Chapter Text
Except for the times he gets toyed with in a way that leaves his skin burning with anger or when he starts to remember the aching dullness of childhood days spent in Changwon, Wonwoo is pretty proud to admit that he rarely looses his cool. Which might be nothing to pride oneself on but with the number of times he’s been on the receiving end of snappy remarks and aggravating gestures, he considers it an accomplishment. Not that he hasn’t exploded a couple of times, two very violent fights that he would rather not have come to mind, edge themselves into his heart and haunt his dreams, but other than that he does like peace and as Mingyu always says him “being a creature of habit does help in keeping trouble away.”
Keyword being help. So no, fate still hasn’t relented.
A fact that becomes clearer as, currently at 5 pm in his bookstore during a particularly busy Monday, not his favourite day of the week he’ll admit, he’s dealing with who must be the biggest condescending asshole ever. As if Wonwoo hasn’t slept in two days. As if he hasn’t explained five times already that no, they don’t have a copy of ‘Lord of the Rings’ in German in the storage and yes, he’s sure he has looked through everything even the volumes that are written in Korean (as if there would magically be a mix-matched book in the shelves). As if the customer wasn’t using his alpha pheromones trying to make him submit. On Wonwoo, an alpha. As if Wonwoo has actually time for this bullshit. For fuck’s sake.
“For the last time,” - he sighs while rubbing his temple with his left hand - “we don’t have what you’re looking for. You’re free to order it on our website and pick it up in the store, but as of now we don’t have a copy of ‘Der Herr der Ringe’. I must apologize”, this said through gritted teeth because he’ll be damned if he meant that halfass apology. But alas morons will be morons and Wonwoo thinks this might be some sort of divine punishment because he ditched Junhui and Seungcheol yesterday to play Overwatch all night, with some lame pretext along the lines of him having a really early work morning.
“You idiotic loser, I know you have a copy of this stupid book in this shitty bookstore, why don’t we just get it over with so that your life will be easier. Unless you want me to get really mad and talk to your manager?”, as soon as those words leave the other’s lips, he’s pretty sure that yes, this is God’s way to let him know he should stop lying and no, this won’t be a day where he gets to lose his temper. He’ll rather walk on burning coals than give in or be provoked by this testosterone filled excuse of an alpha with a knot the size of a pea and as much brain as a fucking goldfish.
He’s more annoyed than angry though, which doesn’t make him want to punch this guy in the face but merely shove him through the door he came from. It is still bad if you think about it. So, with the coolest voice he can manage as a last attempt to pacify this scum of a man, he looks him in the eyes and slowly talks. “Sir, I’ve told you six times already that the book you’re looking for is neither in the storage nor on display at the moment, but you can still purchase it online and then pick it up here. And there’s no need to preoccupy yourself with calling the manager or the owner or whoever you think a higher-up might be, because he’s standing right in front of you. So, thank you for your time and have a good day.”
And there must have been some positive divine retribution left for him because the piece of shit just decides to huff and curse out loud while heading out for the door, but not before throwing a dirty look at him one last time. Wonwoo takes what he can get. He starts organizing the romance books session once again, seeing as there had been a group of teenage girls before standing in front of it and squealing like, you guessed it, teenage girls. They were all doe eyed, sneaking glances and trying not to blush while they read stupid love declarations made on rainy nights and gushing to each other about never-ending love and fate. Which he supposes was cute to see even for him, although he finds the concept of such an abstract feeling too foreign on his fingertips and lips.
But he can see the appeal at that age of having fleeting crushes and all the emotional wrecks they come with, the way hands curl around each other, furtive longing looks are exchanged and your name from the other’s lips feeling like a prayer has been answered. He’s not speaking from personal experience, don’t get him wrong, it’s just the way Seungcheol and Mingyu have been since forever more.
Which brings him back to now, he doesn’t mind the girls and their antics, they come pretty often to purchase new books (and to blush in front of him, while loudly admitting to their friends afterwards that “I’m pretty sure he is head over heels for me” to which the others would either vehemently agree to or say to drop the delusional acts because he can hear them, it doesn’t help that although amusing, he hopes they would stop talking so loudly), he just wishes they would put the books in their place after they’re done.
