Chapter Text
To the world, Choi Yeonjun is the quintessential Alpha. He moves through the halls of the university with a calculated, feline grace that commands the air around him. His "facecard" is a weapon—all sharp jawlines, heavy lids and a gaze so piercing it feels like a challenge.
Then there is the scent: a dark, biting spicy cinnamon that clings to his skin like a warning. It’s a scent that screams dominance, yet the irony is that Yeonjun spends most of his energy keeping it locked behind layers of heavy-duty suppressants, only allowing a fraction of the "spiced" notes to bleed through to mask his true, softer nature.
The deception isn't born of self-loathing but of a fierce, protective survivalism. Yeonjun doesn’t hate being an Omega; he hates the vulnerability that society demands of them.He has seen the script written for Omegas, and he refuses to play the lead.
The blueprint for his caution is his mother, Choi Youngjae. Yeonjun’s entire world is built on the foundation of Youngjae’s sacrifices.The quiet, hollowed-out look in his mother’s eyes when the Alpha who promised him the world vanished the moment a positive pregnancy test hit the table.
Youngjae chose to keep the pup, trading his youth and dreams for double shifts and the constant, biting stigma of being an "unclaimed" Omega.
When Yeonjun finally presented, the air in their small house didn't fill with celebration. Instead, it was thick with a paralyzing, suffocating fear. Yeonjun saw his mother’s hands shake—not because he was disappointed but because he knew exactly how cruel the world could be to a beautiful Omega.
In that moment, Yeonjun made a silent vow: No one would ever pity him. No Alpha would ever see him as a prize to be hunted or a spirit to be broken.
Living as a "closeted" Omega is a high-stakes performance that requires meticulous discipline. Yeonjun’s life is governed by a strict, almost clinical regimen.He manages a cocktail of high-grade suppressants to kill his heat and "Alpha-coded" scent blockers to mimic the pheromonal profile of a dominant.
He uses a synthetic cinnamon scent—a sharp, stinging fragrance that mimics the aggressive pheromones of a high-ranking Alpha, hiding the sweet, creamy undertone of his natural scent that smells more like sugar and warm milk.
He plays the part of the Apex Alpha to perfection. He flirts with a dangerous, teasing edge. He’ll lean in close enough to make a heart race or press a lingering, searing kiss to a jawline but he never goes further.
Behind the bravado is a young man who carries a pharmacy in his backpack and a secret that feels like a ticking time bomb. He avoids true intimacy because he knows that in the heat of a real connection, his biology might betray him. The "Alpha" persona is a cage but it’s a cage that keeps the predators out.
He loves his mother with a fierce, aching intensity and every pill he swallows is a tribute to Youngjae's struggle. He isn't just hiding his subgender; he is rewriting his destiny, ensuring that the cycle of abandonment ends with him—even if it means living a lie that tastes as bitter as the pills he takes every morning.
At twenty-three, Yeonjun has become a master of his own internal architecture. To the students at the university, he is the untouchable apex—the Alpha with the razor-sharp jawline and the scent of cinnamon that stings like a dare. Only behind the closed doors of their small house does the mask slip. There, he is simply a son who loves the man who sacrificed everything for him.
Youngjae had never let Yeonjun feel the "lack" of a traditional family. He celebrated his son’s twenty-third birthday last month with a warmth that filled their home, a quiet triumph over the Alpha who had abandoned them decades ago. But even in those happy moments, the secret sat between them like an uninvited guest.
Aside from his father, only Beomgyu held the key to Yeonjun’s truth. Beomgyu was an Omega who wore his subgender like a comfortable silk shirt, unbothered and open. He was the only person Yeonjun didn't have to "perform" for.
The cafeteria was a sea of hushed whispers as they walked through. Yeonjun felt the weight of a dozen gazes—omega males and females alike—tracking his movement, drawn to the manufactured Alpha pheromones he radiated. He ignored them with a practiced, icy indifference.
"I heard a transfer student is joining our lecture block today," Beomgyu said, dropping onto a plastic chair and unwrapping a hamburger with practiced ease.
Yeonjun didn’t look up from his coffee. "And you’re telling me this because...?"
"Because he’s an Alpha," Beomgyu replied around a mouthful of food, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and genuine concern. "I thought I should give you a heads-up."
"There’s no need to 'warn' me, Gyu," Yeonjun snapped, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver through a nearby table of freshmen. "I can handle myself. I’ve been handling Alphas since I was eighteen."
