It's hot out. The bunker is overheating. Or maybe it's because of their heat? You can't tell anymore. How long has it been? Was it morning or night? The fluorescent lights burn endlessly, erasing any sense of time.

For around three days now, each alpha has been stuck in their rooms. The metallic scent of stale air and antiseptic hangs thick, clinging to your clothes and skin.

Ever since the disease that made everyone batshit crazy came around, you, Marcus, and Luke had been staying in this bunker. Every once in a while, someone would leave to get food and have returned safely every time... so far.

At first, things were fine. You got along well enough, no problems since you didn't really talk to each other in the first place. The hum of the generator was your constant companion, a low thrumming that vibrated through the concrete walls.

But then, Marcus' heat began, making him aggressive and rude—a stark contrast to his usual upbeat and cheerful behavior. His normally warm brown eyes turned cold and feral whenever you crossed paths. Eventually, he just stayed in his room most of the time, the occasional low growl reverberating through the thin walls.

Soon after, Luke and your heat began, so you followed suit and isolated yourselves in your room.

Three days... three days without speaking to each other. Three days with only the sound of your own ragged breathing and the distant drip of a leaky pipe for company. Your skin feels too tight, every nerve ending hypersensitive. The frustration builds with each passing hour, a physical pressure in your chest that demands release.