“At this juncture,” the head professor of the faculty of medicine starts, authoritative voice filled with confidence loudly reflected by the two speakers situated on both sides of the stage where Wonwoo, Mingyu — the only two remaining contestants — and the older man stand, “I will now announce who of these two astounding students will receive the first place reward.”

Wonwoo, despite his nerves pulsating from the suspense of not knowing already who the winner is, is confident of the work he’d poured countless of sleepless nights on. He simply knows all of his efforts are going to pay off brilliantly; and he can’t wait to receive what is due for him. After all, he wouldn’t have worked on something with all his brain power if he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance at winning.

He looks at Mingyu still, however sure he feels about his own expectations, feeling it’s only right to gauge his opponent’s expression. But his shows nothing readable, just a practiced poker face as he looks in front, undeterred, eyes blank and lips pursed elegantly, every bit of its composed-ness bringing forth a boyish sort of beauty.

While it’s no secret that the other first year is one of the most brilliantly shining medical students, actively winning select competitions he’d been referred to here and there, and having unattainably high marks in addition to excelling in practical studies, Wonwoo sees him as an alpha who’s head is too far up his sense of entitlement — an annoyingly self-complacent individual.

His head is so far up his ass, Wonwoo thinks, scoffing inwardly while observing the other’s likewise confident stature, one unabashed hand relaxed on his side while the other inside his pant-pocket. He doesn’t even look like he put any effort on his output.

So Wonwoo simply smirks as he averts his eyes elsewhere, turning to focus on the other first-years patiently waiting before them. It’s only a matter of time before…

“So, to conclude this culmination, the winner of this year’s essay writing contest is—“ the man pauses, letting the built suspense simmer in the air, boiling like the blood pumping through Wonwoo’s veins, “—Kim Mingyu!”

The countless silent ‘please’s muttered under Wonwoo’s breath dies down to a screeching halt, and his heartbeat stops for a moment, stomach sinking to the abyss while he forgets who he is or what he was doing for a second. Seemingly, a high pitched decibel zooms through his head. What?

“For creating a cohesive comparative analysis of pulmonary care methods of two select provinces,” he continues, but Wonwoo doesn’t understand a single word. Instead, amidst his confusion, he looks to Mingyu once again.

This time, he wishes he hadn’t. Because from two arms-length away him stands the other man already looking at him, a glint in his face and a likewise brightness to his eyes that only accentuates the grin that had taken his lips. The expression looks mocking, as if he’s rubbing a pound of salt against Wonwoo’s gaping wound, saying the beta isn’t good enough despite every ounce of effort he’d poured into his paper.

Wonwoo hates it — he loathes the happiness that had become prominent in the alpha’s features. And in the moment, he vows he’d never ever give into his designs; that never in his life will he let Kim Mingyu walk over him again.

Fuck you, Kim.

—————

That was over two years ago.

It’s a memory supposedly old enough to be forgotten if it be said frankly, the loss a learning curve to have been reconciled with as people grew in maturity. But — no — Wonwoo still very much despises the man named Kim Mingyu, who, now, by the way, has been promoted from ‘a batch mate Wonwoo wants to stab to death’ to ‘the batch mate and roommate Wonwoo wants to vanish from the face of the Earth’.

Over the two years that had passed without any particular hitch, their relationship had never gotten better, remaining unchanging in state and color — well, ‘the same’ would be an understatement, as agreed upon by the other student’s they’re affiliated with. Instead, it’s gotten more chaotic; frankly, their state of being as a pair is abysmal to a huge degree.

They never get along together, see eye to eye, or even share the same opinion (be it about candies, of all things). If one were to ask their closest friends, they’d probably say: “oh, an apocalypse would be more probable than a relationship glow up from them”, in the topic of reconciliation.

As Wonwoo always puts it, “Kim Mingyu and I will never be chummy-chummy besties because that person is an overly self-absorbed alpha who has everything served to him in silver platter.” It’s a little harsh, to a degree even that Wonwoo himself recognizes, but, still, he sees it as a well-lit, deserved, justification for why his guts fervently vibrate when it’s Mingyu being talked about.

It doesn’t help how they’ve become roommates; if anything, their living arrangement born out of undeniably unfortunate circumstances only fueled the deepening of their animosity.

Just before they started their second year of university, there had been a reshuffling of rooming partners due to reasons undisclosed by the school administration, though Wonwoo suspects it was because some of the seniors rooming in the dormitories were doing prohibited transactions through a systematic plotted flow from one room to another.

There had been total chaos — seniors here and there being expelled, rooms being flipped upside down in intense investigations to resolve the issue plaguing the university from inside out. It wasn’t really dramatic, what with their administration’s utmost effort to keep things under wraps. Not that Wonwoo really minded the whole thing; he wasn’t part of any illegal movement planning to overturn the century and, quite frankly, he always found those cocky seniors of him annoying anyway. Wonwoo always thought they only stuck around in university to do stupid shit twenty-four-seven instead of actually learning, so the prospect of having less of them was an astounding idea.

But he had never considered the possibility of him being put in the same room as Kim Mingyu of all people — Kim Mingyu who he’s loathed ever since that fated day. And though Wonwoo understands that an alpha-beta pair for a rooming assignment is a good combination (in theory; because although newer generations aren’t as barbaric and animalistic as their kind used to be, some notable characteristics like being slightly territorial and big-headed have still made it through countless revisions in the genetic pool, as well as heat and rut cycles that, thankfully, aren’t usually as intense and all-consuming as they had been), being stuck with Mingyu for only goodness knows how long is a hellish situation Wonwoo had never thought of being plunged into mercilessly by their collegiate overlords.

Rooming together — well, as to be expected — hasn’t been an okay experience, nor in hell, as Wonwoo would put it, a thrilling one. It only made him, if any possible, less fond of the other man, as have been the effect (or inevitability) of having to deal with Mingyu’s irritating habits and practices that Wonwoo himself may or may not have; that which he’d never willingly admit unless his life depended on it.

And thus—

“Kim, what the hell is this?!” The sigh tipping Wonwoo’s lips dissipates into thin air, replaced by haphazardly articulated words thrown in the air with his bellowing voice. Unknowingly, he’d dropped the couple of binders he’d been carrying before he even realizes what he’s walked into.

Only a few meters away from the door, where Wonwoo stands frozen in semi-contemplation, is Mingyu and a woman he couldn’t decipher who from his angle. Mingyu is laid on his back and the woman is on top him, torso lax against his own, and despite there being a thick blanket covering the two of them just enough, Wonwoo’s one hundred percent sure of what travesty the two people are committing inside his dorm room.

It takes a moment for him to realize, but when he does, the hairs on his nape stand erect faster than chills could run down his spine. And he shakes at the realization that Mingyu had taken his bastardly ways to a whole new level — to the point of actually having Wonwoo see how sordid and insensitive he is.

“This room is not a fucking motel!” he adds, vision blurring slightly as he holds himself from charging right up their space and yanking both of them to goodness knows where. Wonwoo’s eyes twitch and, feeling his hand ever so slightly shake at the blooming annoyance and indignation in his sleep deprived mind, wills the urge to convulse with anger away.

Only a brief second passes when the air is filled with panic and Wonwoo, despite being a beta, could clearly smell the shift from arousal to shock. His nose twitch at how putrid it smells — sex with an aftertaste of horror, the worst of its kind — but he doesn’t let it faze him, nor does he let it deter the death glare on his face as he watches the unidentified woman pause before scrambling to get up, movements brisk and almost uncoordinated as she wraps herself with the blanket, head hung low presumably from shame.

Bold. Wonwoo truly has half the decency to stay patient at such point.

Though Wonwoo should have felt a little sense of accomplishment, he’s instead left seething when Mingyu tiredly drawls a sigh as he stands up, pulling his boxers up as if he’s done nothing wrong. He even stares at Wonwoo with an annoyed expression on his face, like he’s asking why the other is there in their shared room. “What,” he states more than asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“What?” Wonwoo lets out a dry chuckle, short and chopped before he repeats the word again, confused at how the younger man has the audacity to act the way he is when he’s the one having sex inside their dorm room. “You have the audacity to—“ Wonwoo huffs in incredulity “—You know what? To hell with you and your hook-up,” he continues, close to gesticulating how insulting the response he received is. The gall to — when he’s fucking in our room.

“I told you I have a major exam in the next two days, and to please not bring any of your girls back here! I need to study in peace, Kim! And I can’t do that with you and your sex friends fucking all over the place!” While Wonwoo isn’t much of a confrontational person, nor does he curse a lot, purposely avoiding any sort altercation from escalating to uncontrollable levels, he can’t help himself from bellowing out once again. Without him even realizing, he’s inched closer to the two, now towering over the woman Mingyu isn’t even tending to.

The woman, who now Wonwoo pins to be Seo Yemi, a junior from engineering, flinches ever so slightly when his eyes meet hers, her quickly holding up a hand in either surrender or plea to stop Wonwoo from possibly shoving her and Mingyu out naked. “S-Senior, I—”

“Chill virgin boy. Do you always have to shove your head up your ass?”

Mingyu puffs his chest out and crosses his hands over, an amused smile on his lips as though they’re only having a casual conversation between friends, and Wonwoo beads his eyes in disbelief. He brings a hand up, hitting his palm over Mingyu chest, pushing him of balance.

“I am not a virgin boy, Kim; screw you,” he grits out, staring the other man dead in the eye, danger clear edging his tongue. “But what I am is not a sex fiend like you; I have better things to do, exams to study, and I can’t do that with you bastardizing the room like it’s your last rut.”

Instead of being pissed at Wonwoo’s words however, Mingyu maintains his composure flawlessly; at a moment’s notice even only puckering his lips. Yemi beside him is obviously tense, her pheromones a strong, pungent mixture of fear and apprehension, but the pitying look on Mingyu’s face (towards Wonwoo) is undeterred. If anything, it’s even crueler. “Oh, really? Are you gonna cry now? Are you gonna bawl in mommy’s arms because you couldn’t study?” he drawls, tone patronizing; it’s akin to how an adult would talk to a child, and Wonwoo is beyond pissed at how insulting Mingyu has been the entire time.

He clenches his fist, inhaling deeply while he counts to ten in an attempt to calm himself. He doesn’t want to throw a punch and cause an escalated, uncontained sort of commotion when he knows their raised voices are already enough to constitute a possible punishment from their dorm prefect.

“S-Senior K-Kim—” Yemi tries again, this time actively touching both men’s arms. But Wonwoo isn’t in the mood to be told off, so he immediately pulls himself off from her grip, stepping a few steps back.

A look of incredulity takes over him when he remembers their previous encounter just a month ago — in a relatively cheap hotel to let off some steam — and Wonwoo can’t help but slightly feel pretentious for saying all the things he’d said. But then again, he’d been more decent with his sexual activities, unlike Mingyu; who’s willing to go at it presumably anywhere.

“And you! I told you to stay away from this asshole!”

Admittedly, Wonwoo did advice Yemi against seeing Mingyu; that when she asked him about the alpha — since they’re roommates and everything. Not because he wants to have control over whom she could date but because he knew even before then that she somewhat likes the other man (and told him expletively), and he wouldn’t want someone like Yemi — an otherwise genuine person — to be fooled by Mingyu’s sugarcoated words. Despite his reputation as an outstanding student, it’s not exactly a secret how he goes from one girl to another like he’s simply changing underwear.

“B-But, senior J-Jeon—”

“You actually fucked virgin boy, Yemi?” Mingyu turns his attention to Yemi, an unmistakable lightness in his tone that grits on Wonwoo’s ears. He looks like he’s enjoying the confrontation instead of handling the situation like a decent human being, Wonwoo runs through his mind. “Man, I expected more from you,” he even adds haphazardly, a mocking ‘tsk’ along with a poorly masked grin on his face.

Yemi pauses, a scandalized expression overtaking her, and she stumbles on her words. “I — uhh.” She blurts out anything and everything without coherence, frantically looking left to right in a discombobulated manner as she scours for her clothes.

Clearly taking no time to waste, she quickly slips inside her garments, at times almost falling on her knees if not for her fast reflexes. Wonwoo feels guilty, and the brief thought of how embarrassing the situation is for Yemi crosses his mind, but he’s unable to move from his spot from being both utterly pissed and clueless.

“Uhh, I need to go.” Yemi bows, a bright warmness on her cheeks, and swiftly makes her way out, heels clacking in brisk motions until it fades.

Unknowingly, Wonwoo’s eyes follow her figure even when she’s out the door, slightly concerned but still greatly angry at how Mingyu made an already horrible situation even worse.

“That was something,” he hears the other say nonchalantly, sounds of shuffling following right after; it’s an escalation so quick that Wonwoo flits his vision back to the culprit of it all, now who’s walking to his closet. “Well, I’m taking a bath. See you.”

In all honesty, Wonwoo is beyond shocked at how shameless Mingyu can get; and he fights his mouth from parting at the smug smile he gives him while slinging a newly fetched towel over his shoulder — like he’d done nothing wrong.

This fucker, he breathes in, hands clenching, this horrible bastard.

“This isn’t over, Kim. You can’t keep trampling over the sanctity of my space,” he says, reverting back to his original argument instead of shutting up at his otherwise loss of words. Stepping in Mingyu’s personal space, he tips his chin up to prove his point, unwilling to move his feet and stare ablaze.

“Woah — hold on, tiger.” Mingyu takes a step back, but it seems like he’s making fun of Wonwoo’s words more than anything, languidly raising hands in surrender. “As far as I can recall, and I’m sure you’re not too dumb to understand, we’re roommates. Meaning, you and I share this space.” The stare he gives make Wonwoo feel like he’s being stared down by him in spite of their height difference being extremely narrow, and the way the last sentence is delivered with a pinch of authority makes his skin crawl. “You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do on my space,” he adds, tone yet again patronizing.

“How do you even hook-up when you’re this dumb and tactless?”

The words are whispered but Wonwoo hears, and he fights the urge to charge at Mingyu then and there. Instead he jabs a finger multiple times on Mingyu’s shoulder, every shove harder than the last. But the other only smiles at him curtly before catching his hand and giving him a light shove, the only other sign he’s mood has gotten somewhat tepid being the glare in his eyes that isn’t even all too obvious.

“I swear to all good, Kim. Don’t fucking cross me or I’ll—”

“You’ll what, huh, Jeon? Am I wrong, though?” he bites back, arms crossed over his chest, a tinge of something dangerous in his tone amidst how playful he makes it sound. A step forward, and Wonwoo backs with an equal number in response, all while making sure to maintain his composure. He’s not about to crumble under Mingyu’s gaze, Wonwoo for sure knows.

“You could study your ass elsewhere if you really want to pass that damned exam. What do you think I do? What’s the point of having your brain if you’re not using it practically?” Mingyu tilts his head to a side, but his eyes remain pointed at Wonwoo’s, gaze lit ablaze with something indescribable.

Chest vibrating, Wonwoo inhales, breath ever-so-lightly hitching when he notes the thickening scent of dominance; it’s bordering suffocating and it catches him off-guard. But Wonwoo throws it out of question in favor of taking an offensive stance. “You, of all people, can’t tell me what to do; I will study in this room, whether you like it or not. And you will stop bringing your girls over. I don’t care where else you fuck, but it shouldn’t be here.”

“Unbelievable.” Mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, the unmistakable roll of his eyes adding gas to Wonwoo’s ire.

“Look, Wonwoo — babe — you really need to shut your trap. You’re not my mom, nor are you my dad,” he explains, gesticulating in the air gently as if they were in a nasty lover’s quarrel and he’s trying to make Wonwoo the bad person.

Brain going short circuit, Wonwoo fumes at  Mingyu and whisks away his hand when it comes too close for comfort. “Babe?!” he bellows, disbelief clear in his voice, but he’s in no condition to fight back the burning fire of hatred within him.

Wonwoo then takes a step back, crossing his arms on his chest, playing his part in accordance to Mingyu’s sarcasm. “Well, sorry I’m no alpha, babe,” he retorts, words all too fast and dripping with thick venom, the supposed-to-have-been sweet pet name drawled in uninhibited mockery. “I need to actually put effort in things. So do you mind?”

A silent twist in his guts sends Wonwoo feeling victorious when he observes the change on Mingyu’s face. It’s not at all subtle, and the way the corner of his lip twitched, eyes beading all the while, has Wonwoo vibrating.

“Effort?” Mingyu turns to ask as though he’d heard something wrong, like he’d overheard the most personally offending, idiotic conversation he’d ever happened to eavesdrop upon; like he’d been done wrong by the words that had hung in the air until he spoke. “You think — come again?” he asks, disbelief lacing in his voice. And Wonwoo thinks it’s the most emotions he’d shown so far.

Though Wonwoo knows it isn’t true — that it’s only a popular preconceived notion from those who don’t put effort into what they do — he pushes, taking delight on how Mingyu’s slowly coming undone. The stress slowly forming on his face is evident, and Wonwoo feels a little more victorious; so he says, “You’re only good because you’re an alpha.”

The words hang in the air for a little while, and Wonwoo rejoices at the stricken expression that overtakes Mingyu’s features. But his celebration goes short lived when he’s suddenly pushed back until he’s tripping over something and falling back on some soft surface he, with his slightly panic-stricken mind, could only place as a bed.

“You better tread carefully, Jeon,” Mingyu says, but Wonwoo can hardly focus on his words, what with the scent of sex barreling through his nose in intense fashion, in the middle of it a prominent musk that he clearly recognizes without a doubt belongs to the man whose hands have now taken their place on both his sides.

Wonwoo’s stomach churns at the severity of how Mingyu’s scent burns inside him. It’s too strong, a little intoxicating, and he’s about an inch’s length from throwing up if not for the strong urge to remain composed and collected in front of the other man. So he swallows the lump on his throat and looks up at Mingyu, determined to keep the intimidating façade.

“Are you pissed, little alpha boy?” With a planned quick push, he tries to keep Mingyu off of him, but Mingyu swiftly brings a hand up to collect his wrist and further pin him down.

The younger man leans closer; his breath fanning over Wonwoo’s face and his warmth at a distance that it becomes easily discernable. “I’m warning you.” The venom in his words doesn’t go unnoticed, especially with the predatory way Mingyu stares down at him, but Wonwoo shakes off the budding heaviness on his stomach in favor of glaring at him.

“Or else what?” he asks, attempting to channel an equally patronizing tone similar to Mingyu’s, but it ends up sounding a little raspy — jagged with a sultry aftertaste. “Are you gonna come crying back to mommy?”

Mingyu looks like he’s almost ready to growl at the words, like the anger Wonwoo arouse in him truly has peaked beyond measure, had overflown his glass of patience, but Wonwoo doesn’t even have the time to ponder over the quick change in Mingyu’s features when he’s being shoved farther up the medium-sized bed.

It happens extremely fast, almost like an instance of feverish trance, so when Wonwoo regains his hold on the world, his hands are pinned up against the headboard of the bed by one of Mingyu’s own while the alpha towers over him, kneeling on the bed in between parted legs with his other hand roughly on Wonwoo’s waist.

The latter could almost do nothing but gape, more so when Mingyu pushes himself closer. “H-Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” Wonwoo manages to croak out when the other’s scent becomes too much to take in.

Despite himself, Wonwoo couldn’t take his eyes off Mingyu’s. And as inappropriately disproportionate it is with his current predicament, he notes how suffocating the gaze is in all the good ways. What the hell, Wonwoo breathes, a chill rushing down his spine, his hair erecting at the thought of possibly being pleased by Kim Mingyu.

“Know when to shut up, Jeon. Don’t spew bullshit when you can’t even stand up for yourself, you worthless asshole,” are the words that reel him back to reality, deep and laced with an anger that has Wonwoo half wanting to push Mingyu’s buttons deeper and half regretting having done so earlier.

With a final press on Wonwoo’s waist with his hand, Mingyu releases him from his hold, by the end looking down at Wonwoo with animosity still present in his eyes. “Try fucking with me again and I’ll tear you a new one open.”

“As if! Screw you!” It’s a little breathless this time, the semblance of anger in his voice relatively unfamiliar compared to earlier, like it’d dwindled into something completely different. And this time, Wonwoo’s unsure whether or not the weirdness dancing in the pit of his stomach is the product of his anger or something else.

—

When Wonwoo barges into his friends Jihoon’s and Soonyoung’s shared room, the first thing he hears is the question: “Hey Won — what the hell happened to you?” It’s said with such surprise that Wonwoo actually moves past his state of shocked indifference and begins to feels upset about the whole situation between him and Kim Mingyu, entering the stages of grief in light speed.

“Dude, why are you so red? The shade is abnormal,” Soonyoung even follows, his face contorted weirdly as he takes in the tomato-red shade on the man in question’s face, momentarily pausing on reading whatever thick book has been on his hands.

Wonwoo doesn’t even bother finding a mirror to look at the red anomaly that his face had become — he can simply tell from how his head burned from the inside, hot and scorching and all types of weird — and plops down on the free space near them. He presumes they’ve been sat for quite some time on the living, on either side of their small coffee table where some books had been placed. The TV is on, but Wonwoo thinks it only serves the purpose of providing white noise to ease the pains of studying.

“Mingyu, that ass—”

“Oh, who else possibly?” Jihoon cuts him off, gently placing the book he’s been immersed in down on his crossed legs, a knowing lilt to his voice before he continues. “So, what’s the matter this time?” he says it with a hint of concern but with a more obvious dose of amusement, almost as if he’d already expected some shallow reason for Wonwoo’s anger.

Remembering the reason for his reddened face, and current state of internal embarrassment, Wonwoo barely keeps his eyes from rolling heavenwards. “This time, that bastard actually brought a woman in our room. I can’t get even get a damn hour to study.” Sucking a breath, Wonwoo tries to calm the brewing heat swirling in his head. “Not even for peace, sleep, and relaxation. It’s like he’s made it solely his room!”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at that, his face in the middle of a wince when Soonyoung decides to chime in. “You can always come here, though?” he suggests, looking over to Jihoon who nods readily. “You can even sleep over.”

Though Wonwoo is touched by the thoughtful offer, he really doesn’t want to willingly subject himself to torture if his friends do end up doing something a little less than PG when he’s around, so he waves a little hand in the air.

The action prompts a sigh from Jihoon. “Seriously,” he says, gifting Wonwoo a knowing stare. “No matter how much I support you as your best-est friend, fighting with him is not that worth your time. Isn’t it about time to be mature about your loss?” he asks.

Wonwoo groans, the need to flail his arms strong, fighting the urge to shoot a look of indignation to both his friends. Instead, he slumps on Jihoon beside him, leaning in while shaking his shoulders. “Guys — please, not this again,” he almost pouts hearing Jihoon sigh like he’s at the end of his tightrope. “That poor excuse of a person does not deserve my maturity; and it’s not ever just about that anymore. He’s so annoying, I just can’t.”

“He’s not even that bad?”

Wonwoo immediately whips his head to Soonyoung, on the other side of Jihoon, aghast at the idea of Mingyu being not that bad. “Pardon?” he asks, almost chuckling sourly. “Not bad?” Wonwoo repeats, slightly wincing at how his head twitched suddenly, beading his eyes on Soonyoung’s clueless face. “Soons, do you hear yourself? That man’s nothing but a — no offense, you’re good and all — stuck-up, hormonal alpha asshole.”

Jihoon shakes him off a little, but Wonwoo, getting inexplicably clingy, wraps his arms around his waist. The other only huffs, as if asking what’s wrong with him, but still tips the two of them against the couch,, feeling oddly clingy to a degree.

“He helped me once when I was in the library trying to reach a book farther up the shelf.” Wonwoo can almost hear Jihoon’s gears turn as he thinks of the reason why Mingyu and he hate each other. “He was really nice. He’s helped me a couple of other times, too. I don’t know why you two act like animals around one another.” He inhales, tracing the sides of the book he’d been holding with his fingers.

“You too, Ji?” Wonwoo whines, shaking Jihoon. “Ugh, where do I find better friends?”

This time, Soonyoung snorts, staring at him weirdly, but fondly nevertheless. Slowly, he leans back against the couch, looking up the ceiling, his book rested on his stomach. “We’re just telling you our observations, Won. Mingyu is a pleasant person, and so are you. In theory, what with your characteristics and everything — just not the two of you guys’ messed up sexual tension — you two should have been good friends. You complement each other and shizz.”

Most of the time, Soonyoung kind of fills the role of being the comedic relief — silly and childish — but there are times where he makes sense. And in spite of himself, Wonwoo acknowledges his point. Mingyu is indeed pleasant — to other people at least. Or, at least he’s heard from other people who tried to convince him otherwise.

But Mingyu being pleasant with Wonwoo? His chest pulsates at the thought, and the sting in his mind temporarily bursts, so Wonwoo breathes, mentally flipping his hands. Exactly why, he as hell doesn’t know, but his stomach flips and churns uncomfortably, like something prodding his guts.

“Stop!” As subtly as he could, he lets go of Jihoon and places a hand over his stomach to massage the area. It doesn’t help a lot, but it makes Wonwoo feel a little lighter, so in the end, he simply hums, letting his mouth run. “Let’s just go out for the night. I don’t think I’d be able to do anything productive at all with everything happening.”

—————

Wonwoo doesn’t see Mingyu the following week — not in campus nor inside their dorm room. It would almost seem as though the other had completely disappeared from the face of the Earth if not for the things he’d left behind and taken, almost secretively, and if Wonwoo’s being completely honest, he finds it extremely weird.