Beomgyu leaned across the table, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, really? This one is different. Word is he’s top of his class—a total nerd but he’s got the kind of looks that make people forget how to breathe. I thought maybe... you know, you could have some fun for once."
"Shut up, Beomgyu."
Though his voice was steady, Yeonjun’s mind began to spiral the moment the word Alpha left Beomgyu’s lips. Lately, the act was becoming harder to maintain.
Biology was a cruel master. In the five years since his presentation, Yeonjun had survived his heats through sheer force of will, locked in his room with high-dose suppressants, cooling pads and his mother’s comforting presence on the other side of the door. He used toys to dull the physical ache but they were a poor substitute for the soul-deep craving that was beginning to wake up inside him.
His body was becoming needy. It wasn't just about the friction anymore; it was about the need for a scent that wasn't synthetic, a touch that wasn't his own and a presence that could actually quiet the screaming instincts he spent every waking hour suppressing.
He knew exactly what he wanted—a knot to fill him, a neck to scent, a pair of arms to hold him until the world stopped spinning. But to admit that was to admit defeat. To admit that was to become the version of his mother that lived in his nightmares: vulnerable, discarded, and broken.
Yeonjun gripped his coffee cup a little tighter, the heat of the plastic searing his palms. He could handle a "nerdy" Alpha. He had to. Because if he let his guard down for even a second, the spicy cinnamon facade would crumble, leaving nothing but a desperate Omega underneath.
When they stood to head toward their next lecture, the atmosphere seemed to shift. Beomgyu’s hand shot out, his finger discreetly pointing toward a figure standing near the bulletin board.
"There," Beomgyu whispered, his voice tinged with an uncharacteristic gravity. "That’s him. Choi Soobin. Biology major. He just transferred in from the elite district."
Yeonjun turned his head, prepared to face another posturing, scent-heavy Alpha looking for a fight or a conquest. Instead, he froze.
Soobin was tall—towering, actually but he didn't carry the jagged, aggressive edge Yeonjun had spent his life bracing against.He wore a soft, oversized cream sweater and thick-rimmed glasses that slid slightly down the bridge of his nose.
As a classmate waved to him, Soobin offered a shy, eye-crinkling smile that revealed two deep, symmetrical dimples. He didn't radiate dominance; he radiated calm.
"He looks... harmless," Yeonjun murmured, though his heart hammered a rhythm that contradicted his bored tone.
"Don't let the 'nerd' aesthetic fool you, Jun," Beomgyu cautioned as they filtered into the seminar hall. "That’s a Pureblood Alpha. He just doesn't feel the need to scream it."
They took their usual seats in the middle row but Yeonjun’s focus was pulled magnetically to the front. Soobin was sitting three rows down, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he organized his notebooks.
As the room settled, a new scent began to drift through the recycled air. It wasn't the stinging, artificial cinnamon Yeonjun wore like armor. It was the smell of damp earth after a rainstorm, laced with a sharp, cooling hit of wild mint. It was grounded, refreshing and for an Omega currently fighting his own biology—terrifyingly inviting.
Beomgyu nudged him, leaning in until their shoulders touched. "See what I told you? He’s not like the others. He doesn't have that 'predator' look in his eyes."
Yeonjun kept his gaze fixed on the back of Soobin’s dark hair, his jaw tight. "He’s still an Alpha, Gyu. They’re all the same once they get what they want."
Beomgyu’s voice softened, losing its usual playful edge. "I’m really worried for you, Jun. The suppressants... I can see them taking a toll. You look tired. Your scent is starting to leak through the blockers more often. Maybe... maybe you should talk to him? I have a feeling about this guy. I bet he’d keep your secret if you just had someone to—"
"To what? To 'claim' me?" Yeonjun hissed, his eyes flashing with a spark of the Alpha persona he had cultivated.
"No," Beomgyu countered gently. "To help you breathe."
The professor tapped a marker against the whiteboard, the sharp clack-clack echoing through the hall and cutting off their conversation. Yeonjun sank lower into his seat, the scent of mint and rain clouding his senses, making his skin feel two sizes too small.
"I’ll think about it," Yeonjun whispered, more to himself than to Beomgyu.
The lecture ended with the heavy scrape of chairs and the sudden, frantic energy of a hundred students rushing for the exits. Yeonjun tried to maintain his usual composed stride but the air in the room felt heavy—saturated with that grounding, rain-dampened earth scent that seemed to be pulling at his very marrow.
