Chapter 10: Paths Crossing Again

The air in their small, secluded home was thick with tension. Lyrian sat at the table, his hands folded tightly in his lap, while Kaelen stood near the window, staring out into the quiet, moonlit forest. The room, usually filled with the calming scents of lavender and cedarwood, felt heavy tonight—charged with the weight of unspoken decisions.

It had been days since they had seen Dorian at the school fundraiser, days since that overwhelming realization had settled over them.

Their son.

The boy they had given up all those years ago—now a young man, standing before them with the strength and presence of an Alpha, shaped by a world they had never been part of.

Kaelen exhaled sharply, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We can't keep doing this," He muttered, his voice low but edged with frustration. "Watching from a distance. Hiding in the shadows."

Lyrian's pale blue eyes flicked up to meet his husband's, full of quiet concern. "I know," He said softly. "But approaching him too soon... it could be dangerous. We don't know how he'll react."

Kaelen turned from the window, his golden-brown eyes sharp with determination. "He's our son, Lyrian. He deserves to know who we are."

Lyrian sighed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table. He had always been the more cautious of the two, the one who thought before acting, while Kaelen had always been the fighter—the one willing to take risks for those he loved. But this... this wasn't a risk Lyrian knew how to take.

"What if he doesn't want to know us?" Lyrian asked quietly, the question hanging heavy in the air between them. "What if we've already lost our chance to be part of his life?"

Kaelen's expression softened slightly, the hard edges of his frustration fading as he crossed the room to sit beside Lyrian. He took his hand, his touch warm and grounding.

"We haven't lost him yet," Kaelen said, his voice firm but gentle. "We just have to find the right way. We have to protect him, yes, but that doesn't mean staying away forever."

Lyrian nodded slowly, his heart aching with the truth of Kaelen's words. He had spent so many years trying to protect Dorian from a world that would have torn them apart—from the judgment, the danger, the cruel societal structures that had made their family impossible. But now, seeing him so close, knowing that he was within their reach... the desire to reunite with him burned stronger than ever.

"We need to take this slowly," Lyrian said, his voice calmer now. "We can't overwhelm him."

Kaelen's hand tightened around his. "Agreed. But we need to get closer."

Lyrian frowned, his eyes searching Kaelen's face. "What do you have in mind?"

Kaelen hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The academy is planning a class trip near the village. I spoke with one of the locals who helps with these excursions. They need extra guides to help with the students."

Lyrian's eyes widened slightly, catching on to what Kaelen was suggesting. "You want to be one of the guides?"

Kaelen nodded, his expression serious. "It's a chance to stay close to him, to see how he's doing—without overwhelming him. We can be there, watch over him, and if the moment is right... maybe we can talk to him. Carefully."

Lyrian's heart raced at the thought. The idea of being near Dorian, of seeing him in a more natural setting, away from the rigid world of the academy, was both thrilling and terrifying. But he trusted Kaelen. He always had.

"Are you sure this is the right move?" Lyrian asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "What if...?"

Kaelen placed a hand on Lyrian's cheek, his golden-brown eyes softening with quiet resolve. "We'll be careful. We'll take it slow. But we can't just sit here and do nothing, Lyrian. He's right there."

Lyrian leaned into Kaelen's touch, his heart aching with the weight of the decision they were about to make. After a long moment, he nodded.

"All right," He said softly. "We'll do it. But we need to be cautious."

Kaelen gave him a small, reassuring smile. "We'll be careful. I promise."

As they sat together in the quiet of their home, the plan was set in motion. They would find a way to approach Dorian—but they would do it on their terms, with the care and love that had guided them through every difficult decision they had made for him.

_

The soft murmur of voices filled the classroom as Dorian stood at the front, his usual composed expression in place as he addressed the group. The students were barely paying attention, their minds already drifting toward the weekend ahead. But Dorian kept his voice steady, his gaze moving across the room.

"We have a class trip scheduled in two days," Dorian announced, his tone as formal as ever. "We'll be heading to the village near the forest. This will be an educational experience, so I expect everyone to treat it as such."

He paused, waiting for the students to quiet down, though his mind was already straying from the words he was saying.

From the corner of his eye, Rhys sat at his usual seat, arms casually resting on the back of the chair as if the entire world were a playground designed for him alone. His expression was relaxed, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakable—he was watching Dorian. And not just watching, but studying him, almost as if he were waiting for something, something that would make Dorian slip.

That teasing grin—one Dorian had seen far too often lately—flickered across Rhys' face. It sent a jolt of annoyance through Dorian, though he couldn't deny the heat that came with it, too.

