Chapter Text
Porsche had thought his college experience would be great. He really had been so naive. He thought he would take amazing classes, meet new people, go to parties, hook up, enjoy being young, and make many new friends. All of that is true. Porsche has met amazing people. He goes to cool parties, and he does take amazing classes in his first semester of college. Everything would be so fucking great if it weren’t for his annoying, picky, arrogant, stupid, snobby roommate.
Kinn.
Porsche despises the alpha. He wishes he could room with anyone else but Kinn. He’d be okay with another alpha; he’d be happy about a beta. But the college law states that alphas can only room with alphas, betas with betas, and omegas with omegas. It makes sense, and Porsche understands the rule, and it would be fine if he could have anybody else as a roommate. Any other alpha! Anyone but Kinn.
But no, his dorm had to put Porsche and Kinn together.
See, the thing is, Kinn and Porsche are complete opposites. Kinn is the smartest kid in college. He never goes out, has barely any friends, and studies all the damn time. Porsche is convinced that Kinn has a cleaning obsession. He's always on time, always organized, and knows everything. He's also arrogant, stuck up, and very obsessive about his routines.
Porsche, on the other hand, is chaotic. He fails to clean, always forgets his homework, and he's always late. He hates studying, he only does his laundry when he's running out of clothes, he throws his belongings everywhere, and he always forgets important tasks. He's captain of the soccer team, has a huge friend circle, gets along with everyone, and the professors want to hate him, but they don't. They find him too charming.
It's pretty obvious why Kinn and Porsche don't get along.
It would probably be totally fine if they didn't have to room with each other. They could go their separate ways, ignore each other, and never talk. But they got paired up, and their room is very small — Porsche has the right side of the room and Kinn the left, and the room is split in half. On both sides are a bed, a desk, a closet, and a chair. It’s enough for Porsche, and he’s not complaining at all. He has made himself comfortable in the small space that he has. All of his clothes fit into the closet; the rest goes to the floor, his desk has all of his important belongings, and his bed is comfy with all the pillows and blankets he has thrown on there.
Just by looking at their room, anyone can see the difference: Porsche's side is a mess. Kinn's side is spotless clean.
Porsche is okay with Kinn's cleaning obsession. He can clean his side of the room all he wants, but the thing is, Kinn won’t stop complaining. No matter what Porsche does, it’s never good enough for Kinn.
“For the love of god, pick up your trash, Porsche!” Kinn yells and picks up a bag of chips, throwing it at Porsche.
“When was the last time you did your laundry? All those clothes – I can't even see the floor! I can’t concentrate like that,” Kinn snaps, kicking the pile of clothes lying on the ground.
“Will you please make your bed in the morning?” Kinn snaps the second he wakes up. “I hate unmade beds.”
Porsche hates the constant nagging. He feels like he’s living with his noisy, snappy grandma, for fuck’s sake! He moved out years ago, and now, the bad vibes from home are haunting him in the form of a young, arrogant student who’s full of himself and knows how rich, handsome, and smart he is. Porsche hates him.
He truly does.
Especially when Kinn yells at Porsche for bringing his friends over and hanging out in their room.
“This room is too small for five people!” Kinn shouts. “We barely even fit in here. Why would you invite three people over?”
Porsche can only roll his eyes. Kinn is so fucking dramatic. Instead of leaving, Porsche falls to his bed and invites his friends to sit with him. He gives Kinn a pointed, challenging look and raises his eyebrow.
Kinn groans in despair. “I have to study!” He yells and grabs his books. In a whirlwind, Kinn storms out of the shared room.
“God, he’s so hot when he’s angry,” his friend mumbles, his eyes glued to the door as if he’s hoping Kinn would come back.
Porsche rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to be handsome, though. Who decided Kinn should be granted with good looks?! Only makes him even more arrogant and full of himself.”
“Yeah, maybe,” his friend mumbles. “But he’s still hot.”
He is still hot.
And Porsche hates him for it.
***
They're arguing all the damn time.
Porsche blasts music while he showers. Kinn yells at him to be quiet.
Kinn gets up at five in the morning. Porsche shouts at him to go and study somewhere else.
Porsche can't find his soccer shoes. Kinn makes an arrogant comment that sets Porsche off.
They're screaming at each other about 80 percent of the day.
"I fucking told you to be quiet!" Kinn screams, slamming his fist on the table. "If you want to talk on the phone, go outside!"
"I can talk to my brother whenever I like," Porsche snaps back. "This is my room, too!"
He complains about Kinn non-stop. It gets to a point where his friends roll their eyes at him and call him obsessive. "He's always nice to me," Pete says with a shrug.