Going back that night, he had half expected to find Mingyu on his bed, ready to start annoying him again with his sharp tongue and equally sharper retorts. It’s been like that with every other fight they’ve had; either of the two gets angry, one leaves, then comes back to the other to start another fight again. So when what greeted Wonwoo was an empty room, with Mingyu’s bed neatly fixed and only the faintest notes of his scent lingering behind, he had been left wondering where the other had went until he drifted to sleep.

One day later, and another next, and then another, Wonwoo had been close to considering the idea of asking around; since he and Mingyu are in the same department, after all. But he thinks, why the hell do I even want to care, and bites back his tongue, though he often finds himself drifting to look at the other’s bed during his study sessions, wondering about his whereabouts.

And albeit his current begrudging willingness to admit that the empty room feels a little lonely, Wonwoo’s somehow glad the other isn’t within breathing distance to irk him. All week, he had been feeling weird all over, his mind seeming to be in perpetual haze while his body burned from the inside, heat gradually becoming more intense as the days passed.

His classmates had expressed their concern about the subtle shift in his scent, and the flushness in his face that made him look more ‘delicate’, noting how uncharacteristic they had been, but Wonwoo pegged it to simply be the telltale signs of an oncoming fever as a psychological response from all the stressors he had to deal during the week. Not only Mingyu and his bastardizing their room, Wonwoo did have to deal with the major exams he had been restlessly studying for. Though, he did find it weird how he stopped having the headache after he rested the same night Mingyu disappeared.

Wonwoo would have been thankful, but the slowly growing heat pooling his stomach had only gotten worse with each passing day, that by the end of the week, he had toppled over his desk because of the extreme discomfort that came with it. Like a scratching at the base of his stomach, accompanied by pulsing warmth that seemed to tug at weird parts of his lower extremities.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Won?” his classmate Jinah, an alpha, had asked with concern, reaching out a hand to presumably help Wonwoo stand. But it took less than second for her to pause, confusion evident on her face that Wonwoo did nothing but stare with questioning eyes.

She had scooted near him and helped him after she seemed to snap out of her little trance, her touch gentle and comforting. And Wonwoo was about to thank her when she pulled him closer, distance small as if she had to mention something secretive.

“I think you should get yourself checked, Wonwoo-yah,” she said, her nose flaring after she had sniffed the air again, the tilt of her head calculative and analytical, as if she’d thought over her observations. Wonwoo had seen the confused look on her face, but she’d immediately schooled he features.

“W-Why?” Wonwoo had asked, a little perturbed by how serious Jinah seemed to have been. But she’d only given him an unsure look, a contemplative one as though she had reconsidered telling him whatever it was.

She had relented, however, and talked. “Your scent’s changed, drastically; it’s sweeter now — probably much sweeter than it’s been the last few days. Not exactly with how you smell, but its intensity and how it kind of unfolds in the nose. My omega cousin had the same signs and I’m not quite well-versed about know how it works, but — I don’t know, I really think you should get it checked out.”

And, thus, after acquiring permission to officially excuse himself for the whole afternoon that day with the help of Jinah, ringing Soonyoung and Jihoon about his visit to a specialist, having filled in with reminders by the latter, Wonwoo finds himself returning to the hospital the next day, a weird tingling in his chest as if a sign of foreboding.

When Wonwoo comes in again the doctor’s office, he’s a little freaked out by the gentle smile on his face. It’s clearly born out of understanding and developed empathy, but Wonwoo thinks it doesn’t help with his growing anxiety about the impeding knowledge of his diagnosis.

He manages to calm his heart, however, and proceeds to ask. “How is it, doc?”

The doctor, a nice young man named Moon Bin, looks at him with understanding. “Jeon Wonwoo, right?” he states more than asks, pulling from his side an envelope with Wonwoo’s name at the upper left.

The man in question, meanwhile, only nods, feeling his impending doom nearing. It doesn’t help that the doctor stares at him pointedly after running his eyes over the results, a small hum at the end of his review.

“Well—“ the doctor clears his throat, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but fidget with his hands, the tension looming in the relatively spacious office equally as unbearable as the heat pooling inside his stomach “—there’s really no easy way of saying it, to be frank, Mr. Jeon.”

Though the look on the young doctor’s face is nothing but comforting, but it doesn’t stop Wonwoo’s mouth from feeling dried out nor does it calm the small pulse of heat that spreads over his chest. “Why, doc? Do I have some incurable disease or something?” he asks, a hair’s length short to clutching a hand over his heart.

The doctor simply sighs. “Not in particular; you’re honestly fine. Cases like yours aren’t extremely common, yes, but it isn’t anything horrible to fret about. But I would say that it would cause inconveniences the first few weeks or months,” he states, choosing to forgo the files and clasping his hands atop the table that separates Wonwoo and him.

Wonwoo waits. And when Doctor Moon realizes he has nothing to add, he continues, “First off, when did you last get your secondary gender diagnosed?”

The panic isn’t disabling, but Wonwoo finds himself tripping over thoughts and fumbling, eventually settling for the words that automatically flowed out of his mouth. “I got it checked during fifth and sixth grade; I came out as beta in both tests.”

“I see.” The doctor nods, though thinking over the answer given. “But it would have been better if you had gotten your second diagnosis during the eighth or ninth since hormonal development and differences during that time could help identify possibilities of shifting.”

Wonwoo’s brain borders the territory of malfunctioning at the word. He had read about it, of course; being a medical student allowed him such privilege of learning about such concepts. It’s the phenomenon of the body correcting itself from presenting wrongly.

That must be what Jinah meant.

“You mean?”

“Yes.” The answer is curt and simple, as though he had only been asked a common question, and Wonwoo waits for the erratic beating of his heart or the feeling of his world crumbling down to the ground, but instead he feels like everything click to place.

It’s not the kind where he feels like it’s meant to be, or the type that makes him feel comforted. Frankly, Wonwoo — in his current state — thinks the indifference might be from the shock of learning he’s shifting. Nevertheless, he does feel the fact sinking in the deepest crevices of his confusion-struck brain, nestling in the cavities which needed filling. He could almost see strings being tied at the revelation.

“You had the possibility of shifting to your correct secondary gender: an omega. However, the probability wasn’t that high, since your values fell closer to normal beta ranges,” Doctor Bin says, his eyebrows delicately furrowed.

“It might be confusing. Not all betas have body compositions truly meant for betas. Hence, some have the high possibility of experiencing shifting. It can happen independently or dependently. In your case, it’s dependent; meaning, your body was only able to correct itself with the help of a stimulant. If it were independent, it would have happened lot earlier,”

“Usually, shifting happens independently, so the factors of dependent shifting are still being studied thus far. For it to happen, as far as most cases studied presented, something or someone might have triggered your hormones.”

Wonwoo barely hears the last part, but he picks up a couple of details enough for him to make some semblance of sense with everything happening. However, his brain departs from the idea of analyzing it in favor of repeating the foreign concept. “I’m an omega.”

It sounds weird on his tongue, and the words roll out in chopped segments. Briefly, Wonwoo wonders how he could adjust living as an omega when he’s been living as a beta for the better part of his life. Albeit, admittedly, the three secondary genders aren’t too far apart with life experiences, alphas and omegas have the added burden of experiencing ruts and heats, respectively — which though not completely disabling, he hears could still be quite annoying to get through.

The kind doctor gives him a smile when their eyes meet, somewhat ending up looking like he’s offering condolences to the man who lost a better part of his sanity the moment he entered the office. “It wouldn’t affect you any negatively, save for the slight inconvenience of heats, like that of ruts for alphas. Though, the adjustment period would be most unpleasant if you’re not keen with keeping track with your heat cycles.”

“What the hell.”

—

Wonwoo’s heart feels like it’s just about to rip his chest open as he walks inside the campus, paper bag dangling on his hand containing medicines for when his first heats come bulldozing his entire being sometime in the near future, well aware of the handful stares he’s been receiving from some students.

Must be my changing scent, Wonwoo rattles, praying to the good celestial beings up above to have his walk be less painfully awkward and weird than it already is. Though he very well knows that that wouldn’t be the case for the following days.

Doctor Bin had already warned him about the troubles of presenting later than the appropriate time, and Wonwoo’s head is already ringing at the thought of dealing with attention — at least for the next couple of weeks or so.

The doctor had said that he needs to keep track of how his body feels, and if possible document the intensity, since the first heat of late shifters usually present more intensely than normal omegas — something about the accumulation of years being deprived of having their heats. And for Wonwoo’s case, an extremely late shifter, it would possibly be more animalistic than ordinary.

I’m going to be in heat, he repeats inside his thought, shuddering at the memory of how horribly his senior high school health teacher described how rut and heat cycles were for the older generations of their kind, uncontrollable and insatiable like some sort of demonic thirst, would it also be like that for me?

“So be careful, since your current circumstance is sensitive. It would be best to stay with people you can trust with your life,” Doctor Bin had advised him, and Wonwoo remembers how he nodded while thinking of his two best friends.

But thus come his predicament regarding his ever-sweetening scent. Even if Wonwoo does spend the most of his time huddled with Soonyoung and Jihoon, it wouldn’t take away the fact that the three of them do not share any of the same classes (being Jihoon majors in law, and Soonyoung in psychology), and that he’d inevitably have time by himself. With the horrendous looming scenario of his intense first heat, that only goodness knows when will happen, Wonwoo’s scent will only, probably, get sweeter as a consequence thereof.

It’s not so much a problem that Wonwoo needs to panic thinking about it, since newer generations have become less keen on jumping on the nearest alpha or omega if such situations present, more adept in dealing with instincts. However, there are still scums wandering around who feel like they’re entitled to whatever they find fitting for themselves.

While passing through the building for Health Sciences, Wonwoo briefly considers just skipping classes for the next few weeks. Surely with ample explanations to his professors, and with consideration of his exemplary performance, they would understand his time off, Wonwoo reasons, but he knows it doesn’t take the fact he’d still be missing numerous of lectures into the equation. Thus, begrudgingly, Wonwoo sighs as he comes to the conclusion that if he doesn’t want to cram an infinite number of information after he comes out of heat, he should come up with an efficient temporary system in dealing with his shifting thing.

“What am I going to do?” he mulls, eyes flitting down to the paper bag, truly regretting having not brought a backpack to the hospital.

Doctor Bin had given him scent inhibitors and heat suppressors to use for the shift (or whenever he wants to), but he had warned him that using the scent inhibitors would most likely just make his scent glands blow up during his actual heat, rendering his body to produce disproportionally elevated amounts of pheromones to compensate for the initial inhibition.

“This is just so—”

Wonwoo, if not for his impeccable response, would have bounced his ass on the ground from the impact, but thankfully, he’s able to balance himself quickly and sufficiently enough to continue standing. However, during the process, he drops the paper bag haphazardly, the contents spilling out over the ground.

“Hey—”

His eyes bulge when he realizes what had just happened and immediately scrambles to gather the leaflets of pills scattered on the pavement, trying to be quick enough since there’s a notable number of them. “Can you watch where you’re going?” he says, his voice a few pitches higher, frantically making sure he’d gotten everything.

When Wonwoo stands and looks at the person who had run him over, or he had run over depending on who was more out-of-it, the world almost slows down to the milliseconds. There stands before him is the Kim Mingyu — the same one he hasn’t seen for a week — holding one leaflet of what Wonwoo recognizes are heat suppressant pills, his gaze directed down.

“Sorry. You dropped these—“ He stops, solidly, the moment his eyes meet Wonwoo’s, the small smile on his face immediately curving down as if he’d seen something so souring to warrant such fast change. Wonwoo catches the faint scent of Mingyu in the air, and he struggles to properly sort his emotions out before he switches to breathing using his mouth.

His scent is too strong, fuck, Wonwoo curses inwardly, mind barely twitching in thought before his arm darts out to snatch the leaflet that had gone untended in Mingyu’s hand, his other arm embracing the paper bag close to his chest. “G-Give me that!” he exclaims, almost breathless when he catches a whiff of the other’s scent — cinnamon-y with some notes of lavender and a muskiness that has Wonwoo’s vision slightly clouding.

With his considerably discombobulated movements, Wonwoo nothing short of fails at retrieving what he would consider to be the blackmail of a lifetime. That, or maybe Mingyu’s simply a lot more physically practiced than he is with how freakishly fast he withdraws his hand up to the air, a cruel grin on his face as he looks up, ever so slightly squinting to discern the mandatory writings on the back of the leaflet. “Give what, huh? These—” he blinks, stopping short as though uncertain if he’d read the right words “—heat suppressants?” he settles, blinking once more, all the while Wonwoo’s jaw goes slack from the intense pressure prodding on his insides, his eyes almost rolling back from his strong urge to faint on the spot.

“Damn it! Give it to me!” Wonwoo reaches out again, thankfully successfully ripping the pills off from the other’s awfully secure grip. His face burns the whole time, even after he completes his hasty mission, but he isn’t even sure if it’s because Mingyu had seen something he could use against him, or the fact that Wonwoo recognizes how the other’s scent affects him, or both. Either way, Wonwoo simply wants to bolt away from the man that screams danger, in all capital letters.

“You’re laughable,” Mingyu says not long after, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you that much of a sensitive virgin boy to be embarrassed of caring for an omega?”

Wonwoo hates that despite being insulted, he’s noticing small details about Mingyu: like how the other is wearing a hoodie with a cute cat sewn on its chest area, or like how his air looks like it could be a bird’s nest, or the fact that despite how abysmal the bags under Mingyu’s eyes are, he’s still admittedly possibly the most attractive man on campus.

Fucking hell.

“I-I’m not—” Wonwoo pauses, willing away the instinctual need to bite his lips abashedly, instead clenching his jaw. “I’m not a virgin boy, you asshole. Shove away if you have nothing better to say,” he continues through gritted teeth. And although it would seem like Wonwoo’s only a fingernail short of pouncing on the younger of them two, he doesn’t actually think he has the energy to argue with Mingyu; what with his whole deal is.

As per usual order of business, Wonwoo anticipates the other’s comeback. But it doesn’t quite come as fast he thinks it would, instead, Mingyu only stares at him for a longer while, on his face the look of confusion.  It becomes more prominent as the seconds tick by.

“What?!” he quips, attempting to dash, but Mingyu’s quick hand is able to grab him by the shoulder and pull him closer to his self in breathing proximity. It’s brief, but Wonwoo knows Mingyu’s trying to read him with the sharp intake of breath that he does, another one lingering behind like the ghost of a passionate kiss.

Thinking he might be found out, Wonwoo haphazardly pushes the other away. He thanks the heavens it’s hard enough to send Mingyu a couple of meters back. But the weak feeling of satisfaction in Wonwoo’s chest dies instantly when he recognizes Mingyu wordlessly says the word ‘sweet’, a somewhat detached look on his face as though he’s raking his memory of something.

He doesn’t let it faze him, however. Wonwoo, knowing what is at stake, immediately pulls his guards up and take on a protective stance.

“You’re acting really suspicious.” Mingyu looks at him, running his eyes up and down Wonwoo’s form, his brows delicately pressed together and his lips softly downturned as though in cognizance that something truly is up. “What are you up to, huh, Jeon?”

Wonwoo takes one step back, hiding the paper bag behind his back. Mingyu’s eyes follow his hand, however, and Wonwoo can almost see the other’s cogs turn. “Nothing’s up. And if anything were, it’s out of your business,” he says instead, a matter-of-factly, though he’s sure his confident stance is only what remains of his pride the moment Mingyu smelled him.

The other huffs, a small smile on his lips as he directs his eyes to Wonwoo’s. “But I believe anything that can cause your demise is my business,” he replies, the dip of his voice bordering cruel seduction, and Wonwoo feels a chill run down his spine, the scenario from the past week barreling forefront in his mind.

“I’m not—” he says, exasperated and a little loss of words. “Just — get away; I’m leaving.”

Mingyu doesn’t stop him when he walks away, though he hears: “Whatever it is you’re hiding, count on me to find out.”

—

When Wonwoo enters his and Mingyu’s dorm room, his nose is immediately bombarded by the latter’s lingering scent. It’s mellow and peaceful and extremely pleasing to his nose that Wonwoo freezes a bit just to take a good whiff. He’s never really smelled Mingyu’s scent in such a hypersensitive manner before the past week. Being a beta then, he had been limited to a relatively toned down sense of smell; that meant not being able to discern personal scents, save for when they’re too intense.

Smells so cozy, he thinks, noting the gentleness of how it circulates in the air, then internally cringing and sighing when he realizes what he’s doing: smelling Kim Mingyu’s scent and enjoying every bit of it. Attempting to put a stop to his weird behavior, Wonwoo flaps his hand in the air as he walks over to his bedside desk, making sure to hide paper bag on one of its bottom drawers. He essentially plops down on his bed after he does so, all thoughts in his mind flying away the moment his back touched the mattress. It takes a while, and Wonwoo blinks a couple of times before he draws a quivery breath.

“I’m an omega,” Wonwoo says, the words more delicate on his lips this time around, his heart a little more reactive than it had been earlier. It beats, hard and rough and irregular that Wonwoo, for a moment, fears that it might stop altogether from all the work it’s been doing. So he clutches a hand over his chest, the nonexistent pattern of his jagged breathing ringing in his ears alongside a repetition of the words that left his mouth.

It’s equally as foreign as it had been when Doctor Bin had told him, if not more; he couldn’t quite grasp his mind around the idea of him being an omega when he’s lived as a beta all his life. Sure, he’d accepted the medicine and he’s still in once piece even after learning he’s shifting. But, how does he go from there?

How does he go from having no heats to dealing with them for the rest of his life? How does he even keep track of his cycles?

Wonwoo lets the thoughts run rampant for a while, but it only makes his imagination run haywire.

“Fuck,” he moans, rubbing his palm over his eyes as some futile attempt to ground himself in reality. To hell does Wonwoo know how to begin dealing with his shift, but he figures keeping a calmer demeanor would help in making an organized response.

Sighing, he rises, raking his eyes over the whole room, trying to ignore the tingle of his nose when he notices the faint, pleasing smell again. He thinks it’s not as intense as it had been the moment he stepped inside the room, but it’s still equally as cozy — almost comforting to a fault with how gentle it nestles in his nose then fills his lungs. Briefly, he wonders how such a good scent can come from someone the likes of Kim Mingyu — the alpha who had done nothing but annoy and fight with him for years now.

The thought ends with his eyes coming to glaze upon the other’s bed, feeling a certain level of lightheadedness when he notices how the sheets are

Finally decided to come back; that asshole. Wonwoo clicks his tongue, standing up and turning away, an unassuming small smile on stretching his lips.

—————

When Wonwoo told Jihoon and Soonyoung about his shifting, it seemed as though he had opened a Pandora ’s Box of over-fretting, concerned, unnecessarily coddling besties. Contrary to his parents who told him he could make it through it, and for him to call them whenever he needs their help about anything (which frankly made Wonwoo feel more comfortable about the change more than anything, and for him to come home when the opportunity arises; he doesn’t want to make it bigger than it already is), Jihoon had been nothing short of a fretting mess, and Soonyoung nothing short of a presidential guard-like figure.

 Jihoon had continuously bugged him about his medicines and pills, although Wonwoo repeatedly had assured him that he was well-prepared for the incoming heat — what with Jihoon immediately urging him to buy toys online to help him get by since it would likely be more dangerous if he sought someone out (much, much to Wonwoo’s utter embarrassment) — and that he has most of the things regarding it accounted for, even the tracking of his stats.

Soonyoung meanwhile, had become more protective of him upon learning that Wonwoo will have it harder than other normally-presenting omegas. Every time he joins them, Soonyoung would always bead his eyes on alphas who stared at Wonwoo for a little too long, Jihoon following behind with an equally deathly grimace, sharp quips on the tip of his tongue, ready.

Although Wonwoo appreciates his friends a lot, he feels a little icky with taking the situation out of proportion, especially when he wants nothing more than to walk through the situation without getting even more attention, because, appropriately enough, the people in his classes had been noticing the change in his scent and the disproportionately strong intensity thereof.

He’s pretty sure the news has spread through the whole Health Sciences department already; and maybe to some of the other departments as well. A couple of the (alpha) girls he has had intimate relationships with did come into contact with him to wish him luck, including Seo Yemi, an omega, who as well apologized for the scene that happened two weeks back. Though, Wonwoo thinks some just want to get with him again.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is a problem Wonwoo knows braches from a different species than the rest. And thus, once again, for the fourth night in a row, Wonwoo finds himself glaring at the other man who’d just entered their room, his nose instinctively flaring at the barrage of the now familiar sweet aroma of Mingyu’s scent.

Despite having smelt different scents, Wonwoo finds Mingyu’s particularly annoying albeit how pleasing it is for him. So — ugh, he bites back, grimacing.

“Can you stop that?” he orders more than asks, the notebook on his desk untended, his finger running up and down the air, motioning Mingyu’s form.

The other, who had just came out of from the outside and had taken to toweling himself, looks at him with an annoyed expression, an eyebrow hoisted up while his lips are downturned. He crosses his arms atop his chest, leaning his body back ever so delicately, and the towel hangs form his hand. “Stop what?” he asks rather rudely, voice a little raspy.

Wonwoo gulps, his stomach twirling at the sight combined with the smell, noticing how beads of sweat run down the side of Mingyu’s face only to disappear in his hoodie, which he thinks leave too much to the imagination.

What the hell.

“That.” He gesticulates unclearly, hand coming to pinch his nose. “You stink,” he continues, not particularly caring if he sounded silly from the obstruction. All Wonwoo needs right now is to not smell something so sinfully, deliciously pleasant.

As expected, Mingyu doesn’t heed his request, instead blessing him an incredulous stare. “Stink?” A laugh clearly laced with disbelief follows, too artificial to sound real but all too perfect for the condescending look on his eyes. “What are you, even — it’s not like it’s the first time I’d gone back from the gym all sweaty,” he states a matter-of-factly, unceremoniously pulling up his hoodie until it’s off him completely.

Wonwoo barely holds his gasp upon seeing Mingyu shirtless, his emotions on overdrive and his initial anger faintly lingering along the edges of his nonexistent thoughts. It’s not that remarkable, he tries to reason. I’ve noticed better looking ones. But the argument falls flat, as evidenced by the pounding on his chest that isn’t supposed to be there. Though, Wonwoo holds his stance and averts his eyes, pulling himself away lest he wants the brewing feeling of intoxication get to him.

Damn fucking heat. It’s not his normal response, and Wonwoo knows.

“It’s not my fault you reek so much.” He breathes deeply, but only ends up feeling a little tipsier from taking a big whiff of Mingyu’s scent, the hairs on his nape rising, almost vibrating. “Fuck, you’re insufferable,” he adds, the rumbles of his frustration apparent in the coarseness of how it’s said.

“It’s barely even noticeable, you fucking idiot. You’re far away from me. The hell are you going on about? Unless…” Mingyu pauses, turning his body to Wonwoo’s direction, a shirt he’d gotten from his cabinet in hand, tone of voice conspicuously laden with amused disbelief. “The rumor of you shifting is actually true.”

If it were possible, the rattling of Wonwoo’s chest would have broken his ribcage, and his heart would have escaped his body from how fast it pulsated. But it doesn’t, and the only telling thing of Wonwoo’s utter horror is how his whole body freezes and goes cold, a sinking feeling in his stomach as though he’d gotten caught doing something illegal.

“W-What are you talking about?” he stammers aloud, slowly heating up, his head akin to a boiling pot of water. Wonwoo knows there’s little point in denying it — not when he knows his scent has gotten significantly more intense. It would be impossible if Mingyu hadn’t noticed.

“Oh. Really?” he asks, scent pulsating in the air like an intense heatwave. Languidly, he saunters across the room, his eyes bearing a hazy intent that has the omega’s hair rising. Wonwoo tenses, his chest almost constricting to the point of breathlessness. “Explains the heat suppressants you were carrying around. And why you practically smell like you’re begging for cock. Who would’ve thought?” Mingyu finally reaches him and his arms dart to both sides of Wonwoo, caging the latter within his control.

Wonwoo knows he should fight back, but he has half the mind to even comprehend Mingyu’s harsh words. The breath that leaves him borders a whimper, and there's a certain dizziness he feels while he takes in cinnamon and lavender.

“S-Shut up. It’s none of your business,” Wonwoo chokes out, a little too close to melting under the influence of Mingyu’s dominance. When he looks up from averting his eyes, he’s faced with the other’s own, and when he traces his features, Wonwoo catches the sordid grin stretching his reddened lips.

“Maybe. But it’s sure fun as hell to squeeze a reaction out of you, Jeon.”

“I’m warning you, Kim.” The words come out as something closer to a weak plea, Wonwoo’s insides twisting and his skin prickling at his own unwilling obedience to stay put where he is; like he’s actually waiting for the alpha to do something to him.

“What’re you gonna do, then? Fight me? We both know you don’t stand a change; not with that lanky body of yours,” Mingyu says, leaning closer. His words come with a bite, his voice deceptively sultry despite their argument.

Wonwoo, somehow still convinced he could turn the battle over in spite of his own thoughts, musters a glare. “I am not weak, Kim,” are the words that leave him through gritted teeth, reduced volume indicative of his slowly-slipping control.

A chuckle bubbles out of Mingyu’s lips. “Try me. Then we’ll see how fast I can beat your ass and make you eat your words, weak-shit.” His finger comes up to run over Wonwoo’s cheek, and for moment the latter considers leaning into the touch, before he regains his senses and snap out of his trance.

