy long, and yet here he was, surrounded by students as if he belonged—fitting in so effortlessly, when Dorian himself had always felt slightly apart, even with his position as student council president.
But before Dorian could dwell on the thought, Rhys seemed to notice him. His eyes flickered across the room, landing on Dorian with a glint of recognition. For a moment, their gazes locked, and a slow, lazy smile spread across Rhys' face.
Rhys excused himself from the group, standing up and weaving through the crowded tables with a casual grace that made it look effortless. The students he had been talking to watched him go, clearly surprised that he was leaving so soon.
"Dorian," Rhys greeted, his voice light and teasing as he approached, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. "Fancy seeing you here."
Dorian stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing at the Omega's familiar tone. He hadn't forgotten their last encounter—or how Rhys had managed to get under his skin so easily.
"Rhys," Dorian replied, his voice cool and measured.
Talia glanced between the two of them, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing to remain silent, her sharp eyes watching the exchange with curiosity.
Rhys' grin widened as he stopped in front of them, his gaze flicking briefly to Talia before settling back on Dorian. "Still busy being president of everything, I assume?"
Dorian's eyes narrowed further, but he kept his voice calm. "Some of us have responsibilities."
Rhys shrugged, clearly unbothered by the sharpness in Dorian's tone. "And some of us just know how to enjoy life without taking everything so seriously."
Talia couldn't help but chuckle at that, earning a side glance from Dorian. But Rhys wasn't done.
"So," Rhys continued, leaning slightly toward Dorian as if they were old friends sharing a secret, "I heard about the fundraiser. Big event. Public's coming, too, right?"
Dorian blinked in surprise. "How do you know about that?"
Rhys tapped the side of his head, his smile playful. "People talk, President. And I listen."
Dorian stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the fact that Rhys had somehow learned about the fundraiser plans. He hadn't even posted the details yet, and yet Rhys seemed to already know more than he should.
"I take it you're not volunteering," Dorian said, his voice edged with sarcasm.
Rhys laughed, the sound light and unbothered. "Me? Volunteer? You know I don't really do the whole... responsibility thing."
Dorian's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling just below the surface. Of course Rhys didn't care about volunteering. He didn't care about anything—or at least, that's what it seemed like.
But then, Rhys' smile softened ever so slightly, his eyes glinting with something more thoughtful as he looked at Dorian. "But... I might come by. Check it out. See what all the fuss is about."
Dorian's breath caught for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Rhys' tone. For just a second, it almost seemed like Rhys was being sincere—like he might actually be interested in the event, or at least in what it represented. But before Dorian could react, Rhys' playful grin returned.
"Well, I'll let you get to your very important student council business," Rhys said with a wink. "Can't have you getting distracted."
With that, Rhys turned and strolled back to his table, leaving Dorian standing there, still trying to make sense of the encounter.
Talia, who had remained quiet through the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice teasing. "Looks like you have an admirer."
Dorian shot her a sharp look, his frustration evident in the tightness of his posture. "He's just... annoying."
Talia raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so."
As they moved toward their usual table, Dorian couldn't shake the feeling that Rhys was, once again, getting under his skin in a way no one else ever had. The Omega had a way of disrupting everything—his thoughts, his focus, his control—and the fact that Rhys seemed so unbothered by it all only made it worse.
Dorian sat down, his mind still racing as he tried to push the encounter aside. But despite his best efforts, Rhys' words—his teasing grin, his casual confidence—lingered in the back of his mind.
And for reasons Dorian couldn't quite explain, he wasn't sure if that was entirely a bad thing.
_
The days leading up to the fundraiser event passed in a blur of activity, each moment packed with meetings, final arrangements, and constant adjustments. For Dorian, the weight of responsibility only grew heavier as the event drew closer. The public was coming, expectations were high, and everything needed to go perfectly.
He had posted the volunteer sign-up earlier in the week, and thankfully, students had responded quickly. Extra credit, community service hours, and recommendation letters had proven to be excellent incentives. Still, there was a nagging feeling in the back of Dorian's mind—anxiety that something would slip through the cracks or go wrong at the last moment.
It was the day before the event, and Dorian stood in the student council room, reviewing the finalized volunteer list on his tablet. Talia was beside him, flipping through her own notes as they double-checked every name, ensuring all tasks were covered.
"Looks like we've got a decent turnout," Talia said, her eyes scanning the list. "A lot more students than we expected, actually."
Dorian nodded, though his mind was focused on the logistics of managing so many volunteers. It was good that they had enough people to handle the event, but the sheer number of students involved added another layer of complexity. He was about to make a note when Talia's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Wait a minute," She said, a note of surprise in her voice. "Rhys Everen signed up?"