Rhys Everen had been relentless over the past few days. Ever since that moment backstage, where they had nearly crossed a line that Dorian wasn't ready for, Rhys had taken it upon himself to push Dorian at every turn. The playful teasing, the offhand comments, the way Rhys always seemed to be just there—it was driving Dorian to the edge.

And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about him.

Clearing his throat, Dorian forced his attention back to the students, though his gaze kept drifting to Rhys, who, unsurprisingly, didn't look the least bit interested in what was being said about the class trip. In fact, Rhys seemed far more focused on Dorian himself.

"For those who haven't signed up yet, you have until tomorrow morning to confirm your participation," Dorian continued, his voice betraying none of the turmoil brewing inside him. "I expect everyone to take this seriously. We'll be representing the academy, and I want to see all of you acting accordingly."

His gaze swept the room once more, and, of course, it landed back on Rhys.

Rhys met his eyes with that same infuriating smirk. It wasn't openly rebellious, but there was something about it that made Dorian's pulse race—like Rhys knew something Dorian didn't, like he could see straight through the wall of control Dorian kept around himself.

And that was what terrified Dorian the most.

After a few more administrative details, Dorian finally finished the announcement and dismissed the class. As students filed out of the room, chattering excitedly about the trip, Dorian busied himself gathering his notes, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened whenever Rhys was near.

But he didn't have to look up to know Rhys was still sitting there, watching him. He could feel it—the weight of Rhys' gaze, the tension building in the air between them.

Finally, when the room had nearly emptied, Rhys spoke.

"So... this trip," Rhys said, his tone casual but laced with something that made Dorian's hands tighten around the edges of his papers. "You think I'll survive a few days without teasing you?"

Dorian straightened, keeping his expression neutral as he looked up, meeting Rhys' eyes. "I think you'll find a way to amuse yourself."

Rhys chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, I always do."

Dorian clenched his jaw, refusing to let the smirk on Rhys' face get under his skin. "Just make sure you're not a distraction for the others. This is a school trip, after all."

Rhys stood, his movements unhurried, his eyes still locked on Dorian as he crossed the room. "A distraction?" He repeated, the amusement clear in his voice. "Is that what I am to you?"

Dorian felt a flicker of heat in his chest, but he pushed it down. Rhys was doing this on purpose—pushing him, testing him, like he had been for days now. Since their almost-kiss, Rhys had taken every opportunity to get under Dorian's skin, and worse—he had been succeeding.

"You're a student," Dorian said coolly, doing his best to maintain his composure. "Nothing more."

Rhys stopped in front of him, close enough that Dorian could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the familiar scent of his washed over him in waves. It made Dorian's breath hitch, even though he tried to keep his face impassive.

"Is that what you tell yourself, President?" Rhys' voice was low now, quieter than before, but it sent a shiver down Dorian's spine. "Because it doesn't seem like you believe it."

Dorian's pulse quickened. He needed to regain control of this situation, needed to remind himself of who he was—who he needed to be.

"Enough, Rhys," Dorian said, his voice sharper now. "This isn't a game."

Rhys smiled, but it wasn't the teasing smirk Dorian had expected. It was softer, almost thoughtful, but still charged with that same intensity that always made Dorian's heart race. "Who says it has to be a game?"

For a moment, the room was silent, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Dorian could feel his control slipping, piece by piece, and it terrified him. But the way Rhys was looking at him, the way he seemed to be waiting for something—it stirred something in Dorian that he couldn't quite name.

Before Dorian could respond, Rhys stepped back, the teasing grin returning to his face as if the tension had never existed. "Guess I'll see you on the trip, President."

With that, Rhys turned and strolled out of the room, leaving Dorian standing there, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration.

As the door clicked shut behind Rhys, Dorian exhaled slowly, the tension still thick in the air around him. He had spent years perfecting the art of control, of maintaining the image his parents and the academy expected of him. But with Rhys...

With Rhys, everything was starting to unravel.

_

The cool morning air hummed with anticipation as students gathered in small clusters near the waiting buses. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting long shadows across the academy grounds, but Dorian was already hard at work. His clipboard in hand, he moved through the students, making sure everything was in order. As the student council president, it was his job to ensure that the trip ran smoothly, and Dorian wasn't one to leave anything to chance.

He checked off names as students boarded the bus, giving quick instructions to the other volunteers and teachers assisting with the trip. His mind was focused, calculating every detail—except, of course, for the constant nagging presence of Rhys, who stood leaning casually against the side of the bus, watching him with that familiar, teasing smirk.

Rhys had been on his best behavior all morning—or at least, as well-behaved as Rhys ever got. But Dorian could feel the tension between them, a tension that had only grown over the past few days. Rhys' relentless pursuit, the way he challenged Dorian's control at every turn, had become almost impossible to ignore.

