Chapter Text
˚˖𓍢ִ໋༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ˎˊ˗
It was early autumn, and fallen leaves scattered along the campus as laughter echoed loudly from a cluster of varsity boys passing by. Sung Hanbin stood among it all, basketball bag slung across his shoulder, sneakers squeaking faintly against the pavement. His teammates jostled and joked, but his attention was snagged by the bright sheet being taped to the board by a flustered student council representative.
ZBU’s First Ever Fall Dance: Autumn Masquerade Ball
The words shimmered in bold gold font, almost gaudy against the cheap paper. A mask illustration tilted at the corner with dull, orange leaves falling into a pile.
“Masquerade, huh?” Matthew leaned over Hanbin’s shoulder, reading aloud with an exaggerated tone. “Guess the orgs finally got tired of quiz bees and film fests.”
Gyuvin snorted. “Bet half the campus will show up just for an excuse to dress up and flirt.”
“Bet you’d use this as an excuse to dress up and flirt with Ricky,” Gunwook interjected.
Gyuvin peeked at Ricky before locking his arms around Gunwook’s head. “And what about it? He’s literally my boyfriend!”
Gunwook acted like he was suffocating. “Awful couples in love, making my life miserable!”
Jiwoong tried to separate the two while Hanbin laughed, though his eyes lingered longer than he meant to on the poster.
“Hyung, are you going?” Matthew asked beside him.
Hanbin adjusted the strap of his bag as he shrugged. “Maybe? If everyone’s going, then I’ll go, too.”
˚˖𓍢ִ໋༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ˎˊ˗
Later that week, Ricky and Taerae cornered Hao in their usual spot at the music building lounge. He had his laptop open, scores spread out around him like a little barricade, but neither of them seemed to care.
“You’re going,” Ricky declared, plopping into the seat across from him.
“No,” Hao replied without looking up.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Taerae cut in before it turned into a playground argument. “Hyung, think about it. It’s the first big dance ZBU’s ever done like this. You can’t just… not show up.”
“I can, actually,” Hao said, typing something with a little too much force.
Ricky leaned over the table, eyes gleaming like a cat who had just found something to break. “Picture this—you, in a mask, mysterious and untouchable. People will wonder who you are all night. It’s literally your chance to be invisible and the center of attention at the same time.”
“Both sound like nightmares,” Hao deadpanned.
Taerae’s laugh was quiet, but his gaze was more patient. “We’ll be there with you. It doesn’t have to be bad. Besides…” He hesitated, then smirked a little. “What if something good happens?”
Hao finally looked up, one brow raised. “At a dance?”
Ricky grinned like the universe had already agreed with him. “Exactly. You never know.”
Hao just rolled his eyes.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ˎˊ˗
It was finally the night of the masquerade.
Sung Hanbin found himself all alone.
Jiwoong was nowhere in sight, Gunwook and Matthew were probably dancing somewhere in the crowd, and Gyuvin was most likely off searching for his boyfriend.
A few students approached Hanbin at their table, asking if he was waiting for someone. Obviously, he wasn’t—he wouldn’t still be sitting alone if he were. Some even invited him to dance, but he politely declined, remaining uninterested and content to sit and drink wine.
“Hyung! Did you see Jiwoong hyung?” Matthew called out as he and Gunwook returned, cheeks flushed from the energy of the dance floor.
Hanbin shook his head. “Why? Something wrong?”
“Not really. Coach was just looking for him,” Matthew said, taking a sip from his drink before sitting down across from Hanbin.
“I’ll go look for him then. It might be important.” Hanbin stood, and so did the other two, almost in sync, which made Gunwook laugh.
“We’ll help look around, too,” he said with a grin.
They dispersed in different directions, blending into the sea of masked students. Hanbin wandered through the crowd, scanning faces—well, masks—for a flash of Jiwoong’s blue mask. By the time he reached the center of the hall, the lights suddenly dimmed and the emcee’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“Alright, dearest students! We will now commence our Fall Dance. Are you ready to sway, spin, switch, and meet your perfect match?”
Hanbin’s head turned toward the stage, where the emcee stood with his extravagantly feathered suit.
Fall Dance?
Before he could process it, someone stumbled right in front of him. Hanbin reacted instinctively, catching the stranger before he could fall.
“Careful,” he murmured, steadying him by the arms. But just as the man regained balance, someone else bumped into him, sending him forward again, this time right into Hanbin’s chest.
The stranger, wearing a crimson-red mask, pulled away almost immediately, looking flustered and visibly agitated. Hanbin took a closer look. The mask covered most of his face except for the soft curve of his lips, pouty and oddly captivating. Even with half his face hidden, the man radiated a kind of beauty that had Hanbin enticed and mesmerized.