A few rows ahead, Soobin was leaning over a desk, a small, folded piece of paper in his hand. He was passing a note to a fellow Biology major, his expression soft and attentive. He looked so devastatingly normal that it made Yeonjun’s chest ache with a sudden, sharp pang of envy.
"Jun, wait up!" Beomgyu called out but Yeonjun was already moving, his eyes fixed on the door.
Then, the chaos of the crowd surged. A group of rowdy underclassmen, eager to make it to the cafeteria before the line snaked out the door, came barreling down the aisle. One of them collided with Yeonjun’s shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling sideways.
He didn't hit the floor. Instead, he crashed straight into a solid, warm chest.
Large, steady hands immediately caught his shoulders, anchoring him. The touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, lacking the rough, possessive grip Yeonjun usually associated with Alphas.
"Whoa, easy there," a deep, velvety voice vibrated against the air.
Yeonjun looked up, his breath hitching. Close up, Soobin was even more striking—his skin looked like porcelain and those dimples were faint even when he wasn't fully smiling. But it was the scent that did the damage. Without the distance of the lecture hall to dilute it, the smell of cool mint and calm rain flooded Yeonjun’s system like a tidal wave. It was clean, honest and overwhelmingly Alpha.
"Are you okay?" Soobin asked, his head tilting slightly. His eyes searched Yeonjun’s, filled with a genuine, quiet concern that felt far more dangerous than any overt threat.
For a terrifying second, Yeonjun’s knees buckled. A phantom heat, sparked by the pure proximity to a compatible Alpha, licked at the base of his spine. His inner Omega—the part of him he kept starved and chained—practically purred at the contact.
Run, his brain screamed. Before he smells the sugar under the cinnamon.
"Yeah. Thanks," Yeonjun managed to choke out. His voice was breathless, betraying the "Alpha" persona he worked so hard to maintain.
He didn't wait for a response. He wrenched himself out of Soobin’s hold, the loss of warmth leaving him feeling suddenly, violently cold. He shoved through the remaining students, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He didn't stop until he reached the sanctuary of the restroom, his hands trembling as he splashed cold water on his face, trying to drown out the lingering scent of rain and mint.
Soobin stood in the thinning crowd of the lecture hall, his hands still tingling from the brief, solid weight of the other man’s shoulders. He watched the retreating back of Choi Yeonjun—the institutions "Apex Alpha" and felt a profound sense of cognitive dissonance.
Before Soobin had even joined a lecture, he had been briefed on the campus hierarchy. “Stay out of Yeonjun’s way,” a well-meaning peer had warned him over coffee. “He’s a dominant Alpha with a temper as sharp as his jawline. He smells like a spice market and acts like he owns the sidewalk.”
But as Soobin looked down at his palms, the mental image of the "aggressive Alpha" didn't fit the reality he had just touched.
As a Biology major, Soobin lived for data and the data he just gathered was... 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨.
When he’d caught Yeonjun, he hadn't felt the bristling, territorial snarl of a rival Alpha.Instead, he’d felt Yeonjun’s knees buckle. He’d seen a flash of something in those cat-like eyes that looked suspiciously like yearning before it was shuttered by panic.
Yeonjun's scent was the real puzzle. Up close, the "spicy cinnamon" everyone raved about felt like a loud, distorted radio signal—overpowering and artificial. But underneath that static, in the heat radiating from the crook of Yeonjun’s neck, Soobin had caught a whisper of something else.
It was faint—so subtle he might have imagined it but it was there: a soft, creamy vanilla. It was the scent of sun-warmed skin and powdered sugar.
𝘝𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢? Soobin adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowing in thought.
In every textbook he’d ever studied, Alphas carried musk, wood, smoke or spice. They were meant to be grounding or sharp. Sweetness—true, organic sweetness was the biological hallmark of an Omega. An Alpha with a vanilla undertone was a physiological impossibility.
Soobin wasn't the type to gossip but he was the type to observe. He remembered the way Yeonjun had practically bolted from the room, his movements frantic rather than offended.
He’s terrified, Soobin realized, a strange tightness forming in his own chest. That wasn't the behavior of a dominant male protecting his pride. That was someone running before they were seen.
Soobin reached down and picked up his bag, his mind already whirring with questions he knew he shouldn't ask. He was a "nerd," sure but he was also a Pureblood. His instincts were finely tuned and right now, those instincts were telling him that the most feared Alpha on campus was wrapped in a beautiful, elaborate lie.
"Spicy cinnamon and vanilla," Soobin murmured to himself, a small, intrigued smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're a very interesting person, Choi Yeonjun."