As Dorian finished making sure the last group of students had boarded the bus, he cast a quick glance at Rhys. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Rhys gave him a slow, knowing smile, as if daring him to let his guard down even just for a moment.

Dorian clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to his checklist. Focus. He had responsibilities, and today, he couldn't afford to let anything distract him. Especially not Rhys.

"Everything under control, President?" Rhys called, his voice laced with amusement.

Dorian didn't bother responding, opting instead to review the list one last time. He wasn't going to let Rhys get under his skin. Not today.

Just as Dorian finished his final checks, a voice called out behind him, soft and familiar.

"Dorian?"

Dorian froze, the voice sparking something deep in his memory. Slowly, he turned around, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw someone he hadn't expected to see.

Standing a few feet away, smiling warmly, was Emory, a face he hadn't seen in years. His childhood companion, someone who had been a constant presence in his early years before life had pulled them in different directions.

"Emory?" Dorian said, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Emory's smile widened as they stepped closer, their eyes shining with the same easy familiarity that Dorian remembered from their childhood. "I'm volunteering as part of my internship. Figured I'd help out with the trip."

Dorian blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised. Emory had been one of the few people who understood him as a child, before his life had become consumed by the rigid expectations of the Vaelis family. They had shared long afternoons exploring the woods near their estate, laughing, talking, and finding a connection that Dorian hadn't found with anyone else.

"It's been so long," Dorian said, the tension from the morning momentarily easing as he smiled at Emory. "I didn't know you were involved with the academy."

"Just started," Emory said with a grin. "I heard you were leading the trip, so I thought I'd drop by and give you a hand."

The warmth in Emory's voice stirred something in Dorian, a feeling of comfort that he hadn't realized he'd missed. Without thinking, he stepped closer, giving them a quick but genuine hug—something that felt so natural, so effortless, that it startled him.

When they pulled apart, Emory's eyes sparkled with fondness. "It's good to see you again, Dorian."

"Likewise," Dorian replied, a small smile still playing on his lips. "I could definitely use the help."

Unbeknownst to Dorian, Rhys had been watching the entire exchange from where he stood by the bus. His smirk had faded, his expression hardening as he watched Dorian greet Emory with a warmth he rarely showed anyone else. The easy familiarity, the closeness—everything about the way Dorian and Emory interacted set off something sharp and unwelcome in Rhys' chest.

He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Rhys pushed off the bus, his hands sliding into his pockets as he strolled over to where Dorian and Emory stood, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sized up the newcomer. There was something about the way they stood, the way they spoke to each other, that made Rhys feel... jealous.

Not that he'd ever admit that, of course.

"Well, looks like we've got a new face on the trip," Rhys said, his voice casual, but there was a sharpness to his words that Dorian didn't miss. His eyes flicked to Emory, sizing them up in a way that was impossible to ignore. "And here I thought the President was too busy to have any friends."

Dorian shot Rhys a warning look, but Emory didn't seem fazed. They just smiled politely, extending a hand toward Rhys. "I'm Emory. I used to know Dorian back when we were kids. And you are?"

"Rhys," He replied, shaking Emory's hand with a bit more force than necessary. "I'm sure you've heard all about me."

Emory chuckled, though there was a hint of curiosity in their eyes. "I've heard a lot of things. Guess I'll find out for myself."

Dorian, sensing the tension building between them, quickly stepped in. "Emory's volunteering as part of their internship," He explained, hoping to diffuse whatever was brewing between Rhys and his old friend. "They'll be helping us out on the trip."

Rhys smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Great. The more, the merrier."

Emory gave Rhys a friendly nod before turning back to Dorian. "I'll head over to the other volunteers and see what's needed. We'll catch up later?"

Dorian nodded, watching as Emory walked away, his mind still reeling from the surprise reunion. It was good to see them again, and for a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities felt a little lighter. But as he turned back to Rhys, the tension returned in full force.

"Childhood friend, huh?" Rhys asked, his tone light but edged with something darker. "Didn't realize you had people like that."

Dorian frowned, his patience already wearing thin. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rhys shrugged, his smirk returning but lacking its usual charm. "Nothing. Just... didn't expect to see you acting so friendly."

Dorian's jaw tightened. "Emory's an old friend. That's all."

"Right," Rhys said, his gaze flicking toward Emory's retreating figure. "Just a friend."

The implication in Rhys' voice was clear, and it set Dorian's nerves on edge. He didn't have time for this. Not now.

"We're leaving in five minutes," Dorian said tersely, brushing past Rhys as he headed toward the bus. "I expect you to be on your best behavior."

