Chapter Text
‘CAUSE I CAN'T IGNORE IT (IF IT'S LOVE)
CHAPTER ONE — PINE TREES AND LEATHER
…
By the end of September, everyone in Yeon Si-eun's class had already presented.
The first to manifest his sub-gender was a random boy he couldn’t bother to remember the name. The classroom, which had once only smelled of the neutral scent of the teachers and the occasional post-physical activity sweat, was suddenly filled with an odor of lemongrass and linseed oil. The frenzy was instantaneous; the boy was rushed to the infirmary, where he was given a sedative so he could hold off his rut until he got home.
However, he didn't have any rut whatsoever. As it turned out, he wasn't an alpha — as everyone wished, prayed, and dreamed for — just a plain, boring beta.
He went back to school the next day clearly devastated. They didn't expect him to come back for at least a week. Si-eun didn't consider himself particularly sensitive, but the shame he felt for the boy was excruciating. His minutes of fame had ended and the boy went back to being invisible, even though he had been the first to present himself, at the end of March. It was indeed impressive — he wasn't even seventeen, that Si-eun could remember — but being a premature wolf, like many other things, was only revered in alphas.
Not long after that, the second one presented. An alpha, smelling of sandalwood and aloe vera, who sat at the back of the room and was one of Jeon Young-bin's sidekicks. Conveniently for him, the rut symptoms appeared just in break time; before being dismissed, he spent more than fifteen minutes bragging to everyone, receiving praise and admiration like a king, screaming in the corridors and infesting the place with his smell like an agricultural plague. But he didn't leave before getting a friendly punch in the stomach from Young-bin, a silent but very effective warning — don't get too full of yourself, just wait until I present.
From April on, there was a chain reaction that, if Si-eun were a scientist detached from his reality, he would love to investigate; it was a phenomenon of nature similar to the blossoming of flowers in spring — except these flowers were violent, proud, and downright ferocious. The room was filled with scents, week after week, day after day, hour after hour; Si-eun could only watch as all the guys around him turned a switch in their biological composition and acquired another category besides human. Too many alphas and betas in one tight place.
Until the end of September, Si-eun was the only one without a label. And for a long time, he convinced himself that he didn't mind. For quite some time, he managed to remain completely indifferent.
Eventually, though, the smells became too strong to bear. The abrupt mix of spicy, wooded, and salty aromas was like a huge struggle for dominance, an invisible aggression that forced Si-eun to cover his nose with the collar of his shirt for most of the day. This gesture did not seem to please his peers at all; if they didn't care much about him before, now they seemed to perceive him exclusively — he was the last one left, the only one who felt uncomfortable enough to protect himself from the nauseating smells of newly presented alphas.
Young-bin's smell, on the other hand, was the worst of all. From his spot at the back of the room, he seemed to be wafting wood smoke directly at Si-eun, making his hair stand on end in fear. He could feel his eyes fixed on the back of his neck as if threatening him to turn around, even for just a second. A wolf waiting for its prey to show the slightest sign of weakness. A thirsty and famished wolf.
Si-eun wasn't sure if Young-bin's subtle — but extremely obvious — hatred for him was the result of an academic rivalry or something else. Maybe he just felt an innate need to upset anyone he considered merely inferior, and Si-eun was well aware that being the only unpresented wolf in a class made up mostly of alphas was to be an easy target for teasing; he just couldn't care enough when the rest of his life was about to be defined by an entrance exam.
There was something else, too, that managed to nullify Young-bin's lame attempts to frighten him; another scent, which was particularly curious to Si-eun. It was light and smooth, unlike the others, and reminded Si-eun of pine trees after an autumn rain. This scent was always accompanied by a subtle touch of leather, the kind that made motorcycle jackets and gloves. It was a comforting smell amidst the chaos that plagued that hormonal room; it was like a whisper in the middle of a concert, like a subliminal message hidden in a book — but it was also a word that was on the tip of his tongue and he couldn't quite say it.
It was liquid slipping through his fingers; as soon as the scent made itself known, it disappeared. He knew he could easily find out who it belonged to if he took his face off the textbooks for even a minute, but deep down, Si-eun clung to that mystery like Newton clung to gravity. It was the only variable in his life that made it a little less boring, a little less unbearable, and it injected a feeling into his veins that he had long since forgotten.
Still, life went on as it always had — school, cram school, video lessons, studies, studies, and more studies. Even though everyday life had become considerably more difficult, Si-eun knew that there was nothing he could do against nature, and he had no choice but to adapt. If there was one thing he could be proud of, it was his ability to block out any and all external stimuli in favor of his concentration.
Until October came. And like the leaves that fell from the trees in that second month of autumn, so did Si-eun's facades.
All of them.
It didn’t take long before Young-bin's threats stopped being merely implied by scents, and honestly, he should have seen it coming. When his shoe hit his back, he barely flinched.
"Ya , you know what?" He asked, jaw clenched and eyes wide. From that small and dangerous distance, Si-eun struggled not to choke on the almost toxic smell that the alpha gave off; in addition to charred wood, he was able to identify, for the first time, the smell of paprika, which instantly disgusted him. “People hate you. Everything you say sounds annoying. What do you think?”
That's it? Is this how he wants to tease me?
“Are you bored?”
With his personal space so blatantly invaded, the most he could do was fiddle with his material and avoid looking him in the eye. Still, Young-bin's angry scent spiked at that simple comment. It was a miracle that Si-eun hadn't suffocated yet.
“What?”
“Why don't you stop wasting your time and go study English?” He said, without any change in his tone of voice; or in his scent, for that matter. For once, he was grateful for his neutrality.
That gratitude was short-lived. If before Young-bin was burning cedarwood, he was now an entire forest fire. Si-eun could immediately notice the change of atmosphere in the room — the betas retreated in search of safety; the alphas snapped to attention, some with their teeth bared.
“Do you have a death wish?”
At that moment, dying wouldn't be so horrible. He would rather die than have to smell that abominable scent again.
When he finally looked up from the textbook, he was prepared to receive Young-bin's fury in its most physical form. A punch, a headbutt, a hand on his neck, just above his still-so-quiet scent gland. He braced himself to be ripped into tiny little shreds — after all, an unpresented wolf didn't stand a chance against an alpha.
But then, Young-bin laughed.
He laughed, that off-key, high-pitched laugh that contorted his face into an ugly caricature; that mocking laugh that accompanied his articulated bullying, that made him even more disgusting, more hideous, more repugnant and made Si-eun want to murder him.
“I know what you are, Yeon Si-eun.”
The room became eerily quiet. No teasing squeaks, no alpha growls, not even a simple “ooooh!”, as per usual. Si-eun could feel his heart pounding in his ear and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he asked:
“What?”
Young-bin scoffed. Si-eun reflexively clicked his pen. The noise was almost deafening amidst silence.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re an omega.”