“You fucking asshole—”

Mingyu easily catches his arm, immediately pinning it down on Wonwoo’s side. The way he looks at Wonwoo burns, and his weighted breath lands on the other’s skin with a positive tickle that has Wonwoo wanting to cave. “Are you really? When even my scent gets you hot and bothered, omega?” he asks, patronizingly as though Wonwoo were dumb.

“The only thing your scent does to me is get me cranky and annoyed, alpha,” Wonwoo quips back, though he isn’t quite certain of its truth.

The other traces Wonwoo’s jaw using the pad of his index, and Wonwoo struggles to keep himself from parting his lips. “Is that so? Then…”

And as if they were some form of magic words, Wonwoo’s mind gets flooded of the other’s satisfying scent, both intensity and concentration amplified to levels Wonwoo has yet to experience. If not for his adamancy to covertly hate Mingyu, he would have surrendered to the shaking of his insides in willing submission to the sheer extensive ripples of his desires. Still he, vaguely, wonders how much of himself still exists in the moment.

“Fuck,” he mewls, canting his head to the direction of Mingyu’s hand, his eyes direct on to his. The heat inside his head makes Wonwoo dizzy, and he almost sticks his tongue out, trying to chase for a feeling he’s yet to experience. In a narrow moment of sanity, Wonwoo thinks he might be crazy.

“Do you like it?” There’s a gentleness despite the depth of Mingyu’s voice, and Wonwoo, in spite of his haze-induced weirdness, wonders if he’d imagined the clouded — hungered — look that seemed to overtake the other’s face for a split second.

Wonwoo whimpers, the tiniest bit of his sanity allowing him to mutter, “N-No.”

Faster than Wonwoo could blink, Mingyu detaches himself from him, straightening himself up. His scent still clouds Wonwoo’s mind, but without the other being so closely pressed to him, he at least could think more rationally — that, if ‘rationally’ could be defined by being still a little spaced out.

“That’s what I thought,” Mingyu says, slipping in the dark blue shirt he’d gotten, eyes averted from Wonwoo’s and body turned away. Briefly, Wonwoo lets himself observe how the muscles of Mingyu’s back flex. “Next time, don’t come asking for a fight you can’t handle. And you’re supposed to be smart — what a joke,” is what he hears before Mingyu is out of the door, only silence left along the faint traces of the other’s domineering presence.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo repeats, the dawn of his realizations looming ever so near.

—————

The next day rolls around and Wonwoo is struck with the most uncomfortable pressure on his stomach the moment he gains conscious of the world around him. The pain is disconcerting, supremely nauseating that Wonwoo battles to keep his composure as he sort of waddles along the corners of the room to prepare for his morning classes. Thankfully, Mingyu hasn’t come back after their little confrontation. Wonwoo wouldn’t know how to deal with his shit if he were there bothering and annoying him.

He almost pukes a couple of times, but he holds it in until he successfully gets dressed. And before going out, he makes sure to take a pill — just in case. Fortunately, his feeling does lift up, and the severe prodding sensation on his stomach is reduced to a bearable pulsating heat. So, Wonwoo is able to walk normally towards his first class, although there’s the added discomfort of some of the students giving him certain confused looks as he struts by.

Wonwoo figures it must be because of his scent, so he ignores it until he reaches the lecture room. When he enters, almost all of his classmates — even the betas — have their eyes on him, some even with their nose flared up. Needless to say, Wonwoo’s heart clatters, feeling like a prey under the watchful gaze of a predator.

“H-Hi?” he greets, voice uncharacteristically squeaky. It seems to pull them out, however, and most greet back and turn away, although Wonwoo still sees the confusion in their face. He’s about to walk over his desk when Jinah comes rushing over to him.

“Wonwoo,” she says breathlessly, a kindness on her features that has Wonwoo immediately disarming himself. He instinctively moves closer to her comforting presence. “Are you — are you in heat, right now?” she follows, voice only above a whisper, her nose scrunching when she inhales the air around her. “You’re scent is crazy strong.”

“I-I don’t think so? Maybe not yet?” Wonwoo stammers, discreetly looking down to smell his self and wincing once he truly notices how sweet his scent is on the nose. He grimaces, bringing his eyes up to meet Jinah’s who looks at him patiently. “The doctor told me it wouldn’t come until, like, two weeks. It hasn’t even been a full one since I visited,” Wonwoo explains, feeling the lower curve of his back throb, a little thrumming that reaches down until it stops near his unused entrance.

A chill runs down his spine, and Wonwoo does his best to buckle his weakened knees, at the foreign prospect.

Jinah heaves a sigh, laying a hand atop the curve of his shoulder. “I think you should sit this week out, Won. My cousin had hers rougher than the typical omega upon shifting late. And—” he roams her eyes around, Wonwoo following where she looks shortly behind “—you’re scent may be quite distracting for the alphas here. Well it wouldn’t normally, but it’s so intensely palatable.” She musters an awkward laugh. “Even I’m feeling kind of light-headed. You smell like you’re going to enter heat not long after; so, I think it would be better for you to rest… or something.”

Although it’s casually said, Wonwoo’s cheek flushes at Jinah’s words, the little left of his confidence evaporating. He awkwardly shuffles in place and chuckles, clearing his throat shortly. “But the profs—”

Jinah waves a hand in the air, shaking her head delicately in the process. “No problem; I’ll put in a word. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Just a few minutes later and Wonwoo finds himself trudging the familiar halls of the Health Science Department, absent-minded in his steps and his movements a little closer to automation. He looks down, stuck yet in processing the thought that he’s going back to his dorms to spend his heat. Ideally, he should be at home, but with the suddenness of it all, it couldn’t be avoided.

He was close to calling Soonyoung and Jihoon after going out of the lecture room, clueless about what he should be doing next after abandoning his lectures. But he had felt too embarrassed about telling them he’d possibly experience his first heat in a couple of hours so he settles on just sending them a quick message.

Sighing, he continues on his way, thankful that only a few people are loitering around. The effect of the suppressant pill he’d taken seems to have significantly dulled, and Wonwoo actually feels something happening inside his ass. He figures it’s because he’d only taken them twice the entire week; the first one during his first official day of shifting, and the second one during earlier morning.

It’s daunting — the idea of dealing with his heat without him knowing anything about how to work his anal regions — but Wonwoo settles in shaking his head, determined to get over the arduous experience that it would be.

Upon reaching the door Wonwoo pauses in place, body both going tense and lax at the same time. A faint smell penetrates through his nose and immediately he recognizes it as Mingyu’s. His chest goes haywire, and a surge of foreign emotions disables him from thinking properly, a dreamy blur slowly taking over his vision.

Wonwoo almost sees smoke when he breathes through his mouth, but he ignores it in favor of opening the door. But when he does so, Mingyu isn’t there. Although, in his haze, Wonwoo recognizes the idea that he’d possibly gone back and left not so long ago, hence, why the smell is still strong. “Haa,” Wonwoo lets out, closing the door behind him with a shaky hand.

Fuck, he curses inside, the familiar feeling of being overtaken by his animalistic side strong, his will slowly slipping from the mental hands that grasped it. He notes how the scent is consuming, sinfully delectable especially in his current state. And when his eyes land on Mingyu’s bed, where he thinks it would be the best to lie down and pleasure himself, everything comes crashing on his body in light speed.

As if instantaneously, he’s knees weaken and he drops on the floor with a thud he doesn’t even feel. The toned down prodding on his stomach returns with a wretched intensity that has Wonwoo gasping as he tries to reach his bed, dealing with great difficulty in hoisting him up to lay down.

His senses are in chaos, and nothing’s on his mind except the nice smell of an alpha circulating in the room. He breathes it in — once, twice, thrice — until he feels positively lightheaded.

“Good,” he mutters under heated breath, automatically running his hands down his chest to the zip area of his pants, unceremoniously tugging it off without any regard for slowing. Once he slips them off after fumbling to untie his shoes, Wonwoo gingerly reaches on the bottom of his bed and reaches for the toys he had bought.

Face flushed, he flips on his chest, sticking his ass out in the air as if he knows what he’s doing. But Wonwoo has half the mind to care — not when slick has been trickling from his entrance or when his cock is painfully hard against the cold air.

—

“Dammit,” Mingyu groans under his breath, looking over the contents of his bag again, then slumping on his seat when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “I must have left it behind.” He almost whines, but the judgmental stare Seungkwan gives him is enough to put him off the idea. So he settles for a small pout instead.

The other sighs, raising an eyebrow at him as he goes back to writing on his lecture notebook. “Can’t you survive for, like, two hours without your phone?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his tone that Mingyu snorts at. “Will you take a quick trip to your dorm room then?” he follows while he pens another batch of words onto the paper, and Mingyu actually considers the idea.

It’s not that he hates his current professor but the man is painfully bland at presenting information that Mingyu thinks it would be more beneficial if he studied the transcripts given after every lecture rather than listening. Grinning, he gently slaps a hand on the other’s shoulder, failing to contain the hearty chuckle that escapes him. “Nice one, Boo. Let me quickly get it while Professor Kim’s still out,” he says, but before he could even rise from his seat, Seungkwan’s hand is already firmly gripping his arm, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“What if you run across Wonwoo? You know how—”

Mingyu beads his eyes at him, flapping a hand in the air. “Nah, pretty sure that ass is out right now. And don’t worry! I’m a perfectly capable man.” The confidence in his voice is thick, but at to what degree he believes it to be, Mingyu’s isn’t quite sure. Especially with what’s been happening to him recently.

Seungkwan only sighs, nodding. “Don’t get in trouble, okay?”

Mingyu beams, clasping his hands together like a good child. “Please watch over my things!” And then he rushes out in a casual brisk.

As Mingyu walks back to his and Wonwoo’s shared room, he couldn’t help but entertain his thoughts about the older man; the same ones he’d kept stowed away in the deepest crevices of his mind. It’s not as though he detests Wonwoo with everything in him — the other had started whatever they have right now, and Mingyu just does his own to protect his integrity and pride.

If not because of Wonwoo’s irate-inducing tendency to fuck with Mingyu’s mind, he would probably have had a better, civil relationship with him. But, no, that asshole needs to run his mouth. Although, Mingyu tries his best to avoid it — contrary to his admittedly skewed traits and practices, he isn’t one to proactively seek mess. Quite frankly, he finds their constant back and forth childish and annoying, but Wonwoo is simply too good at riling him up — filling his chest with something incomprehensible.

That one time was just — ugh, embarrassing, he thinks, mentally ticking himself off.

He really hadn’t expected Wonwoo to walk in on himself and Yemi; it was supposed to be a quick trip and Yemi was supposed to leave immediately after they finished. But Wonwoo came in so suddenly and Mingyu, in his utter embarrassment, frustration, and anger, had acted extremely irrationally — goodness knows how out of his mind he had been when he’d back Wonwoo up on his bed.

“His face though,” he mutters, remembering the look on Wonwoo’s face, and he groans, closing his eyes briefly.

Lately, he’d been feeling pretty weird around him; like, skin-crawling weird. Mingyu argues it must be because of Wonwoo’s scent drastically changing in intensity and degree of sweetness; he’d have everyone know he wouldn’t be acting the way he is if not for the powerful mind-melting abilities of the other’s pheromones.

It hadn’t always been like now, although Mingyu had always noticed a faint sweetness in Wonwoo’s unique scent whenever the other comes too close for comfort to scream or unnecessarily enunciate words at him, or whenever they brushed bodies ever so gently. Now, Wonwoo smells too sweet and palatable that having even the tiniest whiff of him renders the blood in Mingyu’s veins gushing in the wrong direction. And he hates how his control snaps every time; the event that transpired yesterday, as Mingyu knows, is evidence enough.

He’d been sleeping over at Hansol and Seungkwan’s — his loyal friends — apartment instead to avoid breaking whenever he sees Wonwoo. Albeit it isn’t ideal to keep on imposing on the couple.

Fuck.

Wonwoo’s airy gasp echoes in his mind, small and random and too delicate for its own good, and Mingyu nearly screams clutching his chest, a familiar swirling in the pit of his stomach he’d been experiencing frequently whenever he thought of Wonwoo for too long.

Fuck, this is unbearable.

For the whole rest of his walk, he tries to lock away the thoughts again, keeping his eyes on the road and not on his awfully tight trousers.

—

Mingyu stares at the door of their room, a looming feeling of something akin to dread tugging on the strings of his heart. It doesn’t help that even from a considerable distance he could smell the faintest trail of Wonwoo’s saccharine sweet scent, predominantly rosy with some notes of citrus that makes Mingyu’s mouth water uncontrollably. He looks left and right, feeling thankful nobody seems to be around.

Although it feels terribly wrong to do so, Mingyu inhales a deep one, his eyes fluttering close when the smell hits the right areas of his brain. And it may just be the all-consuming daze Wonwoo’s aroma sends him swirling in, but Mingyu borderline rushes to the door, his hands lightly shaking while twisting the knob.

Immediately, Mingyu’s senses enter into overdrive the moment he steps in. His chest swells with the intoxicating taste of Wonwoo’s heat, and his eyes fog in saturated warmth when his eyes land on a sight he’d never once in his life expected to see, from Wonwoo of all people. Suddenly, his whole body feels too tight and all he wants to do is bury himself in the comforting fragrance of fresh, blossoming roses.

His lets his eyes trace the damning image presented to him: Wonwoo on his chest, writhing almost, his face planted on his pillow with an arm covering his head from the world, his ass raised in the air while his free hand works a black dildo in and out, speed a little fervent. The moans Wonwoo lets out is heavenly, a clear indication of the pleasure he’s feeling, despite the erratic and inexperienced motions of his hand. It’s jagged and uncoordinated, maybe a little bit frustrated, and Mingyu impulsively wonders if the toy alone is enough to satisfy the omega; that maybe he could help.

He wants to run his fingertips along the burning curves of Wonwoo’s body, touch the other delicately and the while he’s beautifully pliant atop the slick-stained sheets.

Upon the realization of what ghastly idea had managed to penetrate his mind, a chilling shiver rakes Mingyu’s body like never before, his hairs standing in attention. He gains some sense of his sanity — well, as much as he could regain given his current stupor — and makes the ultimate decision to leave before things get out of control.

Turning his body away, Mingyu reaches out a hand for the doorknob, but the single cry that comes out of Wonwoo’s lips renders him immobile. “Mingyu… alpha,” he says, in the wettest way possible, an inflection and depth to his own name and the word Mingyu didn’t know was possible, “Come.”

It’s akin to a siren’s song; it’s beckoning to his primal instincts, and unbecoming for his sanity. Amidst the cloud of lust and the cacophonous beating of his abused heart, Mingyu cognizes how foreign it is for his otherwise iron-will to become inferior to his animalistic roots. He’d spent his ruts with omegas and some had spent their heats with him, however it’s the first time Mingyu feels too strongly about claiming someone — a person he isn’t even on friendly terms with, no less.

“Help me, alpha,” Wonwoo tries again some moments later when Mingyu doesn’t move, exasperated words telling of his own unbecoming. He sounds broken, nothing like the well-composed, temperamental person Mingyu knows him to be, but in spite of that, Mingyu notes how much his insides throbbed at the sultriness unique to Wonwoo’s deep voice; completely different from the women he’d bed with.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes out, mind virtually blank save for his rampant desires to take Wonwoo as he is. That, maybe because if not the noise of his sinful prayers, the only thing he’s clearly able to discern is the thundering beating of his heart. Mingyu buckles his knees so he could stay standing.

Regardless of it all, he still tries to fight back his inner cries and unlock the door, but when the next whine exits Wonwoo, Mingyu becomes too mentally weak to fight the influence of his innermost nature, and he slowly turns towards Wonwoo who’s still in his previous position, though now looking straight at him through half-lidded eyes.

Mingyu shakes, everything turning into a haze, the last thing on his mind the small, reserved stretch of apple-red lips hidden behind warm, creamy skin.

—————

Wonwoo has had his fair share of questionable hook-ups and every time he thinks about them, he would simply peg them as so-so experiences. After all, life is nothing but a series of decisions a person either find satisfaction in or live with certain levels of regret for having done. However, waking up in the embrace of a firm — clearly manly, and one slightly bulkier than him — body is one thing Wonwoo had never thought would have happened to him, especially not being decidedly bare, tucked haphazardly in a flimsily draped sheet, a throbbing sensation in his ass that somehow feels less discomforting than the stickiness clinging all over his burning skin.

He’s yet far from coming to his wits when he shuffles in his wake, warmth dancing inside his body and a pleasant smell tingling his nose. His body is pliant under the comfortable heat of another person, mind nothing but a puddle of satisfied delight. Carefully, Wonwoo shifts his position to tuck himself under the other person’s chin, unminding of his nakedness and instead focusing on gently running his fingertips along the beautifully taut back.

“Alpha,” he mutters under his breath, nothing short to being elated when he sniffs and perceives the calming fragrance of cinnamon and lavender, mixed together in an intricate dance of flavorful bliss that has his inner omega preening. The other groans softly and Wonwoo basks in the low rumble that reverberates through his head, his mind slowly coming out of his pre-human-state haze.

Once again, he notes how nice the feeling of being cuddled like is, how homely and cozy everything feels like and how maybe — despite his slightly adamancy to stick on simply hooking up in substitute — he longs to have this kind of thing happen more than once. Well, maybe not the stickiness on his ass—

Cinnamon and lavender; a slightly bigger body than mine; my heat; he walked in… Mingyu… me… begging… heat… Mingyu — wait.

As soon as the thought simmers, Wonwoo immediately clambers out of the bed, his pulse rising to disproportionate levels of panic and dread. He tugs his blanket with him, knowing full well the breeze he feels down on his nether regions simply means of one thing. But his fast pace doesn’t come with its disadvantages, especially not when all his limbs seemingly decide to scream out of soreness all in one go, and he somewhat topples over the ground, a loud thud following his impactful entrance to sentience.

Groaning, he anchors himself to the ground, reaching out to grasp the edge of his desk before hoisting himself up, towel hanging over his shoulders and covering everything. When he’s eyes come to land on the equally naked figure on his bed, Wonwoo nearly passes out at the dizzying speed all his regrets come rushing up the surface.

On the bed is none other than Kim Mingyu, the man Wonwoo has spent a good chunk of his life in university hating with every fiber of his being, sleeping peacefully and blissfully unaware of the other’s inner turmoil, features soft against the pillow below him, the gentle curves of his slightly parted lips one for the wildest imaginations to run freely on. He looks beyond charming, like a figure worthy of being tended to, that Wonwoo gets close to repeating the same mistake of ogling and losing himself in the irrefutable influence of Kim Mingyu.

“Y-You!” he bellows, a hint of anger and frustration hidden behind the surprise and confusion evident in his voice, an accusatory finger maniacally pointed at the other as his eyes rake the bare body above his sheets, stopping short when they land on the half-hard member resting between Mingyu’s thighs, the tip pink, and though yet to fully harden is already distinctively lengthy.

Wonwoo’s inside twitch as he struggles to breathe, patches of memories from the other night flashing ominously in his mind. “Y-Yah,” he starts, feeling himself slowly descend to being manic, now unable to ignore the pulsating soreness in both his asshole and mouth. “KIM MINGYU!”

He heaves every breath as he watches the other come to his senses, gentle motions performed through confused limbs looking positively discombobulated and flimsy. Mingyu groans, cupping half his face and running the palm over to probably soothe the press of his brows, deep, husky morning voice echoing through Wonwoo’s ears when he says, “Good morning,” like he has no recollection of what had transpired the night prior.

When he finally opens his eyes, they dart down to his own nether regions, and a pregnant silence permeates the air. That is, until Mingyu looks up, screams, then proceed to scream some more.

“Fuck.” Wonwoo is beyond fucked.

—————

After half an hour of grueling, painfully awkward silence while they cleaned themselves from the travesty that was their unintentional, heat-induced hook-up, Wonwoo and Mingyu are finally breathing the same suffocating air, face-to-face, a few good meters separating their polarizing existences, while trying to simultaneously tackle and dance around the elephant in the room which honestly seems more like a mammoth.

Mingyu sits on the edge of his bed, figure hunched as though he’s on the verge of experiencing an extreme case of diarrhea, elbows propped atop the high of his knees and hands clasped in front of him. His eyes stare afar, like in eternal contemplation, the browns of his orb dark and almost brooding, like he’d seen how the world would come to its destruction.

Wonwoo, meanwhile, obviously in his own state of crippling mental disarray, sits on his desk chair, skin crawling at the thought of even being near his bed despite having rid it of the dirty sheets. His head is turned down, lightly pounding, a jagged beat similar to that his heart had taken on, his hands between his thighs, fingers timidly fidgeting. Wonwoo’s cheeks are warm, maybe scorching even, as he tries not to think of the specifics of what had occurred between the two of them. Though, the faint memory of tanned skin slapping with his own, and the vestiges of a touch so intense, betrays his efforts not to.

His body feels better; the perpetual heat making him act up is actually gone, save for the burning sensation down on his lower back and the slight rawness in his jaw; a discomfort which Wonwoo would not venture into thinking what had been the cause of. And though Wonwoo’s somewhat glad with the lack of stimulation within him, the heat that burns unfettered in spite of himself, the discomfort around his body serves little purpose on attaining comfort.

The pregnant silence continues to bloom, until—

“D-Did we?”

He regrets asking — disrupting the otherwise peaceful atmosphere — because as soon as he finishes, Mingyu winces, looking away for a moment before turning to Wonwoo with an uncertain look on his face. It’s the first time the latter has seen him with such an expression, and Wonwoo feels his skin itch; after all, Mingyu has only every looked at him angrily, or passively. Never with the guilty face he put on right now.

“I-I’m not sure?” His shoulders tense, rising and slightly compressing. “I don’t think so?” he affirms, the lilt in his voice nothing but anxiety-inducing, his eyes fluttering innocently and his puckered lips downturned with apprehension, like he’s trying to convince the two of them that the obvious didn’t happen. “Don’t you remember anything?”

Wonwoo is unsure of what overcomes him but it feels as though Mingyu is blaming him, his raised brow doing nothing but make Wonwoo’s prior panic spin to ire. He squares up in his seat, hands close to gesticulating while he sputters through his next words. “I was in heat! I was out of my mind, Kim. How the hell am I supposed to — fuck!” he says, rising from his seat in an attempt to assert any sort of dominance he still had over the situation. But the pain in his backside proves a little too much for Wonwoo to handle. His steps stagger when he tries to walk forward.

He shuts his eyes and steadies himself but fast hands already have him anchored not a second later, hold firm yet movement gentle as the other pushes him back to sit, a frantic “Be careful!” rushing past Mingyu’s lips.

He nearly melts at the sensation of Mingyu’s palms on his skin — nearly unravelling his inner new-found feeling of need for the other man, but he reels back to his reality when a familiar throb makes its way reverberating in his chest.

Why would I—

He slaps Mingyu’s hands away, taking a few steps back to put some much needed distance between them.

“But, you! Why did you even come back?! You weren’t even coming back every day!” Wonwoo points an accusatory finger at the other man who only blinks at him, a dumbfounded look on his face as though still processing what had just happened. But when he comes to it, an enraged look paints over his features.

Mingyu lets out an incredulous laugh before his eyes land on Wonwoo’s own, a frown stretching his lips. “Me?! I just wanted to get my phone back! How was I supposed to know you’d be fucking yourself with a dildo?!” he nearly shouts, pointing back at Wonwoo, before his eyes bulge and he looks away, red over his cheeks.

“I—” Wonwoo stops, unable to find his words in the heat that had clouded his whole head. “T-Then why didn’t you leave?! You knew my heat was coming!” he says with great difficulty, the blush on his face a prominent shade of red from the embarrassment of having been seen by the other in the worst possible state. “You could’ve left me alone!”

The words simmer, and Mingyu bites his lower lip as if in contemplation — as if thinking for a good enough reason — huffing moments later. “I wanted to! Fuck — I wanted to, Jeon.” The words bordered sounding like a secret. “Goodness knows I tried keeping my sanity intact.”

He takes a sharp inhale, averting his eyes away downward. “But you — you were different. You weren’t the you right now. And… and… you called for me… with that small, wet voice… and… and your scent…” There’s a conflicted look on his face, like he’s remembering how exactly Wonwoo called out to him, and the other’s face only burns deeper at the idea of begging Mingyu to stay and take him.

“Fuck, okay?! I lost control of myself, and I don’t fucking know why,” Mingyu says, looking over frustratedly as though he couldn’t explain the explosions in his chest in words that would make sense. Wonwoo relents, hunching down ever so slightly. “The next thing I know is that I’m waking up, buck fucking naked on your bed with not a single memory about what we did. So I’m sorry!” he adds. His voice is booming, but, still, Wonwoo faintly registers the regret laced into his words; it makes him feel bitter.

“So we really did, huh?” Wonwoo doesn’t even try to hide how deflated he is, carelessly dropping on his bed this time. He lets himself break a little, afraid he couldn’t buck his legs any longer than he already is.

There’s a somewhat garbled sound that emanates off from Mingyu a while later, and then there’s clearing of his throat while he, presumably, tries to piece his words.  “It’s not a big deal, right? It shouldn’t — right? It’s not like we’re virgins or anything.”

An awkward laugh from Mingyu later and they’re back at fleeting gazes. And though Wonwoo wants to appear indifferent, he can’t bring himself to will away from the fact that his first time had been with Kim Mingyu.

Fuck, echoes in Wonwoo’s head.