The cool water hadn't been enough to drown out the phantom sensation of Soobin’s hands on his skin. Yeonjun stepped out of the washroom, his skin pale and his eyes slightly blown out from the adrenaline and the chemical surge of the extra suppressants he’d just downed.
Beomgyu was leaning against the lockers, his arms crossed and his expression uncharacteristically somber. As soon as he saw Yeonjun, he pushed off the metal.
"Why did you run away like that?" Beomgyu asked, his voice low enough to avoid prying ears. "You looked like you’d seen a ghost, Jun."
Yeonjun leaned his back against the wall, his chest still heaving slightly. He shook his head, the sharp blonde strands of his hair falling over his eyes. "I don’t know. He didn't even do anything. He didn't force his scent, he wasn't aggressive... but my body just reacted. My knees literally gave out, Gyu. I’m scared. If he’d stayed a second longer, I think I would have purred."
The admission was a heavy confession, a crack in the armor he’d worn for years.
Beomgyu didn’t offer a witty comeback or a teasing remark about the "nerdy" Alpha.Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Yeonjun in a tight, protective embrace. As a fellow Omega, Beomgyu knew the biological terror of losing control.
He leaned his head against Yeonjun’s shoulder, intentionally releasing a soothing wave of his own scent—warm toffee and salted caramel. It was a grounding, domestic fragrance, designed by nature to comfort and stabilize.
"Breathe, Yeonjun," Beomgyu whispered into the fabric of Yeonjun’s jacket. "I’ve got you. You’re still in control."
Yeonjun closed his eyes, letting the sweetness of his best friend’s scent act as an anchor, pulling him back from the edge of a sensory meltdown. Slowly, the trembling in his hands subsided. The artificial cinnamon he wore began to settle back over the top of his natural, sugary pheromones like a heavy blanket.
"Better?" Beomgyu asked, pulling back just enough to look Yeonjun in the eye.
Yeonjun nodded, a small, tired exhale escaping his lips. "Yeah. Better. Thanks, Gyu."
Beomgyu’s lips quirked into a small, playful smile, his usual mischievous energy returning now that the crisis had passed. He reached out and adjusted Yeonjun’s collar, making sure his scent patches were perfectly hidden.
"Good. Now, let’s get out of here," Beomgyu said, nodding toward the restroom door. "Before the local Alphas start wandering over here wondering why the hallway suddenly smells like a pastry shop."
Yeonjun let out a dry, shaky laugh. "Right. Cinnamon and caramel. We’re basically a walking bakery."
As they started walking toward the campus exit, Yeonjun felt a little more like himself.But deep down, a new fear took root. If his body reacted that violently to a single touch from Soobin, how was he supposed to survive an entire semester sitting in the same room as him?
The next morning, the university was buzzing with its usual low-frequency static. As Soobin navigated the crowded corridors, his mind wasn't on his upcoming Bio-statistics quiz. Instead, he was filtering the air, searching for a specific, biting note of cinnamon that he now knew was a curtain hiding something much softer.
He had a legitimate excuse to seek him out: the Chemistry lab. Their professor had offhandedly mentioned pairing students from different majors for the upcoming synthesis project and Soobin’s name was listed right next to Yeonjun’s.
As Soobin walked, he couldn't help but overhear the snippets of conversation trailing behind him.
𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘢𝘺?𝘠𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘨𝘶𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴.
𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘰𝘮𝘨𝘺𝘶 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥.𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳.
𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?𝘈𝘯 𝘈𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘖𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦?𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.
Soobin adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, his expression unreadable. To the outside world, the logic was simple: Alphas and Omegas only bonded through romance or biology. The idea of a platonic, protective friendship between the two was a concept most students couldn't grasp. But Soobin recalled the way Beomgyu had looked at Yeonjun yesterday—it wasn't the look of a lover. It was the look of a sentry guarding a treasure.
He finally spotted Yeonjun near the end of the Science wing. Yeonjun was alone for once, his lithe frame leaned against his locker as he pulled out a heavy stack of textbooks. He looked impeccable as always—leather jacket, blonde hair perfectly swept back but there was a slight tension in the set of his shoulders that hadn't been there the day before.
Soobin took a steadying breath, his own scent of rain-drenched earth—flaring slightly with his nervous energy. He didn't want to startle the other man again.
"Yeonjun?" Soobin called out softly, stopping a respectful few feet away.
Yeonjun stiffened. He didn't turn around immediately; he stayed frozen for a second, his fingers gripping the edge of his locker door until his knuckles turned white. When he finally turned, his "Alpha" mask was firmly in place—sharp, cold and devastatingly beautiful.
