AGAINST THE RULES: their scentless omega-Chapter 54: why do you race

On the road, the questions kept looping in his head like a broken record.

The engine beneath him roared, vibrations traveling up through the handles and into his arms, yet none of it was loud enough to drown out his thoughts. The city blurred past in streaks of red tail-lights and yellow street lamps, the wind slicing against his cheeks as he leaned forward over the bike.

Do you still love him?

Do you care about him that much?

Where do you think you are going?

Each question rose louder than the rev of the engine, echoing inside his skull until it felt suffocating. His fingers tightened around the throttle unconsciously, the bike surging forward as if it too was trying to outrun the answers he refused to face.

He weaved through the lanes with practiced ease, muscle memory guiding him while his mind spiraled elsewhere. The cold air rushed into his lungs, sharp and biting, but his chest still felt hot, too hot, like something restless had been ignited deep inside him. The city this time usually calmed him; the open roads, the rhythmic hum of tires against asphalt, the sense of control. Today, it did the opposite. Every passing second only amplified the noise in his head.

A red signal forced him to stop.

The sudden stillness felt unnatural. The bike idled beneath him, a low growl vibrating through his legs as he planted one foot on the ground. Neon lights reflected off the polished metal, flickering across his visor. He stared ahead, unfocused, then slowly lifted a hand to his chest.

"What is this feeling...?" he murmured under his breath.

His heartbeat was fast, too fast. Not fear. Not exactly anxiety either. It was closer to adrenaline, but heavier, tangled with something emotional he didn’t want to name. His fingers pressed lightly against his jacket as if he could physically steady whatever storm was brewing inside.

The signal turned green.

He inhaled sharply and twisted the throttle. The bike shot forward, wind tearing past him again, dragging his thoughts along with it.

Now I remember...

The memory surfaced the moment the speed picked up, like the road itself was pulling it out of him. The first time he had ridden alongside Ethan. The first time the rush hadn’t been about winning or proving something, but about the simple exhilaration of moving forward with someone who understood the same silence, the same hunger for motion. The realization hit him harder than the wind against his chest. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

This feeling... it wasn’t just adrenaline.

It was familiarity.

Attachment.

And that scared him more than the speed ever could.

(Past Memory – Freshman Year)

"So why do you wanna ride?" Ethan asked around a mouthful of burger, completely unbothered by the grease staining his fingers.

It was our freshman year.

The cafeteria had been loud that day, voices overlapping, trays clattering, laughter echoing off tiled walls. Lucian had sat stiffly across from Ethan, eyes fixed on the tray before him like it was some foreign object he wasn’t quite sure how to approach. A burger, fries, a soda. Simple food. Ordinary food. Yet it felt like stepping into another world he had only observed from afar.

Ethan noticed. Of course he did.

"Oh, sorry," Ethan said, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "I forgot you’re from a rich family. You probably don’t eat junk like this." His tone was light, but there was a teasing edge beneath it, the kind that tested boundaries without outright crossing them.

"I’m okay with them," Lucian replied quietly. He picked up a single fry, examining it for a second longer than necessary before finally taking a bite. It was salty. Greasy. Strangely comforting.

Ethan watched him like he’d just witnessed a rare animal step out of the forest.

"So... Lucian, right? Same department." He wiped his hands with a napkin. "Though I doubt a genius like you memorizes the faces of fellow classmates." He leaned back in his chair, casual, confident. "I’m Ethan. Ethan Steel. And I wanted to thank you for fixing my bike the other time."

Lucian nodded once. "You’re welcome."

"But," Ethan continued, pointing a fry at him, "I’m sure you know that’s not the real reason I dragged you here."

"Is that so?" Lucian replied, not even slightly surprised.

"The last time I saw you at Reagents headquarters, you said you wanted to join." Ethan shrugged. "Sorry, I eavesdropped. Not really sorry though."

Lucian sighed. "You do look like you are not even the slightest bit sorry"

Ethan smirked. "Bold move for an omega, by the way."