As he kneels to sort the romantic thrillers on the lower shelves a sudden ding resonates in the mostly empty shop. And as soon as Wonwoo gets a whiff of cinnamon and oranges muffled by a scent of burning sandalwood, he knows Mingyu’s here. He turns around in time to see the taller guy waving at him and coming closer with big steps.
“Hey Wonwoo-hyung, how’s it going?” he says this while curiously darting his eyes around and smiling at himself in that stupid lovesick way when he notices the pile of books currently in his lap. He’so disgustingly in love, god. To help you understand the deadpan expression he’s sporting now, one should explain the reason for the sudden change in Wonwoo’s face. It being that Seungcheol’s favourite genre of literature is romantic thrillers, a fact known by Mingyu (and Wonwoo) which consequentially explains, why this whole awestruck dumb princess-knight in shining armor dynamic his friends have, does get boring at times. But he digresses, so. “It was fine until you came in reeking of your boyfriend as if you just had a fuck-a-thon and gracing me with your presence. I was calmly cleaning up here.”
Mingyu just rolls his eyes at that, too used to his demeanour and knowing the alpha’s too fond of his friend to mean anything bad by it. He comes closer and sits down on the chair reserved for children while crossing his legs. “First of all I’ll let you know, that yes, I did have a ‘fuck-a-thon’ with my mate, thank- Hey stop grimacing like that, I’m not apologizing for having a healthy sex life.” At this he had to retaliate, so he just says “Why, oh why, do you have to tell me this? Just say the actual reason for your visit.” Don’t let it be what I think it is, it’s the last thing I need right now.
Contrary to his fears, the dark-haired omega just smiles and starts rambling “Well, today’s mine and Cheolies 7th anniversary and I decided that since you’re a miserable self-loathing creature you could maybe take care of Kkuma while the love of my life takes me on a date at a fancy restaurant, to, what I can only assume from the constant nervousness and the not so carefully hidden bill from Tiffany’s, pop the question. Finally, might I add. So please, will you do this huge favour for the future husband of your bestest and most trustful friend? If you say no, I will make sure to disclose to the internet your very embarrassing drunken rendition of ‘Girls just wanna have fun’.”
Stunned as he may be, so actually less than what he might have thought, Wonwoo just bangs his head on the wall beside him a few times. “Doesn’t it erase the whole romance factor if you know about the proposal? And don’t you dare tell me I’m shit at keeping secrets because obviously, it’s not me who wasn’t attentive enough. But yeah, I will take care of her for today while you two finally tie the knot. Please spare yourself the joke.” The last sentence made him feel a little better as he watches Mingyu deflate, after his hopes of making one of the most childlike puns ever got crushed. “So, you’ll pick her up in two hours?”
Wonwoo sends a telepathic insult to his best friend as he once again looks the taller in the eyes, “Two hours? Are you insane? I have to organize some other shit and close in about an hour. Then I have to go home to get my apartment ready for Kkuma and also take a quick shower because I refuse to take your dog on a walk while not smelling fresh and your building is a 15-minute walk from mine! I don’t have that much time you dumbfuck.” Not really an outburst since he didn’t yell or anything, but what is Mingyu even thinking? Two hours are not enough.
“Thank you hyung, you’re the sweetest. I love you. You’ll be the best man at the wedding.” The smile on the other is almost blinding and the little mole on his nose gets scrunched up from the impact of his happiness. After making it known that he apparently doesn’t give a fuck that Wonwoo will have to do everything at record speed he waves a hasty goodbye and runs towards the exit. Maybe this is the leftover karma from lying.
But he genuinely is happy for his friends as obnoxious as they may be, so he doesn’t really mind if he has to sacrifice his relaxing half-hour shower to go and pick up Kkuma, besides he really likes that dog, he can’t help but be fond of cute things. Huffing one last time for good measure, he goes to tend to the peonies and magnolias in front of the store by watering them and cutting off some dry leaves. There are three customers in total inside and he doubts the elderly couple or the little kid with them, probably their nephew, would do anything bad. So, as they are occupied with choosing what seems to be a French version of ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’ he allows himself a few minutes out in the sun.