"The new guy," Yeonjun drawled, though his eyes weren't meeting Soobin’s. They were fixed somewhere near Soobin’s collarbone. "Looking for a tour? Or did you get lost on your way to the library?"
"Actually, I was looking for you," Soobin said, offering a small, tentative smile that made his dimples peek out. He noticed Yeonjun’s nostrils flare slightly, as if he were trying and failing—to ignore Soobin’s scent. "We’ve been paired for the Chemistry lab project. I thought we should probably coordinate our schedules."
Yeonjun finally shifted his gaze upward, his dark eyes clashing with Soobin’s calm, steady ones. For a heartbeat, the hallway noise seemed to fade into the background.
"Lab partners," Yeonjun repeated, his voice dropping an octave. He looked at Soobin’s oversized glasses and the neat way his pens were clipped to his bag. "Great. I get stuck with the nerd."
Despite the insult, Soobin didn't flinch. He noticed the way Yeonjun’s hand was trembling almost imperceptibly as he held his chemistry book.
"I'm a very helpful nerd," Soobin countered gently, stepping just one inch closer. "I heard you’re the best in the class. I’d hate to be the one to bring your GPA down."
The air between them felt like it was thickening, turning into a physical weight that Yeonjun’s lungs couldn't quite process. Every time Soobin spoke, the scent of wild mint and rain pulsed stronger, acting like a chemical sedative on Yeonjun’s nerves.
It was terrifying. For years, Yeonjun had prided himself on being the one in control, the one who dictated the atmosphere of a room. But standing here, even with three feet of linoleum between them, he felt his "Alpha" resolve melting. His vision blurred at the edges, his focus narrowing down to the movement of Soobin’s lips and the steady, calm rhythm of the taller man’s breathing.
"𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦." Yeonjun thought frantically. "𝘐𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵."
"Thanks for... helping," Yeonjun muttered, the words sounding foreign even to him. He fumbled with his locker, the metal clattering loudly as he tried to shut it with shaking hands.
"Wait, Yeonjun—" Soobin started, sensing the sudden spike of distress in the other man's posture.
Before Soobin could reach out, a bright, sharp presence cut through the heavy tension. Beomgyu appeared as if out of thin air, sliding into the space next to Yeonjun with a calculated, fluid grace. He draped a heavy arm over Yeonjun’s shoulders, pulling him flush against his side.
Beomgyu didn't just stand there; he made a statement. He took a deep breath and intentionally flooded the immediate vicinity with his scent—thick, sweet toffee and salted caramel. It was an aggressive, protective display, a "marking" of space that was meant to mask Yeonjun’s scent and push Soobin back.
"Is there a problem here?" Beomgyu asked, his voice melodic but edged with a warning. He looked Soobin up and down, his eyes narrowing.
Soobin blinked, taken aback by the sudden territorial display. "No problem. I was just talking to Yeonjun about our Chemistry project. I'm Soobin."
"Cool. I'm Beomgyu," the Omega replied, not softening his stance one bit. He could feel Yeonjun trembling under his arm, could smell the tiny, frantic leaks of vanilla beginning to seep through the cinnamon blockers. "We've got a class to get to. You can talk to him later."
"I... yeah. Sure," Soobin said, his gaze lingering on Yeonjun’s slumped shoulders for a beat too long. He could smell the caramel from Beomgyu but he was still searching for that whisper of vanilla he’d caught the day before.
"Let's go, Jun," Beomgyu whispered, his voice turning tender as he began to steer Yeonjun away.
As they walked down the hall, Yeonjun didn't look back. He couldn't. He was too busy trying to remember how to be the "Alpha" while his heart felt like it was still back at the locker, trapped in a puddle of rain and mint.
The afternoon sun bled through the high windows of the Science wing, casting long, golden shadows across the lockers. When Yeonjun reached for his bag, a small, square object slid out from the metal slats and fluttered to the floor.
It was a packet of high-grade scent-neutralizing tea—the expensive kind usually reserved for Omegas who suffered from chronic hormonal flares. Taped to the front was a small, hand-drawn note: a simple, round bunny with a shy smile.
Yeonjun’s heart did a traitorous little flip. For a split second, the mask melted, his chest tightening with a warmth he hadn't felt from anyone other than his mother or Beomgyu. But then, the cold logic of survival kicked in.
"𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦?" Yeonjun wondered, his grip tightening on the tea.
"𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘢?"
