Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Student Affairs Committee booth was a buzz of activity. The sharp chatter of upperclassmen and the curious questions from first-years filled the large auditorium. Jaehee stood hesitantly on the sidelines, trying to gather enough courage to approach.

“Overthinking already?” a voice startled him.
Jaehee turned to find an older student with wire-rimmed glasses and a clipboard grinning at him. “Don’t worry; you won’t sign your life away by coming over.”
Jaehee let out an awkward laugh, his nerves easing slightly. “I was just... looking.”
“Well, you’re looking at the right place. We’re the Student Affairs Committee—the backbone of campus life. Interested in making an impact?”
“Uh, maybe?”
“Hyun,” the student introduced himself, sticking out a hand. “We could use someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Fresh blood. Eager. Looks like you can follow instructions,” Hyun said cheekily, pushing a clipboard into Jaehee’s hands. “Fill this out, and we’ll set you up for an interview.”

Jaehee barely had time to write his name before another voice cut through the noise.
“Hyun, stop hovering. If they’re interested, they’ll step up on their own.”
The tone was sharp but not loud, slicing through the chatter like a blade. Jaehee looked up instinctively, spotting a figure walking briskly toward the booth.
The speaker was dressed sharply in a crisp shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up, dark slacks, and polished shoes. Everything about him screamed authority despite his relatively unassuming height. His eyes scanned the booth as if assessing every detail, and when they landed on Jaehee, the scrutiny made him straighten instinctively.
“That’s Yushi, our VP,” Hyun whispered, lowering his voice as though Yushi might hear him from across the room. “He’s intense, but don’t worry. He’s fair. Mostly.”

Yushi stopped in front of them, crossing his arms. His gaze flicked to the clipboard in Jaehee’s hands. “Freshman?”
“Yes,” Jaehee replied quickly, a little too loudly.
Yushi raised an eyebrow at the response. “Name?”
“Kim Jaehee.”
Yushi studied him for a moment longer than felt necessary before giving a curt nod. “Show up to your interview on time. We don’t tolerate slackers here.”
Jaehee blinked, feeling both dismissed and challenged at the same time. He nodded quickly. “I will.”
Yushi’s lips quirked into the faintest of smirks before he turned on his heel and walked away.

The interview itself was relentless.
Seated at a long table with three senior members, Jaehee felt like he was being cross-examined. But it wasn’t the group that had him on edge—it was Yushi, who sat at the head of the table, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“What do you think you can contribute to this committee?” Yushi asked, his tone even but cutting.
Jaehee swallowed hard. “I’m a quick learner, and I’m willing to put in the work.”
“Everyone says that,” Yushi shot back without missing a beat. “How do you plan to prove it?”
Jaehee hesitated for only a second before answering, “By showing up, staying consistent, and getting things done.”
The corner of Yushi’s mouth twitched, though his expression remained neutral.
The questions kept coming, each one more challenging than the last. By the time the interview ended, Jaehee felt like he’d run a marathon.

Yushi stood, his gaze sweeping over Jaehee one last time. “You’re in.”
Without waiting for the other panelists’ opinions, he walked out, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
“...Congratulations?” Hyun said, clearly amused. “That’s about as high praise as you’re going to get from him.”

Working with the Student Affairs Committee was no joke. The deadlines were brutal, and the expectations were high.
Yushi was at the center of it all, keeping everyone on task with the precision of a drill sergeant. Meetings were a whirlwind of ideas, critiques, and assignments, and Yushi’s sharp tongue left little room for error.

One afternoon, Jaehee found himself nervously presenting an idea for an upcoming campus event. He’d spent hours refining his pitch, but halfway through, Yushi raised a hand to stop him.
“You’re overcomplicating it,” Yushi said bluntly. “Focus on the goal, not the fluff.”
Jaehee felt his cheeks heat up, but instead of shrinking back, he nodded. “I’ll simplify it.”
Yushi’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Good. Do that.”
After the meeting, Hyun clapped Jaehee on the back. “Surviving a Yushi critique on your first try? Impressive.”
Jaehee gave a shaky laugh. “Is he always like that?”
“Pretty much,” Hyun said. “He’s a perfectionist, but he’s not unfair. If you stick around, you’ll see.”

Over time, Jaehee began to notice things about Yushi that others didn’t seem to.
For one, Yushi worked harder than anyone else, often staying late in the office to double-check plans or troubleshoot potential issues. He rarely complained, but there were moments—usually late at night—when Jaehee caught a glimpse of exhaustion in his sharp eyes.
“You should take a break,” Jaehee said one evening when they were the last two in the office.
Yushi looked up from his laptop, his expression skeptical. “And let everything fall apart?”
“It won’t,” Jaehee said with surprising firmness. “You’ve got people here who can help.”
Yushi stared at him for a long moment before giving a faint, almost reluctant smile. “We’ll see.”

Despite his sharp demeanor, Yushi was undeniably magnetic. Jaehee found himself drawn to him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.
Yet, there was something about Yushi that didn’t add up. His scent was faint, almost nonexistent, like a beta’s. But there were moments—fleeting and rare—when Jaehee thought he caught a faint whiff of something... different.
He brushed it off. Yushi was a beta. Everyone said so.
Right?

🌳🐈

The Student Affairs Committee office was unusually quiet for a Monday evening. Most of the members had left after a long meeting, but Yushi and Jaehee remained, poring over a massive event proposal that needed final approval.

“This schedule is a disaster,” Yushi muttered, red pen in hand as he ruthlessly slashed through one section after another.
Jaehee leaned over the desk, trying to follow Yushi’s rapid scribbling. “I thought the layout looked fine.”
“That’s because you’re looking at it from the surface,” Yushi replied, his tone sharp but not unkind. “If we run it as-is, booth traffic will bottleneck, and the performers will be drowned out by the food vendors.”

Jaehee frowned, leaning closer to see the diagram. “Okay, but if we shift the booths here and move the stage farther from the vendors, won’t it create dead space in the middle?”
Yushi paused, tapping the pen against his chin. “Good point.”
For a moment, Jaehee felt a small rush of pride.
“Still doesn’t solve the problem,” Yushi continued, ruining the moment.
Jaehee groaned, slumping back in his chair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” Yushi replied dryly, barely glancing up.

Despite the frustration, Jaehee couldn’t help but admire Yushi’s precision. His sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude might have scared off most people, but Jaehee was beginning to see the method behind the madness.
As the clock ticked past 9 p.m., Jaehee’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence.
Yushi glanced up, his sharp eyes softening in amusement. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“Lunch?” Jaehee admitted sheepishly.
“Idiot,” Yushi muttered, but there was no bite in his tone. He stood, stretching briefly before grabbing his bag. “Come on.”
Jaehee blinked. “What?”
“You’re useless on an empty stomach. Let’s get food.”