Looking at the soft petals of the flowers, he begins to think about what life might have been if he hadn’t decided to open his bookstore four years ago. The darkness would probably already have consumed him, ripping his soul out and leaving him to tend to his open wounds with scarred hands. He would be in Seoul working a 9 to 5 job as a prosecutor, not really living but not being dead either. He is happy now; he doesn’t regret for one second bloody screams and painful tears. He is happy now, with his friends, with his job, and with his flowers. Even if some buds on his heart are waiting to bloom, distant mirages of what ifs and have beens.
But life is as fleeting and delicate as the same petals he’s caressing now. You pull too hard, and they crumple down and wilt right before your eyes. Pretty things shouldn’t be touched by darkness and Wonwoo knows. He knows that’s what he is, a person holding down to what he has because other people are offering him a hand and he is gripping them so tight they might break, but when you get a taste of sunlight you become greedy and let yourself burn. He is aware his past is the only thing holding him back from enjoying and allowing himself to dwell in utter contentment, but he makes do with the little things in life. Like flowers.
After his train of thought gets interrupted by a little hand grabbing at his pants, Wonwoo turns his gaze to the blonde boy staring at him with shining eyes. “Mister, could you come inside? I would like to buy this book”, he holds the volume with his other hand, and it almost slips from his grasp, before he reaches for it with the one hand that was on the alpha’s clothes. He just smiles while nodding and goes back to the register.
After he scans the product and offers a candy to the kid, he sees his last customers going away hand in hand. He supposes they do make a nice picture, the grandparents staring at their nephew and the boy giggling loudly while telling his “grand-père” that he can’t wait to hear all about the mischievous book boy’s adventures. He wonders if in another universe, the hands that used to caress his are still finding their way back to them. No more of this.
Wonwoo is left alone to close the bookstore and walk to his apartment when the last rays of sunshine paint the sky a bright red and orange. He’s reminded of the tangerines he loved to eat as a child and the first time he met Seungcheol that chilly summer afternoon. Iksan’s sky casts a vivid hue on his face and he briefly stops to admire it when he reaches the last street corner that leads to his building. The little blooming garden in front of the old coffee shop is shining with daisies and baby breaths that gently sway with the evening breeze. Spring is here.
And maybe it is fate or maybe the world is beginning to end because as he continues to walk and is a few steps away from the opening of the main gate of his apartment complex, Wonwoo faints. And the last thing he remembers for the forty minutes he spends passed out there, is the smell of lavender and honey so enchantingly sweet and potent, he briefly dreams about dwelling inside it forever.
But alas, his neighbour knocks him out of his state of unconsciousness and he has to pull himself together when presented with the worried look on the older’s face. The man offers a hand to help Wonwoo stand up. While he himself is still dazed, the other doesn’t waste the chance to question him, “My my, I would think you’ve been drinking, but let’s be realistic here young man. You’re not the type to. Are you alright? Did you have a heat stroke? But it’s not even that hot outsid-” As Wonwoo pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, he remembers that one, the only thing he drank today was the apple juice at 6 am and two, he has no idea what time it is, but he needs to get away from Mr. Choi if he wants to make it in time to Kkuma.
To escape the never-ending string of questions he decides to take matters into his own hands, so as he starts gesturing the way to his floor he says “Thank you for your concern uncle, but I think it was just a sugar drop and the best cure to this is to just eat something and rest. I must go now but don’t forget to say hello to your wife for me.” He thinks he hears a few mumbled disbelieving exclamations, but he lets it go, he has other priorities at the moment. He quickly jogs up the steps and reaches for the keys in his back pocket to finally open the door and there it is. Home sweet home.
It’s not a lavishly furnished penthouse, but he has everything he needs, and it feels like something more, something his. The comfy grey sofa near the wall so that it faces his TV, the cream-coloured carpet where his coffee table stands with scattered candies and his favourite cactus. The random paintings and photos hanging on the walls and the cosy kitchen (not so coincidentally the room he uses less) where a big window lets the sunlight stream into the spacious living area. He drops his stuff on the floor and makes his way to the bathroom.
Stripping himself off of his clothes and turning the shower head on, he waits for the water to warm up. As the first few hot droplets splash on his skin, Wonwoo thinks back to him not so gracefully passing out. He probably just got a whiff of some new pastry from the daisy-baby breath coffee shop (the owner has changed its name twelve times now, so it’s futile to learn it) and his body powered down since he was dehydrated. But in no way does it help him understand why, he can’t seem to get that scent out of his head. He just passes it off as hunger.