Rhys watched him go, his eyes dark with frustration and something else—something he didn't want to name. As he made his way back to the bus, his gaze lingered on Emory, who was chatting with the other volunteers, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing between him and Dorian.

Rhys didn't like this at all.

And something told him this trip was going to be a lot more complicated than he'd expected.

_

The steady hum of the bus engine filled the air as it rolled down the road, the scenery outside shifting from the towering buildings of the city to the rolling hills and lush greenery of the countryside. Inside, the students were scattered in small groups, chatting quietly or scrolling through their phones, the excitement of the trip settling into a more subdued energy as the journey stretched on.

Toward the front of the bus, Dorian sat beside Emory, the two of them deep in conversation. For the first time in what felt like ages, Dorian found himself relaxing. Talking to Emory felt easy, natural. It was as if no time had passed since their childhood, the familiar warmth of their friendship wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.

"So, you're really working on environmental studies?" Dorian asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I always thought you'd end up doing something with animals. Remember that time you tried to save that bird's nest?"

Emory laughed, their hazel eyes lighting up with amusement. "Yeah, and I ended up getting chased by a bunch of angry crows. Not exactly the heroic moment I was hoping for."

Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. "You were always like that—jumping in headfirst without thinking."

"And you were always the one pulling me out of trouble," Emory said with a grin. "I guess some things never change."

The easy banter between them flowed effortlessly, as if no time had passed since they last saw each other. Emory's presence was a reminder of a simpler time, a time when Dorian hadn't been burdened by the weight of his family's expectations, by the constant pressure to be perfect.

"I can't believe how much you've changed, though," Emory said, their tone softer now. "You've really grown into your own, Dorian. I mean, look at you—student council president, running everything like clockwork."

Dorian shrugged, though he couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride. "It's not as impressive as it sounds. Just a lot of responsibility."

"Still," Emory said, leaning back in their seat, their eyes warm with admiration. "It's good to see you doing well."

As the conversation continued, Dorian found himself laughing more than he had in weeks. Emory had always had a way of drawing him out, of making him feel at ease. It was a welcome break from the constant tension that seemed to follow him everywhere these days—especially when it came to Rhys.

But despite the easy conversation, there was something nagging at the edge of Dorian's awareness. He could feel it—a presence, a weight pressing down on him from the back of the bus.

Rhys.

He didn't have to look to know that Rhys was watching. He could feel the intensity of Rhys' gaze, could almost hear the irritation simmering beneath the surface. Rhys hadn't said much since they boarded the bus, but Dorian knew that his silent presence was anything but casual.

In the back of the bus, Rhys leaned against his seat, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set tight as he watched Dorian and Emory from afar. Every laugh, every easy smile that passed between them felt like a spark igniting something dark and unwanted in Rhys' chest.

He had never seen Dorian like this—so open, so relaxed. There was a warmth in his expression, a lightness in his voice that Rhys wasn't used to seeing. And the fact that it was Emory—this Beta from Dorian's past—who brought it out of him only made it worse.

Rhys' hands clenched into fists as he watched them, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. He didn't like this. He didn't like the way Dorian seemed to forget everything else when he was around Emory. He didn't like the way they laughed together, like they had some private history that Rhys wasn't part of.

Most of all, he didn't like the way it made him feel.

Jealousy wasn't something Rhys was used to dealing with. He had never cared enough about anyone to feel threatened. But watching Dorian and Emory now, something hot and bitter simmered beneath his skin, gnawing at him in a way he couldn't ignore.

Dorian was his challenge. His focus. And he wasn't about to let someone else come in and take that away.

"Everything okay back there, Rhys?"

Talia, sitting a few seats ahead of him, turned to glance over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at the dark expression on his face.

Rhys forced a smirk, his usual mask of confidence slipping into place. "Just enjoying the ride, Talia."

Talia didn't look convinced, but she let it go, turning her attention back to her notebook.

Rhys exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking back to Dorian and Emory. He wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that Dorian seemed so comfortable with Emory, or the fact that he wasn't sure how to pull him back.

His mind drifted back to their last few encounters—the almost-kiss, the tension that had been building between them for weeks. He had been so sure that Dorian was starting to crack, that the walls Dorian kept around himself were finally beginning to crumble. But now, seeing him with Emory, Rhys wondered if he had been wrong.

Maybe Dorian didn't need him to break down those walls. Maybe Emory was already doing it.

The thought made Rhys' stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to anger.

But he wasn't about to give up.

As the bus rolled on toward their destination, Rhys leaned back in his seat, his mind already working on a plan. He wasn't going to let Emory come between him and Dorian. Not now. Not after everything.

One way or another, he would get through to Dorian.

Even if it meant playing dirty.