They ended up at a small diner near campus, tucked into a booth with steaming bowls of ramen in front of them.
“You didn’t have to pay for me,” Jaehee said, though he wasn’t about to complain.
“You’re a freshman. You’re probably broke,” Yushi replied, picking at his noodles.
Jaehee hesitated before asking, “Do you always work this hard? Like... all the time?”
Yushi shrugged. “If you want something done right, you do it yourself.”
“That’s kind of sad,” Jaehee said without thinking.
Yushi paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe. But it’s necessary.”

Jaehee frowned, sensing there was more to the answer. “You know, you don’t have to carry everything on your own. There are people who want to help you.”
Yushi’s expression shifted, his usually sharp gaze softening into something distant. He placed his chopsticks down and stared at his bowl for a moment, the hum of the diner around them fading into the background.
“That’s what they say,” he began quietly. “But people like me... we don’t get that luxury.”
“What do you mean?” Jaehee asked, his voice gentle.
Yushi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his posture tightening. “I had to work hard to get here,” he said, his words carefully measured. “Harder than most.”
There was something in his tone—something cryptic yet heavy—that made Jaehee lean forward instinctively. “Why?”
Yushi glanced at him briefly, his sharp eyes unreadable. “It doesn’t matter,” he said briskly, picking up his chopsticks again. “The point is, I’m used to it. And it works.”
The conversation left Jaehee with more questions than answers, but he knew better than to push.

The next evening, they met again in the committee office to finalize the event plans. Jaehee noticed Yushi rubbing his temples and frowning at the screen.
“You okay?” Jaehee asked.
“I’m fine,” Yushi replied curtly, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.
Jaehee decided to push. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you’re not overworking yourself?”
Yushi didn’t answer immediately, his fingers stilling on the keyboard. “It’s just a headache,” he muttered, though his tone was unusually subdued.
Jaehee frowned. “You’ve been getting those a lot lately.”
“It’s nothing.”
Jaehee wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby shelf and handed it to Yushi.
“Here. At least drink something.”
Yushi glanced at him, surprised, before taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

Later that night, as they were packing up to leave, Yushi accidentally brushed past Jaehee.
For a brief moment, Jaehee froze.
There it was again—that faint, elusive scent. It wasn’t the neutral smell of a beta, nor was it the strong musk of an alpha. It was something softer, subtler, and...
Yushi’s head snapped up, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jaehee said quickly, stepping back.
Yushi studied him for a moment before shaking his head and returning to his notes.
But the scent lingered in Jaehee’s mind, puzzling him.

The night of the event arrived, and everything went off without a hitch. As the final attendees trickled out, Jaehee found Yushi standing off to the side, watching the cleanup crew with a rare look of satisfaction.
“You did it,” Jaehee said, walking up to him.
“We did it,” Yushi corrected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.
Jaehee smiled, feeling a warm surge of pride at the acknowledgment.
As they stood there, Jaehee couldn’t help but think back to the past few weeks. For all his sharpness and perfectionism, Yushi had moments of quiet kindness that caught Jaehee off guard.

And yet, there were still so many things about him that remained a mystery.
Like that scent.
Jaehee glanced at Yushi, who was now directing a group of volunteers with his usual commanding presence. He shook his head, brushing the thought aside.
Whatever Yushi’s secret was, Jaehee had a feeling it would reveal itself in time.

🌳🐈

The office clock ticked past midnight, the heavy silence broken only by the rustle of papers and the soft clicking of keys. The two of them were the only ones left, working to finalize an urgent proposal that was due the next morning.
Jaehee stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Do you ever sleep?” he teased lightly, glancing at Yushi, who was hunched over his laptop.
“I’ll sleep when this is done,” Yushi replied without looking up, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Jaehee frowned. Yushi had seemed off all evening—paler than usual, his movements slower. He had brushed it off when Jaehee asked earlier, muttering something about stress and deadlines.
But now, Yushi’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for his water bottle.
“Yushi, are you okay?” Jaehee asked, concern creeping into his tone.
“I’m fine,” Yushi snapped, though his voice wavered.
Before Jaehee could reply, Yushi suddenly swayed in his chair, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.
“Yushi!”
Jaehee was on his feet in an instant, rushing to his side. Yushi clutched the edge of the desk, his face flushed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Don’t...” Yushi’s voice was barely a whisper as he tried to push Jaehee away. “Don’t come closer.”
But Jaehee didn’t listen. “You’re burning up. You need—”

The words caught in his throat as a faint scent filled the air, soft and sweet, curling around him like a warm embrace.
It wasn’t the neutral scent of a beta.
Jaehee’s heart stopped.
“Yushi...” he whispered, his eyes widening.
“Leave,” Yushi choked out, his voice strained and desperate. “Just... go!”
But Jaehee couldn’t move, his alpha instincts screaming at him to stay. The scent was intoxicating, warm and dizzying, pulling at something primal in him. He felt his pulse quicken, his blood roaring in his ears.
“You’re—” Jaehee started, his voice shaking, but he cut himself off, swallowing hard. Now wasn’t the time to pry.
Yushi shuddered, clutching the edge of the desk as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. “It’s nothing. Just... too much work,” he muttered, but his words were slurred and unconvincing.
Jaehee frowned, crouching beside him but keeping a careful distance. “You’re not okay. Let me help you.”
“You can’t,” Yushi bit out, his tone sharp despite his trembling. “I don’t need—” He stopped abruptly, his breath hitching as another wave of heat wracked his body.

Jaehee clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to anchor himself. The sweet scent was overwhelming now, filling every corner of the room, threatening to drown his rationality. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on Yushi’s face rather than the way his instincts screamed at him to get closer.
“Where’s your bag?” Jaehee asked, his voice tight.
Yushi blinked at him, confused and dazed. “Why—”
“Just tell me where it is,” Jaehee pressed, his tone firm but gentle.
Yushi nodded weakly toward the corner of the room. “Side pocket,” he murmured.
Jaehee moved quickly, retrieving Yushi’s bag and rummaging through it. His hand closed around a small vial, its label faintly recognizable as a suppressant. He returned to Yushi’s side and held it out to him.
“Is this it?”
Yushi nodded, his hands shaking as he tried to take it. His fingers fumbled, and Jaehee instinctively reached out to steady him, their hands brushing.
The contact sent a jolt through Jaehee, his alpha instincts flaring, but he shoved them down, focusing instead on helping Yushi bring the vial to his lips.
“Drink,” Jaehee urged softly.
Yushi obeyed, tipping the liquid into his mouth and swallowing it down. His breaths were still labored, but the worst of the trembling began to subside as the suppressant took effect.
Jaehee stayed kneeling beside him, watching closely, his heart still pounding from the strain of holding himself back.