And then, the world reacted around him again.
The scents spiked almost violently. The alphas seemed way too fascinated by the prospect of an omega sharing a room with them. The class was filled with several simultaneous whispers — is he? Is it true? — and Si-eun started to feel dizzy.
"I mean..." Young-bin's voice returned to his ears, louder than all the others, pounding on his brain and making it bleed. “You're one of the shortest guys in the room; omegas are usually smaller in stature.” He approached slowly, like the predator he was. “You’re terrible in every physical activity; omegas are normally weaker.” He came closer; so close, that Si-eun could feel his breath touching the skin of his cheeks. His heart was about to come out of his mouth, he was so disgusted. “You’re quiet and inconspicuous, if not for your arrogant face, which is typical of a fragile and insignificant omega.”
He tried to take a deep breath, but the air couldn't reach his lungs. Cold sweat broke out at the base of his neck and trickled down his back. Everyone's gazes were fixated on him, judgmental, scrutinizing, vicious.
Finally, when the weight of humiliation was too heavy to bear, he made the mistake of looking at Young-bin.
He had the most wolfish smile he had ever seen in his life. Never had anyone been so happy to see him miserable.
"And these eyes..." Young-bin mumbled, as if in a trance. Si-eun couldn't look away, no matter how contradictory it was. “These bizarre eyes. You always look like you're going to start crying at any moment. They're the perfect eyes for a docile, supple omega, desperate for an alpha's knot.”
Young-bin's scent suddenly changed. Si-eun could clearly feel the way the burnt smell of his anger was quickly replaced by the peppery aroma of paprika and the damp aspect of cedar in summer. The other alphas began to emit pheromones, reacting to Young-bin's words as a collective.
And then, the penny dropped.
“I bet you're so sensitive; one thrust and you're already sobbing, begging for more with those eyes of a bitch in heat. You are a classic omega, made to be submissive, to breed, to own.”
Young-bin was aroused.
Si-eun was shaking so much that the pen in his hand nearly slipped out of his sweaty fist. His tongue caught a metallic taste; he didn't even realize he was biting his dry lips repeatedly. In his desperation, he grabbed the edge of his desk as a means of defending himself and taking hold of reality. There was no doubt about what he should do.
He was going to kill Young-bin. He was going to kill him now.
“Hm? What's wrong? Are you gonna cry for real?” His teasing had a twisted undertone of affection to it, which only made it all the more sadistic. Si-eun was going to be sick. “You want me to help you? Want me to ease the pain?”
He was done. One thrust of the pen to his neck and he would bleed to death.
"Shut the fuck up- "
“Okay, that's enough.”
He blinked, and Young-bin was no longer in front of him.
The aforementioned alpha had been thrown to the ground, pulled by the collar of his shirt. Si-eun's pen was still hovering in the air, ready to be stuck in Young-bin's neck veins and paint a scene more chaotic than Guernica’s. For a few seconds, still in his bloodlust state, he was a little disappointed, but the unison reaction of his classmates brought him back to the present. The scents shifted once again, reaching varying peaks, but Si-eun reveled in the fact that he could finally breathe. That repulsive scent that made him sick was now far away, disappearing among the rest. Beside him, there was only the strong smell of pinewood and clean leather.
His heart shuddered in his chest, down to the pit of his stomach and back again.
When he looked up, it stopped.
“I was trying to sleep on my precious break time, but y’all were acting like savages.”
There he was, the owner of his favorite scent in the world — even if he would never admit it, and even if he wasn't aware of it. His body was; his wolf, whatever it was, was fully aware.
Standing there, looking infinitely taller than Si-eun, was a boy he had never noticed before. With his neatly cropped hair, straight bangs covering his forehead, full cheekbones, and heart-shaped face, he looked like the earthly son of a god; so ordinary, yet so, so great. Si-eun felt his breath hitch in his neck and, a little dizzy, decided that he was going to remain as still as possible.
"Can you please stop this nonsense at once? Huh? Young-bin-ah! Aren't you embarrassed about growing your knot in front of the entire class?” Some alphas in the room sneered. The boy walked away from Si-eun's table, heading towards Young-bin and he immediately shivered, covering his face with his hands. Coward. "And for a wolf pup, at that! You must not last two seconds. Ya! I'm ashamed for you.”
Si-eun felt his face heat up. Of all the teasing he'd received that day, was it being called a pup that made him blush? He tried to be rational and tell himself it was because the term was infantilizing; it definitely wasn't because he had been the one to call him that — no, of course not.
“Aish, I'm tired. Can’t hyung here have his beauty sleep in peace?”
The turmoil in the room was dispersed. Those who had risen to see the mess up close returned to their seats, some silent, some grumbling. Those already in their seats looked away as if nothing had happened. It was funny, actually, how much everyone didn't dare challenge that alpha. Si-eun soon realized that not only was that scent calm, almost untouched by any hormonal changes or external stimuli, but it also exuded perfectly truthful confidence. A scent that said I know my skills and I'm not afraid to use them.
Young-bin was now just a pathetic stain on the ground. If Si-eun was able to pay attention to anything other than the boy in front of him, he would feel the shame in the air like expired spice. His sidekicks, still at the back of the room, were unusually quiet and could only hold their breath as their leader staggered to his feet, storming out of the room in fury.
When everything was back to normal, the boy turned around, meeting Si-eun's gaze already on him. His face immediately softened, and he leaned closer again, staring at him with the hint of a smile.
His eyes were so gentle, so peaceful. Si-eun was forced to look away; his heart was going to explode, shatter into pieces, crumble to dust. He didn't know how he hadn't gone into cardiac arrest yet.
“Are you okay?”
He's talking to me.
“Hm.”
Very expressive, Yeon Si-eun.
"Was that a yes?"
His tone sounded very amused. Si-eun, taken by curiosity and the almost biological need to see him, looked up again and instantly regretted it.
He was smiling. A smile that made his cheekbones rise and accentuated the dimples at the edge of his lips. He reminded Si-eun of a children's cartoon character, even Anpanman if only his cheeks were a little pinker.
Si-eun almost forgot that he had been asked a question, but decided not to answer. He was often told that his eyes were devoid of any emotion, but he hoped that, for once, they could get through to what he wanted to say. Under that boy's gaze, he felt more exposed and vulnerable than he had ever felt in his life, and that scared him to death.
Seconds passed and the alpha's smile gradually faded until he cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at Si-eun's melancholic — tearful — eyes.
"Listen, about what he said-"
The noise of the sliding door being dragged abruptly interrupted them.
"Who’s Ahn Soo-ho?"
The boy sighed — a deep, tired sigh — but he didn't turn around.
A few guys from the baseball team entered the room, looking around as if they were about to mark territory. Two of them had bats and they all looked equally pissed off. But one of them, in particular, was itching for a fight, his fists stiffening against his thighs.