"Yeah, and I think it's so impressive how he always studies," Jom points out.
"And he's so handsome," Tem swoons, making Porsche's blood boil because Kinn is handsome.
Porsche isn't blind. He sees Kinn every single day. He sees him changing into new clothes. He sees him after he steps out of the shower.
It's so fucking annoying that Kinn was blessed with good looks. It's annoying how perfect he is. Organized, hard-working, focused. Porsche hates him.
***
The tension between Kinn and Porsche only grows with each week. They argue non-stop over Porsche’s loud music, Kinn’s dramatic attitude, Porsche’s messy desk, Kinn’s cleaning obsession, Porsche’s messed up sleep routine (he goes to sleep at 3 am sometimes, and Kinn once screamed at Porsche when he got up to brush his teeth), Kinn’s habits of working out in their small space at six in the morning, Porsche bringing his friends to the shared room, Kinn calling his brother on FaceTime for hours and hours and hours — the arguing doesn’t stop. It stresses Porsche out so fucking much.
Also, he's constantly surrounded by angry alpha pheromones. Porsche isn't sure if he has ever smelled Kinn's normal scent. It's always been stressed, anxious, angry pheromones, and they make Porsche nauseous at this point. It's not nice coming home to your room and immediately smelling an explosion of angry alpha pheromones.
The stress of living with Kinn, combined with all the upcoming exams and essays, causes Porsche to feel like a zombie, waking up in the morning and feeling dead-tired. That’s probably why he forgets something very, very important. Well. He’s a forgetful person, anyway. He forgets his homework, forgets to clean, forgets to set an alarm clock, forgets to eat, and forgets to do his laundry.
But there is one thing he should never ever forget.
His rut.
Porsche should have been more careful and more attentive. He should’ve checked his calendar, should’ve made preparations, should’ve talked to Kinn beforehand. But he didn’t.
He comes home, drenched in sweat, gasping for air. The second the door closes, Porsche yanks his shirt over his head.
“What the fu —“ Kinn shouts, ready to fight with Porsche, but he stops the second his eyes land on him. “Porsche?”
Porsche can’t talk. He shakes his head, surges forward to Kinn's desk, and grabs Kinn’s full water bottle. He empties it, drinks 3 liters in one go, and slams the bottle on the table. Fuck, now he envies Kinn for always being organized and prepared. This wouldn’t have happened to Kinn. Never.
“Porsche?” Kinn repeats with a much softer voice than Porsche expected. The sound of his voice does something to Porsche, and he has to close his eyes. Kinn jumps off his chair, presses himself into the corner on the other side of the room, his huge eyes focused on Porsche. It’s better this way. Kinn doesn’t know if Porsche’s alpha might see him as a threat and attack him. That’s not the case so far. He feels hot all over, but he doesn’t want to attack Kinn. He doesn't see Kinn as a threat. No, Porsche is way too messed up right now to think about anything, really.
Porsche rubs his sweaty chest and gasps for air. “My rut — I didn’t — I messed up.”
“You forgot?”
Porsche hates that he has to say yes. He nods and squeezes his eyes shut, sweat dripping down his neck.
Kinn gulps several times, looking around the room. “Okay. Um — uh — okay. I should — I should probably leave. Let me pack a few things, and I’ll get going.”
Porsche nods and heaves himself onto the bed. He falls on the mattress with a loud huff, closing his eyes. His body hurts, everything burns, and he feels how his eyes fill with tears at the thought of having to endure a rut all by himself with no toys, no lube, no food, nothing. He didn't prepare anything. How is he supposed to survive this?
“Do you — do you want me to call someone?”
Porsche can’t open his eyes. He can barely even reply. “Huh?”
“Like, a rut partner?”
“A rut pa — I don’t have one,” Porsche slurs, his head already fogging up.
“You don’t have one,” Kinn repeats. Porsche doesn't understand why he's still here. Why is he not leaving? “And how will you survive this rut?”
“Dunno,” Porsche mumbles, his face stretched into a pained expression. He clutches his chest. “Dunno. Just — can you leave? This is embarrassing enough.”
"What about food? Water?"
"Kinn," Porsche cries, clenching his jaw in despair. "I messed up, okay? I forgot my rut. I haven't prepared anything. Just – just leave me alone. Leave."
It’s silent for a long time, and Porsche thinks Kinn might have left, but then he hears footsteps coming closer. “This is my number,” Kinn mumbles, placing a sheet of paper next to Porsche’s head. “Text or call if you need anything.”
Yeah, right. The last thing Porsche will do is text Kinn. Hell no. He’d rather burn alive.
When the door closes with a soft thud, Porsche bursts into tears.