After what felt like an eternity, Yushi let out a shaky sigh, his shoulders slumping.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Jaehee nodded, but his mind was racing. The truth was undeniable now: Yushi wasn’t a beta.
And yet, he had gone to such lengths to hide it.
Jaehee stayed quiet, unsure of what to say or do. All he knew was that Yushi had trusted him in this moment, and he wasn’t going to betray that trust.
“Do you need anything else?” Jaehee asked softly.
Yushi shook his head, his eyes fluttering closed as the suppressant began to dull the intensity of his heat.
“Then just rest,” Jaehee murmured, standing and stepping back to give him space.

As he watched Yushi lean back in his chair, vulnerable in a way Jaehee had never seen before, he felt something tighten in his chest.
There was so much he didn’t understand—about Yushi, about the walls he kept up, about why he was so determined to hide his true self.

🌳🐈

Yushi didn’t show up the next day.
When Jaehee arrived at the shared office space of their university commitee, the usual hum of activity filled the room. Students chatted, papers shuffled, and laptops clicked away. But Yushi’s sharp voice and ever-present clipboard were notably absent.
“Where’s Yushi?” one of the members asked, frowning. “Is he sick?”
“I don’t know,” another replied. “He didn’t say anything about not coming in today.”
Jaehee listened quietly, a strange unease settling in his chest. It wasn’t like Yushi to miss meetings, let alone skip without informing anyone. The man practically lived here, always the first to arrive and the last to leave. His absence felt... wrong.

The unease only grew the following day when Yushi still didn’t show up. The murmurs among the members turned into mild panic, some joking that the commitee might fall apart without their demanding vice president. Jaehee stayed silent, though his worry had begun to gnaw at him. He couldn’t stop thinking about that night—Yushi pale and trembling, his guarded words about suppressants and the pressure to keep going.

Was he okay?

When Yushi finally returned two days later, it was as if nothing had happened. He walked into the room as if he hadn’t just disappeared, his usual composed expression in place, clipboard in hand.
“Alright, where’s the draft for the sponsorship proposal?” he asked briskly, scanning the room. “It’s due this Friday, and I’m not seeing any updates.”
The room quieted as everyone exchanged nervous glances, but Jaehee wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on Yushi, taking in the faint circles under his eyes and the stiffness in his movements.

The meeting dragged on, and though Yushi’s usual energy seemed slightly off, he carried himself as though nothing had happened. Jaehee, however, couldn’t hold back any longer.
After the meeting ended and most of the members had left, Jaehee approached Yushi, who was tidying up stray papers at the table.
“Yushi,” Jaehee said softly, stepping into his space. “Are you okay?”
Yushi glanced at him briefly before turning back to his task. “I’m fine,” he said, his tone clipped.
“You missed two days,” Jaehee pressed, lowering his voice. “That’s not like you.”
Yushi’s movements stilled for a fraction of a second before he resumed stacking the papers. “It’s none of your concern.”
“It is my concern,” Jaehee insisted, his voice firm but not loud. “You were clearly unwell the other night, and now you’re avoiding—”
“Jaehee,” Yushi interrupted, his voice cold as he turned to face him. “Drop it.”
Jaehee blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in Yushi’s tone.
“I don’t need you prying into my business,” Yushi continued, his eyes hard. “What happened that night doesn’t matter. Forget about it.”
“I can’t just forget about it,” Jaehee said, his brows furrowing. “You were in pain—”
“It’s none of your business,” Yushi snapped, stepping back and grabbing his bag. “Just let it go.”
He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Jaehee standing there, frustration and confusion swirling in his chest.

Over the next week, Yushi’s behavior toward Jaehee grew colder. Though they still worked together, Yushi seemed to go out of his way to avoid any one-on-one interactions. If Jaehee tried to engage him, Yushi would brush him off with curt answers or excuse himself.

The other members began to notice.
“Why do you keep bothering him?” one of the seniors asked Jaehee during a break, watching as Yushi walked past without so much as a glance in Jaehee’s direction.
“I’m not bothering him,” Jaehee said defensively.
“You kind of are,” another member chimed in, grinning. “It’s like watching a puppy try to get the attention of a cat that doesn’t care.”
The comment earned a few laughs, but Jaehee didn’t find it funny. He couldn’t explain it—why he was so determined to break through Yushi’s walls, why the other night still lingered in his mind.

It wasn’t just worry anymore. There was something about Yushi that drew him in, something he couldn’t ignore even when Yushi made it clear he wanted to be left alone.
That night, as the group was wrapping up another long work session, Jaehee approached Yushi again.
“Yushi,” he said, blocking his path before he could leave.
Yushi’s eyes narrowed. “Move.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” Yushi replied, his voice sharp.
“Yes, we do,” Jaehee said, standing his ground. “You’re avoiding me. You’ve been working even harder than usual, and—”
“I said drop it!” Yushi hissed, his voice rising just enough to turn a few heads. He took a step closer, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
Jaehee opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. He didn’t have an answer, not one that would make sense to Yushi—or even himself.

Yushi let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders tense as he turned away. “Stop wasting your time on me,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less biting.
Jaehee watched him leave, his heart sinking. The room felt colder without Yushi in it, and Jaehee couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong.
But no matter how many walls Yushi built, no matter how much he pushed Jaehee away, Jaehee couldn’t stop himself from caring.
And that terrified him.

🌳🐈

Over the next few days, life in the commitee seemed to return to normal for everyone except Jaehee. Yushi showed up to every meeting and managed every project with his usual sharp efficiency. He even joked dryly with some of the members, earning laughter from the room.

But when it came to Jaehee, Yushi was cold and distant.
He answered Jaehee’s questions with clipped replies, never made eye contact, and deliberately positioned himself on the opposite side of the room during group discussions. The avoidance wasn’t subtle, and the other members began to notice.
“Did you say something dumb to him?” one member teased Jaehee during a break.
“No,” Jaehee muttered, poking at his lunch.
“Sure you didn’t,” another member chimed in, grinning. “It’s weird, though. Yushi doesn’t treat anyone else like that. What did you do to make him mad?”
Jaehee didn’t respond, his stomach twisting with guilt. He knew exactly why Yushi was avoiding him.
Or at least, he thought he did.

It had been almost a week since the incident, and Jaehee still couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yushi’s pale, trembling figure. The pain in his eyes. And the words he’d said—the ones that Jaehee couldn’t make sense of no matter how hard he tried.
More than anything, he hated the distance between them now.