Speaking of food, he definitely should get something in his system before picking up Kkuma. So he quickly gets himself bubbled up and washes it off at record speed. He decides to multi-task: while drying himself off he hastily skips off to the kitchen to boil the water for a cup of ramen and zooms to his room to put on some jeans and a brown hoodie. In a flurry of clothes and jjajangmyeon seasoning, he actually remembers to look at the time.
It’s 6:15 pm. 6:15 pm?
Normally he would curse someone else out and blame it all on the incompetence of humanity, but today was all his fault a fact that does make him a little grumpier than usual, thank you very much. As he realizes that he can leisurely take the time to enjoy his meal and maybe stop at the park near Seungcheol and Mingyu’s shared condo, Wonwoo texts the latter to let him know he’ll be there in half an hour, while waiting for his food to cool down enough for him not to burn his oesophagus.
Damn his friends and their sappy love life, Mingyu responds with a pic of him on his boyfriend’s lap fixing his hair and winking. Feeling pretty satisfied after sending a series of barfing and disapproving emojis, he proceeds to eat his five-star course meal. And god, he thinks he could open a restaurant with his superb cooking skills. The image of his friends staring at him after he burned down Junhui’s kitchen quietly comes back to mind. Ok, so it’s more of a miracle that it tastes good. Wonwoo will never admit it out loud.
After he finishes, he just drops the plate in the sink and tidies up a bit, nothing too special but enough for princess Kkuma not to fuss. He also takes out the old dog bed Seungcheol gave him for occasions like this although knowing her, she will probably crawl into Wonwoo’s bed and make those puppy eyes he’s quite vulnerable to. Done with the preparations and having exchanged his black-rimmed rectangular glasses for his silver-rimmed ones, he sets out on his excruciating expedition (picking up the cutest dog ever.)
He’s outside with his earphones on, phone and keys in his back pocket. As his playlist plays a slower tune accompanied by the voice of someone singing about paradise and love, some apple blossoms fall in front of him. He halts momentarily and realizes; he’s arrived at the little park with the shallow lake that’s at a five-minute distance from his friends’ place. When did he walk so fast? But the view is enough of a distraction to let him ponder about what’s got him so absent-minded, an intricate assembly of pink and yellow shades reflecting on the green grass and swaying on the mirrored image of the water’s surface.
The wind carries the pleasant smell of flowers in bloom and he’s grateful to himself for checking the weather app, because had he worn a t-shirt, he would have definitely been shivering a bit by now. He sits down on the bench in front of the little sea and lets himself relax for a bit, worries and unwanted memories forgotten. Just the gentle caress of the breeze and the quiet ebbing of the water to make up for having paused his music. He stays another five minutes there. Secretly hoping that maybe if he didn’t move long enough, the flowers might mistake him for one of their own and let him grow roots to also wilt and be reborn each spring.
He wonders what colour his petals would be. Probably grey.
Wonwoo notices he should be on his way again as a car drives through the street facing the park and disrupts the safe haven he’s lost himself in. He stands up and walks a bit faster toward the direction of Seungcheol and Mingyu’s condo, the way overly familiar and glittering with streetlamps. He arrives on the doorstep and rings the bell, the static voice of Mingyu (it’s only clear because of the cute lisp the taller has) responds. “I’m here, also tell hyung he has to close your garage door better next time because I think it’s slightly open.”
Although all he gets is a muffled ok, he can make out the beginning of a scolding and so he snickers quietly while entering the house. It’s very big but still homey, a clashing of the two owners’ personalities and tastes with Kkuma’s pawprints here and there (he doesn’t mean that it’s dirty, just that there are dog toys everywhere and little pictures framing every corner), pastels and greys mixing prettily. He sees Seungcheol on the couch all fidgety, mumbling to himself words of encouragement and going over what he thinks is the speech that Mingyu will a) cry over and b) never shut up about.
He approaches him and opts for a friendlier smile, “Hyung, you look like shit.” Ok, that ruined the mood, because now the other is running his hands on his suit and combing his fingers through his hair while repeatedly asking if he looks fine. “Oh my god, I’ll have to postpone the date at this rate. What if nothing goes the way I planned it to? What if the restaurant cancelled my reservation? What if I have bad breath because of the food and he won’t kiss me? What if I make a fool of myself? Oh, fucking hell, what if he says n-” Wonwoo decides he’s let him go on for too long, so he grabs his shoulders, releases calming pheromones and looks at him straight in the eyes.