“What? Don’t tell me you actually are?” Mingyu scoots a little farther away. Wonwoo continues staying silent, letting his words settle. His features morph into that of guilt, and he runs his palm on the back of his nape, looking away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know whether or not he should be pissed at the expression on Mingyu’s face that, to him, danced the line between guilt and pity. So he scrambles through the chaos in his mind to scoop an answer. “Of course, I’m not! But maybe—” he inhales through his mouth “—maybe being fucked in the ass for the first time is a valid reason as is! And by you, of all people. Fuck.”

Pointing a hand, Wonwoo grunts and plasters a look of disgust. When Mingyu’s eyes fall on him, the press of his brows is replaced with a prominent scowl. Almost in disbelief, he points a finger to himself, a humorless chuckle rushing past his thinly pressed mouth.

“What does that mean, huh? You think I’d fuck you willingly?” His eyes are keen and bearing on Wonwoo’s, and his stance shows no visible signs of him backing out of whatever this is. “Damnit, Jeon. Get over your fucking head. You’re insufferable.”

“Me? Insufferable? Fuck you,” Wonwoo snaps back.

“No, fuck you! You act like you’re the only one in turmoil over us having sex because of your fucking heat, but no. It was my first time with a man and, if it were up to me, it shouldn’t have been with a fucking menace like you!”

The room falls silent, uncharacteristically so. Wonwoo doesn’t know how to respond to the other’s admission, but the fact of the matter is that his pride is being bruised — at least that’s what he thinks in the confines of his muddled mind. So he resigns himself to his disorganized thinking, letting his mouth run as his logic-void brain pleases.

“Isn’t that the truth? You took my first time as an omega, Kim, and you probably enjoyed every minute of it.” There’s a bite to his words, and for a moment Wonwoo feels guilty at the hurt expression that flashes on Mingyu’s face. He considers stopping when a certain redness creeps up on his features, but no other words flow out, just the remnants of what he’s possibly broken by the ones he’d said.

“Enjoyed?” Mingyu’s voice shakes, and the way his orbs pierce through Wonwoo’s own makes the latter want to lurch. “Are you stupid?! I was dragged by your fucking scent, Jeon, not the other way around.”

“Then why did my heat come after—“

”I don’t fucking know, okay?!” Mingyu nothing short of explodes, confusion clear on his face that Wonwoo’s insides tremble inexplicably.

“I—” he looks away, tone now more distinctly mellow “—I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what happened.”

Wonwoo feels as though he’s only a hair stand away from shaking, both his mind and chest on high alert. His heart thumps loudly in the cage that is his skeleton, rough and irregular that he fears he’d break at any given second. In his eyes is a warmth that he couldn’t identify what emotion had caused. Confusion? Frustration? Hurt? Wonwoo is unsure, simply experiencing.

At any given moment, he would cry. And he doesn’t want to do so in front of the man he’d only shown how strong he was — in front of the man he’d hated, who’d seen him in his worst. He doesn’t want to break when it’s Mingyu whose eyes are trained on him, possibly waiting how much more pathetic he could get. So Wonwoo balls his hands and looks away, turning his body as quickly as he can before saying, “I-I need to go.”

Then he walks out; he wipes a stray tear running down his cheek and goes. But he’s yet to walk a few steps out when he drops on the ground, writhing in pain as he feels his insides wildly vibrate. He first registers a sharp pain shooting down his stomach, a sting barely there he wouldn’t have noticed if not for it turning to a blast of flesh-curdling pain.

“Augh!” Wonwoo’s eyes have shut close at such point, the other sensation he feels aside from the punchy pain within his bones is the hardness of the ground below him, supporting his weakened knees and elbows while he’s hunched over.

He tries to rub the particular area on his stomach which hurts, but the pain doesn’t subside. Instead, it seemingly doubles the more pressure he applies.

Fuck, Wonwoo almost cries aloud.

“Jeon! What the hell?!” He barely takes in the concern in Mingyu’s voice when the latter comes pushing on him. His hands come to secure Wonwoo’s arms in place, the areas where he touched cooling as though the taller man’s hand were fast-acting ointment.

“A-Ah—”

“Wha — What’s wrong? Do you hurt anywhere?” His voice is frantic, and if it were any other occasion, Wonwoo would have laughed his ass off from seeing something so uncharacteristic from Mingyu. But with how discombobulated his mind, and how wrecked his body feels at the moment, all he could do is curl in on himself even further. Though, thankfully, even if it’s a stretch to say, he feels a little bit rooted with the touch around him; like he isn’t completely lost to the pain.

“Ahh — I-I don’t k-know.” Mingyu pulls Wonwoo to an embrace of sort, close to a point where the latter is flush against his chest, resting his head the area just below his collarbones. “It hurts,” Wonwoo adds, though he’s relieved to notice the steadiness in his own breathing. Weirdly enough, he feels a little bit better and, quite frankly, if he’d dare to admit, he liked how he’s pressed onto Mingyu.

It’s comforting and almost healing in a sense he couldn’t put to known words. All he knows is that the pain feels significantly less now that he’s held securely in the alpha’s arms. It’s instinctive that he leans closer, wiggling up a little, now tucking his face along the crook of Mingyu’s neck as though he is his lifeline.

He inhales the alpha’s scent, and the bundles of nerves within him dissipate. Then he takes a whiff again, noticing the shudder that overtakes the other’s panicked confidence. Though, Wonwoo’s pleasantly thankful that the other doesn’t try to start a needless fight and instead let him stay within his hold.

“Let me go get help.” It almost sounds like a squeak, but Wonwoo couldn’t care any less. He’s more acutely aware of the fact that if Mingyu would go away, the pain might come back. Though Wonwoo doesn’t know how exactly he knows it, he takes it for what it is as immediately clamps a hand on Mingyu’s shirt. When he looks to the latter, the expression on his face is breathless and a little dejected, but the other doesn’t say a word. Simply, he blinks.

“N-No! D-Don’t leave me alone, please,” he pleads, unknowingly emitting pheromones in an attempt to keep Mingyu rooted in place — with him. “Please.”

A look passes on the latter’s face before he looks around to thankfully find no one else in sight. “Okay. Okay. Just… breathe, okay?” He exhales roughly and loops an arm around the middle of Wonwoo’s back, then one around the back of his knees, scooping him up. With ease, he carries Wonwoo back inside the room.

The latter’s hands are daintily wrapped on Mingyu’s nape when they take a small pause, Mingyu debating whether or not it would be okay to have Wonwoo lay on his bed; he takes a moment to wonder if the other would hate it. But when a grunt makes it past the said male’s lips, Mingyu’s immediately heading towards his side of the room, gently laying Wonwoo down on his unsoiled sheets.

When Wonwoo is laid comfortably on the bed, Mingyu notices him clutching on his stomach. Biting his lower lip, he takes a hand to carefully remove Wonwoo’s own. “Does it hurt here?” he asks, actually unminding of an answer before he’s pressing softly on the area.

Wonwoo only hums and closes his eyes, seemingly pleased. Mingyu looks away, unsure if he’s supposed to see such an expression on the other man’s face — hell, unsure if he should be doing what he’s doing in the first place. But instead of pondering a little too deep about it, he simply takes the former’s innocent moans as incentive to keep on going.

Fearing of the weirdness festering inside him, Mingyu clears his throat. There’s a subtle pounding in his chest, a swirling in his stomach he isn’t sure what’s the cause of, and a dryness to his throat. Add the fragrant smell coming from Wonwoo and Mingyu’s nothing short of convulsing to the ground in his confusion and panic. “Do you have anyone we can call right now?” he squeaks out, honest words spilling out of his mouth, “because, honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

Through hazy eyes, Wonwoo looks up at him. He looks dazed, a little out of it, but still put together enough to mutter the next words that he does. “J-Jihoon… or Soonyoung.”

“Where’s your phone?”

“I-I don’t know,” Wonwoo replies, flitting his eyes around the room until it falls to where his bag is. “Maybe in my bag. Let me just—” Anchoring his body with his elbows, he tries to push himself up, presumably to fetch his phone, but Mingyu stops him. Pushing Wonwoo back down, he swiftly gets up and takes it himself.

As quickly as he left, he returns with a phone in hand. “Hey,” he calls out when he sees Wonwoo once again writhing, immediately repositioning himself as so he could go back to soothing his pain. “I’m here.”

I’m here, he repeats.

—

“So…” Soonyoung starts, sounding more agitated than calm, but the beaded eyes that Jihoon gives him is enough to shut him off for the time being. It hasn’t even been a full ten minutes since they’ve gotten inside the room but Mingyu could already feel how tense the atmosphere had gotten.

“Shush, will you?” Jihoon cuts him off. Mingyu simply blinks, feeling a lot like a child caught doing something scandalous, instead of the grown-ass alpha that he is.

It’s not like he’s in bad terms with Wonwoo’s friends; on the contrary, he would consider both people good acquaintances. But with how things are, what with him sleeping with Wonwoo during his first heat, it may not be so cut and dry for him to easily assume he’d get out of the situation he’s in unscathed. Wonwoo is their best friend, and they’re well-principled people, so Mingyu is sure they’d be protective over him.

And if anything, the pointed look Soonyoung has been giving him the moment he’d stepped inside and saw how Wonwoo’s curled on Mingyu’s lap certainly proves his point to be concerned. Though, he’s glad Jihoon gives him a more understanding stare than a judgmental one. Mingyu knows he needs all the comfort he can get, especially now that the gravity of what has happened between him and his supposed nemesis has sunken in. Well, maybe at least seventy percent; coming to terms with Jeon Wonwoo probably would never be as easily digestible as he’d like it to be.

Clearing his throat, Jihoon brings Mingyu back to reality. The noise is enough to make him flinch in his spot and instinctively run a hand over Wonwoo’s ears to cover them. He doesn’t have the carelessness to wake Wonwoo from his sleep; not when it’s the most peaceful the other has looked considering his prior suffering.

“Oh.” Jihoon runs an analytical eye over the two of them, stretching out a hand to grip Soonyoung’s arm since the other had started to advance forward. The other makes a distraught noise, his forehead creasing fairly obviously. And Mingyu understands. But that doesn’t make him any less nervous.

Albeit having not told them explicitly about what had transpired between him and Wonwoo, Mingyu knows the distinct scent circulating around the room is enough evidence within itself. He mentally curses himself for not airing out the space before the two came. But he was in such a panic upon seeing Wonwoo doubled over in pain that he hadn’t really minded his actions; hence the strong smell of their intertwined scents, with the addition of sex screaming in the air.

He thinks he shouldn’t have, but something about the flashes of hurt on the omega’s face had his heart throbbing painfully in his chest. It’s almost like he couldn’t bear seeing him in such condition.

Is it my alpha kicking in? His brows crease as he guides a hand on Wonwoo’s arm, laying it there, about to rub the area but stopping when he smells the faint scent of agitation festering in the air.

“Is it right to assume what I’m thinking?” Jihoon sighs. His eyes gently fall on Wonwoo, and when he redirects it to Mingyu a few beats later, the latter doesn’t have it in him to look back with his usual confident conviction.

Instead, he bites his lower lip and chokes out a little, “Yes.”

The room silences even more so. And the way Mingyu could hear the increasing chatter from the outside tells him it wouldn’t be good if this conversation he’s having with Soonyoung and Jihoon turns sour.

Surprisingly, Jihoon speaks his next words calmly. “What happened? Wonwoo wouldn’t have done anything with you, no offense.” It seems more like the other omega’s trying to understand the situation better by asking, but Mingyu wouldn’t have minded otherwise. It was his lack of self-control that had gotten him in this predicament, after all.

“I came back for my phone then…” he trails off, pondering if it would be okay to say how the thing between him and Wonwoo had progressed as is. “I saw him… Wonwoo… he was — uhm — yeah.” He figures he shouldn’t. It’s embarrassing to admit aloud, but it probably be more embarrassing for Wonwoo who’s new to all this.

“Damn, fuck.”

Mingyu flinches at the words that leave Soonyoung’s mouth, and he scrambles to explain himself. The crease on the other’s brows is unfamiliar; Soonyoung had always been the friendly, smiley type, always with his eyes as slits with how much he grins. “I-I promise I was about to leave! But… but…” He looks over on Wonwoo. “His scent…”

“You should’ve bolted out!” Soonyoung counters, pointing an accusatory hand on Mingyu which he does little to refute.

“I’m sorry.”

Before the budding argument could escalate to Soonyoung going all protective big brother, Jihoon tightens his grip on the other’s arm, pulling him away. He casts an apprehensive glance on the ground. “Were you nearing your rut, then?”

“That doesn’t justify it, Hoon.” Soonyoung huffs after his quip, clearly upset at how Jihoon’s deciding to deal with the matter at hand. “We’re not animals for him not to have self-control.”

The latter sighs, looking up to him. Then he gently thumbs an area on the taut surface of Soonyoung’s arm, pursing his lips. “It doesn’t, Soon. But it could provide context. Let’s think about this calmly. I’m sure it’s hard for the both of them,” he reasons out. “Wonwoo’s heat isn’t how it normally is.”

“N-No. It isn’t supposed to happen until a month later.” Red flushes on Mingyu’s face, before he internally cringes at the possibility of his rut being triggered by something he’s supposed to be well adjusted to. Taking a deliberate gulp, Mingyu lets his eyes fall on the two people before him. “Listen, I’m sorry. What we — I did was improper.”

Truly, Mingyu is. Although he hates Wonwoo and sometimes, embarrassingly, gets a perverted sense of happiness seeing the other become flustered of what he did, he would have never had his way with him if he could help it. He’s not too evil to do that. He isn’t even sure if he wants to be, with Wonwoo.

A defeated sigh hangs in the air for quite some time. “It’s done either way.”

When Mingyu opens his mouth to speak Jihoon hurriedly waves a dismissive hand, then delicately points over to Wonwoo who had now taken to softly gripping his thigh. “How is he?” Jihoon asks.

“Better.” Mingyu cards his fingers through the man’s hair, feeling it right to do so. “I don’t know what happened.” The breath that comes off him is a little exasperated. Quite frankly, Mingyu is unsure whether it was born from his pride or an actual worry for the man who’d done nothing but pester him.

“It’s probably because you slept with him during his first heat.”

If Mingyu could die from choking on his saliva, he probably would have. “E-Excuse me?”

Soonyoung snarls. “Didn’t you listen during your health classes?”

“B-Because maybe I didn’t p-prepare Wonwoo properly?” Mingyu winces when the words slip out. He swears the other alpha would have charged at him if Jihoon hadn’t, once again, held him back. And it’s not as if he couldn’t fight; it’s that he doesn’t feel it’s his place to try and argue with what he’s done.

“No,” Jihoon cuts through the thick tension. “The reason why alphas and omegas aren’t encouraged to seek anyone during their first heat: they develop a temporary bond with their partner. We may have evolved to become more desensitized to certain aspects of our roots but some things still carry on.” And maybe Mingyu had imagined it, but he’s fairly certain the omega had looked at him with poorly masked concern on is features.

“It shouldn’t last very long, since it’s dependent on the relationship of the partners. I remember my teacher saying it would be two days at most for strangers, but with the two of you… I don’t know how long it would, exactly, since you’ve been going at it for years now.”

Mingyu manages to mask the shock that had started to root in his chest, schooling the gentle tremble of his hand as he unknowingly caresses the side of Wonwoo’s face. “U-Uhm. Then why is he in pain?” he squeezes out amidst his confusion.

Though he recognizes the knowledge Jihoon had relayed, having remember his mom being so adamant on having him spend his very first cycle in the confines of his room, he doesn’t understand how Wonwoo’s pain could correlate to that.

“I bet you two fought the first thing when you woke up. He’s still very sensitive, that may be why. And the added connection between you two may have affected him more severely than it could have, otherwise,” Jihoon wisely surmises, a knowing tug on his lip. “Let me see him.”

He swears he doesn’t mean it, but the small, almost warning, grunt leaves his mouth before he can even think of it. As if automatically, he pulls Wonwoo a bit closer, wrapping a protective arm around his chest. Luckily, Wonwoo doesn’t wake and simply nuzzles closer, sighing when his nose rub against Mingyu’s clothes.

“Careful, dude.”

Uncaring of the underlying threat in Soonyoung’s tone, he simply mutters a reserved, “I’m sorry,” though some part of him doesn’t feel it at all. Only I get to touch him, he continuously mutters, like a mantra in his head as he sniffs the air in search of Wonwoo’s scent.

“It’s okay. That may be quite normal.” Though the small frown on Jihoon’s face betrays his own words, Mingyu doesn’t comment on it. “For now, I’ll tell you what you should do.”

“And what, leave Wonwoo alone with him?” Soonyoung stares pointedly at him, obviously fighting off a prominent scowl that had taken on his face. “No offense, Mingyu, but I can’t trust you right now.”

“I—” he purses his lips “—I understand.”

With a disappointed look on his face, Jihoon turns to Soonyoung. He looks frustrated, but there’s still an understanding on the way he looks that Mingyu feels relieved, even just a little. “We can’t force them to separate, Soon. It will only cause Wonwoo pain.”

He feels a little guilty at the leap his heart makes.

“But—”

“We can’t provide him the comfort he needs right now,” Jihoon adds, his tone careful, clearly treading a difficult conversation with Soonyoung.

The two of them stare for a while, both unmoving in their respective spots. It takes a while before the taller relents, a prominent expression of anger painted on him. “Fine. You go talk to him.” Then Soonyoung storms out, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud.

Jihoon turns to Mingyu. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I can’t blame Soonyoung for acting like that.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say after that; and it’s mainly because it quite honestly feels like his brain is floating in space. There’s a certain feeling of detachment dancing within the walls of his mind, though at the same time Mingyu realizes he’s rooted in a spot too real to be considered a fantasy — that is, if the prominent note of citrus whirling in his head is anything to go by. Instead, he waits for the other to speak.

“You know, it’s a little hard to trust you right now.” It hits Mingyu a little harder than when Soonyoung had voiced the same opinion. “But I know you had no ill intentions despite your relationship with him.” Jihoon adds, but Mingyu thinks it could still have been otherwise.

What if? He finds the words tickling the tip of his tongue. The thought festers, but he shakes it off, a bitter taste in his tongue as he does so.

“Still…”

With a tight smile, Jihoon shakes his head lightly. “You can atone for your sins later. For now, listen; and be good.”

“Okay.”

—————

When Wonwoo awakes, he doesn’t exactly expects to be greeted by the sight of Mingyu on the side of the bed he’s presumably been laid on — which, as far as he could tell, smells strongly like the alpha — a gentle palm atop his chest, while another held his. Nor does he expect Jihoon to be standing a couple of meters away, immediately breaking the comfortable silence with the Earth-shattering fact that he and Mingyu are temporarily bonded.

And thus, everything culminates to Wonwoo simply blinking his eyes while he flits focus between his friend and his supposed nemesis who looks far too guilty for Wonwoo’s liking. The more he zones in on the boyish feature of the alpha, the more he notes the downturn of his eyes and lips. Quite frankly, it’s annoying and Wonwoo wants nothing but to wipe the expression off.

It doesn’t suit him.

“I’m really sorry.”

It catches Wonwoo off guard — the way it comes out so softly from Mingyu’s lips, how naturally it rolls in his ears despite it being uncharacteristic of the other. Unknowing how to properly respond, he opts to stay silent, instinctively looking to Jihoon for an answer. But the other only gives him a small smile, something in his features clearly telling him ‘give it a shot’. And though Wonwoo could stutter an answer out, he doesn’t trust himself enough to speak.

From the corner of the room, not too long after, he hears Jihoon clear his throat, effectively catching both his and Mingyu’s attention. “I’ve done my part today, and though I’d like to talk to Won personally—” he looks at Mingyu who diverts his eyes elsewhere “—I’m not sure I could.”

He sighs, dejectedly staring at Wonwoo. It’s clear that he’s reluctant of leaving, but Wonwoo notes the determined expression on his face; it’s the one Jihoon always does when he’s trying to convince himself of something, or when he’s sure to follow through with whatever he’s decided on doing. “I’ll leave you guys to talk and work an arrangement of your choosing, okay?”

Wonwoo internally cringes at the terminology, but he otherwise mutters no complaints.

“Won, be good. I’ll call you later.” Before Jihoon leaves, he shoots a knowing look at the alpha. “Please.”

“I promise,” is the only reply Mingyu gives before Jihoon is out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him. When the other is fully out of vicinity, Wonwoo opens his mouth to speak, but gets immediately cut off when Mingyu haphazardly lets go of him.

A deep flush leaks through his cheeks, coloring the majority of his head a deeper shade that oddly suits him. Though Wonwoo’s head files away the image, he discerns a little itch in his chest at the other’s action. Well, if it’s so easy to let go why didn’t he—

“Are you trying to start something again?” Wonwoo accuses, looking away to feign pronounced anger. Heat spreads through his ears at the thought that had entered his conscious, and he swears it’s nothing good to go by.

Mingyu looks away just as Wonwoo redirect his eyes at him, ever so curious at the answer he might get. But the man only bites his lip, letting the atmosphere simmer for a little while longer. It’s unbearable, if Wonwoo might say so; and the fact that the tiny frown is still homely on Mingyu’s face makes his fingers tickle even more.

“I’m sorry,” the alpha says, bowing his head, folding his hands on his thighs that look too perfectly close to be comfortable. “I promise. I’m not, but…”

Mingyu looks so small in front of him now. It’s like the manifestation of how Wonwoo always wanted him to look like when he eventually exerts his rightful dominance over the younger male. But he couldn’t even get some form of happiness from looking at him like that.

He chides himself for caring. What the hell. He’s supposed to be the cockier one out of us two.

Wordlessly, truly instinctively and following it itch he feels settle in his mind, he reaches a hand out. He allows himself to run his fingers along Mingyu’s jaw. When the other tenses at the contact, Wonwoo’s skin crawl at the shudder that makes it through the tips of his touch. Though, he doesn’t stop and continues to trace the area further down.

Upon tipping Mingyu’s chin upwards, he sees a familiar burn within his eyes — a passionate heat dancing along the darkness of his orbs. It has Wonwoo gripping the sheets and swallowing the heaviness in the base of his throat. “But, what?” he asks, bordering breathlessness when he discerns the changing intensity of Mingyu’s scent, the smell searing through his nose and penetrating every bone that held him upright.

Mingyu blinks, maybe a couple of times, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down from Wonwoo’s peripheral, before a ghost of an exhale exits his rosy lips. And as though compelled by the lull of the latter’s voice, he stutters under his breath, “I-It’s awkward.” Eyes on eyes, arguably soul to soul, without a touch of dishonesty, he graces a hand on Wonwoo’s chest. “I’ve only ever known to fight you — to hate you. But this weird feeling in my chest—” he briefs an inhale “—It’s a lot.”

“I—”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s the temporary bond speaking,” Mingyu quips back quickly, his warm palm unmoving. And if anything, Wonwoo likes it there; he appreciates the burn that it lays gently upon the maelstrom that had become of his heartbeat.

“Fuck you.”

Frankly, Wonwoo thinks that airy chuckle from him that barrels its way through the air is unbecoming of both him and the relationship he has with Mingyu. But he presumes it could be because of their supposed bond. Otherwise, the jitter in heart would be an anomalous phenomenon, only meaning his demise.

“Fuck you, too.” The hand on his chest balls up into a fist, taking in its wake the fabric of his oversized shirt. Albeit the antagonistic nature of the action, Wonwoo can’t bring himself to fight back; he knows he can’t when Mingyu heaves an exhale, and then proceed to sport the smallest of smiles afterward.

It’s the temporary bond, he enunciates to himself, now a little afraid of how powerful the shit he’s in may be. He thinks, that maybe if it becomes more unfettered in the future, there would be a greater possibility of him doing stupider things; if the way his next words roll out without much question, is enough evidence itself.

“You already did.”

“I—”

The blush that spreads down Mingyu’s neck and to the tips of his ears has Wonwoo hollering, his heart skipping beats. Briefly, he thinks running his mouth is worth it. There’s a sensation of euphoric rush that runs through his veins at Mingyu pulling him closer, locking his vision onto him, leaving only a few good inches between them.

Wonwoo’s head feels like it’s too close to busting a vein.

“I hate you too,” he whispers, though he doesn’t think he truly means the words, nor does he know if they even carry the same weight they used to hold. For now, Wonwoo can do nothing but cast his eyes deeper on the features he used to think were annoying. “But, for now, let’s make it together.”

—————

It would be a lie if Wonwoo ever told anyone he didn’t worry about what he’d do in the duration of his temporary bond with Mingyu, nor if he thought they’d last a long while, trying to keep a civil façade veiled over their abysmal history. But it’s surprisingly easy keeping a comfortable silence going on between him and Mingyu; it’s almost too easy in Wonwoo’s opinion.

True to the alpha’s supposed promise to Jihoon, he doesn’t try to start anything with Wonwoo. He doesn’t even go on with his usual severe bite-backs when the latter gets a little quip-y (not too mean at least, just subdued teases) for his own good, simply brushing it away with a smart, yet equally short retort. If anything, Wonwoo thinks it’s a little fun bickering instead of fighting. It’s a pleasant feeling to take in small doses of Mingyu’s sharpness without the usual venom that comes with his words.

And, though Wonwoo was considerably passive when Jihoon broke the news that fateful day, he’s nothing but, nowadays. Truthfully, he still can’t properly wrap his head around the idea of Mingyu and him being connected with such a level of intimacy only supposedly shared by those who have properly mated with one another. If back then, he probably would have thrashed if someone told him this had even a possibility of happening.