Finally, one evening, after everyone else had left the office, Jaehee decided to confront Yushi.
Yushi was at his desk, typing furiously on his laptop. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his face, highlighting the faint shadows under his eyes.
Jaehee approached cautiously, his heart pounding. “Yushi.”
Yushi didn’t look up. “If it’s about the proposal, it’s on the shared drive.”
“It’s not about the proposal,” Jaehee said, his voice steady. “Can we talk?”
Yushi paused for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then he sighed and closed the laptop with a sharp click. “Make it quick.”
Jaehee hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Why are you avoiding me?”
Yushi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe, or exhaustion. “I’m not avoiding you,” he said flatly.
“Yes, you are,” Jaehee insisted. “You’re acting like I don’t exist.”
“Maybe you should take the hint,” Yushi said, leaning back in his chair.
Jaehee frowned. “I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Is this because of what happened last week?”
Yushi’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “We agreed to forget about that,” he said sharply.
“But I can’t,” Jaehee admitted, his voice soft. “I’m worried about you.”
“Worried about me,” Yushi repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He stood abruptly, stepping closer to Jaehee. “Why? Because your alpha instincts are so desperate to play hero?”
Jaehee blinked, startled by the venom in Yushi’s voice. “That’s not—”
“Is your alpha so lonely,” Yushi interrupted, his voice rising, “that seeing an omega in heat once made it latch onto the nearest target?”

The words hit Jaehee like a physical blow. He froze, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond.
Yushi’s eyes burned with anger, but there was something else there, too—something raw and vulnerable that he was trying desperately to hide.
Jaehee swallowed hard, his throat tight. “That’s not why,” he said quietly.
“Then why?” Yushi demanded, his voice cracking slightly.
“Because I care about you,” Jaehee said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his chest.
Yushi stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then he shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Don’t,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” Jaehee asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Because it doesn’t matter,” Yushi said, turning away. “Just drop it, Jaehee. Let it go.”
Before Jaehee could respond, Yushi grabbed his bag and walked out, leaving Jaehee alone in the empty office.

The next day, Yushi acted as though nothing had happened. He was sharp and efficient as always, but the invisible wall between him and Jaehee remained.
Jaehee couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head, couldn’t stop hearing Yushi’s angry words. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Yushi’s anger than what he’d said.
The others noticed Jaehee’s distraction, their teasing turning into concern.
“Hey, are you okay?” one of them asked during a break.
Jaehee forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Yushi’s still avoiding you, huh?” another member said, glancing across the room.
Jaehee didn’t respond, his eyes lingering on Yushi.

He didn’t know how to fix this, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

🌳🐈

Yushi’s patience was wearing thin.
No matter how cold or distant he tried to be, Jaehee persisted. He still hovered during meetings, still found excuses to talk to him, and still sent those annoyingly earnest messages asking if Yushi was okay. It was relentless, and it was exhausting.

So, when Jaehee cornered him in the hallway after yet another late-night meeting, Yushi decided he’d had enough.
“What do you want, Jaehee?” Yushi snapped, arms crossed as he turned to face him.
Jaehee hesitated for a moment, but his resolve didn’t waver. “I just want to understand. Why are you pushing me away?”
Yushi let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“No,” Jaehee said, his tone surprisingly firm.
Yushi glared at him, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. He knew Jaehee wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. Fine. If Jaehee wanted the truth, then he’d get it.
“Alright,” Yushi said, his voice sharp. “You want to know why I avoid you? Why I avoid getting close to anyone?”
Jaehee nodded, his eyes steady.
“I’m not a beta,” Yushi said bluntly.
The words hung in the air, the silence between them stretching painfully long.
“I’m an omega,” Yushi continued, his voice quieter now. “And if people knew, they wouldn’t respect me. Everything I’ve worked for—all of it would mean nothing.”

Jaehee’s eyes widened in shock, but he said nothing, waiting for Yushi to continue.
“I’ve seen how people treat omegas,” Yushi said, his voice bitter. “Like we’re weak. Like we’re only good for one thing. That’s why I take the suppressants. That’s why I push myself harder than anyone else. Because if I don’t, they’ll see me as nothing but my designation.”
He crossed his arms, his gaze hard. “So, now you know. Are you happy?”
Jaehee shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Yushi, I—”
“Save it,” Yushi interrupted, his tone cold. “Just leave me alone, Jaehee. I don’t need your pity or your concern.”

He turned to leave, but Jaehee’s next words stopped him in his tracks.
“I don’t pity you,” Jaehee said softly. “I respect you.”
Yushi froze, his breath catching.
“I didn’t admire you because I thought you were a beta,” Jaehee continued, his voice steady. “I admired you because you’re strong, and smart, and you don’t let anyone push you around. Knowing you’re an omega doesn’t change that.”
Yushi turned slowly, his expression guarded. “You don’t understand—”
“I don’t need to understand everything to see how amazing you are,” Jaehee said firmly.
Yushi stared at him, speechless.
Jaehee smiled, the earnestness in his gaze almost overwhelming. “And I’m not going anywhere, so you’ll just have to get used to me.”

The next day, the other members couldn’t stop laughing at the way Jaehee followed Yushi around like a devoted puppy.
“Hey, Yushi,” one of them teased. “Are you finally going to give the puppy some attention? He’s been wagging his tail for days now.”
Yushi shot them a glare, but it didn’t stop the laughter.
“Come on, Yushi,” another member said with a grin. “Just throw him a bone. He’s been working so hard for your approval.”
Yushi groaned, muttering something under his breath about how immature they all were.
Jaehee, meanwhile, didn’t seem bothered by the teasing. If anything, he looked proud, his smile bright as he carried Yushi’s documents across the room.

Later that week, Yushi overheard two members talking in hushed voices near the supply closet.
“I still don’t get it,” one of them said. “What’s so great about Yushi? He’s just a beta. Jaehee could do so much better.”
“Exactly,” the other one replied. “I mean, Jaehee’s a nice alpha. What does he even see in Yushi? He’s cold, bossy, and impossible to please.”
Yushi felt his stomach twist, their words cutting deeper than he expected. He stepped back before they noticed him, his hands clenched into fists.
He knew people would question him if they found out about his designation. He’d prepared himself for that. But hearing them belittle everything he’d worked so hard to build—it was almost too much to bear.
As he walked back to his desk, the usual fire in his step was missing.

When Jaehee noticed Yushi’s unusually quiet demeanor that afternoon, he approached cautiously.
“Yushi, are you okay?” Jaehee asked, his voice soft.
Yushi forced a smile, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Jaehee didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he stayed close, offering quiet support as they worked.
For the first time in a long time, Yushi didn’t feel entirely alone.

🌳🐈

The gossip didn’t stop.
Yushi noticed the subtle glances, the hushed conversations that fell silent whenever he walked by. He wasn’t sure how much of it was paranoia and how much was real, but it was enough to weigh on him.
It wasn’t just the words that stung—it was the implication behind them. That no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he proved himself, people would still question his worth.
He hated it.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confront anyone. Not directly. That would only draw more attention, more whispers.
So, he buried himself in work, trying to block out the noise.

