My Alpha, Your Omega

Chapter 2: Comforting, Friendship, Trust, and Pixie Dust.

Harry's POV

Harry's POV

While unpacking, I took out my favorite blanket, sheets, and pillowcases and started on my bed. Nesting was important to me—more than most, I think. Over the decades, a lot of omegas stopped having that urge, but I never grew out of it. Nesting wasn't just some instinct—it was where I could feel safe. It was the one space that was entirely mine. I knew it might seem childish to others, but for me, it was survival. A place to breathe. A place to be.

I always tried to present myself as confident—head held high, chin up—but deep down, I knew I wasn't. Not really. Not about my body. Not about who I was. No matter how many times someone said being a male omega was "rare" or "desirable," I never believed it. That wasn't how I was treated. In my hometown, people looked at me like I didn't belong. Like there was something wrong with me just for existing the way I did.

As I smoothed the sheets over my bed, I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. I turned—and jumped slightly. Leaning against my doorframe was the female alpha from earlier, Diana. Her grin was small, almost polite, but something about her expression felt... off. Those dead eyes were watching me like I was something on a shelf, and I hated how small it made me feel.

"I didn't mean to scare you!" she laughed. "I'm Diana, by the way. I didn't catch your name earlier."

I faked a smile, trying to steady my heart. "Harry," I said quietly.

"Well, catch you later! We'll grab coffee in a few days?" she said—not asked, just stated—before winking and disappearing back down the hall.

She seemed nice on the surface, but something about her unsettled me. Maybe I was being paranoid. Or maybe my instincts were trying to tell me something I didn't want to admit. That she didn't just see me as a person—she saw me as an omega. That was all.

I turned back to my bed, pulling out my stuffed animals one by one. They'd been with me since I was fifteen. Some bigger, some small enough to fit in my palm. I placed them on the bed gently, lining them up in a way that felt right. Their softness always helped calm the weight pressing down on my chest. I liked soft things. Light colors. Pastels. Things that were sometimes seen as childish or overly feminine.

But I also had darker things, sharper things—bits of me that tried to fight against what I was. Tried to prove I could be something else. Something tougher. But no matter how I dressed, or how I talked, I couldn't change my biology. I couldn't change how I walked into a room and was smelled before I was seen. I hated how that made me feel.

I stood up and caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror across the room. My reflection made me pause. Brown curls. Pale green eyes. Slender frame. Soft where I didn't want to be. My hips curved a little more than they should have, and I could still hear my mum's voice in my head calling them "birthing hips" like it was some kind of compliment. I hated that term. I hated that I couldn't look in the mirror without feeling like I'd lost before I even started.

In my town, male omegas were talked about in whispers. Desirable on paper, maybe, but in real life, people didn't treat us with kindness. Or respect. I was an outcast before I even understood what that meant. The only people who ever really saw me were other omegas, and even they didn't always understand what it was like.

Still, I kept nesting. Pillow by pillow. Color by color. Trying to carve out a small corner of the world where I didn't have to apologize for existing.

My mind drifted back to the light brown-haired alpha. Louis. I wondered what his type was, and then immediately felt ridiculous for even thinking about it. I didn't even know him. But still... I couldn't help wondering.