"Who the fuck is Ahn Soo-ho? I won't ask again.”
Si-eun could see, out of the corner of his eye, people pointing towards his table. He was confused for a second, but when he understood, he felt his stomach twist.
“Arg! You gotta be kidding me.” He, of all the other guys, headed towards the group, looking pissed beyond comprehension. Si-eun felt his mouth go dry. Ahn Soo-ho. That's his name. "What do you want?"
The leader of the baseball players was practically fuming. The others were a mixture of surprised and flustered, but soon went back to their composure. The room was filled with the scent of angry alphas again. Si-eun considered packing his things and leaving before the break ended. What a hellish day.
"You hit on Na-eun, didn't you?" The angriest of them, probably the captain of the team, asked. He seemed to be holding on to what little sanity he had left, blinking several times with a vague gaze.
Soo-ho — that was his name, Si-eun's brain had yet to process it — frowned, genuinely confused. Si-eun guessed he was more irritated at having their conversation interrupted than by the accusation itself, but that was an indulgent thought.
“Na-eun?” He repeated as if trying to recall a very distant memory. “Lee Na-eun? Park Na-eun?"
The captain bared his teeth, snarling. Out of breath, he was about to burst with rage.
"It's Son Na-eun, you jerk!"
“Oh, that one! She kept texting me so I had a meal with her once." He replied, casually, as if he were saying the answer to an annoying math question. “I'm not interested in her. She's not my type."
He scratched the back of his neck, fiddled with his shirt, and then had the audacity to turn to Si-eun, staring at him almost sheepishly. Si-eun's expression remained unchanged, wondering why Soo-ho looked like a husband who had been caught cheating.
Their little interaction was again interrupted. The alphas on the baseball team weren't going to go away without a few punches, that much was obvious.
"Guys" The leader commanded, his voice deep and impetuous, and that was enough.
From where he was sitting, Si-eun could watch everything unfold clearly, as if he had a premium seat at a concert. One of the players tried to hit Soo-ho with a baseball bat, but he easily dodged it. They followed him to the back of the room only to be hurled against the lockers. Around them was a chorus of ooohs and aaahs as Soo-ho majestically dodged punches, jabs, and kicks. In a minute, he had managed to snatch one of the baseball bats and throw it away, kick an alpha right in his knot, and grab the captain by the ear, all while appearing to be openly enjoying himself. Between a wink and a smile thrown so charmingly at his sworn enemies, Si-eun couldn't help but think he was showing off.
Showing off, as all the other alphas did. Out of a sheer desire for dominance, territorialism, veneration. Si-eun was almost disenchanted despite his artistic fighting skills — not that he was even enchanted in the first place.
Unlike the other alphas, though, Soo-ho was only violent when absolutely necessary.
"Are you going to leave now?" He asked, with the team captain crouched by the strength of his fingers.
"Okay, damn it!"
Soo-ho released him, looking for traces of hair or blood on his fingernails and smoothing down his clothing. Si-eun had always been called aloof, but Soo-ho — Soo-ho was aloof in a completely different way. That threat to his life seemed more like friendly sparring to him, and Si-eun found himself strangely interested.
As expected, that dumb alpha didn't stop; he lunged at Soo-ho with his friend's baseball bat. Soo-ho, without realizing it, was walking towards Si-eun's table and had to crouch down when the boy threw the bat in his direction, knocking over his pencil case in the process. The thing hit the chalkboard, between some students who were filming the chaos, causing a loud metallic clatter.
Soo-ho turned away, biting his tongue behind his clenched jaw. He repositioned his jacket, which was falling over his left shoulder, and for the first time, Si-eun could smell the scent of burning pinewood.
“You crossed the line.”
In two seconds, it was over.
One punch was enough for that alpha to fall hard to the ground. The other players cowered pathetically at the back of the room and only started to move again when Soo-ho ordered them to take their leader to the infirmary — without any mention of his name, of course.
As if he had just realized it, Soo-ho met Si-eun's gaze again, and it was exactly the same as before that whole fight; the only difference — which Soo-ho's dumb alpha brain couldn't help but notice — was that Si-eun's lips formed an almost imperceptible and probably involuntary pout. And then, he lowered his head — his hair looks soft, he thought against his will — and stared at a fixed spot on the floor.
His pencil case, open. On the floor.
"Oh… Was it me?"
Of course it was you, who else would it be? Si-eun wanted to answer.
"Yes."
Any more of that and Soo-ho would think he was monosyllabic.
He immediately grabbed his things and left them on the table.
“Sorry, man." ”Soo-ho made a placating gesture with his hands, nodding slightly, his smile now awkward. He was closer than ever and Si-eun didn't know how to respond, how to stop staring, how to do anything but think about just how annoyingly handsome he was.
And then, he said the first thing that came to mind.
"Why would you do that in a classroom?"
Soo-ho blinked, unresponsive. Si-eun turned around, determined to cut contact right then and there; he'd already missed a lot of study time and, quite honestly, he was tired of dealing with alphas. Soo-ho bit his tongue, almost as if he couldn't believe it. Barely holding back a smile, he walked away.
Si-eun would’ve liked to be able to get back to the quadratic equations, but the previous minutes kept repeating in his mind like a scratched record. More than anything, though, was the realization that his mystery had been solved. The pinewood and smooth leather had an owner; that comforting and relaxing scent that brought him a mere sample of peace amid so many chaotic and aggressive stimuli, those butterflies in his stomach and the leap in his heart that he felt every time he managed to catch a little whiff of that smell, the emotion of knowing that there was something wonderful right under his nose; all that euphoria had a face, a body, and a name.
Ahn Soo-ho. Those letters formed a bittersweet taste on his tongue that lingered until nightfall.
In the days that followed, Ahn Soo-ho seemed to be everywhere, much to Si-eun's dismay. It got to the point where he wondered how the hell he hadn't noticed him before, given his very specific scent — very specific, to a specific nose.
Starting with the fact that Si-eun was always the first to arrive in the classroom and, as a consequence, he was the first to come face to face with Soo-ho, sleeping in his makeshift bed and clutching to his pink pillow. As he quickly learned, Soo-ho spent the night at school — doing what, he didn't know — but Si-eun was bombarded by the smell of pine trees and clean leather that flooded the room every morning. For at least thirty minutes every day, he studied in Soo-ho's comfortable presence and that soothing scent that almost lulled him back to sleep too. He could tell when the smell got wetter, like a pine forest on a rainy day, or when the leather got stronger. Si-eun had never had such a keen sense of smell, but it was as if his body responded to Soo-ho's slightest signals, attentive and alert, yet still calm and focused. He didn't have the means to understand, and he didn't have the time either, so he just pushed it aside as much as he could.
It was intimate, in a way. As if it was a moment just for them, for them only.