Jaehee, however, wasn’t as good at ignoring things.
He overheard snippets of conversation in the break room, saw the way some of the members smirked when Yushi walked in. It made his blood boil.
One afternoon, when he caught two members laughing over yet another snide remark, he couldn’t hold back.
“What’s so funny?” Jaehee asked, his tone sharp.
The two members exchanged awkward glances. “Nothing,” one of them mumbled.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Jaehee said, stepping closer. “If you have something to say about Yushi, say it to his face.”
“Relax, Jaehee,” the other member said, trying to brush it off. “We’re just joking around. No need to get all defensive.”
Jaehee’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not a joke if it’s at someone else’s expense. If you have a problem with Yushi, maybe you should think about why you’re not brave enough to talk to him directly.”
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
After a few moments, the two members muttered half-hearted apologies and left.
Jaehee watched them go, his jaw tight. He didn’t care if he made enemies—he wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect Yushi.

Yushi didn’t find out about Jaehee’s confrontation until later that day, when one of the members who’d overheard the exchange told him.
He found Jaehee in the corner of the room, scribbling notes on a project outline.
“Jaehee,” Yushi said, his voice sharp.
Jaehee looked up, startled. “Yeah?”
“Why did you confront them?”
Jaehee blinked, then frowned. “Because they were being disrespectful.”
Yushi crossed his arms. “I didn’t ask you to defend me.”
“I know,” Jaehee said, standing up. “But I couldn’t just let them talk about you like that.”
Yushi’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I can’t handle myself?”
“That’s not it,” Jaehee said quickly. “I know you can handle yourself. But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Yushi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making it worse,” he said, his voice low. “The more you draw attention to it, the more people will talk.”
Jaehee looked genuinely hurt, but he didn’t back down. “I’m not going to stand by and let people treat you like that, Yushi. I can’t.”
Yushi stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.
Jaehee smiled, a little sheepishly. “I’ve been told that before.”

Later that evening, Yushi sat alone at one of the desks, staring blankly at the papers in front of him. He was tired—of the gossip, of the constant pressure to prove himself, of the barriers he’d built to protect himself.
But as much as Jaehee’s persistence annoyed him, it also… comforted him.
He didn’t want to admit it, but knowing that someone had his back—someone who saw him as more than his designation—made the weight on his shoulders feel a little lighter.
Still, the doubts lingered. The words he’d overheard kept replaying in his mind.

“Yushi?”
He looked up to see one of the senior members standing nearby, a kind smile on her face.
“You’ve been working hard,” she said. “Why don’t you take a break?”
Yushi hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly, gathering his things.
As he left the room, he caught a glimpse of Jaehee watching him from across the space, his gaze steady and filled with something Yushi couldn’t quite name.
For the first time in a while, Yushi allowed himself to feel a small flicker of hope.

The others noticed the change in Jaehee and Yushi’s dynamic. Though Yushi was still sharp and guarded, there was a new kind of tension between them—something quieter, but undeniably there.
And while Yushi wasn’t ready to let his walls down completely, he couldn’t deny that Jaehee’s presence was starting to feel less like a burden and more like… something else.

🌳🐈

Jaehee couldn’t pinpoint when his feelings for Yushi had shifted.
At first, it had been admiration—respect for someone so driven, so unyielding, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable pressure. Yushi’s sharp tongue and relentless work ethic had initially been intimidating, but as Jaehee worked with him more, he saw the care beneath the tough exterior.

Now, though, things were different.
He found himself noticing the small things—how Yushi rubbed his temples when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly when he approved of someone’s work, the rare, fleeting smiles that felt like personal victories when Jaehee earned them.
And then there was that night.
The image of Yushi, vulnerable and in pain, had seared itself into Jaehee’s mind. It wasn’t just the protective instincts of his alpha side—it was something deeper, more personal.
But Yushi had made it clear he didn’t want Jaehee’s help.
So, Jaehee tried to respect his boundaries. He focused on his work, kept his interactions with Yushi professional, and did his best to tamp down the ache in his chest.
Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to Yushi during meetings or his thoughts from circling back to him late at night.

For Yushi, the past few days had been exhausting.
He hated how Jaehee’s persistence had made him feel exposed, hated how the gossip had shaken him, and hated, most of all, the way his heart sped up whenever Jaehee was near.
He told himself it was just his body reacting to an alpha’s presence. That’s all it was.
But then there were moments—like when Jaehee quietly slid a cup of coffee onto his desk without a word, or when he stayed late to finish paperwork Yushi hadn’t asked him to help with—that made Yushi question if it was more than that.
He didn’t want to feel this way.
Letting someone in meant risking everything he’d worked so hard to protect.
But Jaehee made it hard to keep his walls up.

One evening, after the rest of the commitee members had left, Jaehee and Yushi were the only ones left in the shared workspace.
Yushi was hunched over a stack of papers, his brow furrowed in concentration. Jaehee, seated across the table, pretended to focus on his laptop, though his eyes kept drifting to Yushi.
The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable.
“Why are you still here?” Yushi asked suddenly, not looking up from his work.
Jaehee blinked, startled. “I’m finishing up the event proposal.”
“You could’ve done that at home,” Yushi said, his tone sharp.
Jaehee hesitated. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t overworking yourself.”
Yushi’s pen froze mid-stroke. Slowly, he looked up, his gaze narrowing. “I told you to stop worrying about me.”
“I can’t help it,” Jaehee admitted, his voice soft but firm. “I care about you, Yushi.”
Yushi’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly looked away, his hands gripping the edges of his papers. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered.
Jaehee smiled faintly. “Maybe. But I mean it.”
Yushi didn’t respond, his expression unreadable as he returned to his work.

The next day, the others noticed something different.
Yushi wasn’t snapping at Jaehee as much, though his tone was still curt. And Jaehee seemed… lighter.
“Did something happen between you two?” one of the senior members asked Jaehee during a break.
Jaehee shook his head, but his slight smile gave him away.
“Whatever it is,” another member said, grinning, “keep it up. Yushi’s been in a slightly better mood lately. Emphasis on slightly.”
Jaehee laughed, though his mind was still replaying the conversation from the night before.

Later that week, Yushi found himself overhearing another conversation about him—this time, between two senior members.
“I’ll admit, Yushi’s a pain to work with sometimes,” one of them said. “But he gets results. You can’t deny that.”
“True,” the other replied. “But have you noticed how much more approachable he’s been lately? It’s like Jaehee’s mellowing him out.”
Yushi sighed, retreating before they could notice him.
He didn’t like being the topic of discussion, but he had to admit… they weren’t entirely wrong.