Despite wanting to blame the other man for their unbecoming, Wonwoo thinks he holds part of the responsibility as well. Thinking of it without bias, he did put off the medicines he’d been given, and didn’t take the advice of going home. Although, Mingyu’s still equally (if not more) in the wrong for not dashing out of the room when he still could have.

Wonwoo understands the concept of being bonded (it’s how lovers give their lifetime to their significant other), even more so the fact that he’s experiencing it now, but it gets a little foreign at times. After all, the younger had not said it better; I’ve only ever known to fight you — to hate you.

Albeit that, he is trying to keep himself together in front of the other man.

It’s not exactly easy; he still gets the urge to give Mingyu a piece of his mind. That wouldn’t probably change in the long run, just that now his heart squeezes a bit when the other gives him a little pink smile when he returns the favor or frown when he goes a little too far. Surprisingly, it feels natural to act in a way that doesn’t necessarily belong in the realm of cut-and-dry animosity. At times, it makes Wonwoo wonder if things would have been different given the chance to change the way he acted.

Still, the stutters in his chest are still something a bit weird. He’d pegged it as something consequential to their circumstance but in truth, there’s a level of rightness to the occasional irregular patterns of his heart. Despite that factoid, Wonwoo continues to reason out its existence; after all, it would be horrendous if he’d actually develop something for Mingyu.

“Hey, do you want some?” Is the first thing that Wonwoo hears when he enters the room after coming from his laboratory class. Mingyu has been homely lounging on the couch, he presumes for quite a while before he arrived, wearing his best chill attire: his worn-out white hoodie and gray sweatpants.

On his outstretched hand is a burger, and on the coffee table another one, a bowl of fries with two large sweaty drinks. Wonwoo’s heart races at the sight, and he can’t help the warmth that permeates throughout his chest at the invitation. It’s becoming a regular occurrence (his nightly R-n’-R with Mingyu), and though he shouldn’t, Wonwoo couldn’t say he dislikes it.

It’s a whole different side of Mingyu he didn’t know about until recently — like an introduction of a new world. He’s actually too domestic, Wonwoo had come to realize when the image had reached the status of frequent. Maybe it’s because they were too hell bent on cutting each other’s throat that he’s never noticed; that, or because they usually didn’t stay in the same room for longer than 10 minutes.

But now that they’re in a situation, they actually have to be at least cordial with one another (else they’d both be pained). Thankfully, the peculiar arrangement doesn’t require them to spend all their time together; just a couple of hours for the bare minimum, as they’d come to figure out. He wouldn’t know what to do if they had to go prancing around campus.

That would be a mess, and fucking awkward.

“That’s cute, but unhealthy,” he snorts, contrary to his words plopping down beside Mingyu and placing his notes carefully beside the food. “You really should stop buying take-out.” Wonwoo thinks it’s just right to say. Although he does like the choices Mingyu make about fast food, all the oil he’s been eating has been making him feel extremely sluggish as of late.

Mingyu picks up the remote to tone down the action movie he’s been watching. Turning to look at Wonwoo, he makes a face. “It’s not as if you don’t stuff your face with it.”

“Exactly! If I know, this is just a ploy for you to fatten me up.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes, slumping back on the backrest, attempting to rest his neck but ultimately failing since the part is too short. He sits up, instead.

“That’s not exactly far off my agenda, if I ever thought of one.” Mingyu smirks, leaning further back as if they’re just doing some casual hangout ritual. “Fortunately, I don’t have one.”

“Ass,” is Wonwoo’s only reply, but on the back of his mind: hot.

“I fucked your ass.” That shouldn’t have sounded sexier than funny to Wonwoo’s ears, and he chastises himself for being acutely aware of the huskiness in Mingyu’s voice.

Averting his eyes, he says, “Whatever.” His attempt to relegate the heat on his neck to being simply nonexistent, obviously, fails, so he covers his blush with a choked cough.

For a while, the room is silent and he wonders whether he should speak. But he doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, not when he feels too warm all over at the fuzzy memory Mingyu above him on his bed. Though, Wonwoo eventually braves the wild and turns to look at the alpha.

He finds him silent, an observant look on his face that Wonwoo has no idea how to read. It’s foreign, he deems, and he doesn’t quite understand what the bemused little stretch on Mingyu’s rosy lips could mean. But he doesn’t pry, simply silently watches as he cocks his head to a side, yellow chuckle pouring out maybe directly from his lungs.

“So, you want me to cook for you?” he asks, chewing on his burger, possibly unknowing of how rapid-fire Wonwoo’s heartbeats are that they’re almost nauseating. “I can cook our dinners, or if you’d want some other thing I can whip it out for you.”

Wonwoo internally chokes at the image his over-active mind conjures. Briefly, he wonders if he’d ever live to see it, what with all his fucked up internal responses, he thinks he’s bound to experience a heart attack sooner or later.

“You can cook?” he settles to ask, instead. “T-Then why the hell have we been eating take-out all week?” The faux anger in his voice is a prominent; Wonwoo feels a sense of pride in his chest.

Mingyu only gives him a teasing grin, ever so slightly baring his neck when he looks up before plastering a smoldering expression on. It makes Wonwoo chuckle, however that goes short-lived at the words that follow. “There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me, babe.”

“Shut up.”

Mingyu snorts. “So you don’t want me to?”

Wonwoo relents. “I-It would be great if you could.”

And he honestly thinks it’s going to become a pattern if he doesn’t stop with his unwilling leniency: Mingyu proposing something casually, and him agreeing without much of a fight.

“Waah — unbelievable.” The sigh of disbelief that hangs in the air afterward makes Wonwoo blush an even deeper shade of red, makes him want the Earth to open wide and painlessly swallow him alive. But alas, he’s stuck with Mingyu in their all-too-suddenly little room. “Who knew you were capable of being this cute.”

“I’m not!” he huffs, beading his eyes, frowning. But the other gives him a simple dismissive wave, clearly unthreatened. “Damn, you’re getting too up in your head.” Though, in honesty, Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to care too much about the little embarrassment he’s experiencing. Well, not with how homely Mingyu’s scent turns as he casts over his soft eyes.

If silence follows afterwards, he knows it’s anything but uncomfortable. So he doesn’t move to initiate something, focusing instead on the television, but still hyperaware of the presence beside him. Their next interaction is instigated by Mingyu who nudges him by the shoulder. When he looks, the alpha is picking up the extra burger on the table then handing it to him. “For now, here,” he says, a thoughtful look on his face Wonwoo had come to appreciate looking at. “Eat up.”

It makes him look like a little child. Cute.

“Thanks.”

With the food in hand, he gently unwraps the covering and takes a bite. A moan unconsciously slips past him, though when he turns to defend himself, there’s nothing but a look of contemplation on Mingyu’s face.

Wonwoo guesses he might be thinking of some other thing, so he continues. “Classes with Mr. Oh are not my jam.”

Mingyu blinks, for a moment appearing to be lost in thought, before frowning. It’s the face he often does when he’s thinking of something unpleasant; cute little pucker on his lips and everything. “I swear, that man does nothing but go off on the smallest mistakes.” And then he smirks. “Thank god I’m not under him this year.”

“Lucky you.” Wonwoo laughs humorlessly. His eye twitches at the possibility of dealing with said professor next year, but he quickly lets go of the idea when he feels his head start to hurt.

“Hey, you’re luck’s not too bad yourself.” Mingyu maintains eye contact.

Canting his head to a side, Wonwoo grabs the unopened soft drink he knows is intended for him and sips. “What do you mean?”

A mischievous grin appears on Mingyu’s face. And Wonwoo immediately knows whatever’s going to come out of his mouth would be a disservice to his pride.

“Well, you have me as your mate, no?”

Though it should have crossed his mind, given how self-assured the alpha is, but it doesn’t stop Wonwoo from sputtering over the sweet, acidic burn of the cola running down his throat. “It’s temporary.” His chest is tight, but in all the good ways when Mingyu beams at him a small huff. “Also, what’s so good about having you as my mate? If it needed to be a guy, I would’ve preferred senior Chanyeol over your musty ass.”

He couldn’t really imagine him being tied to a male alpha, but Wonwoo rather Mingyu not know.

For a breath the other stills, but he regains his composure quickly. Raising a brow up, he asks, “Isn’t he with that senior — Baekhyun?” and then takes a bite of his long overdue burger, tiny in contrast to his big hand.

“Yeah, I think so. But if he wasn’t, then…” It comes out a little out-of-it. Mingyu narrows his eyes at him, his lips weighed down in a frown, and Wonwoo is puzzled why he looks displeased.

That wrinkle, he mindlessly thinks as he focuses on the press of Mingyu’s brows. Unconsciously, Wonwoo reaches his free hand out to smooth the unpleasant closeness. When he runs his thumb across and the muscles easily follow his direction, he feels a sense of satisfaction well in his throat.

“Anyway,” Mingyu interrupts, Wonwoo dropping his hand, flashing something cross between gratefulness and playfulness. “That’s your kind’a guy, huh?” There’s a bit of an edge to his tone, but Wonwoo doesn’t exactly know what it means, so he lets it be.

Wonwoo shrugs, compelled to answer honestly. “Not really. He just seems like he’d be a good partner.”

“You bruise me.”

He takes the sweet smile that makes itself home on Mingyu’s face as a good sign.

“But, if we think about it, aren’t I just as good… or even better?”

It takes a split second before Wonwoo’s brushing away the train of thought that would potentially leave him analyzing the pros of having Mingyu as a partner. Luckily, he hasn’t become too immersed in imagining what he would be like as a proper lover, so it becomes easy for Wonwoo to retort.

“Aren’t you really being too self-complacent?”

“I know my value,” Mingyu replies, afterwards making a but-that’s-just-my-opinion face.

“Sure. If you say so.” Wonwoo smiles quickly, reaching down to put his drink on the table, but his neck twitches with pain again and he sighs. He looks to the backrest, mentally cursing it for being too short and threatening to replace it if he ever has the money. Then he turns to Mingyu, about to say something when he notices.

His body’s big enough, the thought surges past his inhibitions, and, suddenly, before any coherent thought could be made, he’s turning on his back and scooting over to where Mingyu is on the other side of the couch because damn, his neck is killing him. “Anyway, let me lean on you for a bit. My neck’s been hurting lately,” he says, blinking dumbly when he finally feels the comfort of having something to support the weight of his head.

From his back, Mingyu stills but then immediately laughs. The vibrations shoot through the thin fabric of Wonwoo’s shirt, and he becomes at a loss of what to do. But he doesn’t leave, not when something about the sturdiness pressed against him, and the pleasantness of the air around him, compels him to stay.

Around him, Mingyu seemingly wraps his arm, finishing off his burger before crumpling its wrap in his palm. “You know, for someone who used to loathe me, you’re surprisingly adjusting to this pretty well,” he says after an audible gulp. And when his arm falls still around Wonwoo’s chest, the latter doesn’t comment on it.

“It’s been three weeks. Of course I’d learned to tone down the need to roast you, by now.”

“Suit yourself.”

It’s a surprise how fast the tides have washed anew over them — too easy, flow too unhindered it’s actually kind of scary. One day he’d went from loathing the alpha, then the next he’s acting all cordially, then the next he’s actually became someone like a friend of sorts.

Wonwoo had thought it was supposed to be more difficult, that there would have been more of a resistance in forming any form of rapport. But with Mingyu being surprisingly patient and mellowed down, giving and taking had become less of a fight and more of a matter between when he, or maybe even Mingyu himself, is ready.

What they unclearly have still their little secret from the world. Though, right now, Wonwoo wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, he fears the collective interest that people would have with how his relationship with Mingyu is progressing would, in one way or another, tear them apart.

The action is brief, but Wonwoo registers how Mingyu pushes his face closer to his neck. Unconsciously, he snorts, coming back to reality.

“You’re home early today,” he states more than asks.

He hears Mingyu hum, even closely feels it burn his skin like golden, molten lava. “Last class was cancelled; thank heavens. I don’t know how much knowledge I can cram into this brilliant head of mine.”

Wonwoo stills at how hesitant Mingyu’s word comes off, something Jihoon told him some days back coming forefront on the bulletin board in his mind, the one where he plasters the information he feels are crucial; like dates of examinations or something of the nature.

Despite the little debate that happens within him, Wonwoo still ends up asking: “Jihoon said your rut’s coming, is that right?” half-expecting Mingyu to immediately throw him off the couch for muttering something so private. Though he figures it really shouldn’t be such a big deal between him and Mingyu, who he knows isn’t such a saint, there’s a part of him that feels less confident.

In less than a breath, Mingyu’s pseudo embrace on him tighten. And Wonwoo, not long after, feels a long shaky sigh over his shoulders. It’s too hot that Wonwoo tenses, feeling the warmth sear through his flesh. The silent gargle of his stomach is the only thing telling him whatever is happening is real; Wonwoo doesn’t know if that’s a good thing within itself, or correlated with his other responses.

“Yeah, but I usually just get headaches during ruts.” Mingyu pauses, a hesitancy in his following breath. “That, and my other urges, too,” is the confession that makes it past a beat later, complete with the addition of a sharp intake of air. “It’s not really severe, or anything.”

Wonwoo understands, it’s hard not to when he’d already experienced the one for his own, albeit only once. And when he flashes back to the feeling of wanting something so much, his heart lurches at the memory — at his own defiance of reasoning, will, and intellect. And though he knows better than anyone it’s nothing but his own repression from the years his nature had hid within him, his skin still crawls when he thinks Mingyu would be like that, too; yearning, begging for anything, anyone to touch him.

“W-Who’re you going to spend it with this time?” He doesn’t intend for it to be said, but it does. And it does in a way that tightens the knots in Wonwoo’s stomach; that makes his chest explode into pieces of uncertainty he shouldn’t otherwise be feeling.

Unconsciously, he presses himself further back. There’s a chasm in his chest that needs to be filled, and Wonwoo doesn’t quite know how. So he lets himself feel the scary waves of black that pool in his head. He lets himself anticipate loss, in spite of how he knows it shouldn’t be his concern.

Fucking bond.

But Mingyu’s hand find its way to rest on the curve of his shoulder, gently pressing and holding like the softest tidal waves on the sunniest beach. His scent changes very minutely, and Wonwoo almost couldn’t discern the touch of fear that travel alongside prominent notes of cinnamon and lavender.

“No one.”

The admission has Wonwoo further melting into the touch regardless of his confusion.

“Eh?” He wouldn’t want to admit how relieved he feels.

Suddenly, Mingyu’s fingers are combing through his hair, stopping only when his forehead is clear of any stray strands. Then he removes his hand before patting the top his head. It confuses Wonwoo, but he doesn’t speak, only waits. As if he could, with the burn of his neck.

“I’m not going to, uhh—” the alpha trails off “—cheat on you.”

Wonwoo almost couldn’t hear it. But he does, and his heart does a couple of backflips as an instinctive response. In a moment of panic, all he could do is grace a gentle slap on the other’s arm around him, still clearly befuddled at how easily Mingyu could say such thing; like there truly is something between them.

“Hey—”

“Look, I may be the biggest catch in bed, but I respect the bond.”

Although too cocky, Wonwoo senses nothing but honesty in the words of his former enemy. And he, for all there is to his own preconceived notions and weak adamancy to brew trouble, becomes speechless and unmoving, every fiber of his body vibrating.

“You’re impossible,” Wonwoo conjures amidst his flustered state, hunching forward to hide the uncharacteristic flush on his whole head. “Then I’ll be sure to help you barricade this room when the time comes.”

Then, all too suddenly, Mingyu’s laugh comes crashing like pretty thunder, commanding attention in its wake. Wonwoo isn’t safe of it, and he lets up his head to observe the unfettered smile on the alpha’s face. Beautiful, his mind surmises, the word maybe even insufficient to describe how ethereal the sight is.

“I’m not an animal, babe.”

Wonwoo laughs with him this time, unknowing of the fond look on Mingyu’s face when he looks away.

—————

The week that follows is not, by any means, eventful. Between Mingyu and him, nothing really happens aside from their usual toned-down bicker; and some unplanned cuddles (if they really stretch a limb to consider it) on the couch. Not that Wonwoo would openly admit seeking Mingyu’s chest to lean on whenever his neck starts hurting. There’s no particular change in their dynamic, if Wonwoo would try to assess what comes of it, albeit he’d like to think he’s gotten somewhat a little closer with the other man.

Though, there’s the nice addition of Mingyu cooking for the both of them when he can. Which, when the first day he started doing so, Wonwoo had been so puzzled upon being dragged to their small shared table. He’d almost just went out the door with an empty stomach to try and catch up to his first lecture, but Mingyu had unexpectedly sat him down to a salivating bowl of chicken soup, telling him off about how he shouldn’t be skipping meals.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re not skipping out on my watch.” Was what he had said while he sat himself parallel to Wonwoo. And if the latter wondered why he was so concerned, with a familiar prickle in his cheeks, he didn’t say a word and instead ate. That day, Wonwoo ended up skipping his second lecture altogether.

As Wonwoo had come to realize even further, Mingyu can be a dedicated guy if he wanted to; as proof is his constant attempt to switch up every meal he cooks. He thinks it’s honestly cute and thoughtful of him, but he doesn’t voice it out. Instead, he tries to convey his thanks by thoroughly enjoying everything Mingyu has made thus far.

These days, however, Wonwoo is plagued by one simple question: Where the hell is Mingyu getting all the money to buy ingredients when I don’t give him any?

The thought had occurred to him one night as he appreciatively gobbled the foreign meat concoction Mingyu had prepared for their dinner. The one Mingyu had presented with a proud smile on his lips because it’s the first time he’d made it. And, ever since then, Wonwoo couldn’t get rid of the thought; that, and along with the attractive expression the other had made, among other things.

Thus leads Wonwoo to Saturday, free of any classes and papers since he’d already worked on all of them beforehand as in preparation for his current plan.

“Go to the supermarket with me,” he says, hands on his hips as though in a determined stance, all confidently while wrapped in a blue-white striped shirt and light-washed jeans. He’d made sure to have gotten ready before he even cornered Mingyu, hopefully to make it blatant he isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Why?” Mingyu blinks; once; twice; like he isn’t getting what Wonwoo’s thinking.

The latter groans, huffing towards the alpha who’s cozily leaned back the headrest of his bed. He’s dressed in a yellow Pororo shirt (which Wonwoo had been shocked to know he actually bought and owns) and cream-colored jogging pants, and on his relaxed lower extremities is his phone in his hands, sideways, some sort of epic music blasting through the speakers.

Ah, yes, the look of someone with no plans for the weekend.

Plopping down on the bed, Wonwoo scrunches his brows. “Come on,” he almost whines, the pout on his lips an inevitability. When Mingyu looks at him again, he only smiles widely, flashing his prominent canines. “Come on. We need to buy shit for you to cook.”

“Why, why?” Mingyu puckers his lips while he speaks. The words come out cuter than they should have; it’s as he’s a pouty man-child. “Don’t you have some papers to write today? I can go on my own later.” Then he smiles, an understanding look on his face. He shuts his phone off, canting his body forward before bringing a hand up to pat Wonwoo’s head. Softly, like a reassuring lover.

The latter blushes regardless of his preferred accord, but still, he slaps Mingyu’s hand away. Plastering an unimpressed look on his face, he makes sure to have eye contact. “Where do you even get the money to buy meat when I don’t give you my share?” he asks, lips downturned, the negativity swelling in his chest for real this time. For some reason, Wonwoo is undeniably upset with the thought of burdening Mingyu with finances when they could be dealing with it together.

The alpha stills, tilting his head to a side as if in question, his chest visibly inflating when he takes a huge inhale. For a while nothing happens, that is until he lets his hand run down the side of Wonwoo’s head, dipping down until he’s cupping his cheeks. “I have enough on my allowance and savings, no need to worry,” he says, the gentle upturn of his lips a positive sign he understands Wonwoo’s concerns. “But, maybe I should start charging you, now that you say it. You’ve been doing nothing but eating, after all. I need my talent fee.”

There’s no real bite to his otherwise rude remark, truly empty of it when he presses gently his thumb on the apple of Wonwoo’s cheek. And Wonwoo — well — he understands that it may just be the other’s cheeky way of saying “ok”. After all, considering everything, both of them have the propensity to make things a little cheekier and difficult when it comes to the matter of the heart(?).

So he smiles, brightly as if he’d never had his ‘Mingyu hate phase’, his foxy eyes turning to near slits while his teeth showed, bright and pearly, every ounce of his body as light as a feather drifting through the wind. “You little shit.” A little airy, all genuine; Wonwoo feels he could float. “You’re complaining when you were the one to suggest cooking for me?”

And, maybe, it’s all because of his blind elation that he doesn’t notice the way Mingyu’s chest flutters; how he’s become too captivated at the sight of Wonwoo’s expression of joyful bliss.

—

They do end up going to the mall after Mingyu hurriedly bathes himself, afterwards dressing up in a simple white text-print shirt (that says, in small, evenly spaced letters placed dead center on the chest area: lover) and navy blue ankle-cut pants. He’d haphazardly tucked the top in his bottoms, and completed his whole casual look with white shoes, saying it’s the best he could pull off with such a sudden proposition to go outside.

Psh. Curse your handsome face. Wonwoo thinks it’s unfair Mingyu could look so good even without putting that much effort.

“Acting like you’re unprepared,” Wonwoo mumbles, still walking alongside Mingyu through the vast mall, his hands crossed over his chest. “People are totally gawking at you.” His ire had slowly been building since the moment they got out of the other’s car (because, yes, he’s apparently rich like that), and though he wants to be unminding of how crazed some girls hand guys have looked when they passed by, or even when they were just in sight, Wonwoo can’t help the budding feeling of something scratching at his chest.

“What’s with the frown?” Mingyu asks him abruptly, immediately pulling Wonwoo’s attention. When he looks to him, there’s a lopsided grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. ”Stop that; it makes you look two times uglier,” he says, and bumps Wonwoo’s shoulder with his own. It’s gentle, barely even enough to make Wonwoo flinch, but it doesn’t ease his irritation. On the contrary, it does nothing but aggravate him.

You must like the attention, huh?

“Nothing.”

Wonwoo speeds up, going ahead of Mingyu. Albeit that, honestly, he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. It’s just that, can people not ogle him? He’s not some snack for the eyes. Respect, please!

It doesn’t take a minute before the latter is pulling up next to him, once again nudging using his body. This time, despite Wonwoo’s ire on him, he indulges and takes a look.

“Come on,” Mingyu teases, borderline drawling the words as though a whiny child, “No need to be jealous. I came here with you, right?” Then he snakes an arm around the small of Wonwoo’s waist, uncaringly pulling him into his orbit, closer to his warmth. “My eyes are only on you, babe.”

The omega’s brain freezes at the realization, more so when he registers the firm grasp Mingyu has on him. He flushes, even deeper than his most unusual ones, and he contemplates whether or not he should break away and run off to wallow in his chaotic thoughts.

But he doesn’t even get the chance to; not when Mingyu tugs him closer, holds him further down, takes his breath away when he gives a brief nuzzle on the side of his head, beanie and everything in between. “Chill,” he chuckles breathlessly, “You’re scent’s going haywire.”

He does it again, and Wonwoo obliges; tries to breathe while holding his head down. “S-Shut up.” Biting his lip, he elbows the alpha for a lack of a better response. But the man only laughs, unminding of the stares they’d been receiving. “You’re such an asshole.”

Nevertheless, Wonwoo feels okay this way. Nevertheless, he’s reassured that Mingyu isn’t going away any time soon. And maybe — in the surge of his feelings — he becomes brave enough to bring a hand up and holds the other’s that’s on his waist.

“Come on.”

—

After they pick up an ample amount of raw goods Mingyu could use for a week or two, they immediately head back to the dorms in courtesy of Mingyu’s sudden headache. The poor man suddenly had his jovial (at Wonwoo’s expense) mood soured when his head started to throb as they’d gotten to the queue line. So despite Wonwoo’s suggestion of eating first before going home, they simply agreed to schedule another day for eating out in favor of letting Mingyu rest.

The latter had wanted to cook — well, he promised he would as they were driving back from the mall — however, the moment they’d gotten everything packed down and placed in their rightful containers, his situation had gotten worse to a point where he had to anchor himself on their relatively flimsy table to keep himself upright.

To say Wonwoo was concerned would be an understatement; hell, he was panicked. Not only did he witness Mingyu basically degrading to a mess of pained “ah”s before him, he’d also whiffed the strongest his scent had been in a while.

Despite having only experienced once, what Mingyu might be feeling, presumably, Wonwoo is far from being unknowledgeable of what it actually it is the alpha is undergoing: his rut. He’d asked Doctor Moon about it earlier during the week when he visited to re-stock his medicine, since he’d already known Mingyu’s rut was about to come. And although Wonwoo was apprehensive of speaking about the matter, he knew he should be prepared for anything in case his situation with Mingyu (being temporarily bonded with him) could have its unexpected outcomes.

True enough, it does.

Doctor Moon had advised Wonwoo to keep a close eye on the alpha when his rut starts, since it would be a lot different with him being mated, albeit temporarily. He’d said it would be more intense, that he’d be more needy of someone, since his biological, reproductive features recognizes that he’s found someone truly compatible to him.

And thus leads Wonwoo to the present, sat on the free side of Mingyu’s bed, blushing as he recalls the doctor’s words: “If you don’t particularly hate him, it would be okay if you offered help — since you’re mated and all.” He did follow it with something that essentially means he wasn’t talking about sleeping with him, but, still. So, thinking of the most innocent substitute, Wonwoo does the best that he can to offer himself to the suffering alpha: offer comforting touches.