When the other students arrived, Soo-ho's scent would scatter and get lost in the background. Si-eun tried not to show how disappointed that left him.
On a day of reviewing contents that Si-eun was already tired of knowing, he allowed himself the luxury of indulging in theories. Maybe he didn't notice Soo-ho's scent before because he used scent blockers. But the smell always persisted, albeit unnoticed and unobtrusive, so Si-eun guessed that he didn't use them regularly, which messed up the functioning of his scent gland a bit. Or perhaps, because Soo-ho was always asleep, he didn't attach himself to external forces to the point of giving off a strong smell; or at least strong enough to compete with others. He was also exceptionally calm, and alphas — especially newly presented alphas — were completely ruled by emotions, which altered their scents.
But in the end, Si-eun couldn't decipher Ahn Soo-ho. Any attempt to find an answer was futile; there was no way to simply take a sample of his biological composition and analyze it in the chemistry lab. Si-eun hated not knowing things, but Soo-ho seemed to be one of those mysteries that kept causing discomfort even after they were solved.
What irritated him the most, though, was the fact that Soo-ho was back to acting like he didn't know him after that commotion. And now that he knew who Soo-ho was, ignoring him had become impossible. In fact, it wasn't like Si-eun showed much interest either, with his dainty way of opening the curtains and pretending Soo-ho wasn't even there. This brought him paradoxical feelings; Si-eun never wanted to be noticed by anyone — not even his parents, after a few years — but he wanted Soo-ho's attention for himself, even for a few seconds. He tried to convince himself that it was a purely biological response to the only pleasant smell in the whole damned school, but he couldn't believe his own line of reasoning.
And so, proud and unable to do anything about it, he let the days pass, hoping that thoughts of Soo-ho would fade to the back of his mind as his scent faded to the back of the class.
But Young-bin. Young-bin didn't seem willing to forget.
His threats were back to being indirect, through hostile pheromones and obviously aggressive looks, but there was something different about them. Something that wasn't the result of a simple academic feud or a desire to bully. It was something perverse, evil even, which Si-eun would be afraid of if he was a little more attached to his own life.
Young-bin and his sidekicks went a few days without disturbing him. Si-eun even came to believe that they had given up.
But then, on a hotter-than-usual Tuesday, his gym uniform disappeared from his backpack.
He felt his blood boil and bubble in his temples. His chest was tight, his mouth dry. He turned back, facing that corner of the room cursed with the most terrible scents. They were talking about an omega model who had recently appeared on the cover of Playboy — she's so hot! — and laughing at any sexist bullshit that came out of one of their mouths. Their current victim was standing there, waiting for Young-bin to tie the laces on his sneakers. The other two started comparing sizes, and Si-eun couldn't tell if they were talking about muscles or knots; probably the latter.
“What are you looking at?” It didn't take Young-bin long to notice his gaze, as if he'd been waiting. He looked ridiculous pretending not to understand, his eyebrows arching and making his forehead crease, contrasting with his petulant pout. “What's the matter? Did you lose something?”
Cynical son of a bitch.
"I could fold you in half!" The alpha sidekick yelled, flashing his biceps and baring his fangs. The other minion, the beta with the most outrageous smell Si-eun had ever sensed, made a hiss and threatened to raise his fist. Si-eun's face didn't show anything so different from its usual dull expression, but inside, he was losing his sanity little by little. That bastard doesn't know when to stop.
He turned away, realizing that it would be much worse if he reacted now. As they walked away, showing off the size of their muscles, Si-eun couldn't help but compare them to dogs. Stray dogs, scratching their balls and chasing their own tails, foaming at the mouth. That was all they were.
Alone in the room, he noticed that Soo-ho's scent still lingered, light, attached to his pink pillow. He took a deep breath.
He would let it go, if only this once.
Soo-ho was dismissed to the stands sooner than he expected.
He hadn't realized how badly he needed a run to clear his head. Spending hours sitting on a motorcycle, then sleeping on hard tables, and sitting in a school chair was extremely exhausting. He hated seeing his grandmother's guilty face as he walked home tired at the end of his shift, so he decided to settle for that routine during the weekdays. But damn, it felt good to get away from it for a while, if only to run in circles and silently pass judgment on all those alphas who had no reason to be so full of themselves.
Gradually, one by one, the others filled the stands.
Young-bin and his minions, whose names he had no idea of, were the first to arrive after him, much to his immense chagrin. They came back grumbling and complaining, tired as if they didn't boast about their physical strength at every opportunity. They were more chatty than usual that day and Soo-ho found himself getting progressively angrier. The others arrived and piled up in various little groups that Soo-ho didn't mind being left out of; yet those three guys — always those three — stood in the center like they were kings.
Soo-ho had never liked them, even though they never messed with him. Perhaps that was precisely why — they only went after the weak.
Still, he ignored them, as he was used to. Willing to distract himself from the scent of sweaty wolves and their inane chatter, he turned to stare at the track — not that he had much else to do. His eyes were automatically drawn to a white little dot that was far behind the other runners; said little dot crawled with enormous difficulty toward the finish line, stopping every five seconds to catch its breath. Soo-ho felt an odd mix of affection and pity settle in his chest, warm and fuzzy.
His eyes always seemed to find Yeon Si-eun, as if they were trained to do so. Since their first and last interaction, he found himself looking for him several times in every environment he entered at school, almost instinctively. He discovered that Si-eun was always the first to arrive in the room — because he insisted on opening the curtains —, he could spend hours on end studying without losing concentration, he ate lunch at his desk — he always finished his food in fifteen minutes, no more no less — he only took his headphones off during class and didn't talk to anyone at all the entire day.
But during that short time that he had watched him — not like a stalker, of course —, never before had Si-eun forgotten his gym uniform. He was organized and neat and methodical.
Soo-ho felt deep in his heart that something was wrong.
“Look at that idiot running.”
He swallowed hard, clicking his tongue. Of course, it had to do with that shitty little gang. There was no one else besides Si-eun that they could refer to, but Soo-ho still wished that they would just leave him alone.
“Seriously, there's no way he's not an omega.” One of the alphas commented, making Soo-ho's ears ring. His fists clenched involuntarily and his fingers were slowly slipping in their own sweat. “Look at the way his hips sway when he runs.”
Young-bin smiled bizarrely at that comment. It made Soo-ho want to punch him.
"Is he an omega zombie or what? He might as well run like this.” The scrawniest of them, the beta, began to imitate him in the most ridiculous way possible, exaggerating the movement of his arms and hips, making the others laugh. Young-bin, in particular, seemed to be having the time of his life. "You jerks, wait there, you jerks!"
Soo-ho didn't have to think twice. Calmly, he took off his shoe and threw it at the asshole right in the head, stopping the laughter at once. They turned, prepared to attack, but when they saw Soo-ho's gaze — and felt his menacing pheromones — their impulses withered. Where before there had been mocking laughter, there was now just awkward silence.