That evening, Jaehee caught Yushi lingering near the exit after a long meeting.
“Heading out?” Jaehee asked casually.
“Yeah,” Yushi replied, not meeting his eyes.
They stood there in silence for a moment before Yushi spoke again.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked quietly.
“Doing what?”
“Being... nice to me,” Yushi said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jaehee smiled, his expression soft. “Because I like you, Yushi. And I want to be there for you, even if you don’t think you need me.”
Yushi stared at him, his heart pounding.
For once, he didn’t have a sharp reply.

🌳🐈

Yushi didn’t intend to open up to Jaehee.
It wasn’t a conscious decision—it just… happened.
At first, it was little things.
He found himself less guarded around Jaehee, his usual sharp replies softening into something closer to banter. When Jaehee brought him coffee or quietly finished a task without being asked, Yushi stopped telling him to mind his own business. He didn’t thank him, but the lack of protest was thanks enough in Yushi’s language.
Jaehee noticed.
And while he didn’t push, he also didn’t stop. He continued being his steady, patient self, watching as Yushi’s walls began to crack, bit by bit.

One evening, they were working late again. The rest of the commitee had long since gone home, leaving the shared workspace eerily quiet.
Yushi was hunched over a laptop, editing a proposal for an upcoming event. Jaehee sat nearby, organizing the logistics report Yushi had delegated to him.
It was Jaehee who broke the silence first.
“Do you ever take breaks?” he asked, his tone light but genuinely curious.
Yushi didn’t look up. “Do you ever stop asking questions?”
Jaehee grinned. “Nope.”
Yushi sighed but didn’t seem truly annoyed. “Breaks waste time.”
“You know what wastes more time? Burnout.”
That made Yushi pause. He glanced at Jaehee, his expression unreadable. “Is that supposed to be advice?”
“More like an observation,” Jaehee replied, leaning back in his chair. “You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, Yushi. But even you have limits.”

Yushi’s gaze flickered, something complicated flashing in his eyes before he returned his attention to the screen.
“You’re persistent,” he muttered.
“I’ve been told that,” Jaehee said with a small smile.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet tapping of Yushi’s keyboard. Then, without looking up, he said, “In high school, I was the only male omega in my year.”
Jaehee blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession.
Yushi continued, his tone steady but distant. “They didn’t care how hard I worked. To them, I was just an omega. Someone they didn’t have to take seriously.”
He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “So I stopped telling people. When I got here, I decided no one would know unless I wanted them to.”
Jaehee’s chest tightened at the quiet bitterness in Yushi’s voice. “And you thought we’d treat you the same way if we knew?”

Yushi finally looked at him, his expression guarded. “Wouldn’t you?”
“No,” Jaehee said firmly.
Yushi scoffed. “Easy for you to say now.”
“I mean it,” Jaehee insisted. “Your designation doesn’t define you, Yushi. Anyone who can’t see past that isn’t worth your time.”
Yushi’s lips twitched into something that was almost a smile. “You really are an idiot.”
“Maybe,” Jaehee said, unbothered. “But I’m your idiot.”
Yushi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Over the next few weeks, Yushi found himself talking to Jaehee more.
He didn’t tell him everything—some wounds were too deep, too personal—but he let Jaehee see glimpses of the person beneath the carefully constructed façade.
He told him about his love for food, his liking to a certain kpop group, and the stray cat he used to feed behind his apartment complex.
Jaehee soaked up every word like they were precious secrets, and in a way, they were.
The others noticed the change, too.
Yushi was still sharp and demanding, but there was a new kind of warmth in his interactions with Jaehee. And while Jaehee’s puppy-like devotion remained as obvious as ever, Yushi no longer seemed quite so annoyed by it.

One night, as they were packing up after another late work session, Jaehee hesitated.
“Yushi,” he said carefully, “have you ever thought about trusting someone?”
Yushi glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “What do you think I’m doing right now?”
Jaehee blinked, surprised by the bluntness of the reply.
“I’m not good at it,” Yushi admitted, his voice quiet. “Trusting people. It’s easier to rely on myself.”
“But you’re trying,” Jaehee said, his tone soft.
Yushi nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. I’m trying.”
The weight of the moment settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Jaehee smiled, a warm, genuine expression that made something in Yushi’s chest ache.
“Thank you,” Jaehee said simply.
Yushi rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. “Don’t get used to it.”
But Jaehee couldn’t stop smiling, because he knew this was a start.

🌳🐈

Yushi stared at the empty seat where Jaehee usually sat, his pen tapping against the table in irritation. Another meeting had come and gone, and Jaehee was still nowhere to be found.
It had been two days now. Two days of uncharacteristic absence, no explanation, no warning, not even a text.
“Vice President,” one of the newer members asked hesitantly. “Have you heard anything from Jaehee?”
Yushi frowned. “No. Why?”
“Well… you’re, uh… close, right?”
The words made Yushi’s frown deepen. He was still adjusting to the fact that most people thought he and Jaehee were inseparable now. “If I knew, I would’ve told you,” he said curtly.
The room fell silent for a moment before someone else mumbled, “It’s weird, though. He’s never skipped a meeting before.”
Yushi didn’t reply. Instead, he flipped through the agenda to hide his unease.

That evening, as Yushi did his homework alone in the workspace, his phone buzzed. A name he hadn’t seen in two days flashed on the screen.
Jaehee: Sorry for disappearing. I got into an accident on the way to visit my parents. I’m okay, but I’ve been resting at my apartment. My parents just left, so I finally got my phone back.
Yushi sat frozen, rereading the message several times. His first reaction was relief that Jaehee was okay, followed almost immediately by irritation.
It took him a moment to gather his thoughts before typing a response.
Yushi: Idiot. You could’ve told someone earlier.
Jaehee’s reply came almost instantly.
Jaehee: Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry anyone.
Sighing, Yushi stood and grabbed his bag. If Jaehee thought he could just send a text and move on, he was sorely mistaken.

The next day, Yushi informed the commitee about Jaehee’s accident. “He’s fine,” Yushi said briskly. “But he’s been resting at home. I think we should visit him.”
There was a chorus of agreement, but when they tried to settle on a time, scheduling conflicts quickly arose. In the end, only a small group could go that afternoon.

Jaehee looked surprised when they showed up at his apartment. His arm was in a sling, and there were faint bruises along his jawline, but he still managed a sheepish smile. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”
“We’re your team,” one of the members said cheerfully, handing over a basket of snacks. “Of course we had to come!”
As they chatted, Yushi lingered in the background, his sharp gaze taking in Jaehee’s injuries. His irritation hadn’t waned, but it was overshadowed by concern.

