If Dale had been twenty years younger, he would’ve wanted Greg for his status, wanted him for all that wealth. That had been what Dale saw in Charles.
He was no longer that boy, though, and he was glad for it.
They pulled into an apartment complex minutes later, similar to Dale’s own. At the door, Dale peered past Greg at the hardwood floors, the ebony trimmings along the walls, the recessed lights that threw a soft glow on the black leather couches.
“Nice apartment,” Dale said.
“My dad pays for it. I’d rather live in a hole than keep this place.”
“You love the car, though.”
Greg sighed. “I do.”
He shut the door, leading Dale past a steel-and-metal kitchen to the study. There, he flicked on the lights, nodding at the wall by his desk. Dale stared.
Four bookcases stood side by side, stained auburn. Each shelf was crammed full of tall, thin volumes, several wrapped in plastic jackets. There had to be at least fifty comics on each row, and at least a thousand books in these bookcases, staring back at him.
“Wow,” Dale breathed. “That’s like collecting science journals, only more exciting.”
Greg laughed, trailing his hand across their spines. “The Super Alpha comics are in these three bookcases. The rest are the Mad Scientist comics—have you read them? He did weird experiments. Mostly with bubbling liquids instead of nanoparticles, but with way more explosions.”
Dale shook his head. His own childhood had been full of origami books, and stacks of colorful paper. “I had no idea you were a science nerd.”
Greg shrugged. “The Mad Scientist comics were from way back, when I was a kid. I told you, I... lost interest in my hobbies when Tony died. So I never returned to reading these things.”
He glanced away, breathing in deep. Dale winced. He shouldn’t bring up Greg’s past, when it had caused him such pain. “So you’re majoring in chemistry.”
“There’s a reason why I stuck with chemistry, you know.” Greg met his gaze. “And it’s not just because of you.”
Dale’s heart thumped. I thought you were kidding about that. “I’m glad it’s not just because of me. That wouldn’t be wise.”
Greg rolled his eyes. “The thing was, I’d been switching courses since I was nineteen. I took a year of law. Then I dropped out and did med school. Then I decided I’d try chemistry because I loved it in high school. At the end of last semester, I was thinking about dropping out again when I saw you.”
Dale froze, his pulse thudding in his ears. Greg had never mentioned this. “Me?”
Greg crouched by the bottommost shelf of a bookcase, sliding out a couple of four-by-six albums. He flipped through them, then handed them over. “Yeah, you. I didn’t realize you were a prof. at first. Saw you hurrying between classes, but you looked so damn worried.”
Dale bit his lip. There never was reason to hurry between classes. “The only time I ever ran last semester... was when some solid iron nanoparticles caught fire in the lab. I was getting out of class. June called. And your dad saw the mess. Gods, that was embarrassing. I’d asked June to prep the sample so I could do a demo.”
Greg grimaced. “Oh. But yeah, I saw you running that day, oxfords and all. Your lab coat was flying off your shoulders. I thought you looked good, so I asked around.”
Dale flipped through the photo albums, his cheeks hot. He’d thought Greg’s fascination with him had started on the first day of classes this semester, not way before that. “That was in November. It’s been six months since then. I can’t believe you’d pursue me for that long.”
Greg shrugged, a red tint crawling up his neck. He was adorable. “Are you looking at the pictures, or not?”
“I am!”
Tucked into the album were several faded photographs. In them, Greg looked a decade younger, with the same brown hair, the same dark eyes. His shoulders hadn’t bulked up yet, and he was thinner, lankier, his smile brighter.
Through the pictures, the boy from his phone accompanied him. They were always dressed the same way: Greg in a scarlet spandex suit, a black cape trailing down his back, Tony in a midnight-blue suit, with white V lettering on his chest.
In one photo, they’d both struck the same pose: one arm outstretched, the other pulled back, as though they were drawing imaginary bows. In another, Greg exchanged punches with Tony, scowls on their faces. A third photo had them both lying stomach-down on a table, fists thrust forward, their legs stretched straight behind them.
“You’re so cute,” Dale said.
“We were flying in that one,” Greg said dryly. But he glanced away, blinking hard, his gaze focused on the comics on the shelves.
Dale’s chest ached. He knew grief; his parents had passed away fifteen years ago in a car accident, and he had had time to adjust. Tony’s death was still recent; Dale hardly dared bring up the subject at all. “Does it still hurt?”
“Sometimes.” Greg blew out a breath, his gaze pausing briefly on the pictures. “I—I try not to think about it.”
Dale swallowed. He shouldn’t be upsetting Greg, reminding him of his late best friend. In his excitement to see these pictures, he’d forgotten to consider Greg’s feelings. Greg had probably yielded because he loved Dale, regardless of how the pictures would affect himself.
What kind of partner was Dale?
I hate myself. His chest tight, Dale closed the photo album, holding them against himself. Greg and Tony had looked like childhood sweethearts in the photos. And Greg was still young. He still had so many opportunities waiting for him out there. All he had to do was find the right omega.
“I’m sorry,” Dale said, setting the albums on a shelf. “I shouldn’t have asked to see the pictures. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And you deserve better. You deserve to have someone else you can act out comics with, another