“Mingyu? Does it hurt anywhere?” he asks, on his face a worried press of his brows, a hand firm on aforementioned male’s chest which he holds with both of his, and the other warm against his warmer cheeks. “Is this okay?”

The other nods, face flush and mouth parted as though he wanted to speak but could form no words. His eyes bore onto Wonwoo’s own, filled with a fire the omega hadn’t known existed. They look glassy, glazed with something comparable to desperation, but despite the heat pooling in Wonwoo’s stomach, he eases himself to gaining control over his instinctual urges.

He needs to stay steadfast — conscious, at least — if he wants to take care of Mingyu without putting their new-found friendship(?) at risk. Wonwoo knows that; but his body is burning as hot as the alpha’s is, his skin prickling with such an intense heat that it makes him perspire. In his chest, his heart beat turns more erratic as the seconds tick by, and he wonders if he could make it through.

Get a fucking hold of yourself, Wonwoo. Shit.

“O-Omega,” Mingyu calls out, voice almost a mewl, dripping with saccharine sweetness. His chest heaves, and the hands that he has on Wonwoo’s slowly move up until they cage his face. They’re so hot and dainty that the omega could only look back with an equally glazed expression, slowly entering a dangerous state of trance with the beckoning touch of fire in Mingyu’s fingertips.

“I wanna hold you,” is the whisper that follows, its softness inviting. It hangs in the air while Wonwoo takes his time to heave and pull himself together. He wants to, he knows; his biology, as well, compels for him to take Mingyu as his, and give himself to him. But he relents, biting his tongue in an attempt to root himself in reality.

Instinctively, he runs his thumb over Mingyu’s lower lip. He revels at how lush it looks — how pliant it is under the gentle force of his hand — before stopping to prod at the center, tipping near the underside of his upper lip, expectant, his ribcage nothing but a drum for his enthusiastic heart to pound. Just as he’d imagined, Mingyu lets him in, sucks his thumb like it’s the most natural thing to do, without wasted time grazing his wet tongue against the pad, rolling out a couple of times.

So beautiful, Wonwoo thinks, popping his thumb out. And the unbecoming whine that leaves Mingyu’s lips is unmistakable, his eyes hazy as he tries to keep eye contact with Wonwoo.

“G-Good.” How the word rolls out of the alpha almost has Wonwoo’s body like putty; so sensual, unlike anything he’d experience with the women he’d gotten with. It almost feels surreal bearing witness to how pliant Mingyu had gotten, too ethereal in its own right.

“I can’t, Gyu,” he lets slip. It’s the first time he’d used that nickname, but it feels right to do so, especially when a small, satisfied smile spreads on the alpha’s devastatingly handsome face. Though it’s gone as fast as it had come — presumably when Mingyu puts two and two together. He opens his mouth to speak, but Wonwoo cuts him off.

“We can’t.” He could almost taste regret tipping his tongue. But he couldn’t afford purchase to dwell on the idea before his mind is consumed by a nauseating heat when Mingyu’s hand trails down to the side of his face, slipping down until one cups his nape.

The hairs on his back stand erect at Mingyu thumbing the area where his scent gland is, and he borderline mewls when he presses a little too hard. The contact renders him out of breath, even almost slipping back to the trance he’d pulled himself out of. But rather than pushing the alpha away, he returns the favor.

“But your omega wants to hold you. Would that be okay?” he more of orders rather than sincerely asks; and at this point, Wonwoo isn’t even sure if it’s himself speaking. Nor does he know if it’s fully himself driving the vehicle that is his body when he abruptly runs his hand over the alpha’s torso down to his crotch, delicately palming the stiffened area, observing the obvious changes on his face as if in sardonic pleasure.

Under his touch, Mingyu writhes. He shakes like a leaf being blown away by uncertain winds, pitifully canting his hips upwards without reserve and grace, in such a state of unbecoming that Wonwoo closely preens himself when he mutters an airy, “Please.”

But it isn’t what Wonwoo ought to do, he realizes, and the weight of his actions run over him like cold water in winter, cold yet scalding on his skin with the faint burn of nauseating regret. So he pulls away, steadfast even with the desperate, needy whine that comes out of Mingyu’s lips like a siren song.

He lets himself breathe the other’s scent to calm down, lets the smell of warm cinnamon wash over him. He knows he need the moment, what with the similar hardness on his nether. It’s only when he feels he could act more rationally that he approaches Mingyu again.

“Can you scoot over?” he asks and the other obliges. He moves back to the other side of the bed eagerly, as if truly excited at the prospect of Wonwoo holding him through his rut. There’s something different about the glazed expression that had almost become permanent on his face, but the omega couldn’t figure it out, so he lets it pass.

Focusing on properly holding the alpha, Wonwoo makes sure to fit his body snugly against the bigger man. It doesn’t take a lot from him, however, since fitting against Mingyu seems relatively easy enough. And soon, he finds comfort in having an arm pressed against Mingyu’s left chest while the other easily slung over his side, fingertips along the lengthwise dip on his back, his legs tangled with his.

“Wonu.”

The difference in pronunciation rings in his ears as if a holy revelation, rendering a foreign flutter in his stomach that continues dancing even after the moment has ebbed away — even when the alpha had become silent once more. He figures it may be because he’s waiting for an answer, so he gifts a little hum to have Mingyu know he’d been listening.

Wonwoo’s breath catches from the satisfied purr that the alpha does, his chest beating in light speed for some unknown reason, and he struggles not to grip at the other’s t-shirt.

“Don’t leave,” is what Mingyu says, his voice little and unsure, and it makes Wonwoo frown from the thought that the other thinks he would do that. So, without another thought, he tips his head to nuzzle at the base of the alpha’s neck, letting the compelling force of instinct guide him.

“I’m here,” he says after nosing at the other’s scent gland. And he becomes quite sure it goes unheard when Mingyu stills, but a moment later, he’s being hugged even tighter, and he figures it’s okay; that Mingyu’s okay. “Don’t worry,” he follows, pressing deft fingers along the other’s spine.

“I’m here,” he repeats, though now, unsure whether it was for the alpha or for himself.

—

When the sun begins filtering through the windows overhead and hitting Wonwoo’s skin, the first thing that he actually registers is the soft humming near his ears. It isn’t constant, but rather somewhat happening in uneven intervals, and it seems like a consequence of whatever it is that has a comfortably warm embrace around him.

“W-What?”

He blinks his eyes, carefully and slowly, in repeated motions, so he could gracefully orient himself to the brightness poking through his eyelids. It’s only a brief second, when he cranes his head a certain direction, but he thinks he sees a tuft of hair and tanned skin, and he realizes something pivotal to his current state of unexplained bliss.

Mingyu, his rut, and his own offering of comfort.

“Mingyu?” he calls out, voice low and coarse and rough as how it becomes every morning. Clearing his throat, he tries again in a louder manner. But the room remains still under the enchanted glow of the outside, and Wonwoo couldn’t bring himself to try again; so he doesn’t.

Instead, he carefully detaches the other’s arms around him, as well as his leg that had taken to layering over Wonwoo’s at some point during the night — he supposes. When he’s able to do so successfully, he lifts himself up to sit beside the sleeping man, folding his legs sideways and propping a hand down his side to support his weight.

Then, Wonwoo’s thinking why he isn’t the least bit panicked to be spending the night with the alpha he supposedly hates — who’s in his rut, of all things — or why he’d even offered himself in the first place, or why he’s even staying in bed to watch over him instead of going away. But he couldn’t really bring himself to question his actions; not when Mingyu’s calming scent filters through his nose, filling his lungs in a manner he assumes drugs fills its user’s head to the point of elation. It’s nothing short of rooting and affirming, and Wonwoo, confused as he is, enjoys the comfort it washes over him.

Without even thinking, he reaches a hand over to brush the alpha’s hair away from his face, carefully carding his fingers through unexpectedly soft black locks. Mingyu looks really peaceful sleeping, his features soft and untainted with negative emotions, lips a little parted like he’s close to drooling. He has an arm sprawled out, now, while his other lays flat atop his stomach.

Wonwoo thinks it’s adorable, that it’s a sight he would pay to see again, and that maybe, all these years he’d been focusing on the wrong thing; that maybe he’d been blinded by his unreason; that maybe it had caused a damnation that wasn’t supposed to happen. He sighs, letting his fingers gently — deftly — trace the slope of Mingyu’s nose, pulling away when the tips of his hand start getting warm.

In a way, maybe he could say, regardless of how undesirably he got into this situation, he’s thankful it was Mingyu and not some other alpha he could’ve dumbly sought out in the haze of his mind. The man isn’t half bad, now that Wonwoo had properly spent time with him without trying to cut his neck open, or something of the sort.

Maybe they could even be friends after everything’s settled, and the temporary bond becomes a matter over and done with. Well, that may be a stretch handed how they used to act around each other, but he’d like to believe that, maybe — just maybe — they’d get past their assumed hatred and become more tolerant. He wouldn’t well say they would, surely, because it could, may just as well, be the temporary bond preventing them from reverting to their past relationship.

That thought stung more than it should, but Wonwoo chooses to brush it away.

Slowly, picking himself up after placing a gentle pat on Mingyu’s arm, he leaves.

—

When Wonwoo returns, a wooden tray in hand, containing a glass of water and a bowl of chicken soup, Mingyu is already awake. He’s taken to sitting on the bed, leaning against its headboard with his legs apart and his hands almost timidly folded atop his stomach, as he stares at the door with a glazed look on his eyes. It isn’t exactly dangerous, nor is it pointed or with malice, but just a little detached.

He seems to snap out of it when Wonwoo nears, perhaps the gentle thud of wood against wood as the tray is placed on his bedside table pulling him out of his daydream. The corners of his mouth lift up, and Wonwoo becomes stuck between choosing to lag and freeze or get the bowl for Mingyu to begin eating. His eyes gleam with something bright, something the omega would have never seen on him before.

“You didn’t leave,” is what he says, a wistful touch to his tone, an ever so slightly raised lilt somewhere in there that makes him seem like he’s really joyed that Wonwoo didn’t get up and run when he could during the night. “I thought you left.”

Then, his face turns sour, like he’s thought of something unpleasant, and his shoulders drop down. Turning his eyes away, Mingyu puffs air through his nose, a frown taking over his smile. “I thought I scared you away,” he follows, tentatively, like he’s choosing his words or deciding whether or not he want to expound on it.

Wonwoo’s brows furrow, though he kind of understands where he’s coming from; they aren’t in a relationship that would make it reasonable for him to stay by his side — that, as well as other reasons maybe. Pursing his lips, he plops down near Mingyu, lightly elbowing him. “You could never,” he says, a little exaggerated, and smirks when the other looks at him questioningly. “Why would I be scared of a weakling like you?” He supposes it would be alright to appease the other.

He half expects Mingyu to chortle, or fire back with a witty remark, but the other only stares at him. Too intensely that Wonwoo needs to reel himself back to stop the heat gushing through his insides from consuming him whole, incited by the illusory sparkle dancing in Mingyu’s orbs. And he finally smiles, after a while of him in silence, small but genuine and every bit reassuring that he didn’t take offense at Wonwoo’s words.

Biting his lips, he cocks his head away, coughing a little. He quickly gets the bowl and carefully presents it to Mingyu who looks at it with something akin to wonder. While it wouldn’t be the first time Wonwoo cooked for a friend (?), he’s quite nervous and expectant as of what Mingyu would think about it. “Here. I made this for you,” he says, fighting off the urge to scratch the back of his head since he’s holding a hot bowl. “Be warned, okay? I’m not as good as you. But, I assure you, my mom says I cook okay.”

Though, he thinks it wouldn’t be bad if Mingyu finds it okay.

A guilty sense of hope fills his chest when Mingyu brightens up exponentially, probably feeling a bit heady from Wonwoo’s efforts in whipping something up for him. It doesn’t annoy the latter in the slightest, as it probably should.

“Still—” Mingyu halts, eyes bearing on Wonwoo’s own, then moving down, like he’s tracing the other’s features. “Thank you.” He moves closer, taking the bowl from his hands, their fingers overlapping as he does so. It’s weird, the way it brings a sense of scalding serenity to settle down Wonwoo’s stomach, but he mentally flicks the feeling away, opting to ogle at Mingyu when he sips a spoonful of the broth.

His heart seemingly, too, in this moment, chooses to hammer rapidly as he takes in the change in Mingyu’s expression. It doesn’t show a lot, and Wonwoo almost becomes disheartened if not for the lack of ‘frown’ on the other’s face.

Though his mother had always told him he created good dishes, in comparison to the ones Mingyu prepares for them, Wonwoo’s creations (hugely, concoctions) pale in aspects like how they’re done technically, skillfully, or what other adjectives could be named. It doesn’t help that he’s largely been consuming take-outs and/or ramen before Mingyu started his house-husband stint.

“So…” he prods.

As if automatically, the lack of something in the alpha’s face gets replaced by a heart-stuttering grin that almost reaches his ears. “It’s delicious, Wonu,” he replies, taking a bite at the chicken meat, actually sounding earnestly honest that Wonwoo doubts the authenticity of his curt review.

“Don’t lie to me.” He beads his eyes at the younger man, candidly bringing up a finger to point at him.

The other’s eyes bulge, caught off-guard, but he regains his composure and stops himself from laughing aloud. “I’m not!” Giggles still slip past his lips, however, but Wonwoo can’t bring himself to be offended especially with how Mingyu engages in a battle to stop himself from doubling over.

Suddenly, he stops. “Here—” his hand is quick, and by the time Wonwoo comes to it, the spoon is already close to his mouth “—say ‘ah’.”

Despite slightly malfunctioning at the sudden request, and the unfairly attractive look on Mingyu’s face, Wonwoo still opens his mouth, albeit hesitantly. The alpha is all too eager when he does feed Wonwoo a spoonful, that he almost bumps Wonwoo’s teeth when shoves the spoon rather than properly inserting it, but the omega doesn’t mind. He downs the soup instead, pleasantly happy when it does taste okay; that he, thankfully, wasn’t delusional when he tasted it earlier to make sure it would be edible.

Mingyu’s smile when Wonwoo refocuses his eyes on him is nothing short of dazzling, tufts of hair falling all fringe-like over his face while some stay pushed back, his skin flush presumably from the inner workings of his body due to his rut. Luckily, Wonwoo’s already free of the soup and the spoon, or he’d be choking on at least something.

“I would’ve forced you to man the kitchen if I knew you could cook well,” Mingyu says with a chuckle, casting a soft glance over Wonwoo before going back to eating like he didn’t do anything weird to the other’s body and mind.

Even then, Wonwoo flushes at the compliment. “I’m not — I don’t,” he replies, rolling his eyes in an attempt to stay nonchalant. It doesn’t work, but it does make him feel better despite being so idiotically affected. “I’d still prefer eating the food you prepare than mine,” he follows honestly, pleased when the other’s cheeks turn a deeper shade from his words.

“How are you? Are you feeling better?” he approaches softly when Mingyu doesn’t speak. Bringing up a hand to the other’s forehead, he checks if it’s any more heated than how it normally should be. Mingyu only stays quiet at the touch however, but Wonwoo thinks he’d leaned, ever-so-slightly, closer.

“Don’t ruts last at least three days?”

Mingyu closely chokes at the question, sputtering after he’d taken another spoonful of soup. Wonwoo brings up a careful hand to pat his back, rubbing it afterwards, feeling a good mixture of being sorry, panicked, and amused. He bites off the urge to coo when the younger looks to him with shiny doe eyes.

“I’m fine — managing at least. It’s like the past ones I’d endured. Yesterday was just — uhhh—” he looks away, stuttering “— disproportionately intense.”

“I-It was fine. At least it wasn’t like my first heat,” Wonwoo sputters a moment later in an attempt to diffuse the awkward atmosphere. But he belatedly realizes that, no, the discussion of his heat is not the best way to go about it; if the deep red settling on the tips of Mingyu’s ears are anything to go by.

“Ah, y-yeah. That was — yeah.”

They stare at each other, looking wide-eyed and bewildered, positively speechless at the sudden development. But, just as suddenly, Wonwoo lets out a curt fart after his stomach churns a little too much in a twisted manner. And, just like that, they laugh.

Wonwoo doubles over, and Mingyu abruptly leans back to the headrest, spilling a little bit of the soup in the wake of his action and ever bumping his head at the, thankfully, padded surface. Wonwoo gasps in shock while Mingyu winces, but when he comes to it, he continues laughing.

Quite frankly, Wonwoo doesn’t mind his embarrassment. And, maybe — just maybe — Mingyu’s boyish laughter is enough to compensate for it.

—————

“Wonu,” Mingyu calls out, along with his words some shuffling noise from where he is near the door.

From his desk, Wonwoo lifts his head up and cranes his neck to see the other standing as he held the doorknob in his hand, his eyes wide and lost-looking that Wonwoo temporarily forgets about the stress he’d accumulated from having his third sleepless night from studying for their finals.

“Are you going out, now?” he asks, eyeing the relatively large tote bag Mingyu has had slung on his left shoulder, looking awfully thick and heavy. Of course, he knows the other would be heading out; he’d already been told — subjected to a rant, more or less — the past night about how Mingyu has a pending hellish group paper to work on before finals end.

Mingyu nods, a pout ghosting the fullness of his lower lip. “Yeah, sadly,” he says, a little too honestly with the bitterness dripping in his words. “Not like I can postpone. Jaehyun’s already at the café with Sana,” he adds, un-pocketing his phone when a series of ‘ding’s sound off from it.

Wonwoo can tell he’s about to let out a fat sigh based on the downtrodden expression sitting on his features. With that in mind, he thinks briefly of anything they could do to relax and unwind when the storms of their finals finally calm. But he stops, feeling awfully eager, the fact that they’ve never done anything like it before increasing in opacity.

Maybe he wouldn’t, he thinks, and brushes the thought away.

“Will you take long?” he asks instead, unable to hold a little chuckle at how Mingyu murmurs as he reads through his chats, prominent frown stretching his lips and all. He spins his chair to better face the younger man, flashing him a smirk.

When Mingyu looks up to him, he pouts, and Wonwoo thinks he’s one strand away from stomping his feet on the ground. Quite frankly, he finds it very entertaining (and adorable), so he doesn’t exactly refrain from cooing at the antic.

Mingyu simply frowns at him, slumping his shoulders in a show of faux upset-ness. Though it doesn’t seem like he took offense at the little aww that came out of Wonwoo’s lips as he waves a dismissive hand not long after. “I’m not sure. We’re doing a review today, and hopefully the finishing touches. Can’t join you for lunch, possibly,” he replies, briefing an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice still catches Wonwoo off-guard, and his heart still lurches with a comfortable heat at the words he’d said a handful of times during the two months they’ve been, essentially, friends. It’s not new, nor is it something of significance considering the bigger picture, but then again, Wonwoo’s been somewhat weird with all the bond stuff.

He shakes his head, praying his flustered state isn’t all too obvious to the naked eye. “It’s fine. I can manage. Plus, there are leftover chicken from last night, so I’ll be okay until you feed me again,” he says, jokingly.

That seems to break Mingyu’s dampened mood, and he finally laughs a little bit. “Psh,” he huffs, securing the straps of his tote bag. There’s a confident, almost cocky, grin that takes on his face, but it isn’t exactly the same at the condescending ones he’d used to give Wonwoo; it’s more reserved, more proud than anything. “I’ll cook you something delicious when I get home,” he states, chest puffed as if a man on a mission.

Wonwoo’s cheek burns, but he doesn’t know why. Don’t look at me like that, he wants to say, however the voice gets lost in the heat traversing his fingertips. “You better.”

Seemingly, his words do placate whatever sourness Mingyu has on his body. He smiles again, brighter this time, and as he brings up a hand to wave, he appears a little more timid. “I’m going now,” he says, looking at Wonwoo with a softness in his features that make his stomach churn.

The omega clears his throat. “No one’s holding you back?” he asks annoyingly, guffawing when Mingyu predictably, audibly huffs.

“I’m kidding. Take care and eat well.”

The other smiles at that, candidly rolling his eyes while a barrage of chuckles betray his display. Slowly, he turns on his heels and opens the door, briefing a, “See you later, Won,” before he could go out and walk away.

Wonwoo laughs, small and reserved and new. “Come home safe!”

—

“Oh?” is what Jihoon immediately says upon entering Wonwoo’s and Mingyu’s room, pointedly raising his brow as he scans the area from the left then to the right, and then once more as if making sure. “Did I enter the wrong room? Why does it look so different? It’s jarringly neat,” he says even if his eyes had already settled on Wonwoo who’s now seated on the sofa, hunched with his book over his lap.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, managing to plaster a little frown albeit not meaning it. “Quit it, Ji,” he quips, while the other rounds the coffee table to sit beside him. “Mingyu was stressing about finals week so we turned the room upside down to de-stress. Honestly, he keeps surprising me,” he continues, leaning back to rest his aching back.

It was about a few days ago when he’d returned from a convenient store run to their room looking like a tsunami had washed over everything inside. The beds were moved severely off, papers and trinkets were scattered, their cabinet almost toppled over, their cranky television to a side completely away from where it used to be — it was absolutely horrendous and jarring how everything had been strewn over with such a level of haphazardness that Wonwoo was a hair’s width from popping a nerve.

If not for the way Mingyu had stood at the center of it all, looking lost, with heavy bags marring his handsome features, and an extremely pronounced scowl on his face, he would have twitched with all the taken-aback anger within him. But it struck him — the new side Mingyu had unexpectedly shown that day, so vastly different from the asshole-y, cocky, careless persona he’d presented months back — had Wonwoo, pathetically, immediately rushing to his side to ask what was wrong.

And thus, it was the way he’d came to learn about just how stressed the other had become about their upcoming semester end, and how he’d been hoping to find something new to do so he could relieve the tension he was feeling.

It was easy figuring out what he used to do, and, scarily enough, it made a feeling of unease fester inside Wonwoo even though he knew he had no right to hold such kind of feelings. But it was fine — he was fine; still is. It would be pretentious of him to make a big deal out of it. So he compartmentalized it as he mustered a teasing smile to give the other. Hoped it wasn’t obvious even when they’ve already started moving to fix the mess that had been made.

In the end, he couldn’t even stay mad. Not when the other had slowly regained his smile as they maneuvered through the piles of garbage that actually needed tending to, and especially not when, after they’ve finished, their supposedly separate beds had been joined side by side; that, as per Mingyu’s odd request.

Even if it was a little suspicious, Wonwoo didn’t really mind.

Jihoon hums, his eyes settling at the two aforementioned beds. He squints a little, looking as if he’d seen the wrong thing, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he looks at Wonwoo with a curiosity in his face, laying on his lap the tablet he’d carried with him. “That’s a good thing, right?” he asks.

“I suppose?” The answer comes out relatively easily, to an extent that Wonwoo doesn’t even think before he’s saying words, but it still comes out as a question. Although he knows it is, because Mingyu has only been surprising him in pleasant ways, there’s a growing, nagging feeling inside him that reaches out its roots further deeper inside him with every new thing he learns of Mingyu — it’s that’s what he’s unsure of whether or not he should be wary about.

Jihoon’s gaze bears on Wonwoo like a heavy brick at his silent thoughts, penetrating as though he’s being read like an open book. He doesn’t like it; it makes him feel iffy because he’s yet to know what it is that he feels for Mingyu — if it’s simply the bond or if it’s him.

“By the way, where’s Soonyoung? I thought he’d come with?” He musters an inquisitive look.

The other omega pauses, for a split second just staring at him, before he breathes abruptly and shrugs his shoulders with an apologetic face. “I tried to have him come with, but he refuses to step in here if Mingyu’s around. He’d ranted about how he found you two huddled on the couch that one time. And you know he’s still not over that,” he replies.

“Mingyu’s — he’s…” Wonwoo trails off, unsure what he should say next. Why did he even speak in the first place? Why did he even feel the need to? He doesn’t for sure know, but he simply feels the need to protect Mingyu from whatever harshness Jihoon’s words carry.

“He’s honestly okay. He’s not a bad person. But I really can’t blame Soonyoung for being upset,” he reasons, simple and curt because he can’t put the other concepts inside his head to words, and then he bites his lips, doubtful of he should have said it aloud.

But Jihoon doesn’t chide him like he expects, nor does he say another word regarding the matter. So Wonwoo could only internally cringe as he watches his features morph into that of a teasing understanding, eyes fixed and the ends of his lips curled up; it’s almost as sinister as when the Grinch does it.

“What? Stop that!” Wonwoo couldn’t stop the heat running up his neck, so he turns and looks away.

“Nothing,” is the singsong that Jihoon replies with, though fairly inconspicuous, as he crosses his legs together. Contradictory to what Wonwoo hopes, the other omega only drags out the topic from another angle, saying, “Anyway, how are you feeling now? Still feeling mushy whenever he’s around, huh?”

At the words, Wonwoo whips his head to the door. His heart palpitates at the thought of Mingyu being there all along and listening to whatever the hell Jihoon feels like spewing out. Thankfully, the alpha isn’t there to hear talk about his personal qualms; because as much as he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, what’s been said has substantial truth.

He clamps a hand on Jihoon’s blabbering mouth, widening his eyes at him when the other starts to complain in muffled words. “Shhh! It’s nothing like that. It’s probably the temporary bond, if anything,” he says, like he isn’t internally panicking at the face that appears behind his eyes, while his hands move to shake Jihoon’s shoulders repeatedly.

