He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

The youngest son of the Lin family double-checks his appearance in the mirror.

Double duty scent patches on his neck? Check

Long, black wig to hide his hair? Check.

Black cap over his head? Check

Large, dark sunglasses on his face? Check.

Black mask to cover his nose and jaw? Check.

Everything checks out. He's ready to go.

Does he look suspicious? Yes, a hundred percent, especially with the black coat he's wearing to complete his all-black ensemble. He won't be surprised if someone calls security on him, but he needs this disguise right now, or else he won't make it past five steps without a crowd forming around him.. It also doesn't help that Primo's face is plastered in a subway advertisement, so all he can do is bear through the suffocation of being covered from head to toe.

He takes out his phone to read the message again: [21. 0919. Isza Station.]

With a few taps, the message is deleted. Primo has acted in a few spy movies to know that it's best to delete such a message as soon as it's received, but his anxiety stops him from doing so. It's not until he's here, standing in a public restroom of said station, that he feels confident enough not to forget the locker number and passcode combination.

He takes a few deep breaths, grounding himself with the same technique he uses before a difficult scene. It's his first time sneaking around like this—if the time he went to the bar is excluded—so it's understandable why he's feeling more nervous than usual. To combat that, he lies to himself that this is practice for a new role—this is acting, nothing more.

There's already the perfect fake identity in his mind.

Right now, he's neither Dylan Lin nor Primo Alca. He's Trevor Yang, a college dropout who is being hunted by the mafia after his sister went missing. He doesn't even know that his only family member was working with them until they barged and destroyed his apartment a week ago, demanding to know her whereabouts. Barely escaping with all his limbs intact, now he has to retrieve those documents his sister left for him before any of the Don's men finds him.

He decides it's only natural that Trevor Yang walks with a slight limp. His clothes hide it, but his right leg is broken from being beaten by thugs over the week.

Ah, that's right. His arm is injured too, but not as much as his leg. This is the result of refusing to speak no matter how hard they hit him. After all, his loyalty lies with no one but his family.

Ignoring the (imagined) pain in his body, he slowly moves to leave the restroom. However, just as he opens the door, a hand grabs him by the arm and forces him inside a stall.

Dylan, no longer acting, doesn't have the time to panic. He kicks and he punches at his assailant, grateful for the physical training he went through for his last role. He only stops thrashing when he hears a familiar voice groan in pain.

The sunglasses and mask on his face have never been taken off as fast as before. With wide eyes, Dylan stares at the grayish-black hair and the handsome face doubling over, clutching onto the stomach he punched out of reflex.

Dylan's mind has logged off. He's no college dropout running from the mafia; he's not even a famous celebrity. He's simply a twenty-four years old Omega inside a stall, wondering why this stupid, ugly Alpha is in front of him.

"Collin?" he asks when he found his voice at last. "What are you doing here?"

Pale blue eyes look at him then, facial muscles twitching as the Alpha cringes in pain. "I should be asking you that," he says, breathless, as his eyes rake in Dylan's outfit. "What are YOU doing here?"

"No, I—I was," Dylan stutters, trying to come up with an excuse. When he comes up empty, he asks, "Are you following me?"

Collin puts the lid of the toilet down before sitting on it, pulling the shocked Omega to sit on his lap. Without a sound of protest, he cuddles Dylan close, resting his chin on the other's shoulder.

"Yes," Collin answers truthfully while nuzzling where Dylan's scent glands should be—if only he isn't wearing those stupid scent patches, his inner alpha whines. "Auntie Suzie called me, she was worried about you."

"How does Mom know?" Dylan can't figure it out; he did everything right. He even avoided the cameras by the back gate.

At this proximity, there's no hiding the scoff of laughter that Collin fails to hold back. "You're not as great at sneaking out as you think," he says, earning a glare from the unusually obedient Omega. "Maybe don't use your car next time."

"Whatever." Dylan rolls his eyes. "I'm not good at it because it's my first time. I'll get better after practice."

"No doubt about that," the Alpha instantly agrees, content to let Dylan have his way as long as they stay like this.

However, today is not Collin's lucky day. Dylan's mind returns online a minute after Collin spoke, and then he quickly pushes himself off the older man's lap.

His inner alpha whines at the loss of the Omega from their arms, but he shushes it in favor of repeating his earlier question. "So," he says tentatively, prying for an answer, "what are you doing here?"

"Just taking the subway," Dylan lies through his teeth, using his acting skills to the fullest.

But who is Collin if he can't even see through that? With a smirk, he threatens, "I'll kiss that mouth if it keeps lying."

"Fine!" he says, raising his voice. "I'm doing a favor for a friend." It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie either.

Dylan answers so quickly that Collin would've been offended if not for the reddish tint on the former's cheeks. Still, teasing this dishonest Omega is always a delight for him, so he asks, "Is that why you're impersonating the grim reaper?"

Dylan mumbles to the floor, refusing to meet the Alpha's smiling eyes.

Collin heard him the first time, but because he's immensely enjoying himself, he says, "What was that? I didn't hear you."

Dylan mumbles again, turning more red when Collin stands up to bring his ear closer.

"Ah," the playful Alpha says, pretending to remove wax from his ear, "I guess my hearing has gone bad, huh? I really can't hear you."

Dylan raises his head then, puffing his chest before he yells, "IT'S A DISGUISE, OKAY? I'M PRETENDING THAT I'M BEING HUNTED BY THE MAFIA SO I HAVE TO HIDE—"

The rest of his words are cut off by Collin's large hand over his mouth. Primo's face isn't the only aspect that is recognizable about him, and he's grateful that he locked the restroom's main door.

"Okay, okay," he says through Dylan's muffled shouts, "I heard you. Don't yell, okay?" Although his tone is apologetic, his face says otherwise.

Dylan stops yelling, but he doesn't stop glaring at him. Does he think Dylan can't see the way the corner of his eyes crinkles in amusement? He knows this stupid, ugly Alpha is enjoying seeing him embarrassed like this. He might have been sorry earlier, but now he thinks that Collin deserves that punch.

"What's the favor? I'll do it for you," Collin says before dropping his hand. "It's dangerous if you go out. Just tell me."

Dylan hesitates. Although Lucy never said anything about not letting others know, he's not willing to risk his only chance of seeing Kaiden again. He won't believe anything until he sees it with his own eyes, and it's best if he does it himself.

Even so, when he looks at Collin's pale blue eyes, he sees no malice or ill will in them. They've known each other for years, with Collin being one of his older brother's childhood friends, so there's at least a foundation of trust between them. The Alpha has also been upfront and honest about his intentions all this time, calling him 'baby' and delivering courting gifts to his doorstep. He can't forget about Collin rescuing him the other night either.

There's a lot that the second son of the Armando family has been doing for him, always patient in chasing his affection. Maybe this time, he can trust Collin. His inner omega certainly does.

Making up his mind, Dylan speaks. In that tiny restroom stall in a corner of Isza Station, he narrates—for the first time—his life as Primo, Kaiden's best friend and packmate.

When Collin returns with an unopened manila folder on hand, Dylan knows he made the right decision.