Before he could think twice, the words slipped from his mouth. “Would you like to dance?”
The other froze. Hanbin took the silence as an uncertain yes and gently guided him into a waltz, positioning their hands properly. The stranger’s palm wasn’t soft. There were faint calluses, traces of work or training, and Hanbin found himself even more intrigued.
As classical music boomed through the hall, Hanbin attempted to start a conversation. “I’m Sung Hanbin. You’re…?”
The guy didn’t answer. “Not really talkative. Not into small talk. Got it,” Hanbin concluded with a nod, a little embarrassed.
He probably didn’t want Hanbin to know who he was, and Hanbin respected that, even if he really was curious about the person behind the mask.
Now that he had looked a little closely, he was even more confused. The guy felt familiar to him, but he was sure he had never met someone similar to him around the campus. A faint scent of cherry blossoms and vanilla hit Hanbin’s nose then, and he had never encountered any ZBU student with such a scent.
He ignored that, thinking it may just be someone’s perfume, but then it started growing stronger and stronger, until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Hanbin couldn’t get even more intrigued and mesmerized.
“Your scent smells good,” he complimented as he spun him around before grabbing his waist again. The other seemed unbothered, just tilting his head to the side to avoid eye contact. “Cherry blossoms and vanilla,” Hanbin added.
The guy then stopped waltzing, suddenly removing his hand from Hanbin’s shoulder, looking so dumbstruck and frozen with eyes wide open. He staggered a few steps back and started looking around in panic.
And then, in just a blink, he was gone from Hanbin’s sight.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ˎˊ˗
Zhang Hao had no idea how he ended up here.
One minute, he’d been telling Ricky he had a headache, that he had work to finish, that he didn’t even own anything appropriate for a dance. Next, he was standing in front of the university’s grand hall, half-dazed, dressed in a borrowed red suit and a crimson-red mask fitted too perfectly over his face.
The music reverberated from the open doors. Gold light washed over everything inside, catching on sequins and glass and turning the crowd into a blur of shimmer and color.
He didn’t see the point of the masks. Practicality-wise, they did little. He could still pick out Ricky’s styled hair from a mile away, Taerae’s dimpled smile from any angle, and basically everyone else he knew from class. Thankfully, though, his mask covered most of his face—enough that he might be overlooked, as always.
“See? Not that bad,” Ricky said beside him, already scanning the room like a hunter.
See? Definitely bad.
Taerae adjusted his own mask, smiling shyly. “You actually look good, hyung.”
“Thanks,” Hao said, though it came out flat, like the word didn’t know where to sit in his mouth.
He followed them inside, heartbeat thrumming a little too fast. The scent hit him first—dozens of different signatures mingling under perfumes and pheromones. It was dizzying. He reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing against the emergency suppressants he’d tucked there just in case.
He’d taken his dose earlier, like always. He’d be fine. He had to be fine.
Ricky and Taerae disappeared into the crowd after a few minutes, leaving Hao standing near the punch table, pretending to be very interested in the pattern of the chandelier. He let out a quiet sigh, thinking maybe he’d stay ten more minutes before sneaking out. Then he could tell Ricky he’d “tried.” That would be enough.
Hao never liked the crowd. He preferred to be left alone in his dim-lit room with an orange lava lamp setting the atmosphere, or the school library (specifically the second floor, as the first floor was just filled with students who had nowhere else to gossip and pass their time), or the small café just five minutes away from his apartment.
Honestly, how did Ricky and Taerae convince him again?
Right. It was Ricky and Taerae’s guilt-tripping. Ricky had gone on about spending hours picking the perfect suit for Hao to borrow from his overwhelmingly large walk-in closet, while Taerae made sure to sound disappointed that Hao wouldn’t wear the crimson-red mask he painstakingly hand-decorated with tiny gemstones. Hao hadn’t even asked them to, but they did it anyway.
And as emotionally detached as people thought he was, Hao couldn’t help but give in. He was an empath, and his friends knew exactly how to use that against him. Which was why he now stood awkwardly in the middle of a crowded hall, clutching his drink like a lifeline.
Would anyone even recognize him? He may be able to recognize other people, but he could bet his violin that barely anyone would recognize him. Except for his two friends and maybe a few acquaintances from his college program, no one would.
He was that usual wallflower in coming-of-age films, after all. The only difference was that his life was not coming of age at all.
Who was he kidding? His life wasn’t as film-worthy to be romanticized. He was just that—an invisible student.
His roommate wouldn’t even recognize him. Well, not exactly roommates per se, since their apartment had two bedrooms. They sleep separately, and their class schedules didn’t align, either, so they never really see each other in the living room. Maybe a few instances, but not as much. He tried to distance himself from this popular roommate of his because he hated getting attention just from that fact, and also because their dynamic wasn’t exactly appropriate to other people.
