Chapter Text
Yeonjun had a perfect family, to begin with. Alright, almost. They still have their flaws: like not being there during his most important childhood moments enough that he knows at age 4, not to expect his parents are going to be there for him when he wakes up from a nightmare or a particularly loud thunderstorm that shook up half of the house. They make up for it every chance they got, so Yeonjun doesn’t keep revenge. He savours every bit of hugs and smooches that his parents showered him with, all the presents and time they gave because he knows that’s the only chances he could afford.
Over time, he finds that he matured a tad bit faster than his peers. On the dependency for the family part, noticeably so. He didn’t cry like his classmates when their parents dropped them off on their first day of primary school. At least they had their parents do that. His chauffeur came in as a representation instead, which he doesn’t mind that much. Namjoon could have skipped the sunglasses, though. It makes him seems too intimidating.
He didn’t beg the wardens to let him off the hook and go home during weekends like any other students in boarding school. His parents weren’t there at home, to begin with. He’ll just be spending time watching TV and wandering around in his mother’s garden instead of doing something productive with his teenage time (the woes of being the only child).
He didn’t mind the hundred miles gap from his parents when he received the acceptance letter from T University. His mother had a rather upset look hinting in her eyes and eyebrows, barely concealed by the curls of her hair. His father didn’t do any better, eyes going watery the second Yeonjun said “Oh, okay then” and at that split moment of rareness, Yeonjun was reminded like a punch in the guts that his parents still do love him, even though their effort in presenting him with that isn’t really plausible. He’ll give them A+ for sincerity (C+ for effort).
So, for his first step in college, he is not foreign to the thoughts of self-reliance (if he has the honour of regarding himself with that) on most of the things that were done by his housemaids and findings things out for himself. He is not a stranger to how the world works and he adapts quickly, a trait of his father that his mother often boasts about to this one child of hers.
Easy to say, it doesn’t occur to Yeonjun’s mind that he would have someone to depend on for anything, even on the whereabouts of the lecture’s notes. At least, not in the far future.
Peculiar about this word he’s living in, there is a system established worldwide since the times human beings existed. The Alpha-Beta-Omega system does not leave anyone independent, no matter how long they have lived their life, no matter how close one is to their death, there will come a day where their soul depends on the very existence of a significant other: a soulmate.
“Yeonjun hyung,” Yeonjun’s first instinct when he hears Beomgyu’s mischievous voice drawing close, is to place a palm square on the younger’s face just before he could wrap his entire frame around himself.
“Hands off, kid. I still won’t forgive you for biting me the other day,” he says through gritted teeth. Beomgyu’s pout is dangerous (he’s quoting from Taehyun) but Yeonjun stares at him flatly. “Will it hurt for you to let a dongsaeng shower you with affection?”
“The last time I did, you tainted two of my fingers with your dirty saliva.”
“You were pointing at me!”
“It was a peace sign!”
Yeonjun, despite his reluctance on relying on others for the sake of his own entertainment, he had unexpectedly found himself sought after by two of his classmates, Beomgyu and Soobin, more often than he could count in the last few months. By now, the thoughts of them calling him “Yeonjun, my man!” out loud from 10 meters away doesn’t reel him backwards anymore.
He still needs to have that fixed, though. Maybe he should make a run for it every time they see him outside of class before Beomgyu gets nasty stares for being so effing obnoxious and calling him out without honorifics.
“I really would rather have you control yourself more, Beomgyu. What would your girlfriend thinks if you come to her smelling like one of your unmated friends?” they are waiting for the class to clear out after the morning lecture ended, still too sleepy to squeeze through the sea that is his 80 classmates flooding out of the room when he could be out in a matter of minutes later.
“Then she’s got to understand that I am a very affectionate friend that needs to shower his lonely unaffectionate friend with love. I give her kisses all the time,” sensing that the older is sleepy beyond his own comprehension, Beomgyu drags him up the stairs of the lecture hall by the hem of his hoodie, Yeonjun still having his eyes half-closed.
Biochemistry really do just suck out the very life out of him even a quarter through lecture. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive for the half of the semester. “Besides, she adores you beyond belief. She won’t mind that, especially since you still haven’t presented yet,” ah, that also. The thing about Yeonjun’s condition. There have been numerous cases where one’s status is presented behind schedule, when it should have during their 18th birthday, by the time the clock strikes 12 midnight. It’s usually different for everyone how it occurs, whether it is the experience, the changes of appearance by the time morning comes, behavioural adjustments., or the general time itself. Changes according just to their newly acquired status.