Dorian froze, his eyes snapping to the screen. Sure enough, there it was—Rhys Everen listed among the volunteers. The name sat boldly on the page, almost mocking Dorian with its presence.
He blinked, half-convinced he was seeing things. "Rhys... volunteered?"
Talia gave him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "Seems like it. Didn't see that coming."
Dorian stared at the name for a moment, his mind racing. Why would Rhys sign up? He had been so casual—so indifferent—about the fundraiser when they last spoke. Dorian had assumed the Omega wouldn't have any interest in getting involved. And yet, there he was, listed as a volunteer.
"What do you think he's up to?" Talia asked, her tone amused.
Dorian shook his head, still processing. "I have no idea."
The thought of working with Rhys on the fundraiser filled him with a strange mix of frustration and curiosity. On one hand, Rhys was the last person Dorian wanted to rely on for something this important. He was too unpredictable, too relaxed. But on the other hand, there was something about Rhys that made Dorian hesitate—something that intrigued him, even if he didn't fully understand it.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Dorian muttered, more to himself than to Talia. "Make sure he doesn't cause any problems."
Talia chuckled, tapping her pen against her tablet. "Good luck with that. He's unpredictable, but who knows? Maybe he'll surprise you."
Dorian wasn't so sure, but he pushed the thought aside. There was no time to dwell on Rhys right now—he had more important things to focus on. Still, the idea of working alongside Rhys at the fundraiser left him feeling uneasy, the tension between them simmering just beneath the surface.
_
The next day, the morning of the fundraiser, the academy's garden was bustling with activity. Volunteers were everywhere, setting up booths, arranging tables, and preparing for the influx of visitors that would arrive later in the day. Dorian moved through the crowd, clipboard in hand, directing students and making sure everything was on track.
It was controlled chaos, but so far, things were running smoothly. Dorian stopped near the main entrance, checking off another item on his list when he spotted a familiar figure leaning casually against one of the booths.
Rhys.
Dorian's eyes narrowed as he watched the Omega chat with one of the other volunteers, his posture relaxed, his trademark grin on his face. For someone who had volunteered at the last minute, Rhys didn't seem particularly concerned with the work that needed to be done.
Dorian made his way over, his footsteps purposeful. "Rhys."
Rhys turned, his grin widening when he saw Dorian. "President," He greeted, his tone playful as always. "Nice day for an event, don't you think?"
Dorian crossed his arms, his gaze steady. "You volunteered."
Rhys shrugged, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Figured I'd give back to the community. Or, you know, just get the extra credit."
Dorian's frown deepened. "This isn't a joke, Rhys. We have a lot to get done before the public arrives, and I don't have time for distractions."
"Distractions?" Rhys raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I'm here to help, President. What more could you ask for?"
Dorian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't have the energy for Rhys' games today. The event was too important, and he couldn't afford for anything to go wrong.
"Fine," Dorian said, his voice firm. "If you're going to help, then actually help. I need someone to oversee the volunteers setting up the food booths. Can you handle that?"
Rhys straightened slightly, the teasing edge in his smile fading just a little. "You want me in charge of something?"
Dorian met his gaze, his expression serious. "I want to know that you're not going to make things harder for the rest of us."
For a moment, something passed between them—an unspoken challenge. Rhys' eyes lingered on Dorian's for a beat longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something thoughtful, almost like he was considering Dorian's words carefully.
Then, to Dorian's surprise, Rhys nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. Consider it handled."
Dorian blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Rhys' demeanor. He had expected more pushback, more teasing, but instead, Rhys seemed... almost serious. Dorian wasn't sure what to make of it, but there was no time to overthink it now.
"Good," Dorian said, recovering quickly. "Make sure the booths are set up by noon."
Rhys gave a lazy salute, though there was a hint of a grin on his face. "You got it, President."
As Rhys turned to walk away, Dorian watched him for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Rhys had actually agreed to help—and that he seemed to be taking it seriously. It was... unexpected, to say the least.
Talia, who had been watching the exchange from nearby, sidled up to Dorian, a smirk on her face. "Looks like you've got yourself a new team leader."
Dorian sighed, shaking his head. "Let's just hope he doesn't turn this into a disaster."
Talia chuckled, tapping her clipboard. "You never know. Rhys might surprise you."
As the day wore on, and the event's setup continued, Dorian couldn't help but keep one eye on Rhys, half-expecting something to go wrong. But as the clock ticked closer to noon, the food booths were coming together smoothly, the volunteers working efficiently under Rhys' casual direction.
And, much to Dorian's surprise, nothing had gone wrong—at least, not yet.