“Choi Seungcheol, you’ve been together with Mingyu for seven years and in love for ten. You guys live together and have adopted a dog. He looks at you as if you were his personal piece of paradise and you look at him as if he were some sort of angel. Mind you even that time he had vomit all over his face when he got batshit drunk. He’s not saying no to you. The guy can’t go on two seconds without mentioning your name. So, grow a pair and ask the damn question!” He hopes he’s made his point, metaphorizing about love has never been his strong suit.
By some miracle the older alpha looks more determined than ever and laughs out loud, he laughs with pauses and crescendos in between a habit he’s had since they were kids. “Thank you Wonwoo. Really. For everything. Also, you know you’ll be my best man, right?” Silent promises of past and future are exchanged between the two and Wonwoo once again feels the weight of happiness swelling his heart a bit more, unfamiliar but welcome.
“Looking at you two, one might think that you’ve been the ones passionately making out by the bedroom’s door. ‘M so sorry to interrupt your moment.” The voice reaches his ears before the man enters the room, and he’s got to admit that as he walks to the older’s side, Mingyu looks as if he belongs there, as if he’s always been there. He supposes that’s how it should be and how it always has been.
“Sweetheart, stop being a dumbass and get your coat so we can go. Also can you please go get Kkuma and her stuff while I go turn on the car?” with a huff and a kiss on the cheek for Seungcheol, the omega leaves the room. His best friend thanks him one more time and goes outside to get the car ready (and close the garage door.)
He doesn’t stay alone for long though, because the little pitter patter of soft paws echoes in the hallway and two very excited puppies make their way towards him. “Hyung, I know I sounded confident and all in the bookstore before, but I think I’m shitting myself right now. Have I been maybe daydreaming this whole proposal scenario?” Wonwoo sighs exasperatedly, they’ve got to be kidding him.
“Kim Mingyu. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. And stop looking at me like that. Everything’s going to be alright. Even someone like me can see what you have is something special, he will make some dramatic monologue, you’ll burst into tears and scream yes. That’s it. Just get it over with and stop putting me in the middle of this. Now where’s my girl?”
An excited woof greets him and the little Maltese wags her tail and jumps in front of his feet. He picks her up and lets her lick his nose, before settling her down and kneeling to pet her fluffy fur. As he does this, he hears some quiet sniffles.
“I swear to god if you’re crying…”, as he’s met with the sight of a teary-eyed Mingyu who keeps dabbing at his nose to not ruin his make-up, Wonwoo thinks he’s had enough. But he’s always been weak to cute things, so he dutifully stands up and engulfs the other in a hug while the little dog sneaks herself in between their legs.
“It’s just all so emotional and I’m so happy and I love him so much. And I’m so grateful you’re our friend and Kkuma is the cutest daughter ever and I’m-” he doesn’t get to finish his little rant as the roar of a car’s engine coming back to life filters through the open window. So, he takes this chance to smile at the younger and gently send him on his way while he lets Kkuma lead them outside.
The black Mercedes drives away while he and the little fluff ball find themselves under the stars on the path that he took to get there. It’s gotten a bit chilly but nothing that he can’t stand, Kkuma is wandering with a little bounce in her steps, and he wonders if she’s more excited about being with him or about going on a walk. In the end, it doesn’t really matter, her cuteness makes up for it. But as they near the park, she starts to run at full speed and he’s barely able to keep up. He fails to see a light at his left and the frantic ringing of a bell.
Which is when it happens.
If you had told Wonwoo this morning that this would have been the worst day of his life, he would have laughed it off. If you had told him that after that asshole of a client came or after he passed out, then he would have probably believed you. But as he now lays sprawled out on the grass with Kkuma in his arms hiding her head on his chest, his phone half a meter away from him and a scratch on his left hand, Wonwoo would probably go to jail for engaging in physical violence.
The situation does get worse though, because obviously the universe has decided that he’s never going to be able to walk on a street filled with roses, sugar, spice and everything nice. So, as he tries to make sure that the little Maltese is fine, and he can move his limbs without any problems he’s reminded of the reason he’s like this in the first place.
