Chapter Text
Nanami is careless just once in his life, the night he discovers that monsters are real.
It’s already dark outside when he finally leaves school, and for the first time since presenting as an omega, just a few months ago, he leaves alone. Yu typically walks with him, or another of their friends. But Nanami is already running late tonight, and Yu hasn’t finished studying, and Nanami assures him he’ll be fine.
So, he leaves alone. He’s still a year away from his first heat, he knows his scent and pheromones are mild right now, and he feels relatively safe as he walks, even though it is dark and late.
He listens to music, lazy, smooth jazz playing in both ears, and he doesn’t even notice when the sounds of the city suddenly vanish around him. In fact, he notices nothing different at all—not the lack of city noise, not the lack of other pedestrians—until he’s crossing the bridge near his home and walks through a patch of air that feels ice cold against his skin, so different than the balmy spring night he had stepped out into back at school.
Nanami stops in his tracks, looking up and around curiously. He shivers, the hairs on his arms standing up from more than just the cold. He has a sudden feeling in his gut, a sense that tells him something is very wrong.
He turns off his music. Carefully removes his headphones.
He sees nothing at first, and as he cautiously walks forward, the air returns to its balmy state.
But at the foot of the bridge, a monster waits.
Nanami can think of no other way to describe it. It is simultaneously bulbous and elongated, writhing, disgusting. It has a thousand little pinprick eyes, all of which reflect light in a strange way, and all of which are staring right at him.
Nanami does not immediately feel afraid. His initial thought is that this cannot be real, that monsters don’t exist, that he’s hallucinating. But the thing at the foot of the bridge makes a hideous gurgling noise and distends outward toward Nanami, and Nanami jerks back, feeling that ice-cold air again, and then he knows fear.
He wants to turn and run but he does not want to put his back to this creature. He does not know how to fight it, or if he would even be capable, and as it moves closer, it extends strange limbs toward him, gurgling.
Nanami’s mouth opens without his permission, and he wails.
It is a piercing omegan wail, pitched for alphas to hear, a distress call, a signal that an omega is nearby and needs help.
Nanami has never made this sound before, and it comes out of him now instinctively.
Shockingly, it makes the monster coming for him pause. It undulates bizarrely, almost hesitantly, as Nanami’s wail continues.
And then an alpha is there, between one blink and the next. The alpha settles a hand on Nanami’s nape, gentling him, and the wail cuts off.
“You’re safe now,” says a male voice, and Nanami wants to shake his head because he’s not safe, there’s a monster in front of him, but then the alpha’s hand leaves his neck, and a tall boy steps out from behind him, and Nanami watches as he moves toward the monster, seemingly unafraid.
He has pure white hair, Nanami notes. He fixates on that head of hair, letting it fill his vision, but then Nanami’s eyes go strange, and suddenly the alpha and the monster are gone.
He is alone on the bridge.
He gasps, his entire body trembling, and wonders if he imagined the whole thing. He feels like he has just awoken from the most surreal dream. He looks cautiously from side to side, and then behind him. There is nothing. For the first time, he notes how quiet it is. He cannot hear anything.
He makes a promise to himself. He will never walk home alone again, he will beg Yu to accompany him, he will—
The alpha reappears, right in front of him, out of nowhere.
Nanami isn’t proud of the sound he makes then, a high-pitched yelp, hand flying to his chest.
The alpha’s head tilts. He wears glasses so dark Nanami can't see his eyes, but he knows he’s being very intensely stared at. He realizes suddenly that the alpha is probably not much older than Nanami himself.
“How did you get past the curtain?” the alpha asks, and those words in that order make no sense to Nanami, so he shakes his head wordlessly.
This seems to intrigue the alpha even more, because a tiny little smirk graces his lips. His eyebrows, as white as his hair, rise over the rims of his glasses.
Nanami swallows heavily several times. He has no idea what’s happening. He feels like he’s losing his mind.
“What was that thing?” he asks. “What did you do to it?”
The alpha nods, as if Nanami has answered his question. He doesn’t bother to answer Nanami’s own questions, which frustrates and confuses Nanami. He’s also starting to feel a bit of alarm at being alone with an alpha he doesn’t know, despite said alpha having come to his aid.
The alpha seems to sense that Nanami is wary of him, because his smirk turns into a bright, easy smile, one not meant to make anyone feel afraid. The overall effect of such a tall alpha, with a shock of white hair and such dark glasses at night, with a blinding smile, is actually rather ridiculous.
Nanami’s shoulders relax marginally.
The alpha slides forward, right into Nanami’s space, and links their arms together at the elbow.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says cheerfully, not giving Nanami a chance to protest. “What’s your name, omega?”
Nanami bristles a little and looks up at him. He thinks he should be offended, but he gives his name almost before realizing it.
“Na-na-mi,” the alpha purrs, testing the sounds on his tongue.
“What about yours, alpha?” Nanami growls, and realizes his mistake only when the alpha’s sunny smile turns wolfish and satisfied.
Nanami had called him alpha. He tries to pull away, to free his arm, but the alpha holds on even tighter, tucking Nanami against his side, so that they’re pressed together, a line of heat.
“I’m Gojo,” he says. “Gojo Satoru.”
Nanami stays stubbornly silent, deliberately not repeating his name back to him, but that only makes Gojo laugh.
As they walk, Nanami feels increasingly like he is having an out-of-body experience. He keeps picturing the monster, half-wondering if he imagined the whole thing. The unsettled feeling in his gut tells him it really happened, and he can feel himself starting to tremble a little at the memory.
“What was that thing?” he finally asks again, cutting through the inane chatter that Gojo has been keeping up.
Gojo quiets and glances down at him. Nanami is sure that Gojo can feel him shaking. They’re pressed too closely together for him not to.
“The answer to that won’t make you feel better tonight,” Gojo says, his tone shifting. He sounds serious. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. You need rest first. Sleep.”
Nanami wants to protest. Gojo doesn’t know him. And it’s presumptuous to assume they’ll see each other again. But he’s really shaking now, big racking shivers through his entire body. He can’t find the energy to tell Gojo that he’s fine. It would be a lie anyway.
Gojo seems to know this. He pulls Nanami along, humming tunelessly, meaningless chatter picking up again. But as he’s talking, he gently uncurls their arms and, keeping Nanami against his side, moves his hand to Nanami’s nape. He doesn’t grip him again, but he brushes his fingers softly against Nanami’s skin, soothing him, fingers easy and gentle but careful not to touch the mating gland hidden just under his collar.
By the time they reach Nanami’s house, his trembling has almost entirely stopped. Gojo’s fingers on his nape halt their movement, and Nanami, tired and addled, whines miserably. Gojo chuckles and his long fingers arch into Nanami’s hair, scratching.
Nanami recognizes that he is in shock. He is vaguely aware of Gojo’s scent, though it is so unassuming he feels sure that the alpha is masking it somehow. As Gojo releases him and turns him toward his front door, Nanami leans back toward him, wanting a deeper inhale of his scent.
Gojo steadies him as Nanami wobbles on his feet.
“Are you going to be okay, omega?” he asks lowly, and Nanami swallows.
He nods, and this time he goes to his door and opens it. He is only just now thinking about his parents, about what they will say about his late return home.
Before Nanami steps inside, he looks back at Gojo. “Thank you for coming,” he says. “When I called.”
Gojo smiles. “Good night, Nanamin.”
He’s gone before Nanami can shut the door behind him.