Hao was an omega; his roommate was an alpha.
He wasn’t even sure how he got to that situation, but they eventually learned how to compromise and minimize contact. Not that he was interested. He never liked the popular kids, with the exception of Ricky and his boyfriend, Gyuvin.
“Hyung, let’s go!” Hao didn’t get to process what was happening as Taerae dragged him to the center and stood with the other masked students.
“Why am I here? Taerae!” he yelled in shock, but Taerae only winked as he stood beside him.
“Alright, dearest students! We will now commence our fall dance. Are you ready to sway, spin, switch, and meet your perfect match?”
Dance…?
The music suddenly started, and everyone began to waltz. Hao, though, was firm in leaving the center; however, it only took him a few steps before he tripped and almost fell.
Almost, because someone managed to catch him before his face could fall flat on the marbled surface.
The sandalwood scent hit his nose like it built a home of familiarity inside. He opened his eyes to see who it was, and it was unmistakable, even with that golden mask on his face.
Sung Hanbin.
His eyes met his, and Hao was unsure whether the quiver in his irises was obvious. Hanbin’s hand was gripping tightly around his waist.
“Careful.”
Hanbin pulled him up to stand face to face with him, yet Hao remained speechless. The other tilted his head, confused and trying to see through the person behind the red mask.
Hao was inwardly panicking, though relieved when Hanbin seemed not to recognize him at all.
As Hao said, even his roommate wouldn’t be able to recognize him.
Sung Hanbin, his popular alpha roommate.
The whole time, Hao was just staring at him in shock. Until someone bumped into him from behind, forcing him to stagger forward, clashing onto Hanbin’s chest.
Star. Sun. Moon.
His tattoo greeted his face, one that he never thought he would see up close.
He quickly moved back and was about to apologize, but remembered that Hanbin might recognize his voice, so he settled for a light bow.
“Would you like to dance?”
Hao almost choked on his own saliva, not being able to completely process what was just uttered. How did Sung Hanbin, the popular varsity captain, end up asking Zhang Hao, the nobody (as cringe as it sounded), for something he was exactly trying to escape from?
He started to panic once again when Hanbin’s left hand found Hao’s left one and placed it onto his right shoulder, then he wrapped his left hand around Hao’s right hand, yet he didn't have the voice to reject the actions.
The music still echoed across the hall, but it was drowned out when the man holding him suddenly started swaying both of them. He kept his gaze down, focusing on the pattern of the marble floor, on the small movements that kept them in sync. But then, Hanbin’s hand adjusted slightly at his back, and the motion sent a shiver up his spine.
“I’m Sung Hanbin. You’re…?”
Hao wanted to beg the soils of the earth to swallow him whole right there and then. He can’t have Sung Hanbin know his name, or else he would immediately tie it together—that the guy he’s dancing with was no other than his roommate.
“Not really talkative. Not into small talk. Got it.”
He also tried not to make eye contact with the gold-masked man, well, not until everything else was shattered by a supposedly small compliment.
“Your scent smells good.”
Of course it was. He always doused himself with jasmine-scented perfume to make sure his real scent wouldn’t overpower, even with suppressants. Hao has Pheromone Dysregulation Syndrome, and to avoid inappropriate sudden bursts of pheromones (one similar to an omega in heat), his doctor prescribed him suppressants to hide and regulate it.
Only Ricky, Taerae, and his family knew about this. Jasmine was a common omega scent, so it was the pheromones he was known for around the campus. Since it was common, it would be difficult for Hanbin to find out who he was. Besides, Hanbin wouldn’t be interested in him to the point of searching for his identity, right?
Exactly. He wouldn’t do that. He’s far too popular to waste time on a loser like Hao. He could have all the boys and girls he liked without sweat.
“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”
What?
Everything went static, and Hao immediately moved himself away from Hanbin. He noticed Hanbin looking perplexed, but he didn’t care anymore. How was it cherry blossoms and vanilla? He was sure he had taken his suppressants earlier!
Wait… did he?
Oh.
Oh.
He pictured his bedside table with a tablet and a glass of water still not consumed because he was busy having a crisis, whether he’d go to the ball or just stay in the comfort of his bed.
He didn’t.
And he also forgot to spray his jasmine perfume.
Great.
What a great night, indeed.
He didn’t know what was happening, and his head was starting to spin around in agitation, but he managed to get out of the hall. He clutched at his chest, breathing hard, heart ricocheting against his ribs. He even heard Hanbin screaming, “Wait!” as he ran, but Hao’s only goal was to escape.
And he did.