“You asshole!”
The voice seems to come from the man at his left currently standing up and inspecting his bike with a frown on his face, which he can’t really see from his position in the grass, but he guesses so from the furious and upset tone he used. The stranger’s chestnut hair looks almost auburn under the glow of the streetlamp and moonlight, his soft hands are moving almost elegantly, and his shoulders are all hunched up from turning around to check for any possible damage. He kind of looks like a fairy.
In his half-dazed state, the words start to register in his mind and “Excuse me? Me? The asshole? You crashed into me and my dog!” Forget fairies, who does this guy think he is, talking to him like that, he hurt his hand from the impact of the crash and Kkuma is still whimpering from being shaken up, not to mention his back hurts like hell from the fall and he doesn’t even want to think about his phone. But apparently the other doesn’t want to back down, because just as Wonwoo was sitting up while letting the dog adjust herself on his lap, he properly turns towards him.
Under the stars and the moon, with artificial light shining on him, the gentle swaying of apple blossoms in the wind and the sound of cicadas singing, Jeon Wonwoo’s heart unknowingly swells a bit more with something new, something flowery, something warm.
In front of him, with the deepest scowl on the prettiest mouth, with red cheeks puffing up from anger and eyes slitting into lines so thin, he barely can make out the rich brown colour with honey hues from the same streetlamp where the grey bike rests, is the man who almost killed him (maybe that’s an exaggeration, the worst that could have happened would have been him fracturing his arm and Kkuma being hurt). But all he can think about is how he would look like when he smiled.
“Listen, you dumbass, I was peacefully driving on the bicycle lane when you came in running like a madman, not even being able to hold your dog and not caring if anyone was already there and now it’s my fault? I even rang the bell! Are you deaf?” Whatever, he doesn’t want to know if this fucker smiles, he’s going to make this guy regret ever speaking. Wonwoo is not about to apologise, oh hell no.
“What the fuck? And you couldn’t have stopped for a second? My dog was running, sorry if my first priority was to catch up to her and make sure that she was okay and not checking if a dwarf with an old bike was driving at night!” He feels proud, let’s see what he’ll say now.
“I told you, I rang the bell and fucking hell, if only you had been able to run faster and actually stop your dog maybe this wouldn’t have happened! Besides why should I have been the one to hit the brakes? It’s a bicycle lane and I own, if you can even see it with those ugly ass glasses, a bike!” The shorter man is huffing by now and there’s a delicate rhythmic rising of his shoulders, although he looks as if he might explode at any moment. Wonwoo feels propelled by some external force to push his buttons, his life rule be damned, this spawn of Satan should not be accusing others, because he’s obviously the one at fault.
“How fast can a bike even go? Don’t start spouting nonsense. You could have stopped in time and then nothing would have happened. I’m so sorry your recklessness made you fall off your high horse. You owe both me and Kkuma an apology.” Speaking of her, the dog is currently nestled in his lap and is watching the exchange with seemingly curious eyes and wait, is she shaking her tail? Too wrapped up in his scolding, he had failed to notice something.
That something being the particularly fond look in the man’s eyes directed at her, he still has a frown on his face, although it appears as more of an endearing pout, stop it, and his hands are now firm on his hips and gripping the soft fabric of a pair of comfy sweatpants. They make him look kind of smaller than he is, being a bit oversized and all, but they’re also slightly stretched in the thigh area which makes him wonder what job he does to have such toned legs.
Breaking him out of his trance is the (annoyingly) pleasant voice of the stranger, it’s not particularly deep or high-pitched but rich enough to leave his skin tingling and condescending enough to rile him up. “It’s nighttime, no one comes around here and even if it were daytime, you still shouldn’t be on my lane. And for your information, I never blamed your dog, it was you being stupid. That said I will apologize to her.” As he says this, he starts to lower himself down on the ground and his hands go on his knees, he makes a semi-bow with his head and looks at Kkuma directly in the eyes. From that angle, quite a few of his hair fall on his eyes and Wonwoo’s struck with the sudden urge to brush them behind his ear, if only to see better the eyes that were looking at him with such contempt.