Strangely for Yeonjun, right at his 18th birthday, even the morning after, nothing changes. Not even in his appearance. All is very much the same thing. His scent is still the same soft mellow dew, his hair still the same slick black, his attitude couldn’t be said any better. The doctor had come up with ‘late presenter’, because his hormones were all over the places, his growth not blooming where the starting points should have been, his mind and body not really coming to senses about this system that encompasses the entire world.
He sensed back then how disappointed his parents were, since both were Alphas of a rather highly looked-upon ranks, both respected and respectful for what they are and do. He supposed they had some expectations from him because of this. Regardless, they didn’t comment any further, just gave him a wistful and a soft “When it happens, you’ll know. We can’t tell you exactly how it feels because that’s for you to find out. But whatever happens, you’re still our son. Always been no matter who you are.”
(He might have burst a big fat tear or two when he got up to his bedroom that very night they told him that, but whatever.)
He’s 21, now. It’s been 3 whole years yet nothing takes place, for whatever it’s worth. Yeonjun gets tired of waiting and he’s probably forgotten about it until Beomgyu reminded him of it just now. A frown quickly settles on his forehead, a kind of feeling he could not makes senses of washing over his head and Beomgyu, quickly catching on the shift to his scent, whips his head around, mouth agape.
“Ah, hyung. I didn’t mean—” he’s quick to apologize, guilt pouring over his face but Yeonjun dismisses it. “It’s nothing. If something like this upsets me, then I should have gotten a lover sooner.”
“But…” Yeonjun stares at the younger, disliking the unusual look of dejection adorning him because of this supposedly-sensitive matter. Being a late presenter is one thing. Not having a soulmate is another. One thing led to another. It’s not uncommon, but the thoughts, this anecdote has become a significant doctrine enough that seeing one in a daily basis is bizarre. Especially coming from someone like him.
Someone like Choi Yeonjun who is expected to hold the Alpha tittle during his first year in college, whispered about even among his own peers and seniors. An expectation he couldn’t say he never saw coming but still.
It’s annoying, at some point.
“If you’re so guilty about it, buy me butter biscuits,” Yeonjun pushes at Beomgyu’s back to get him walking up, eager to get this topic somewhere else. “But it’s the only thing you get whenever I’m treating you.”
“Then would you have rather me ask you for 4th grade grilled meat?”
Before Beomgyu could slam the door open because of how Yeonjun tries to push him hastily, something smacks at the door from outside at Beomgyu’s force and they both gasp aloud, a few seconds of freezing in their spots ensues, scrambling to pull the door back in once they've gained their senses and peeking their heads out to see if they had slammed the door on someone’s face.
A guy holds the door with the back of his forearm, long fringes curtaining sharp slanted eyes as they eye the both of them. He looks surprised. Beomgyu shrieks in mortification. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, man! Are you hurt?” they get out, the guy withdrawing his arm away before Beomgyu could take a hold of it with a smile on his face, soft.
“Nothing. It’s okay, no one’s hurt,” Yeonjun doesn’t know whether he’s more distracted by the bright neon blue pullover this guy is wearing or the fricking long hair he’s got hanging shyly over the apples of his cheeks.
“But maybe you could open the door more gently the next time? In case,” the guy grins rather sheepishly despite the advice given, Beomgyu laughing in return to cover his own embarrassment. “Sorry, my friend was in a hurry and made me do it.”
Yeonjun gives him a disbelieving eye. “Are you seriously putting this on me now?”
The guy, lips thin and eyes still hidden behind his curtain bangs, cracks a final smile to them before going his merry way, Beomgyu and Yeonjun both reeling back at the pungent scent trailing from his back.
“Hoeee, his scent,” Beomgyu slaps at the air in front of his face like the scent had just manifested themselves into tiny annoying flies. Yeonjun scrunches his nose, mind blank from the slightly powering tinge. “It’s even stronger than my always self-asserting uncle.”
“Who do you think that was?”
“Don’t know?” Beomgyu shrugs, opening his arms wide happily when Yeonjun prods at his arms, wrapping his arms around the older tight so that he could snuggle up all the scent Beomgyu gives out as much as he could.
It’s always like this. Even though Beomgyu is a beta, Yeonjun would always come find him whenever someone had come too close into his personal bubble, or when someone’s scent had deterred him a bit too much out of his own conscience, relishing in the familiarity and comfort only Beomgyu could afford him with.
“But that is a one, big Alpha,” Beomgyu comments, rubbing at Yeonjun’s shoulder blades like how he likes it. Yeonjun presses his face into his shoulder, ignoring the curious eyes passing by them. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, just. You just kinda know when someone is at a whole another level than you. Besides, who could have exude such aura if not a powerful Alpha?”