After a good second of struggling from Wonwoo’s freakishly strong grip on him, Jihoon finally breaks free and scoots over away a few good spaces until he reaches the other end of the couch. Belatedly, he shoots Wonwoo a dirty look before rolling his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. “Well, if you say so,” he mocks, saying it like he doesn’t believe an iota of his words.

The tone prompts an irritated ‘ugh’ from Wonwoo, as well as a glare. The book he’s been reading has been left for dead on the coffee table, now, but he has half the mind to try and engage with studying again. “Did you just come here to tease me again?” Even so, he thinks Jihoon being there is a great distraction from collegiate hell.

Jihoon juts his chin out, giving Wonwoo a look. “Obviously, no,” he says, immediately bouncing closer to Wonwoo until he’s flush against his side and his arm touching his. Turning his tablet on, he motions Wonwoo to look down on the opened page of his browser. “Come help me choose something for Soonyoung and his parents.”

True enough, a shopping app is brightly displayed on the screen. Wonwoo registers it to be on the ‘wishlist’ section, basing on the little red hearts present on the side of every product on the listing, and gives Jihoon a raised brow at the sheer amount of things he’s added. Though, he bites back the comment when he sees the thoughtful look Jihoon has on him as he scrolls through the arrangement; brows lightly knitted and everything.

“You’re going to spend Christmas with Soonyoung’s family?” he asks instead.

He knows they would; he probably shouldn’t have even asked. Since they got together, they’ve always gone through life as somewhat like a package deal. And, at this point, Jihoon and Soonyoung had practically perfected the art of planning for the holidays, without fail appeasing and giving due attention to their respective families. But, even then, Jihoon still beams at the inquiry.

“Well, yeah. Then we’re headed for mine for New Year’s.” The smile on his face as he says it wistfully doesn’t get past Wonwoo, and he grins at the love-struck look on Jihoon cute face, nudging him by the shoulder to lightly tease.

The other scrunches his nose when he gets shoved too far back on his side of the couch, regaining balance before stretching his lips in a sly manner. “Why? Are you inviting Mingyu to go with home with you this year? Wonwoo, you fox.”

Said male blushes at the insinuation, his mind immediately, almost readily, supplying images of Mingyu on the dinner table with his family, chatting cordially as if they’d been doing it for years. “Idiot!” he squeaks more than says with conviction, covering his face with his palms. Gesticulating wildly, Wonwoo scrambles to find his words. “I’m not! I — we’re not even like that. Why would I — why would I bring him over?”

Jihoon makes a face, sticking out his tongue. “Duh. I don’t mean going as boyfriends. Like, this could be you commemorating your new friendship with him,” he reasons, gesturing with his hands as if it’d make his point any more sensible, and doable if Wonwoo were to say of it.

“E-Exactly! I don’t think we’re that close as friends.”

If Wonwoo were honest, he’d never really thought far beyond him and Mingyu in terms of closeness. Sure, he’d like to keep up the pace in which they’re walking life, now as opposed to how they did some time ago. And, sure, he likes thinking maybe they are, with the manner they’re coexisting within each other’s separate and joint life. But Wonwoo wouldn’t like to assume — else, he know he’d hurt if it all comes crashing down when the spell of their temporary bond eventually fizzes out.

“And — and maybe he has other plans this year, or something.”

He doesn’t like the way the words roll over his tongue; it’s closely acerbic, burning from his chest up to his throat, before it oozes out like magma over his thoughtless lips. He figures it’s the bond — he’d like to think of it that way, anyway. But, even if it’s he’s giving the silent realizations that come with it the littlest possible attention, he knows he’d be upset if ever Mingyu does have something up with someone.

Someone else. The words tip in his mind, but he brushes it away.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him, meanwhile, the beautiful smile on his face now marred with something close to nascent anger. “He’s still seeing other girls?” he asks, and Wonwoo could tell he’s controlling the way he says it. So that it doesn’t appear too confrontational or revealing.

“Well, no,” Wonwoo diffuses, voice certain.

Mingyu has been awfully well-behaved with matters like temporary relations, unlike his previous demeanor about it, just as he’d said that one time. Truthfully, Wonwoo hasn’t heard any single news of him hooking up with some pretty girl over another department, or any of the sort. He’s no reason to doubt him anyway, since the younger man’s almost always home shortly after the time his lectures and laboratory periods end.

That goes for Wonwoo, as well, who hasn’t felt the need to de-stress using another person’s company. He thinks it’s thanks to Mingyu, who cooks great food and is terribly, wholeheartedly caring, that he doesn’t get frustrated as much as he used to.

“Good,” Jihoon finally says after gauging Wonwoo’s expression, his lips softening back to a little upward curl. “Then would it hurt to ask?” he asks, staring genuinely at Wonwoo that he feels his resolve crumble. It’s eerily similar to the look his mom gives him when she’s comforting or encouraging him to try harder on the things he’d like to achieve — firm, grounding, and every bit reassuring of him.

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be weird?” he relents, sinking back onto the backrest. He imagines what would happen if he does end up asking Mingyu out.

It would be weird, wouldn’t it? I mean, it hasn’t been long since we became friends, right? Are we even friends? Do friends even do things like this? It wouldn’t be normal — right? He’d think I’m weird and clingy — and… and…

Jihoon elbows him on the arm, rolling his eyes affectionately before leaning to his side and resting his head on his shoulders. “What’s weird is you overthinking something that hasn’t even happened yet. I swear, it wouldn’t hurt to use this sometimes.” He strains to reach out a hand and pat Wonwoo’s left chest; where his beating, frantic heart lies, waiting.

It would be a lie if Wonwoo were to say he isn’t thinking of it. Now that the seed has been planted, he knows it’s going to keep growing and growing until it becomes all-consuming. Either way, he’d do his best to keep shut about the matter.

“Whatever,” he says, bordering a whisper, wavering at the hems of his words. To avert the topic, he shuffles so that he’s the one leaning on Jihoon, swiftly taking his tablet away from him and opening it. “Now, what were you planning on getting them, anyway?”

—————

Another week passes. And it comes by all too quickly because of his pre-finals pressures that Wonwoo, thankfully, has been able to push the nagging thought of possibly inviting Mingyu over the holidays off the grid for the better part of their days leading to the exams.

Although, it does knock every time Mingyu gets too close or frets over him too much, it hasn’t been to the extent of Wonwoo going off on a tangent to try and reason with Jihoon’s tiny voice in his mind repeating the words ‘ask him’ like a broken record player. He does wonder, however, in tiny, isolated moments whenever he stares too long, what it’d be like to have the alpha with him — at his childhood home, celebrating familial occasions.

“What’s got you thinking, huh?” is the question that pulls him out of his trance. The voice is soft and amused, a careless lightness on it that has Wonwoo’s mind reeling back and forth comfort and self-induced panic. He looks up, leaving behind the carton of Chinese food to entertain Mingyu who’s walking to him from the kitchen, two cans of beers in hand.

Since the last of their exams had been dealt with, they’ve ordered food and some bought some drinks to celebrate the end of the semester and the start of their long awaited bite-sized vacation for the holidays. It’s not a unique activity, considering they’ve continued doing their R-n-R time whenever they could, but Wonwoo thinks it’s still a good one, nonetheless.

“Nothing. Just, the protagonist is stupid.” He gestures to the TV playing a sappy rom-com the alpha had chosen for his turn. “The problem could’ve been avoided if he talked to her.”

The other raises a brow and him and plops down the couch, crossing his legs after he’d done so and handing Wonwoo his can. He pops his open and, with a little frown, takes a drawn out sip, slide-glancing at Wonwoo with a stink eye.

“Hey. I quite like this movie. It’s that good cliché shit, you know?” Mingyu says then picks up his box (which he’d close to emptied at such point) to start gobbling his unfinished food. “And, that fight was totally necessary. If not, how would they do that shouting their confessions over one another thing, huh?” he follows, mouth filled to the brim that some grains of rice pop out.

Wonwoo yelps when one directly flies over his cheek, hastily wiping it away before giving Mingyu a look. But, he isn’t even able to drag it out before he fondly smiles when the other flashes him an apologetic look, muttering, what Wonwoo can presumably tell as, ‘sorry’ despite the strong muffle.

Instinctively, he reaches out a hand to thumb away the grime covering the corner of Mingyu’s lips, almost naturally so that he lets his finger linger a little while before he retracts and wipes it on his sweater, a reserved stretch on his lips when the other looks at him with his parted.

“You’re a child,” Wonwoo chides, jutting his out, now with a little pout on his face.

Mingyu snorts at the statement, while he puts down the box, but nonetheless sides up closer to him until he’s pressed flush on Wonwoo’s side. His arm comes up to circle around Wonwoo’s shoulders. But he doesn’t mind, even leaning in to the warmth and tucking himself in.

“Am not,” the alpha replies, though there’s not much of a fight in his voice. He downs his first gulp of beer, and Wonwoo has to refrain from listening to the noise of how the liquid travels down his throat. Looking up, Wonwoo sees the other already gazing down on him.

“You are,” he reiterates. “And your movie choices are unexpectedly cute. It’s quite the contrast.”

Mingyu makes a disgruntled noise, as if offended by what’s been said about his then secret obsession with rom-coms and contemporary films. Then he stills, relaxing beside Wonwoo and resting the side of his head atop the other’s. His soft breath carries out despite the chatter from the TV; Wonwoo thinks he’d prefer it over the protagonists’ stupidity any time.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, wondering, like waiting for something to break as he thinks over the words that have settled in the air. It’s almost as if something deeper is buried within the confines of his statement, like a fractured wistfulness, but maybe it’s just Wonwoo’s mind once more being deluded by his own curiosities.

Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Not at all.”

From beside him, a sigh escapes Mingyu. “That’s good,” he says, and Wonwoo could almost feel him nuzzle his head, a silent hum vibrating from his chest before rippling throughout Wonwoo’s body from the contact. “That’s good,” he repeats, and Wonwoo thinks it sounds more like Mingyu reaffirming himself, so he nods to confirm.

They fall silent after that, but it isn’t uncomfortable like how it had been in the past. Instead, it provides some sort of tranquility to Wonwoo because, somehow, in Mingyu’s presence, he feels nothing bad could happen to him. It’s almost like he feels invincible, all while he unfolds himself by bits and pieces — all the while he puts together the fragments of a great mystery: Kim Mingyu.

If Wonwoo had learned something throughout the sizable amount of time he’d been with the latter, it’s that he’s vastly different from how he’d seen him months prior. Mingyu is nothing close to the self-centered, egotistical image of an alpha Wonwoo had constructed of him inside his mind. He’s good-hearted, and caring, and, more than anything, a person worth everything. And Wonwoo figures, at times like these, that maybe he’s truly been the reason as to why Mingyu acted the way he did — that maybe it’s truly because of his own prejudiced treatment towards him that pushed him to retaliate with the same fire Wonwoo had thrown.

Maybe that’s why he’d never seen what others saw; because he shut him off without any hesitation.

Wonwoo sighs at his thoughts, the itch in his chest from the truths that came barreling forefront his mind still evident even when he pushes himself closer to the crook of Mingyu’s neck. Without anything in particular to say he chooses to finish his take-out, slow and movements almost detached from one another. But he’s thankful that Mingyu doesn’t pry on it, simply holds him closer, even patting the side of his shoulder after he sniffs too close and makes a disapproving sound.

Wonwoo silently wishes he could control his pheromones better, as he takes his last bite and deposits the finished box atop the coffee table, frowning at the realization that he probably smells really disgusting and that Mingyu’s putting up with it without any qualms.

When he comes back to his comfortable position beside Mingyu, the alpha unexpectedly wraps his other arm over his stomach and shuffles so he’s resting his chin on the top of his shoulder. Wonwoo is taken a little off-guard at the action but accepts it nonetheless. Albeit hesitantly, he guides a hand to rest atop Mingyu’s own, though he does little to slot his fingers to the other’s. Leaning his head back, he cranes a little to the side where Mingyu’s head is, inhaling his scent after doing so.

Good, his mind supplies, relief gushing through his veins and tiding over his dulling feelings of regret.

“The break starts next week,” is what disrupts the tranquil silence that had built between them.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answers. His heart stutters at the thought of asking — that, if not how Mingyu turns his palm over to start playing with his thumb, gently holding it between his, before tracing the pad until he reaches the base.

“You going home this year?” Mingyu follows, thought Wonwoo barely registers it apart from the explosions violating his ribcage. His chest thrums, irregular but with such intensity that he struggles to breathe for a second, before he regains control thanks to the other’s calming scent.

He cranes his head better until he’s nosing on Mingyu’s neck. The other doesn’t speak, so he lets himself be. “I am. How about you?” Wonwoo says, an odd vulnerability vibrating in the pit of his stomach, clawing until it reaches his heart where it screams even louder. Maybe it’s Mingyu’s holistic presence that compels him, but Wonwoo twists his body in a manner that allows him to embrace the alpha.

It’s not long after that a laugh follows from the other man — not long after before Wonwoo feels a warm palm carefully patting the back his head, gracing a few before it slides down and settles on the small of his back. It makes his hairs rise, but he doesn’t retract.

“No. My mom and dad are out of the country for business. Unfortunately, they probably wouldn’t be able to make it on time,” Mingyu says, light and airy that it would appear to be something normal for him to say in response to such questions. And maybe that’s it, because Wonwoo easily filters through it and feels something close to hurt lacing the alpha’s words, buried within his feigned nonchalance; aged, nothing close to being new. It especially becomes apparent when Mingyu follows with: “Not like it’s the first time.”

How he can practically feel the squeeze of Mingyu’s chest is beyond Wonwoo. But it doesn’t change the fact that his own clenches the same way. When he pulls away to look at the other’s face, he sees his handsome features marred by a brokenness to his otherwise genuine smile, as he looks ahead to the television.

His chest palpates even harder, and Wonwoo’s left to press himself even further to Mingyu’s embrace as if he’s the one hurting most out of the two of them. “It’s okay,” he tells, closely placing the side of his head to Mingyu’s chest when he feels his embrace tighten.

The sigh that the alpha lets out afterwards reverberates within the walls of Wonwoo’s stomach. It’s bordering a shake, as Wonwoo’s mind fills for him, so he automatically embraces him closer, in hopes of lifting his mood. At least, Mingyu seemingly melts in his touch; to Wonwoo, that much is enough to assure him he’s done something to quell the obvious hurt Mingyu’s experiencing.

”No — really — I’m okay. They can come back for New Year. It’s just that… sometimes I feel like they’ve only little time for me,” the alpha voices out, sounding the most vulnerable he’s been, courageous enough to bare himself to the person who’d once been his enemy. And Wonwoo, for the trust everything in between, is grateful at the act.

He unconsciously clenches on the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt. “It’s okay, Gyu,” he says, pausing shortly after to observe the alpha. The long withheld idea of asking Mingyu to spend his holidays with him suddenly seems so doable, though Wonwoo doesn’t exactly know where his new found confidence stems from. But he thinks it’s maybe from the way the alpha’s eyes seem to slightly glisten under the bright LED light, with the corners in a delicate downturn.

“Then…”

“Hmm?” Mingyu asks when Wonwoo takes a little too long.

But the words are stuck in the latter’s throat, in the brink of remaining unsaid, buried and lost in the chasm of his inhibitions. The lump doesn’t go away, nor does it reduce in size as moments pass by, but, if anything, Wonwoo’s courage grows just enough to overshadow the shackles of his own fears.

“Do you… do you want to spend Christmas with me?”

Plain and simple; but his ears still ring after he puts his thoughts into words. He can feel himself warm at the prospect of rejection, and he struggles to keep himself from rubbing his sweating hands on the white shirt Mingyu has chosen to wear at the passivity of his expression, his lips just barely parted as he looks straight to Wonwoo’s eyes.

“What?” Mingyu asks, like he’s in utter disbelief at the proposition made to him. It’s enough to make Wonwoo want to take his offer back. And if not for the tiny glimmer that seems to shine brightly in the alpha’s chocolate eyes, he would have.

But Wonwoo, with his heart palpitating in extreme severity, decides to brave the wild and repeat his words — surer, with no room for doubt; even if he trembles a little while he does so. “D-Do you want to come home with me and spend Christmas with my family?”

A moment of silence passes before uncertainty paints Mingyu’s features. For a moment, Wonwoo feels afraid he’d be rejected, but when the alpha says, “Will they be okay with it?” he becomes able to breathe properly once more, only hindered by the hammering of his chest, now.

Exhaling deeply, Wonwoo slumps atop the alpha’s torso once more, anchoring his chin on the crook of his neck. He ponders giving a peck on the area, as if some all-consuming want bursting from the hems of his sanity, but he stops, instead choosing to tighten his embrace around the other. “Probably. I haven’t brought anyone with me before,” he states, honest and true.

Wonwoo has never introduced someone to his parents before, save for Soonyoung and Jihoon, and he’d never thought he’d ever do so. It’s mainly because of his reluctance to commit to someone, that he’d never even considered once, but Wonwoo figures it would be okay if it would be Mingyu. He’s his friend, isn’t he? It’s okay to at least consider, right?

It’s okay, right?

“Wouldn’t I be intruding?” Mingyu asks, pulling Wonwoo out of his thoughts who, with immediateness, takes in the continued hesitancy lacing his words.

Immediately, he shakes his head. “I think my mom will love you,” he assures, but Mingyu doesn’t reply. Instead, the latter nudges the side of his head, presumably asking Wonwoo to look. He obliges, and when he’s far enough, he sees a grateful stretch on the alpha’s lips, far too genuine and pure that Wonwoo thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to have the privilege of viewing.

“Thank you.”

But he takes what he can get, memorizing the state of Mingyu’s features, capturing a mental snapshot, and filing it in the safest regions of his mind.

—————

The train ride home is, fortunately, a pleasant experience, save for the brief moments that Wonwoo’s heart beats a little too fast whenever Mingyu came too close or leaned himself in a little too familiarly. It’s like how he’s travelled that one time with Jihoon and Soonyoung, but with a different person he’s not quite sure if he’s truly friends with, handed their situation.

Wonwoo’s thankful, however, that he doesn’t have to dwell on that fact for too long, since he gets easily distracted at the excited smile and equally excited quips that Mingyu makes when he tries something new, or sees something exciting from outside their window. He thinks it’s adorable and, truthfully, he’d rather not miss anything like it to favor his jumbled mess of thoughts.

I’ll deal with this later, he’d thought as Mingyu rested his head on his shoulder to sleep, briefing a glance down the soft look accentuating the younger man’s innocence and good-naturedness.

When Wonwoo sees the telltale signs of them nearing the end of their journey, he contemplates for a bit whether or not he should wake the other up. Even for a short while, even just a bit more, even without reason, he wants to prolong the feeling of having Mingyu near him, his hands on his in a warm grasp, them in their little corner away from the world.

It could be his slight fear of doing something so new, but Wonwoo finds himself seeking Mingyu’s scent again. By this point in time, even he, himself, thinks it’s safe to assume the other’s cinnamon and lavender is what can keep him sane. And despite knowing it could simply be from him being temporarily bonded to him, Wonwoo couldn’t deny how easy it is to lose himself in the calm Mingyu’s presence provides.

He sighs, lightly, treading the separation between Mingyu’s pointer and middle fingers with his free hand. He stops to play with the pad of his thumb, smiling when the other grunts in his sleep, finding it easy to slips his head atop Mingyu’s.

“Hey, wake up. We’re almost home.”

Home. He wonders how it would feel like to properly call it that with the context of Mingyu and him. Would it be as good as how he feels when the younger laughs carelessly? Would it be as magical as when Mingyu seemingly traces his face with curious eyes? Would it melt him the same way when Mingyu comes back to him during the end of every day?

But Wonwoo could only wonder. So he stops, and refrains the closely bitter smile that threatens to slip past the bounds of his inner thoughts.

For a silent moment, Mingyu simply shuffles, his eyes still closed as if the serenity flooding his deep-sleep state had only gone undisturbed. But then that moment passes, and he’s blinking rather cutely with a small, familiar, frown on his lips, trying his best to re-orient himself with the light emanating brightly from the morning sun.

When he does so, successfully, he looks up at Wonwoo. His lips are candidly panted, and his eyes squinted, and Wonwoo thinks he should find it a little ugly. But he doesn’t, terribly unlikely so if he’d dare admit.

“Hey,” Mingyu says a little later, face morphing into a smile Wonwoo thinks looks barely legal, before thumping face first on the top of the other’s shoulder. When he speaks, Wonwoo can almost hear the smile. “My neck hurts. You make a bad pillow.”

Wonwoo knows it’s a lie; Mingyu has taken purchase on him far too many times for him to say he doesn’t like it. But he snorts nonetheless, shouldering him away. He doesn’t succeed, obviously, since Mingyu wiggles himself even closer, his laugh close to cackles.

“That’s why I prefer resting on you instead. Your muscles are comfortable.” Wonwoo laughs, but Mingyu tenses below him. For a moment he thinks he’d overstepped with that comment (not that he hadn’t already done so multiple times in the past — but that was a different time), but then Mingyu’s pulling away, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows; all with a knowing grin plastered on his irking handsome face.

“Then should I work out more?” He puffs his chest out, probably in an attempt to appear some sort of way, but Wonwoo thinks it closely resembles juvenile proudness.

“No,” he says all too quickly, nevertheless, following with a small: “You’re perfect.” And then he’s undoing his grasp on Mingyu’s hand to clasp both his over his mouth, horror overtaking his expression at the thought that should have not been voiced, turning away to look at the scene from outside and failing to see the look of surprise that paints over Mingyu’s features.

“What?” Mingyu chirps, almost, like he’s biting through a thinned layer of reality. Wonwoo almost sputters when he looks back and sees the light redness dusting the other’s features, his eyes big and expectant with a twinkling that Wonwoo swears isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“Nothing! Nothing! I said you look like a whelk. Right — yeah, that’s it.”

Mingyu’s face sours at the words, and Wonwoo’s obvious struggle, but nevertheless sticks his tongue out to tease. He slumps his body back on the backrest, letting his eyes find Wonwoo’s when he readjusts. “Aww, c’mon, Won. Feed my ego,” he says, looking rather smug in light of his current pose, a little too boyish and attractive that Wonwoo takes to gazing away and breathing deeply to quell the murmuring of his own stomach.

“Not a chance,” he murmurs, punching Mingyu’s shoulder. The other only laughs at it, unminding of the knowing smile the grandma sitting alone on the other side of the train gives them. But Wonwoo, who sees it, gives an awkward smile back.

Then the speakers ding, and the announcement of their arrival to the stop sounds off through an automated, perfectly intonated voice. Wonwoo looks over Mingyu to see him looking back, the grin now a small smile, though equally attractive nonetheless. He coughs, one too many times until some of the passengers rise to get off, before standing up himself to take their bags from the overhead bins.

“Come on. My mom and dad said they’d be waiting outside,” he says when he’s already got both of their backpacks in hand, bearing down on Mingyu who’s still seated, looking up to him with something akin to wonder and wariness.

It’s not a minute later when the alpha’s hand is on the hem of his sweater, tugging on it as if he doesn’t want the both of them to go out any time soon. And a thought of how small Mingyu looks like despite his big stature crosses Wonwoo’s mind. It makes him smile, familiar like how it makes his chest rise and fall with a weightiness he’s become well-acquainted with.

While Wonwoo doesn’t think he’d ever be sure of his comforting skills — since he’s far from being the warmest person —  he hopes his words makes Mingyu know he could trust him; that he’d catch him if he falls, or something. “It’ll be fine. I got you.”

—

Wonwoo had been sure his parents wouldn’t mind Mingyu, but seeing how his mom seemingly flung to hug the alpha the moment they boarded out from the trains, even without talking first, truly solidified the idea that Mingyu would fit in just fine.

“You must be the friend Wonie mentioned over the phone! Wow you look—” her eyes are wide when she pulls away, a look of poorly masked confusion before she briefs a look over Wonwoo’s father who’d been watching near the omega’s side, a similar look on his face “—good! Well, uhm, why don’t we leave the chitchat for later, yeah?” Though, the look on her face has now become more evidently tinted with curiosity, Wonwoo can’t figure out what she’s thinking about.

“Uhh. By the way, g-good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon, I’m Kim Mingyu. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking down as if minimizing himself; the sight a little too timid and cute for Wonwoo to handle. “I hope it isn’t too much of a burden to have me.”

If it isn’t for the prominent stutter in Mingyu’s voice, and the slight shaking of his hands, Wonwoo would have, at the very least, chuckled because of his awkwardness. It’s really cute, terribly so, if he would admit; that much he would say without denial, as he feels a grin stretch his face. Swiftly, he sides with the alpha, who gives him a panic look, and nudges him by his side, flashing a comforting look.

Someone coughs from the background, prominent and clear, and one which Wonwoo could easily discern to be his father’s doing. “The pleasure is ours. It’s nice to see Wonwoo bring someone aside from Soonyoung and Jihoon,” he says warmly, although the stretch on his lips is obviously marred with the same curiosity Wonwoo’s mother is displaying as she looks back and forth her son and Mingyu.

“Dad!” Wonwoo whines while a light blush dusts over his cheeks in an unfettered manner, unsure whether or not it’s because of the mention of his best friends of the way his dad’s eyes dart at the closeness between himself and Mingyu. “They’re good company.”