"A scentless omega," Lucian corrected, meeting his gaze evenly. "That almost makes me a beta. If betas can participate, why can’t I?"

Ethan paused mid-bite, studying him more seriously this time. "Scentless, huh? One in a million." He chewed thoughtfully. "But you know... being scentless doesn’t mean you’re immune. You can still react to pheromones."

Lucian exhaled through his nose, annoyance flickering across his face. "Did you bring me here to criticize me?"

Ethan laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. "No. I brought you here because when you fixed my bike, you didn’t look scared of it." He tapped the table lightly. "Most people either fear speed or worship it. You looked at it like... it was something you understood."

Ethan slid a folded flyer across the table, the glossy paper stopping right in front of Lucian’s untouched tray.

"The Reagents are holding an event sometime soon," he said casually, as if he were talking about a weekend movie instead of an underground racing tournament. "And I got in."

Lucian picked it up between two fingers, scanning the bold fonts and aggressive graphics. Flames, helmets, speed lines, everything about it screamed chaos.

"Good for you," he replied, setting it back down. "But I don’t know why you’re telling me all this."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, a slow smirk forming like he’d been waiting for that exact response. "’Cause I’ll need a mechanic." He tapped the flyer. "Someone who actually knows bikes. Someone with a brain. Someone with skill." His gaze lifted and locked onto Lucian. "With you, we’d be unstoppable."

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. The word mechanic echoed in his mind louder than it should have. He had always worked alone, fixing engines in silence, taking apart machines the way other people solved puzzles. He had never considered standing beside someone in the spotlight instead of behind the curtain.

"So... a partnership?" he asked slowly.

Ethan nodded, surprisingly earnest now. "Yeah. A partnership. But I’m not pressuring you." He shrugged, picking up another fry. "Take all the time you want." His eyes drifted to Lucian’s tray. "You’re not gonna eat that?" He pointed at the burger. "Or are you too high-maintenance for it?"

Lucian’s brows twitched. "I am going to eat it."

But the moment he said it, he noticed Ethan watching him, actually watching him, with an almost childish anticipation, like this small act mattered more than it logically should. It made Lucian oddly self-conscious. He cleared his throat, picked up the burger with both hands, and took an unnecessarily large bite just to prove a point.

Instant regret.

He coughed, nearly choking as the oversized mouthful hit the back of his throat wrong. His eyes watered. He grabbed a tissue, then his drink, gulping down water while trying to regain whatever dignity he had left.

Ethan burst out laughing, loud and unfiltered. "Relax! That was a king-size, man. I didn’t know you were this gullible."

Lucian wiped the corners of his eyes, glaring at him through the embarrassment. "Ha. Ha. Really funny," he muttered dryly. Yet despite himself, the tension in his shoulders loosened. The cafeteria noise faded again, replaced by the strange ease Ethan seemed to carry everywhere like an invisible aura.

His gaze fell back onto the flyer, the bold letters spelling REAGENTS staring up at him like a challenge. He looked at Ethan again, more seriously this time.

"Ethan... now I’m curious." He hesitated for half a second. "Why do you race?"

Ethan’s laughter tapered off. The playful grin softened into something quieter, more personal. He leaned his elbows on the table, fingers loosely intertwined, eyes holding Lucian’s in a way that felt less like banter and more like confession. A smirk returned, but it was different now, less teasing, more knowing.

And just before he answered, Lucian remembered the way the light had hit Ethan’s face that day, bright, careless, alive.

(End of Memory)

Back on the road, Lucian tightened his grip on the handlebars.

That question.

That look.

He finally understood why the memory surfaced now of all times. It wasn’t just nostalgia, it was the reminder of the moment their paths had intertwined not by accident, but by choice.

The bike surged forward beneath him, wind slicing past his helmet, and his chest tightened again,not with uncertainty this time, but with the weight of realization.

He hadn’t just partnered with Ethan back then.

He had trusted him.