Yeonjun found him in the quietest corner of the library, surrounded by stacks of biology journals. Soobin looked peaceful, the soft light catching the frames of his glasses.
"What's your problem?" Yeonjun hissed, slamming the tea packet onto the table.
Soobin jumped, his eyes wide and blinking. "Oh... hi, Yeonjun."
"Are you messing with me?" Yeonjun leaned down, his face inches from Soobin’s, trying to use his "spicy" scent to intimidate him. "What is this supposed to mean? The tea?"
Soobin didn't flinch. He didn't even release a defensive scent. He just looked at Yeonjun with those impossibly soft, dark eyes. "No," he said quietly. "Why would I mess with you?"
The sincerity in his voice acted like a bucket of ice water on Yeonjun’s fire. Up close, the scent was like a physical weight, pressing against Yeonjun’s chest and demanding to relax. His legs felt heavy again. Deflated, Yeonjun pulled out the chair and sank into it, his bravado vanishing.
"Thanks for the tea," he muttered, looking at his hands.
Soobin’s expression transformed. A small, genuine smile broke across his face, and there they were—the dimples. "You’re welcome. You looked... sick yesterday. Like you were in pain. My mom used to make that tea when she had bad migraines, so I thought it might help you feel less tense."
Yeonjun studied him. He looked for a smirk, a glint of "I caught you," or even a hint of Alpha dominance. He found nothing. Soobin didn't mention the vanilla scent; he didn't mention the way Yeonjun had buckled. He treated it like a simple act of kindness from one student to another.
"𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨." Yeonjun told himself, his pulse finally slowing down.
"Right," Yeonjun said, standing up abruptly.The chair screeched against the floor, drawing a 'shh' from the librarian. "Sorry for disturbing you. I... I have to go."
He walked out of the library with his head held high but the tea packet was tucked securely in his pocket. He told himself he’d throw it away but even as he walked, his fingers traced the edges of the little bunny drawing.
That night, the apartment was quiet. The low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of his mother,Youngjae, humming a tune in the kitchen were the only things breaking the silence.
Yeonjun sat on the edge of his bed, the small tea packet resting in his palm. He had spent the last hour staring at it. His logical side screamed that it was a risk—that taking anything from an Alpha was a breach of his own security protocol. But his body felt like it was vibrating under his skin, a dull, aching heat that even the strongest suppressants couldn't quite reach.
He finally stood up and went to the kitchen.
"Is that a new brand, Jun?" Youngjae asked, looking up from the dishes. He caught the scent of the dried herbs as Yeonjun tore open the packet. "It looks... expensive. And smells calming."
"A classmate gave it to me," Yeonjun said, keeping his voice neutral. "He thought I looked stressed."
Youngjae’s eyes softened, a flicker of worry crossing his face before he masked it with a smile. "That was kind of him. Drink it while it’s hot."
As the water boiled, the aroma filled the small kitchen. It wasn't the usual chemical, medicinal smell of his suppressants. It was herbal—dried lavender, chamomile and something cool that reminded him of 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.
Yeonjun took his mug back to his room and sat by the window. He took a cautious sip.
The effect was almost instantaneous. It wasn't like a pill that numbed him; it was like a warm hand smoothing out the jagged edges of his nerves. As the liquid traveled down his throat, the "phantom heat" in his lower back—the one that had been simmering ever since Soobin touched his shoulders—began to recede.
Yeonjun leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. For the first time in years, he didn't feel like he was fighting a war against his own biology. His inner Omega, usually a frantic, pacing creature behind bars, finally curled up and went to sleep.
"He really is just a nerd," Yeonjun whispered to the empty room.
He pulled the crumpled note out of his pocket. In the dim light of his desk lamp, the hand-drawn bunny looked even more ridiculous and even more sincere. There was no way an Alpha with an agenda would go through the trouble of finding a specific, Omega-soothing tea and drawing a bunny on it.
Unless...
Yeonjun’s eyes snapped open. The tea wasn't just calming him; it was 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 him. Usually, his suppressants left a bitter, metallic tang in his scent, which he then had to cover with the spicy cinnamon spray. But this tea was making his natural scent disappear entirely, leaving him smelling like nothing but clean skin.
It was the perfect camouflage.
"Who are you, Choi Soobin?" he wondered, his fingers tracing the rim of the mug.
Yeonjun didn't feel the immediate urge to run away. He felt curious. And as he finished the last of the tea, he realized he wasn't just dreading the Chemistry lab tomorrow. He was actually looking forward to it.