His dad snorts, tearing his eyes away and moving to stand beside his mom. “I didn’t say they weren’t,” he starts, making sure to prominently shrug with an indifferent expression. “But I think Mingyu here is clearly different. Which… you got some explaining to do.” The way he beads his eyes at Wonwoo, despite it without any menace, is enough to make his skin crawl; that, along with the sudden realization that: I must smell like him right now.

A beat, and then a shuffle, then Wonwoo’s being grounded to reality from his state of panic by the concerned arm Mingyu, almost instinctively, wraps across the small of his back. Wonwoo, seeing how his mother raises a questioning brow, has the urge to slip away from the hold. But, when he looks over the alpha and sees him looking worriedly, he relents and sighs in defeat.

Well, they’re bound to found out either way.

Thankfully, his mother seems to catch on to his discomfort. Dismissively, and with a wise, encouraging — closely apologetic — smile, she waves a hand in the air before slapping it on his dad’s shoulder. “Honey! I said we’ll save the chitchat for later. Preferably, over the delicious dinner I’ll be cooking. Now, let’s go! Or the car’s going to get too hot.” She looks over to Mingyu, drawing herself nearer to pat him on the shoulder. “Also, the pleasure is ours, dear. Welcome!”

—

It would be a lie if Wonwoo were to say it wasn’t both comforting and exhausting catching up with his family, in the presence of Mingyu, over dinner. Truthfully, he’d half-expected he’d be bombarded with questions about why he smells like the alpha, but the question had been only asked once (to which he’d given a pretty vague, yet telling answer) and hadn’t been brought up again throughout the course of their meal.

However, his mom did admittedly gave indirect advice and affirmation as they’d tended to the dishes while Mingyu, his father, and his younger brother went out to run some errands his mother had ordered them to do. Though, that wasn’t why, by the time he’d already retreated with Mingyu to his room, he’d already felt like he’d aged a year older.

He’d been too busy deflecting each question thrown at them with regards to his status as Mingyu’s friends, too busy trying not to expose his dark past with him in university. After all, he and Mingyu didn’t start off as the relationship they have now. Thankfully, Mingyu, being the angel that he is, didn’t really mind the prying nature of his family and even answered (without exposing their then endless spats) with such a grace only he would be capable of.

But, if it would be any consolation, the smile on Mingyu’s lips as he chatted with his family, even joking with them over his mother’s delicious cooking, was a gorgeous and homely sight. It’s precious, he’d thought when Mingyu chortled a little too loudly — a little too bare and unfettered, as if it were his first time doing so — with his mouth filled. It should’ve been disgusting but it wasn’t; admittedly, it’s something Wonwoo found himself wanting to protect.

His smile… I want to keep that there.

And, now, even as he looks at the night sky sprinkled with stars, from the balcony of his room, with Mingyu by his side in the same position on the floor, he thinks of the same thing. It would be impossible not to, not when the other stares at the deep blue from above with so much wonder and innocence in his eyes.

It’s a wistful thought that he’d had, once again, when Mingyu strutted inside the house with his father and brother, with a huge genuine grin on his lips, but it’s become such a thought that consumed Wonwoo’s mind and tugged on his chest up until his latest breath. He feels like he needs to say it although he knows it may be awkward to bring it up; that he could avoid it altogether and choose to enjoy his current state of living.

Maybe that would be better — but…

“I’m sorry.”

Mingyu looks over to him, delicately turning his neck. It takes him a moment to register the words, Wonwoo left to stew in his brimming thoughts, before a look of confusion takes over his face. “Eh? Why are you saying sorry for? Did you do something w — wait, were you the one who ate the last cookie I saved last week?” He grins, clearly tipping down his chuckles, but Wonwoo thinks it’s too careless, especially with the words rushing past back and forth the confines of his mind.

“It couldn’t have been anybody else, idiot. But—” Wonwoo almost heaves, his stomach aching when he unconsciously thinks of how he could bring up his concern “—it’s not that.”

Mingyu seems to sense his reluctance because he shuts up, instead looking at him encouragingly. There’s a little smile on his lips that Wonwoo’s afraid of losing if and when he says his next words, but he figures that he’d never truly be able to start anew with the alpha if he doesn’t say it — if he’d lose the courage he’d been building up for the past minutes.

Wonwoo looks away, afraid if he’d stare he’d see the illusion of whatever friendship the two of them had fallen into break. “For the way I treated you before. I realized that it was probably because of me that we turned out the way we did, no? People always said you were nice, and you are, extremely so, but I still treated you poorly,” he says, failing in delivering it with nonchalance.

“Wha—”

“You just looked so smug that day, and I was reeling from the gap between my expectations and actual loss that — that— I was just being a sore loser because you won over my essay. It was childish.” Wonwoo drops his chin on his folded knees, training his eyes down on his bare feet. It’s embarrassing to admit his own insecurity, and unreasonableness, but it needs to be done.

When a little grunt sounds off from Mingyu’s side, Wonwoo looks over to see him still looking back. His expression is close to being unreadable, but at least the minute scrunch on his brows tells Wonwoo Mingyu could be curious instead of fuming at his past childishness.

“You mean that contest during freshman year? It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you know?” he asks, both his brows rising, on his mouth, after, a seeming pout. Then he glances over to the distance before them, all the while the slight bitterness in his supposedly joking tone betrays the understanding expression on his face.

Wonwoo can’t help the churn in his stomach, so he hugs his knees closer. “Y-Yeah, I know that. I was so sure I’d win. But I didn’t, and my pride hurt. That’s why I was so mean to you,” he states, unable to look away, gauging Mingyu’s face in an attempt to discern how much he’s hurt him.

“Saying that really solidifies how stupid my reasons were,” he admits, sighing. Somewhat, he expects Mingyu to scowl at him, because he maybe would if he were on his shoes, but then he purses his lips. That, before there’s a stretch of pretty pink occupying his face.

“You probably thought, stupid alpha, you don’t deserve to win, or something like that, right?” He glances back, giving Wonwoo a face. And it should’ve pissed the latter off, but he feels guilty because of it instead; because he did think of it like that.

Mingyu adds, “Probably.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so awful and insecure for something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.” Wonwoo fights the urge to drawl from his own mistakes.

The winds feel chilly despite him being clothed in a sweater, he registers. The way it rolls and brushes against the exposed areas of his body feels really lonely. And Wonwoo wonders if it’s only because of his fluctuating state of being, or the fact that Mingyu feels so distant at such time. He wants to scoot closer to him, maybe give him a long warm hug to show how sorry he is, but his hands shake at the thought of being rejected by him.

As such why Wonwoo settles into bearing his eyes to the other’s, even when his heart clenches at the sadness that takes over Mingyu’s eyes.

“I was hurt you know… when you said I didn’t do much because I already have it as an alpha,” Mingyu starts, voice low and bordering a whisper, like he’d wanted to keep his admission a secret. “I know you didn’t mean it — at least I hope you didn’t — but, still.”

“I didn’t. I just wanted to get ahead of you that one time,” Wonwoo takes back, all too quickly. Surrendering to his instincts, he moves closer to Mingyu. Although, he doesn’t exactly know what he should be doing. So, he simply sits still as he continues his words. “But I know better now.”

To be truthful to himself, Wonwoo knows there’s far too many reasons for Mingyu not to smile at him. He acknowledges that it would be more probably for him to push him away, or something of the sort, and he would accept every piece of opinion Mingyu would let out because he feels like he deserves it. But the other sighs and pats his head, palm almost tentative as it presses gently against his head, contrary to his expectations.

“You were really mean. I study my ass off during every exam, you know? You just didn’t see me.” Mingyu shorts and as if immediately, his expression turns teasing; like he didn’t even look the least bit hurt at what Wonwoo was subjected him to. “You were an idiot, you know that?” he follows, a lack of bite to his supposed insult.

“I do. And I honestly regret that part of my life.” Wonwoo makes sure to look straight at Mingyu as he says it, hopeful it could convey his regret of choosing the way to act the way he did. “I keep thinking it would’ve been better if we started off as friends. Though you’re considerably different from me, it would’ve been nice to have had you as one earlier,” he admits, trying to fight off the bitter smile off his face, deeming himself undeserving in some way.

Mingyu bites his lip, a soft smile bleeding from where his teeth stopped his lower lip. He nudges Wonwoo by the shoulder, before he pulls him close from partially falling on his side. A light laughter from the alpha trails the air, Wonwoo left to look wistfully with lips parted, before his turns serious. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t mean the bad things I’ve said about you. Truthfully, it may just have been me being childish in my own way; fighting back with you and gaining the upper hand meant I wasn’t subordinated,” Mingyu says, genuinely apologetic.

A memory flashes in Wonwoo’s mind, and he snorts. “You were really bad that one time you assaulted me.”

“I’m sorry.” Mingyu looks away, sheepish. He obviously knows what’s being referred to. But Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to be truly annoyed, even if only the slightest bit, because any negative feelings immediately dissolve when he notices the redness on the alpha’s nape.

“The doctor said my shift was dependent. It may have been you that set me off,” he sputters, obviously letting his mouth run before his brain could articulate proper words. The regret that comes afterwards is almost as quick as how Mingyu whips his head to his direction, but he tries to mask it with a quick purse of his lips. “I’m not telling you so you’d feel guilty. Just, it felt right for you to know,” Wonwoo pacifies, albeit unsure if it could do anything to make Mingyu feel better.

Silence befalls on them, pregnant and charged that if any more, Wonwoo would choose to run back inside his room and wallow in shame.  He considers the idea when Mingyu stays silent for somewhere close to a minute, and he almost completely stands up and leave under the pretense of being thirsty if not for the hem of is sweater being gingerly pulled down.

He gazes down on Mingyu before settling back to his previous position, hesitant if he should take the silent offer. But he does, and soon he’s pressed closely on the alpha’s side, flushed arm to arm like it doesn’t burn where he’s touched.

“But you could’ve continued living the way you used to if it weren’t for me,” are the words that come prickling the air a little while later. It’s bitter against his ears, and Wonwoo can almost hear the word ‘normal’ somewhere in Mingyu’s acerbic own.

He supposed he used to think like it; that he’d wondered once or twice how it would have been to tread the life he had as a beta. But he doesn’t want to… anymore, at least. So, when he traces the hand that Mingyu still has on his sweater, he wonders if he feels the same as how he used to.

“Would you have been okay with that?”

Wonwoo would be lying if he’d say he wouldn’t feel hurt if Mingyu would admit so.

“H-Huh?”

He briefs a dreadful inhale of cold air. It stings when it travels down his lungs, but he pays no heed. “Would you have rather that happened instead?” Wonwoo repeats, his confidence straining at the apprehensive look that’s given to him.

The wind hits him again, maybe this time a little harder and colder that he willingly slumps to Mingyu’s side, resting his head on the other’s shoulder despite himself. A gulp, and another one more to quench his metaphorical parch, and he trails his eyes back to the steady stars. “I like the way things are now, you know. It’s fun not having to fight with you every day. It’s nice getting to know you as the person behind what you show the rest of the world. It’s nice coming home to you and tasting your cooking.”

Wonwoo feels like the admission is more tender than it should be, like it’s more than how a simple friend would feel, but he shakes off the thought of holding back. More than anything, he wants the alpha to know how much he treasures what they have now. “I guess everything with you in it would be nice.”

“You—”

Wonwoo isn’t quite sure if he’s hearing things, but when another hic-like sob pummels through his ears, and Mingyu’s body shakes one too many times, he’s rushing to look up only to see the other with his head up, little tears cascading down his eyes, his lower lip bitten like it’s an attempt to keep himself together.

“Why are you crying?! Oh my god, stop.” Wonwoo rushes to his knees, bringing both his hands up. Gently, he thumbs away stray tears from Mingyu’s cheeks, his palms cupping the sides of his face. “What’s wrong?” he asks, minutely disconcerted and panicked at the suddenness of the situation.

“I-I don’t — I don’t know why.” His cries slowly reduce to sniffles, but his eyes still bears up on Wonwoo’s. It’s like he’s trying to read him, like he wants to peer into Wonwoo’s thoughts; despite that, it doesn’t unsettle the latter.

“I think — I think I’m just glad you feel the same way. I didn’t know if you’ve completely forgiven me because of what I’ve done. I can’t help but think you just put up with me,” Mingyu states, his following breath rough, textured with some stutters. There’s no room for doubt in the conviction is his otherwise shaky and uncertain voice; Wonwoo can’t help but heat up at the insinuation.

He detaches and slumps back down beside Mingyu. “Of course not yet; that wasn’t how I wanted my first to be,” he says, rather cheekily, trying to lift up the mood for even the slightest bit.

Mingyu winces at his words, but leans his head to rest on Wonwoo’s shoulder, nonetheless. The latter sighs, hoping it covers the stutters his chest has taken to making.

As if automatically, he seeks Mingyu’s scent once again, zoning on the unique flavor of it. He lets it wash through his body and calm his nerves, taking the moment to think. “But, regardless, it wasn’t too bad you were the one who found me that day. I wouldn’t be here next to you if it were another person,” he redeems.

That doesn’t seem to placate Mingyu; and he’s shifting once more as though pushing himself even closer to Wonwoo’s side. “I guess so. But… maybe it would’ve been better if it were the person you liked. You make it sound like it was a good thing,” he trails, a forlorn, drawn out, shaky sigh tipping out of his mouth. “I—”

“Shut up, Kim Mingyu. Just think of taking my virginity as payback for all these years of me fighting you,” Wonwoo takes, albeit not knowing how much sense his words make.

“B—”

“No buts.”

Once more, they become enveloped by the various white noises of the night, their mouths devoid of words spilling out. Wonwoo seizes the moment to enjoy the calm, and possibly the heat radiating from Mingyu beside him. It’s not like they haven’t done something like being this close before — they’ve been pressed like how they are uncountable times during the past months they’ve spent — but Wonwoo notes how different it is after the conversation they’ve just had.

Somehow, after he traces the lack of space between them, eyes stopping short when he finds the other’s hand, he can’t help feeling the want to touch it and hold it — to intertwine his fingers with Mingyu’s delicate-looking ones. But he doesn’t act on it, however.

Would that even be okay? he thinks, curiously peering through his bangs to see Mingyu’s eyes directed downwards. He still has his head rested on Wonwoo’s shoulder that the latter has free reign to observe how daintily the alpha’s lashes stem out from his lids. It’s a sight Wonwoo feels almost undeserving to see, so he turns away and focuses on fidgeting with his fingers to keep his composure.

He doesn’t necessarily follow the way how his fingers move about, the motions simply bleeding from one movement to another, but he revels in the temporal distraction he’s able to provide himself. Goodness knows how much his palms itch to feel Mingyu’s against them.

It takes a while before anything happen, takes something close to an indefinite eternity before Mingyu inhales audibly, his head sharply turning before Wonwoo feels his nose trace the curve of his shoulders downward; down just short of the middle of his arm.

He fights the urge to shiver at the heat that lines the path he’d been touched. But Wonwoo could barely even formulate his thoughts properly before Mingyu’s speaking again. “I hope you’d still be my friend after the bond wears out,” he says, a hint of hesitation swerving under his words.

His eyes are a dark brown, almost a deep navy blue under the cool night light, and on his lips is nothing but a serious press. There’s a good distance between the two of them, maybe the better part of an arm’s length away, and it should’ve been enough space for Wonwoo to breathe without feeling restricted, but he couldn’t. Not without a little bit of struggle with how constricted his chest feels like.

Staring into Mingyu’s eyes feels something close to looking at the embodiment of their past and possible future’s dissonance — it’s too much to take in at the same time. And his words easily sear through Wonwoo’s mind, immediately funneling down the tiny crevices of his brain like stray liquor. Burning. Scalding.

“I’ll be damned if I won’t.” His words come faster than he anticipates and, while seeming to be a smart, quip-y remark, it comes out rather naturally. Like it’s a want he’s been keeping to himself, just waiting to be left out in the open. “I don’t like fighting with you, nor do I want to randomly walk in on you having sex with someone ever again.”

A joke. Maybe that was it. But Wonwoo doesn’t even know himself if that really is the case.

Mingyu’s face pool with redness, and he clamors to wave his hands in the air. In the same moment, Wonwoo seems to snap out of whatever trance he’s once again entered. “T-That was—”

“I’m kidding.” Wonwoo chuckles, looking away. He thinks it’s the right response but, somehow, the noise that exits him feels a little disconnected to the throb in his chest when he unwillingly flashes back to the moment he’d caught Mingyu with Yemi. “And it’s not my business to tell off a big-ass man like you not to,” he follows, stealing a glance and shying away from the sharpness poking on his insides.

Just as Wonwoo attempts to tear his eyes from the unreadable look on Mingyu’s face, the latter catches him off-guard by darting a hand firmly around his own, speed closely frantic and grip almost too hard before it settles to a softer hold.

“I mean… I probably won’t.” The alpha’s thumb prods over the omega’s own, so gently and carefully that Wonwoo himself feels he’d break if Mingyu presses harder than how he is. “Well, not anymore, I guess.”

His heart stutters at the words, his breath in conjuncture with so. But, amidst that, Wonwoo loosely registers the implication of Mingyu’s reply. However, he bites back, unable to take hold of his confidence, aborting his assumption. “Probably won’t, what?” he stutters out.

“N-Nothing.” Mingyu looks down, then briefly pulls his vision up to meet Wonwoo’s again. He manages to muster a sheepish grin, and, otherwise, Wonwoo would have thought it to be simply only an awkward mannerism but, right at the moment, it looks extremely attractive.

Breathlessness overcomes Wonwoo’s state of being, but amidst his mind hazing over the look that Mingyu’s giving him, he manages to mutter, naturally, “You’re an idiot.”

The latter looks scandalized at that. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Though Wonwoo knows Mingyu could see past him, he’s still rather guilty of dampening their otherwise tender moment, and possibly making the other upset at the words he’d spew out of his own stupidity. He bites his lips, leaning closer, not quite touching, but enough to hide himself from his shame. “I’m just mean. Jihoon sometimes say I’ve no tact when it comes to you.”

A laugh follows short, painfully beautifully reverberating inside Wonwoo’s ribcage that he once again struggles to find his breath. When he looks up, he sees a soft expression cast over Mingyu’s boyish face. His insides immediately pulsate; once, twice, maybe many times before the alpha speaks again. “I don’t know if I should be honored or not.”

“You should.” He replies, immediately so when he feels no danger with being a little smart.

Mingyu bites his lip at the reply, and without a second passing, Wonwoo knows he’s simply suppressing a smile from the curled edges of his lips. He does it himself as well, yet he keeps his vision trained — anchored — to Mingyu’s piercing gaze, and chuckles silently along the serene breeze caressing the two of them. His head dips down as he does in his attempt to contain his growing inexplicable amusement with their current situation, so when he looks back up, the hairs falling down to his eyes increase in number.

Wonwoo shakes his head to re-position the stray hairs but he stops when he hears Mingyu blatantly laugh. He doesn’t even hesitate to gift the younger man with a glare, although his plan gets immediately cancelled when Mingyu comfortably cards his fingers through his head; smoothly combing, repeatedly carding.

The fuzziness that runs deep within Wonwoo’s veins is unquestionable, and even without his knowledge, he unconsciously leans into the touch. Mingyu, meanwhile, halts, instead zoning in on the look of peaceful delight painting on Wonwoo’s face when he sighs contentedly, smiling himself. He cards through the mop of soft, black hair once more before he settles to cupping the side of Wonwoo’s face.

“Won,” he calls and Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open to greet him, as if magnetically drawn to his. Mingyu’s breath hitches, and his palm burns under the intimidation of being pressed against Wonwoo’s beautiful skin — undeserving, Mingyu’s thinks like, though unable to let go.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he continues, observing the warmth that blooms and burns, stemming delicately from the perfectly shaped apples of Wonwoo’s equally perfect and delicately ethereal face. But then Wonwoo hides by swiftly leaning in and resting his forehead on Mingyu’s chest, and the latter’s mind immediately goes into thinking how much his vision feels empty without the beheld sight.

“This has been one of the best days of my life,” he adds, his words burning with sincerity, hot against the coldness of the night, like an infinitely burning fire.

He lets his hand drop to where his other one still holds Wonwoo’s. There’s a moment of contemplation that follows, with his breath bated and nearly scorching in his lungs, all the while Mingyu feels like he should say more to convey what he feels. But he can’t, because his words die down before they even reach the tip of his tongue; a silent burn in his eyes and a growing blur to his vision.

“Y-You’re welcome. Don’t get too fussy about it, though. It was just on a whim because you looked really sad.” Wonwoo tries to fight off the searing warmth all over his face as he says so, once again averting his eyes.

He hears a chuckle beside him, soft and airy and free. Not a moment later, Mingyu is bringing up a hand to clasp over the tip of his shoulder. Wordlessly, he’s brought impossibly closer, like the lack of distance they already have isn’t quite enough.

“Is that so?” There’s a recognizable lilt in Mingyu’s words; Wonwoo’s heart is left to beat rapidly at the familiarity. The clang in his chest is alarming, too fast and ragged it’s almost like his body would break down from overstimulation.

“Even so, I already expected to be lonely this Christmas. But, instead, I’m here… with you. And maybe that’s all that matters, right now.”

A particularly cold blow of air has Wonwoo inching in closer, impossibly closer, with Mingyu’s words rampant in his head. They run around in bold letters, accompanied by fictitious strings of what memories could be made possible. It’s almost wistful and desperate how Wonwoo tries to chase some of them.

“You’re lame.” He settles instead, folding himself, but the fond smile on his face tells otherwise. Silently, he hopes Mingyu isn’t looking.

If he does, Mingyu doesn’t comment about it. Instead, he lets his head lull atop Wonwoo’s with a gentle press. The sigh that brushes past his lips afterwards reverberate in Wonwoo’s head.

“You’re family’s awesome; letting a stranger spend the holidays with them. I love them already,” he says, on his voice a tinge of melancholy and unsaid longing.

Wonwoo’s heart clenches. “I told you they’d gladly take you in.”

Mingyu huffs happily. “They’re really warm. Just like you.”

A pause while Wonwoo holds his composure. Mingyu probably means nothing of his words, but then again that tiny possible factoid doesn’t stop the bulge that wedges itself on the middle of Wonwoo’s throat, warm and fuzzy and good.

Awkwardly, he laughs in an attempt to diffuse the welling emotions within him. “Stop saying things like that. That won’t work on me.”

The laugh that follows out of Mingyu is torn between being a mix of deprecating sadness and humor. “I’m not saying this to get you to do something for me. It’s just the way I feel right now, Won.” His words aren’t chastising nor do they carry a tone that imposes guilt, but Wonwoo feels bad anyway. “You make me days brighter.”

The thing lodged in Wonwoo’s throat nearly makes him choke, an overwhelming surge of air pushing past it to quickly feel his lungs. It’s hot, scalding almost, the hidden, unrecognized truth that hangs heavy down his heart.

“What’s with that?” Wonwoo sputters because it’s all he could do for his lack of words.

Not really. There are a lot ripping through the fabrics of his mind, weaving an entirely new colorful amalgamation of reds, pinks, and yellows. It grows larger and larger with every passing second, all too quickly like it’s been waiting to spin itself for the longest time, and now that it has unfettered permit to do so, it had no plans of ceasing.

The hand on his shoulder loosen before trailing an electrifying path down his arm, stopping to overlay his hand with a fragile gentleness. Like it’s tentative; like it’ll break him if it were too forceful.

“Nothing. I think the alcohol got to me.”

Wonwoo snorts, unamused. He can feel Mingyu smile more than he sees him.

“You didn’t even drink half what dad offered you. How can you be tipsy right now?” he rebuts, no real harm done when Mingyu scrunches his face in return.

“Then maybe this is just me being sentimental because I like you so much.”

A pause, a heavily charged one, and Wonwoo doesn’t know how to respond to that. For a moment, he thinks he’d misheard Mingyu’s words; that his mind made it all up in the heat of the moment, permitted by his growing desire to do something. But he realizes he didn’t because Mingyu’s face is serious and determined, as if pushing past inhibitions to bear himself in a way he never has.

Wonwoo has half the mind to even think of looking away. Regardless of the severity of his own erratic thoughts, he couldn’t possibly pull himself out of the piercing faze Mingyu has on him.

“Y-You—”

“Don’t be nice to me anymore. Stop showing more of yourself to me. Don’t invite me here again.” Mingyu wills a harsh breath, looking down on their joined hands. He stays quiet for a moment, then he’s pulling back up to trap Wonwoo helplessly once more. “I want to say all those things to you, but I’m getting greedier, Won. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Serene and bear but desperate and clawing, the words cascading down Mingyu’s lips fill Wonwoo’s ears with an intensity that makes his head pound with a feather-light sear. He pulls himself always and, this time, takes an initiative to gather both Mingyu’s hands in his. Looking at his eyes, Wonwoo searches.

He doesn’t know if he finds anything, he’s uncertain even with the dark browns that swirl in Mingyu’s irises, but Wonwoo’s chest constricts with a certainty he couldn’t deny.

“Then…” he trails off. Mingyu, ever-so-slightly, leans closer as if in anticipation. “Then don’t hold back on my account.”

The dams Wonwoo tried so hard to hold up break.

“I don’t know if what I think you mean is what you’re thinking. And maybe it’s just me misinterpreting things, but walk beside me, Kim Mingyu. Hold my hand like you mean it, and let’s figure this out together.”

Mingyu never stops looking at him in the eye.

“I will.”

And maybe, just maybe, the sureness that color Mingyu’s words could be something.