“Bring it to me.” He commanded. The beta stood still for a few seconds, reluctant, but finally decided to obey him. Soo-ho allowed himself to feel proud, even though he didn't like to brag about his alpha status. They shouldn't talk about Si-eun like that.
When the boy returned with his sneakers, he looked ashamed, like a wolf cast out of its pack. Soo-ho didn't feel sorry for him at all.
“What was your name again?”
The beta blinked a few times, averting his gaze. Being treated so insignificantly had surprised him, which made Soo-ho delighted. His scent — a malformed mixture of charcoal and boldo tea — did not even hint at anger; he was perfectly crestfallen.
“I'm Lee Jeong-chan.” He said as if answering the class call. Soo-ho nodded after a few seconds, dismissing him by swinging his sneakers. The boy went down the stone stairs without half the energy he had before, and Soo-ho could feel the furious scent of the other two alphas forming bullet holes in his head. But all he had to do was look in their direction for Young-bin to turn away, his jaw clenched.
Soo-ho took a deep breath through his nose, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. Jeon Young-bin and his minions were everything that was wrong with alphas and society as a whole. He hated how they talked about Si-eun's sub-gender — which hadn't even been presented yet, for christ’s sake —, objectifying him in an almost nymphomaniac way. Omegas weren't inferior to alphas in any way, and yet they treated the mere possibility of having a male omega in their classroom as a sex toy for their sick pleasure, a breeding whore, a doll to rip apart and destroy as they pleased. It made Soo-ho's blood boil; his grandmother was an omega, his mother had been an omega as well. He had lived with omegas for as long as he could remember his own name and he couldn’t think of them as anything less than amazing. Through their painful heats and the awful discrimination, they always managed to be the most hardworking, nurturing, and kind people in existence.
Soo-ho had yet to find an omega who wasn't like that — which, he was a little ashamed to admit, made him think of Yeon Si-eun.
Si-eun, who always worked so hard to achieve good grades and academic success. Si-eun, who appeared always so sorrowful and lonely, yet so gentle and delicate in his complexion. Si-eun, who wasn't afraid to impose limits on those who deserved it. Si-eun, Si-eun, Si-eun.
Si-eun had occupied his thoughts a lot ever since they first spoke, and Soo-ho would be a fool to deny it.
Secretly, he too wished that Si-eun would be an omega. But not for any particular reason other than the desire to feel his scent in the air and how distinctly different it would be from the rest of the class — would he be sweet, like his mother? Would he be floral, like his grandmother? Would he smell like tropical fruits, like his neighbor, Mr. Wang? He bet he'd be sweet, if not a little bitter, just to spice things up. Would his secondary scent be too different from the primary one, or would they complement each other? The possibilities were endless and made Soo-ho's mind wander to the ways he could take his hand in his and bring it to his lips, or how he could run his fingers through his seemingly fluffy hair and feel him melt under the effect of his alpha pheromones. He thought he would look beautiful with a satisfied, relaxed smile on his face after a good scenting session, maybe he'd even grunt and purr a little, and he'd fit perfectly in his arms, where Soo-ho could rest his chin on his shoulder or the top of his head.
When Si-eun finally reached the end of the track, he wasn't the only one red-faced and struggling to breathe.
Soo-ho felt a little guilty when he came to his senses. Was he any different from Young-bin and the others, thinking of Si-eun that way? That comparison made him frown. Involuntarily, he searched for the bully with his eyes and wasn't surprised to see him staring at Si-eun with an expression of strange interest. When the teacher asked them to take Si-eun to the nurse's office, before he pointedly refused it, Young-bin looked almost flattered, as if he was up to something and things had conspired in his favor.
Soo-ho wrinkled his nose in annoyance. His alpha, while a little obnoxious at times, was rarely wrong with its intuition.
He was going to spend more time in the locker room that day to confirm his suspicions — or, at the very least, to redeem himself.
Si-eun was willing to let it go, he really was.
Even when he trudged back to the locker room, his feet bubbling and aching from his inappropriate running shoes. Even when he heard them teasing the way he ran and planning to hit him. Even when he entered the room, fixing Young-bin with his iron gaze, and had them complaining about his smell of sweat. Even with all of that, he walked straight to his locker, not saying anything, willing to let it go. If he didn't have extra clothes to change into, he would have a towel, and if he didn't have a towel, he would certainly have something-
"Are you guys smelling this?"
Young-bin's tone was mischievous and loud. Si-eun could feel his nauseating smile on his skin, with way too many teeth.
"Smelling what?" The other two asked after a few seconds, clearly unaware of his intentions. Si-eun, on the other hand, had nothing in the closet but an old perfume that he had forgotten he had left there. He was convinced that Young-bin had thrown his uniform away.
He gripped the closet door tightly until his fingertips turned white. Young-bin stood up, looking around, feigning nonchalance.
“Someone decided to bless us with his scent, finally. Yeon Si-eun-ah, you smell sweeter than usual today, or rather, sweeter than ever.” Si-eun saw, by the reflection on the floor, the alpha's shadow approaching. He thought he was going to rip that door off with his bare hands with the way his rage was building, reaching its limit. "Looks like all that running really got to you."
Young-bin was even closer now. Si-eun couldn't take it anymore.
"Will you finally present, hm? Will you finally come into heat like the good omega you're supposed to be?”
And to his utter terror, he inhaled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“Oh, is that… is that chocolate?”
Si-eun closed the closet door abruptly, causing a deafening noise. He turned around with the most irate look he had ever expressed and he didn't need anyone to tell him that his eyes were red. He took a step forward and Young-bin staggered back like the cowardly son of a bitch he was. He just stopped avoiding Si-eun when he got closer to his sidekicks, who soon surrounded the smaller boy. But Si-eun didn't look away from Young-bin for even a second; he wanted to pierce his hatred as viscerally as possible — he wanted Young-bin to feel it like needles in his tendons, torturing him, making him scream until his insides burned and came out of his mouth.
“Stop this. I'm asking you.”
He wouldn't beg, he wouldn't cry; just ask politely. Or at least, as politely as he could manage with that homicidal glare — psychotic even, some would say.
Young-bin frowned and clenched his jaw.
“What?”
Si-eun took a deep breath, not moving a muscle on his face. The charcoal-scented beta was to his right, the sandalwood-scented alpha was behind him. And in front of him, rotten paprika. All of them were burnt sulfur. Putrid. Filthy.
“Stop bothering me.”
The sidekicks snickered, but Young-bin didn't seem to be amused. He swallowed hard, now staring straight at him.
“I don't know what you're talking about." Cynical as ever. “You can't just show up with that disgustingly sweet smell and expect me not to react.”
That’s it. That's enough.