After about an hour, the others began to leave, citing other commitments. Yushi remained behind, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.
“You’re still here?” Jaehee asked, amused.
“Obviously,” Yushi replied, his tone clipped.
Jaehee’s smile faltered. “Are you mad?”
Yushi’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think?”
Jaehee sighed, sitting down on the couch with a wince. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”
“Not the point,” Yushi interrupted, stepping closer. “You didn’t tell anyone. You disappeared, and we all thought something happened. And then you text me, two days later, like it’s no big deal?”
Jaehee looked genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t want to bother anyone. My parents were already worried enough, and…” He hesitated. “I didn’t think anyone would care that much.”

Yushi’s jaw tightened. “Don’t be stupid. Of course people care. I care.”
The room fell silent at Yushi’s words. Jaehee blinked, his cheeks reddening slightly.
Yushi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re reckless, Jaehee. And selfish. You can’t just shut people out like that.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Stop saying that!” Yushi snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He took a deep breath, lowering his tone. “You’re part of the team. If something happens, we need to know. I need to know.”
Jaehee’s expression softened, and for the first time, Yushi felt the tension between them ease.
“I’ll do better next time,” Jaehee said quietly.
“You’d better,” Yushi muttered.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Yushi glanced at the clock. “It’s late. I should go.”
“Stay for a bit,” Jaehee said quickly, then looked embarrassed by his own suggestion. “I mean… if you’re not busy.”
Yushi hesitated but eventually sat down on the armchair opposite Jaehee. “Fine. But only for a little while.”
Jaehee smiled, and Yushi felt a strange warmth settle in his chest.

As the evening wore on, their conversation grew lighter. Yushi scolded Jaehee for his poor eating habits, while Jaehee teased him about his tendency to micromanage everything.
For the first time in a while, it felt natural. Comfortable.
And for Yushi, who had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, it was a feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to let go of.

🌳🐈

For the next few days, Yushi’s visits to Jaehee’s apartment became routine. Each evening after the day’s meetings, he’d show up with takeout or groceries in hand, his usual sharp tone softening as he checked on Jaehee’s recovery.
Jaehee, meanwhile, seemed happier than ever. His smile was brighter, his teasing remarks lighter, and his gaze lingered on Yushi in a way that made the older man uncomfortably aware of his every move.
“You’re here again?” Jaehee teased one evening when Yushi walked through the door, holding a steaming container of soup. “I’m starting to think you actually like taking care of me.”
Yushi rolled his eyes, setting the food down on the table. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t trust you to eat anything other than instant noodles if I’m not here.”
Jaehee chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

A week passed, and Yushi began to notice that Jaehee’s injuries seemed to be healing remarkably quickly. His bruises had faded, and he no longer winced when moving his arm. Yet, Jaehee still claimed to be too weak to attend classes or even leave the apartment.
At first, Yushi dismissed it as cautiousness. But when he walked in one evening to find Jaehee stretching his supposedly injured arm over his head with ease, realization hit him like a freight train.
“Wait a second,” Yushi said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not still hurt, are you?”
Jaehee froze mid-stretch, his expression guilty. “Uh… well…”
“Jaehee,” Yushi said, his tone dangerously calm. “Are you faking this?”
“No!” Jaehee said quickly, then winced under Yushi’s glare. “Okay, maybe a little…”
Yushi’s jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. “Explain. Now.”
Jaehee sighed, sinking onto the couch like a child caught misbehaving. “I just… I didn’t want you to stop coming over.”

Yushi blinked, his annoyance briefly giving way to confusion. “What?”
“I know it’s stupid,” Jaehee admitted, his voice quieter now. “But you only started paying attention to me like this because I got hurt. And… it’s been nice. Having you here, I mean. So I thought if I seemed sicker, maybe you’d stay longer.”
Yushi stared at him, a mix of anger, guilt, and something softer brewing in his chest. “So you lied to me?”
“I’m sorry,” Jaehee said quickly, his voice earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to his lap. “I wanted to feel important to you. For once.”
The confession left Yushi speechless. His anger fizzled out, replaced by a strange ache in his chest.
“Jaehee,” he said after a long pause, his voice softer now. “It’s not that I don’t care about you. I just…” He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I’m not used to this. Checking on people, caring for them—it’s new to me.”

Jaehee looked up, surprised. “Really?”
Yushi nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ve always kept my distance. People usually don’t stick around for me, so I learned not to stick around for them.” He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Jaehee’s lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he watched Yushi with an intensity that made the older man squirm.

Finally, Jaehee spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like you Yushi.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Yushi stiffened, his mind racing.
“What?” he managed to say, his voice a mixture of disbelief and confusion.
“I like you,” Jaehee repeated, more firmly this time. “Not just as the vice president I admire, or the person who always pushes me to do better. I like you. As… you.”
Yushi stared at him, his usual sharp composure completely shattered. He didn’t know what to say, how to react. The room felt too small, the air too thick.
“Why?” he finally asked, the word slipping out before he could stop it.
Jaehee blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”
“Yes, why?” Yushi demanded, his voice sharper now as he tried to mask his discomfort. “Why me? I’m not… I’m not likeable. I’m not warm or friendly or anything close to what people usually want.”

Jaehee frowned, his gaze steady. “Maybe that’s why. Because you don’t try to be anyone other than yourself. Because you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, and even when you’re harsh, it’s because you care. And maybe…” His voice softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe because I see the person you don’t show everyone else. The one who brings soup to an annoying junior because he’s worried about them.”
Yushi’s throat tightened, his chest aching with a mix of emotions he didn’t know how to process. He stood abruptly, grabbing his bag.
“I… need to go,” he muttered, his voice strained.
“Yushi—”
“Rest properly this time,” Yushi interrupted, his back to Jaehee as he headed for the door. “I won’t forgive you if you fake being sick again.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Jaehee alone on the couch, a bittersweet smile on his face.

Yushi didn’t sleep that night.
Jaehee’s words echoed in his mind, haunting him. I like you. As you.
No one had ever said that to him before. No one had ever looked at him the way Jaehee did, with warmth and admiration that felt undeserved.
But as much as Yushi tried to push the memory away, one thought lingered:
What if… he wasn’t lying?

🌳🐈

Jaehee stared at the door long after Yushi left, the soft sound of it closing still ringing in his ears. He leaned back against the couch, exhaling a shaky breath as he replayed the conversation in his head.
It wasn’t how he had planned to confess, but seeing Yushi care so much about his well-being had unraveled him. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting it out, and now he was left with the aftermath: the lingering taste of rejection.
Or… was it rejection?

Jaehee wasn’t sure. Yushi’s reaction had been complicated. He hadn’t outright dismissed Jaehee’s feelings, but he hadn’t acknowledged them either. Instead, he had run—something Yushi never did. Yushi, who was always composed and direct, had been flustered, unsure, and… vulnerable.
That thought made Jaehee’s chest tighten.
Did I scare him?

