My Mate Is My Roommate?

Chapter 2 - Scent of Cedar

The second day was worse because now Kaito knew what he was trying not to notice, and trying not to notice made it louder.

Renji Takamori moved like he owned the space without trying to. He woke at five forty without an alarm, did push-ups on the floor without a sound, the muscles in his back flexing under his shirt, showered in under five minutes, and left for practice while Kaito pretended to be asleep, breathing too even. He left behind a towel that smelled faintly of cedar and a half-empty protein shaker on his desk that Kaito tried not to look at. The bathroom was warm and damp after him, and Kaito hated that his body responded to the leftover heat.

Kaito had set his own alarm for seven to take his suppressant on time. He had learned at the clinic that timing mattered more than dose, that the synthetic hormones needed a strict twenty-four hour cycle or they wobbled. He took it at seven sharp with water from the sink, swallowed, and waited for the familiar flattening. It didn't come as fast as it should have. Perhaps because Renji's scent was already in his lungs.

He lasted until eight before the edge wore thin. He had timed the second dose wrong the night before, taking it at midnight instead of morning when he was nervous, and now the gap was twelve hours instead of twenty-four, and his body was confused. His skin prickled with heat on the back of his neck, his gland throbbing faintly. He fumbled for the pill case, dry-swallowed the emergency half-dose the doctor said to never use, and locked himself in the bathroom to wait it out, sitting on the closed toilet lid with his head between his knees.

When he came out, pale and damp, Renji was back. He had a towel around his neck, hair still wet, and he was holding two bentos in his hands.

"You missed orientation," Renji said, holding one out. He set it on Kaito's desk without asking if he wanted it. "I brought lunch. The line was long, I thought you might be sleeping."

Kaito stared at the bento, salmon and rice and pickled plum, the kind that cost extra. "Why? You don't have to -"

"You looked pale this morning," Renji said simply, as if that explained everything. He sat at his own desk and opened his bento, eating efficiently with chopsticks, not watching to see if Kaito would eat. That made it easier.

The bento was good. Kaito ate at his desk while Renji worked on tactical notes for lacrosse, the scratch of his pen the only sound. Every time Renji shifted, a fresh wave of cedar rolled over. Kaito's fingers tightened around his chopsticks. He tried to focus on the rice, on the fact that someone had thought to bring him food when he was too anxious to get it himself.

"Renji, do you -" Kaito started, then stopped. Do you know how strong you smell? Do you know what you are doing to me? Do you know I can feel your scent in my teeth?

"Do I what?" Renji looked up, calm eyes. He had a grain of rice on his lower lip and Kaito stared at it before jerking his eyes away.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Kaito asked instead, stupidly, because his brain had short-circuited.

Renji raised one eyebrow, surprised, then amused. "No. Why? Do you want to set me up?"

"No! Just wondering why you wanted the single filter," Kaito muttered, face hot. "Usually Alphas want girlfriends."

Renji leaned back, studying him with that quiet intensity that made Kaito feel seen. "I don't. My mother wants me to have one. She sends photos. But if an Omega lives here, the school requires a filter upgrade. I told administration we need one. They will install it tomorrow morning at nine. They didn't ask why."

Kaito choked on rice. "You told them I am -"

"I told them I have allergies," Renji interrupted, gentle but firm. "Cedar pollen in spring, remember? They didn't ask more. They said it's a standard request this semester, many students ask. You are safe."

The word safe made Kaito's eyes sting. He turned to hide it, coughing.

That night the heat came back stronger, because half-doses never work. Kaito woke at two AM slick with sweat, his sheets damp, his scent leaking sweet milk and peach despite the blocker, a scent he hated because it made him feel small and edible. He bit his lip to keep quiet, but a small whimper escaped when he curled tighter and his gland pulsed. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle it.

On the other bed, Renji sat up instantly, awake. He had been awake for a while, listening to Kaito's uneven breathing.

"Aizawa?" His voice was low, not sleepy.

"I am fine," Kaito gasped, curled tight, shaking. "Just a cold. Sweat. Go back to sleep."

Renji didn't turn on the light. That mattered. He opened the window a c***k, letting cold September air in that cut the sweet air, and said quietly, "If you need the bathroom, go ahead. I will put in earbuds and face the wall. I won't look."

Kaito stumbled to the bathroom and locked the door, sitting on the cold tile until the wave passed, hating his body, hating the way part of him, the Omega part he tried to kill with pills, wanted Renji to open that door and help. When he came out twenty minutes later, shaky but cooler, Renji was lying facing the wall, earbuds in, a blanket pulled up, pretending he hadn't heard anything, and the room smelled faintly less like sugar and more like cold air and cedar.

Kaito slipped back into bed and whispered into the dark, "Thank you. For the window."

Renji didn't answer for a long time, then, so quiet Kaito wasn't sure he heard, "Anytime. Goodnight, Kaito."

It was the first time Renji used his first name. Kaito fell asleep with it repeating in his head.

At orientation the next morning, Kaito sat alone because he feared the scent of other Omegas would confuse his own. A Beta girl offered him a campus map and he thanked her too quickly. In the afternoon, Renji found him in the library, not at the dorm, curled in a corner with his blocker spray in his sleeve. You don't have to hide in the library, Renji said quietly, sitting across but not too close. The filter will be stronger tomorrow. Kaito looked at him and wanted to believe that a room could be safe. That night, after the window was closed, Renji left a small unopened water bottle on Kaito's desk without comment, for dry mouth from the pills, and Kaito pretended not to see but drank it at 3 AM.

Kaito stared at the closed window, at the cold air still slipping through the c***k, and realized Renji had chosen to breathe cold all night rather than complain about his scent. That was a different kind of warmth, he thought, one his suppressants had never taught him to measure.

The water bottle stayed on his desk all week. Kaito refilled it every morning, a small ritual. Renji never mentioned it again, but he noticed it was always empty by night.