“That's a warning.” And it really was. Si-eun's patience was wearing thin and he didn't know what he would be capable of if Young-bin continued to harass him. It was hate like he'd never felt before; a life-or-death feeling, the kind that sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. He despised it, even though it made him feel alive for a change.
As he turned to leave, the sandalwood and aloe vera scented alpha reached out to grab him, but Young-bin stopped him, grabbing Si-eun by the neck and pushing him until his back hit the locker with a hard thud. The other students in the locker room immediately stopped to see what was going on, involuntarily releasing all kinds of scents — curiosity, fear, awe. For a measly second, Si-eun thought how ridiculous it was to know what others thought through smell, how that whole situation was ridiculous, ridiculous.
All because he wasn't a goddamn alpha, and probably wouldn't even be a stupid beta.
"That's not how you ask someone a favor." Young-bin muttered through clenched teeth. “Wolves like you should take what you’re given. You should be quiet and obey.” His fist, which was getting tighter and tighter around Si-eun's neck, sneaked up on his scent gland. Si-eun could barely breathe, but he could feel the panic settle all the way to the pit of his stomach as Young-bin raised his index finger just above the gland. "Now try again."
His grip tightened. Si-eun stared at him with teary eyes, choking on his own saliva. He could feel the muscles in his throat burning.
“What?” He barely managed to say. Young-bin's scent sharpened.
He lightly touched his scent gland, the most wicked look in his eyes, and pressed.
Si-eun's scream was suppressed by an even more violent grab. He felt a sharp, punctual pain right in his pelvis as if someone were poking him with a knife. His belly button was hurting so much he imagined it would pop open like a sink plug and let him explode.
So this is how I die. He thought. How fitting, for someone like me.
“Young-bin.” The other alpha — what was his name again? Hwang Tae-moon? Kang Tae-hyoon? Si-eun didn't know, he was about to die — looked scared. Even the beta was wary, looking back and forth from where he was standing.
“I won't let go. If you try to stop me, I’ll kill you.” Young-bin replied, his eyes fixed on Si-eun, on the way sweat trickled down his face and how he got redder by the second. Young-bin reveled in that power, so physical and malleable in the palm of his hands, but Si-eun's scent remained light and unaltered. No matter how much he teased him, how hard he tried, he could never get a meaningful reaction out of him, and it pissed him off beyond comprehension.
It made him want to hurt Si-eun irreversibly. Maybe this was his chance.
Si-eun, on the other hand, already looked physically and mentally exhausted, unable to fight against Young-bin's grip. Still, he tried to inhale through his nose in a futile attempt to remain in control of his body. But his eyes widened, showing, for the first time, an emotion other than boredom, contempt, hatred. It was the expression of something Young-bin couldn't name, but Si-eun knew it was recognition — longing, even. And then, the two felt that scent approaching, getting dangerously close and stopping.
Pinewood, burning like an erupting volcano. Soon after, a voice.
“What are you doing over there?”
But the voice was not Ahn Soo-ho's.
Young-bin immediately let go of Si-eun, who started coughing. For a second, Young-bin was afraid he was going to throw up right in his running shoes, but he just crouched down, his legs wobbly and his throat feeling like it was going to close off the entire passage of air. In front of them, a teacher, Mr. Woo, viewed the situation with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
"Nothing, we were just messing around. Si-eun, are you okay?”
Young-bin smiled — that repulsive, repulsive smile of his — and put his arm around Si-eun's shoulders, still coughing, clutching his throat as if that would ease the pain. The professor didn't look the least bit convinced.
“Han Tae-hoon, tell me what’s going on here.” He turned to the alpha beside them. Si-eun couldn't even recognize that that was his name, desperate to breathe decently again. As Tae-hoon answered, Young-bin crouched down to whisper in his ear:
"Hey, you don't want trouble, do you?" Without any context, an outside viewer would think he was trying to console him. Si-eun was regaining the ability to breathe, even though he seemed to have run another ten laps of the athletics track. “You need to go to college.”
Right. College. Everything he did, everything he didn't do, was to go to college. He couldn't let Young-bin ruin his chances of getting into one of the renowned universities, as much as he wanted to bash his skull in with an encyclopedia.
“Yeon Si-eun, speak for yourself.”
He felt him approach before he even saw him. When Si-eun finally looked up, Ahn Soo-ho was already staring at him. Beside the teacher, he looked serious and disappointed, looking intently at Si-eun as if trying to figure him out. As if he knew exactly what hurt him, all his silent anguish, all the pain that accompanied him until he fell asleep. Soo-ho looked at him as if he knew exactly what had happened and as if to say: tell the truth, please.
Si-eun's heart made an uncomfortable twist. He swallowed and felt his throat burn like salt over open wounds.
"Were you really just messing around?"
Soo-ho looked almost pleading and Si-eun was forced to look down at the floor. He pushed Young-bin's arm away and, feeling lightheaded, replied:
"Yes sir, we were just messing around."
Soo-ho's scent soured. It was once sad and irritated, now it reeked of disappointment. Si-eun hated the way he immediately felt miserable, sad for breaking an expectation he didn't even know was imposed on him. Soo-ho and Si-eun didn't have any kind of relationship, it didn't make sense for Soo-ho to expect anything from him and, much less, for Si-eun to bother to reciprocate any of his wishes. He couldn't for the life of him understand what was so different about Soo-ho that elicited that kind of response from him. If he had the slightest bit of energy to think, he would draw some connection to Skinner's theories of learned behavior, maybe he could even manage to treat himself like a lab rat and shake off that mysterious effect Soo-ho had on him.
But at that moment, he couldn't do anything. All he could do was take a deep breath and, against any outside encouragement, survive.
“Don't do that again, okay?” Mr. Woo ordered, to which they replied yes sir. It was so easy, as if the teachers really didn't even try to care. Without any further investigation, Mr. Woo walked away and left them there to fend for themselves, or in this case, not to fend for themselves, since there was no problem in the first place.
If Young-bin wanted to, he could just pick up from where he left off, but Soo-ho's frightening presence in the corner of the door startled all the onlookers and made Young-bin cringe like an abused dog. His minions called him, whispering incoherent words and Si-eun could hear a very muffled "let's get out of here". They stood there staring at the exit for a solid minute before they decided to take the risk, passing Soo-ho at a quick but steady pace, trying not to show fear and failing miserably. Young-bin was the last one past him and the pheromones of rage were so strong that the bully was forced to hold his breath, storming out of the locker room faster than his recent marathon.
Soon, it was just Soo-ho and Si-eun in the locker room, alone.
Soo-ho's expression softened, and consequently, so did his smell. He looked sad in a way that Si-eun couldn't help but question. His pheromones stopped being threatening — protective, in fact — and started to emit an aroma that worked very well to calm Si-eun, even if minimally. He had finally stopped coughing, but his throat still hurt to the point that a soothing touch did more harm than good. When Soo-ho finally broke the silence, his voice sounded much deeper, more serious than usual:
“I'm sorry.”