“I’m sorry girl. I hope you’re fine.” He thinks he sees the stranger shiver and only now it strikes him that the other is only wearing a loose-fitting white t-shirt, but if he feels a slight tug at his gut at the knowledge of the other’s discomfort, he only blames it on the jajjangmyeon. And for the second time that day, he’s once again puzzled by the dog’s behaviour. Because that traitor quietly leaves the warmth of his legs and waddles to the man in front of them. And nuzzles her nose in his palm.
She’s actually fraternizing with the enemy.
“Where’s the other apology?” Wonwoo slowly crawls closer to take the little backstabber away, but he’ll be damned if fairy-demon doesn’t apologize for his mistake first. “My apology? Are you fucking kidding me? You, should be saying sorry, to me, I only apologized to your dog because it’s not her fault her owner is such an idiot.” All hopes of a possible civil conclusion to this fight wither down like the last petals of the black dahlias his father used to gift him on his birthday, a sudden memory that he’s not so sure as to how it made its way back to him.
“You know what? Fuck you, I don’t want to waste any more of my precious time. Kkuma, sweetie, come on let’s go.” And as he leans a bit more forward to take her in his arms, (he thinks she’s kind of upset about it judging by her whine, the stranger was petting her ears up until then) his nose is hit with the scent of lavender and honey.
And fuck everything, because it radiates the same sweetness and warmth he felt right before passing out before. It’s a soft veil of heaven engulfing him in a gentle and loving embrace, it breaks through his skin and reaches deep within his heart. It makes him quickly shut his eyes and open them again in the hopes of getting more and more of it, if only to feel it burning enough for him to remember forever.
And just as swiftly as it comes, the feeling goes, and he realizes he’s been staring at the man. The streetlamp is flickering, and some moths are flying around its lightbulb, Wonwoo picks up the dog and as he stands up with her now leaning her snout on his shoulder and her paws unmoving from beside it, he reaches for the discarded phone between the grass leaves. The stranger is now looking right at him, pure rage and disapproval dripping from his eyes like bloody tears and the alpha feels too vulnerable and too proud all at once under his gaze.
“I didn’t want to say anything bad while she was near me out of respect for her, but you’re the rudest ignorant I’ve ever met, and I hope so badly that I’ll never see your hideous face ever again. Oh, and fuck you too.” He is on his feet and on his bike in one brisk movement and as Wonwoo faces the opposite way to try and not get more irritated than before, he hears the turning of pedals getting farther and farther away.
The walk back home is silent and fast. Wonwoo’s mind is a mess and the only thing he would like to do at the moment is jump on his bed and fall asleep, but alas as they reach there, his mind is plagued by the recollection of his encounter with the stranger, and he doesn’t even treat his hand instead opting to drop face first into his sheets. His voice had been a bite of venom at his heart and his stare a quick descent into hell, he had not only offended him but also jabbed at his dignity and he had been so upfront and unmoving about seeing he had been at fault. Granted now that he reflects upon it, he’s able to see that both of them had played a part in the accident.
The guy had been everything he hates most in a person: rude, stubborn, arrogant and obnoxious. Traits that he could see partially within himself, which makes him even more angry when he thinks of the other. Kkuma’s paws behind his back distract him and he turns around to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, while relishing in her warmth. And so, against his will, he’s forced to dwell upon the memory of the man and how surprisingly delicate he had been with her.
His eyes already shining from the moonlight and the yellow glow of the lamp had softened the threatening slits turning them into somewhat of crescents, his scowl had also changed into a stern expression with the faintest hint of a smile and he’s not very sure but the other’s cheek had looked rounder. The way he had apologized, while lowering his voice so as not to scare the dog and with his hands carefully rested on his knees so that she wouldn’t have felt alarmed, also made him uncomfortable with the knowledge that it was maybe possible for the stranger to be a decent human being.
But it’s something else picking at his core, the fact that the same person who he now wishes to never see again lest he actually punches the jerk, possessed a scent that had engraved itself in his mind since he had first smelled it that morning. He wonders, had he continued to look at him as he had driven away, if maybe he would have been able to get a last lungful of it. And had he done that he would have seen, how the shorter man had glanced at him before continuing to pedal.
So, while his eyelids grow heavy and he falls asleep, it is to gentle melodies of a voice resembling one he can’t quite pinpoint and glimpses of imaginary sun-filled smiles that he can’t stop from making him feel tender inside.