Si-eun blinked.
“What?” Soo-ho didn't answer. “Why?”
Si-eun was frowning now. Soo-ho decided then and there that he hated seeing him like this: tired, sweaty, confused, cornered, and, dare he say it, humiliated. He wanted to go after Young-bin at Usain Bolt's speed and make him choke on his dirt-stained shoes. But he chose not to cause more trouble than necessary, and found himself justifying it:
“I heard everything from the other room. I was going to interfere, but you started to-”
“I don't need you to interfere.” Si-eun cut him off abruptly. Soo-ho looked indignant for a moment but quickly returned to the serious and downcast expression from before, which Si-eun soon decided he hated. And then, like an epiphany, he understood why Soo-ho had looked so upset.
Soo-ho felt responsible. Responsible for him.
Si-eun felt an icy sensation in his stomach which he interpreted as a refusal. Because, truly, he refused to be a burden to anyone other than his parents. It didn't matter that the only reason he wasn't at the hospital right now was Soo-ho's presence, and it didn’t matter how amazing Soo-ho's pheromones made him feel, he refused to involve in his problems someone who had nothing to do with them, or even himself.
It was a bitter choice, but one he made with conviction.
"I was just going to do something if the teacher didn't-"
“I don't need you to interfere, I'm serious.” Si-eun repeated, this time with more clarity. Soo-ho, interrupted a second time, didn't hide the acid look he gave to Si-eun's neck. The shorter boy almost wanted to lift his shirt collar; he was sure that when he looked in the mirror, he would see red marks from Young-bin's violent touch. That thought almost made him want to cut his head off. "Let me handle them myself."
He wanted to add something else, like I don't need help or I don't need protection, but those statements seemed more and more false as Young-bin continued to advance in his pursuit. Still, Si-eun found himself unable to accept whatever Soo-ho seemed to be proposing, heading towards the exit without even looking him in the eye.
Any hope he had of ending the conversation there, however, was dashed when Soo-ho stopped him from leaving, holding him by the wrist.
Si-eun gulped, still not used to the way his heart responded to Soo-ho. His scent was so close.
"At least change your clothes. I have an extra towel and uniform in my locker.”
For a moment he considered accepting it, but he thought that the mere possibility of walking back into the classroom smelling like the alpha would be too much to bear — it would probably cause a fuss, too.
Cheeks burning for a reason quite apart from his previous suffering, he shook off the hand that held him.
"I probably wouldn't fit in your uniform."
And with that, he was gone.
The days passed without major events, but this time, Si-eun wasn't naive enough to think that he would be left alone. At least, not by Young-bin.
But he definitely didn't expect to have to talk to Soo-ho again — not anytime soon, and not at his own house.
"Oh, bookworm! What are you doing here?”
I must be paying for many sins. There were reasons why Si-eun wasn't religious.
He quickly glanced down at a bag of deliveries and then looked up at Soo-ho. With that big red helmet, surprised eyes, and slightly open mouth, he looked different from his usual confident persona, with a noticeable presence; he looked adorable, like a confused pup.
What is wrong with me? Si-eun managed not to shake his head.
“I didn't order food.” He repeated the same thing he had said before opening the door, but Soo-ho was not immediately convinced. For a moment, Si-eun thought that he wasn't willing to leave without a push.
“Hm? Isn't this Unit 902 of Dongbaek’s Apartment’s Building 102?”
Si-eun blinked, looking around.
“This is Building 101.”
Soo-ho picked up the cardboard delivery bag, frowning as he read the address.
"It says it's Building 102." His voice cracked a little, maybe from embarrassment, maybe from disbelief. He looked at Si-eun and shifted his gaze to the ground. Definitely embarrassment. "Well..." Soo-ho cleared his throat, and Si-eun thought this would be the moment they would say goodbye, pretend that none of this had happened, and go back to ignoring each other for the rest of the year. But Soo-ho continued to stand there, blocking any movement with the door. He seemed to be contemplating something when he raised his head and said:
“Hey, buddy. Can I have a glass of water?”
Si-eun couldn't believe his audacity. As it turned out, he was right: he wasn't too keen on leaving just like that.
“Why should I?” Because really, why should he?
Soo-ho wasn't in the mood to argue.
“Please, we are classmates. Don't be like that.” And without the slightest bit of self-consciousness, he walked in without asking permission.
“What?” Si-eun could barely think, everything was happening so fast. He leaned against the wall as Soo-ho passed by, trying to get as far away as possible without much success. Soo-ho kept complaining as if he had every right to do that at Si-eun's front door. At least he was back to normal, the normal Si-eun knew.
“It's just a glass of water.” He was even pouting now, gracefully folding his legs to sit on the step. Soo-ho took off his helmet and a few straight tufts of hair poked out. Si-eun hated how cute he looked like that, all grumpy and cranky like he couldn't take care of himself. As if he needed Si-eun to take care of him instead. "What if I pass out from dehydration? It's your fault then. Seriously, just a glass of water.”
He pointed with his helmet, but he didn't look threatening at all. Even his scent was different, fainter and airier. Looking at him, sitting against the wall of his entrance hall and breathing rapidly, Si-eun thought that he must be very tired.
“Don't just stand there.” He growled again. "I'm about to pass out."
He wasn't about to pass out, but apparently, he had a thing for the dramatics. Against all his will, Si-eun felt a touch of sympathy for Soo-ho and, as if all the other mixed feelings he caused him were not enough, now he was forced to help him with something so basic. Si-eun sighed and dragged himself to the kitchen while Soo-ho continued to complain in the background.
“My voice is getting hoarse too.” He said in a gruff tone that unintentionally raised the hairs on the back of the other boy's neck.
Si-eun tried not to imagine how his voice would sound in other situations, when his alpha had to assume full consciousness. There were only two circumstances in which that could happen: the first referred to moments of imminent danger to the alpha himself or his loved ones, and the second...
He grabbed the water bottle almost violently, then grabbed a mug. His ears felt warm, and he was grateful for his subconscious preference for dark, or in this case, dimly lit places. That way at least Soo-ho wouldn't know he had any effect on him.
But Soo-ho only had one thing in mind: water. Even before Si-eun could pour it into the mug, the boy grabbed the bottle and drank it all at once. Si-eun could only watch the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as the liquid passed down his throat and how Soo-ho looked extremely relieved once it was over. He let out a loud growl, a little hoarse, a little wolfish, and almost like a moan. Si-eun was affronted now; he was sure the red in his cheeks was going to be impossible to hide and he found himself becoming aware of his own sulking expression.
"Seriously, what's your problem?" He asked, fascinated in a way that he couldn't tell if it was good or bad. He could never tell when it came to Ahn Soo-ho.
The alpha looked up, revitalized, and smiled at him, unsettling whatever act of indifference Si-eun still had in him.
“After what happened on Tuesday, I thought we'd never talk again.” Soo-ho commented, still sitting, catching his breath. The way he said it so casually made Si-eun's heart twist uncomfortably. “But here I am, at your house. I guess that's how fate is.”
Si-eun wanted to say that he didn't believe in fate. He wanted to say goodbye, to throw him out of his house and his life as if he'd never met him. He wanted to go back to the days when he had no idea who he was, the days when his scent was nothing more than a curiosity that helped him deal with his stressful routine. He really wanted to end that uncertain and strange relationship once and for all, but instead, as if he had no control over his own body, he asked:
“What did you want to tell me that day?”
He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Soo-ho cocked his head to the side, slightly furrowing his brows.
“Hm? What? What day?”
Si-eun bit his lower lip. There was no escape this time. He couldn't just say forget it because, from the little time he had spent with Soo-ho, he knew that the boy couldn't simply let it go. He was nosy and assertive and dominant.
Feeling his gaze fixed and the scent of soft leather spiking, Si-eun muttered:
"That day, when you fought with Young-bin…" He began, unable to return Soo-ho's gaze. “You came over to my table and were about to say something before the baseball team guys walked in. Something about what Young-bin was telling me.”
Si-eun didn't know exactly what made him ask that now; It was an inconvenient question for an even more inconvenient situation, one that shouldn't have been happening in the first place. It was like a dream that one forgot the moment one woke up but remembered at the most random times. It was a dream that aroused discomfort, and maybe he would describe Soo-ho like that if he were a little more illogical.
For long seconds, there was only silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the alpha swallow hard, but he thought he could have imagined it. In reality, the reality that was often extremely hard on Si-eun, Soo-ho didn't even remember. Because life always found a way to remind him that he wasn't that important after all. He regretted it again.
But, to his surprise, Soo-ho snorted, looking down at his hands, still holding the empty plastic bottle.
“I wouldn't call that a fight. Young-bin was about to run off with wet pants, that coward.” Soo-ho clucked his tongue and cleared his throat. Si-eun secretly wished he would ignore his question and ask for another glass (bottle) of water. “I was going to tell you not to take what he said seriously. I know you already know this and that you already have your strategies for dealing with Young-bin and the others, I don't mean to belittle you.” He looked up, hunting Si-eun's face, and this time he was rewarded with the boy's melancholic eyes on him. They always looked teary, but now they looked genuinely emotional and the light from the entrance illuminated Si-eun's features almost angelically. Soo-ho felt his throat go dry. “I just wanted to say that it's okay to be an omega, you shouldn't take this as a negative thing.”
Immediately, his expression soured. If Soo-ho didn't care so much about Si-eun's feelings, he would congratulate himself for knowing how to differentiate the slightest nuances that showed changes in that apathetic face. And if he caught the faint scent of roasted coffee and dark bitter chocolate, he didn't mention it.
If there was one thing he quickly understood, it was that an angry Si-eun was scary.
"So you really think I'm an omega?" He asked in a much more menacing tone than necessary.
This is a trap. Soo-ho thought. He left the bottle on the ground and slowly got up as if dealing with a wild animal about to attack, which was not so different from Si-eun at that moment.
“I did not say that.”
“Yes, you did! And you thought of it, in fact, you’re sure of it!” The shorter boy's voice was gradually rising, and Soo-ho, on alpha instinct, was tempted to make him behave by force.
"And why is that bad? What's wrong with thinking you're an omega?”
The way Si-eun looked at him made him want to die. He didn't look angry or upset, he looked downright disgusted.
"You're just like them, aren't you?" He frowned, squinting at Soo-ho, judging him as if he had committed a crime. “Anyone who appears to be merely weaker is already branded as an omega. I don't even get to be a boring beta.” He continued, each word more venomous than the last. Soo-ho was holding the helmet by the strings in his closed fist; his own scent was overpowering his nose and he almost wanted to scream.
“You sound awfully prejudiced for someone so smart.” He snapped through clenched teeth. Si-eun arched his eyebrows in disbelief.
"You’re one to talk! You alphas are always stereotyping omegas. We’re nothing but objects to you!” He sounded a little breathless now, sloppy in the composition of his arguments.
"We? So you know you're an omega?” Soo-ho arched his eyebrows. Si-eun made a gagging noise, red for reasons beyond what Soo-ho would like.
"I don't know, okay? I don't know! And why do you care? We don't even know each other well.” He exploded, speaking louder than he had ever done before. It made him feel stupid and childish and out of control; he, who had always valued reason more than emotion for purely adaptive reasons, for survival. Now Soo-ho was looking at him with a mixture of sadness and anger that made him want to howl.
After that, just sharp silence, more ominous than awkward. And so, Soo-ho put his helmet back on, tightened the ropes, and walked towards the door. Si-eun felt his heart break into a million pieces of glass.
“Thanks, man. I'll get you three water bottles tomorrow.” He mumbled, completely lifeless. Si-eun imagined that he would be saying this with a smile if he hadn't taken out his anger on him, and he felt terrible. "Keep up your studies and see you tomorrow."
Soo-ho got a little confused with the lock on the door but managed to open it by himself. When he was already two feet out of the apartment, he muttered, almost pettily:
"And be good to your mom."
The door closed with more force than necessary. Soo-ho walked away quickly. The security system made its little electronic noise indicating that Si-eun was, once again, completely alone.
He stared at the door for what seemed like hours before he dragged himself back to his room, where a video lecture on the Daedong Law was paused. But for the first time, he saw no point in studying. All he could think about was Soo-ho and the way he went from happy to miserable in just a few seconds, all because of him. In the way his eyes stopped glistening and the dimples in his lips disappeared along with his smile, all, all because of him.
Si-eun knew he was being unfair. He learned from a young age to mask his emotions, to not cause trouble, to remain invisible. Soo-ho defied all of that: he made him feel things he couldn't even name, he physically involved himself in Young-bin's teasing, and most importantly, he saw him . Deep down, Si-eun knew that Soo-ho didn't merely see him as an omega, but he couldn't get it out of his head that Soo-ho was too good to be true; that, at some point, he would let him down as his parents had let him down so many years ago.
He felt his throat constrict, but he refused to cry. That very specific mishap that brought Soo-ho straight to his apartment made him think of fate, as the boy had rightly said. And he hated thinking about things like that, things he had no control over.
Si-eun sat in front of the computer, clicked on the space bar, and even picked up his pen, tapping it against his notebook. But the teacher's words went in one ear and out the other, meaningless. He went to sleep wishing that he would never have to wake up again, sullen and unmotivated. He also caught, vaguely, the scent of coffee in the air, one that had long since been roasted, but he was too downcast to even investigate. He fell asleep with a bitter taste on his tongue and a heavy feeling in his stomach.
Still, when he got to school the next day, he didn't open the curtains.