The idea of being the one to unnerve Yushi felt wrong. Yushi had always been his pillar of strength, the sharp-tongued leader who never wavered. But now, Jaehee had seen something else—someone uncertain, someone who didn’t believe he deserved to be liked.
How long has he felt that way?

The realization made Jaehee feel protective in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d always admired Yushi from a distance, thinking of him as untouchable. But now, the cracks in Yushi’s wall were showing, and Jaehee wanted nothing more than to step through them, no matter how difficult it might be.

The next day, Jaehee went to classes but skip the commitee meeting. He needed time to think, to figure out how to approach Yushi without pushing him further away.
If he wasnt in class, he spent most of the day lying on the couch, staring at his phone. He wanted to text Yushi, but he didn’t know what to say. Every drafted message felt too formal, too casual, or too desperate. Eventually, he set his phone down and groaned, covering his face with a pillow.
Why is this so hard?

The next day was no better. Jaehee couldn’t bring himself to go to the meeting, knowing Yushi would be there. His mind kept replaying their last conversation, the way Yushi’s voice had trembled when he asked, “Why me?”
Jaehee’s heart clenched at the memory. He didn’t regret confessing, but he regretted the timing. Yushi had already been overwhelmed, and Jaehee had only made things harder.

On the third day, Jaehee couldn’t take it anymore. He forced himself out of his apartment and headed to the commitee’s office.
When he arrived, the familiar hum of activity greeted him. Members were scattered around the shared workspace, chatting and working on various projects. Jaehee spotted Yushi immediately, seated at a table with a small group. He looked as composed as ever, his expression neutral as he discussed something on a laptop screen.
But Jaehee noticed the tension in Yushi’s shoulders, the way he avoided looking around the room. He was putting up a front.
He’s not fine, Jaehee realized, his chest tightening.
He hesitated, unsure if he should approach Yushi. Before he could decide, someone called out to him.
“Jaehee! Where’ve you been?” one of the members asked, grinning as they approached. “Are you still sick? Yushi said you’re all healed but why are you still MIA for days?”
Jaehee’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah im okay now”
“By the way, Yushi been weird lately, though. Kind of tense. Did you two fight or something?”
Jaehee forced a laugh, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.”
The member shrugged and walked away, leaving Jaehee standing awkwardly by the door. He glanced at Yushi again, who was still engrossed in his work.
I need to fix this, Jaehee thought, determination hardening his resolve.

He crossed the room, his heart pounding with every step. When he reached Yushi’s table, the older man looked up, his eyes widening briefly before narrowing.
“Jaehee,” Yushi said, his tone even but guarded. “You’re back.”
Jaehee nodded, swallowing his nerves. “Can we talk? Privately?”
Yushi hesitated, his gaze flickering to the others at the table. Finally, he sighed and stood, motioning for Jaehee to follow him to a quieter corner of the room.
Once they were alone, Jaehee took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for skipping the meetings. I just… I needed time to think.”
“Think about what?” Yushi asked, his arms crossed.

Jaehee hesitated, searching Yushi’s expression for any sign of how he felt. “About us. About what I said the other day.”
Yushi’s eyes hardened, and he looked away. “Jaehee, forget about it.”
“I can’t,” Jaehee said firmly. “I meant what I said. And I know I pushed you too much, and I’m sorry. But I’m not going to pretend I don’t care about you.”
Yushi’s jaw tightened, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Jaehee cut him off.
“You asked me why I like you,” Jaehee said, his voice softening. “The truth is, I don’t have just one reason. I like you because you’re smart, because you care even when you try to hide it, because you don’t let anyone tell you who you’re supposed to be.” He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I like you because you’re you, Yushi. And I’m not going to stop.”

Yushi stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Jaehee thought he’d overstepped again. But then Yushi sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re so stubborn,” Yushi muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Jaehee smiled faintly. “You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t.”
Yushi snorted, shaking his head. “Who says about me liking you?” “Hah I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Start by letting me in,” Jaehee said, his voice gentle.
Yushi’s eyes flickered with something Jaehee couldn’t quite place, but he nodded slowly. “Fine. But don’t expect it to be easy.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Jaehee said, his smile widening.

🌳🐈

Yushi had expected things to go back to normal—or at least, his version of normal. After the emotionally charged conversation with Jaehee, where he finally let his walls crack a little, he thought the younger alpha would take things slow. Maybe back off a little now that he wasn’t actively pushing him away.
He was wrong.
If anything, Jaehee had doubled down.

It started small. Yushi arrived at their shared committee workspace one morning to find a neatly folded scarf sitting on his chair.
“You forgot yours yesterday,” Jaehee said when Yushi looked around for the culprit.
Yushi frowned, picking up the scarf. “How did you even—”
“You mentioned being cold,” Jaehee interrupted, his expression casual as he set his bag down. “I thought this might help.”
Yushi’s face heated, and he quickly wrapped the scarf around his neck, if only to hide the growing flush. “Thanks,” he mumbled, though he avoided Jaehee’s gaze for the rest of the morning.

But it didn’t stop there.
Jaehee’s subtle attentions grew into more overt gestures that seemed to have everyone in the committee buzzing.

One afternoon, as Yushi was reviewing a proposal draft, Jaehee appeared out of nowhere, holding out a steaming cup of coffee.
“Here,” Jaehee said, setting it on the table in front of Yushi.
“I didn’t ask for—”
“I know,” Jaehee said, cutting him off with a grin. “But I noticed you’ve been staring at that screen for hours. Figured you could use a break.”
Yushi blinked at the coffee, then at Jaehee, his face growing warmer by the second. “You can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, though he still reached for the cup.
“What, taking care of you?” Jaehee teased, leaning just slightly into Yushi’s space.

Yushi sputtered, his words caught somewhere between protest and embarrassment. Across the room, a few other committee members snickered at the scene.
“Jaehee, you’re going to give him a heart attack,” one of them joked.
“Or finally break through that icy exterior,” another chimed in, earning a round of laughter.
Yushi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can we all focus on work instead of my personal life?”
Meanwhile, Jaehee’s antics weren’t going unnoticed outside of the committee either.

In one of his classes, his friends cornered him during a break.
“Okay, spill,” one of them demanded, crossing their arms. “Who’s the beta?”
Jaehee raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What beta?”
“The one you’ve been mooning over,” another friend said. “We’ve seen you sneaking off during lunch and smiling at your phone like an idiot.”
Jaehee laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not sneaking. And his name is Yushi.”
“Wait, Yushi? As in the Yushi? Vice President Yushi?”
“The sharp-tongued one?” another asked, eyes wide. “You’re courting him? Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Jaehee asked, genuinely confused.
His friends exchanged bewildered looks. “I mean, he’s kind of… terrifying.”
Jaehee smiled fondly, shaking his head. “You don’t know him like I do.”

Back at the committee, Yushi was doing his best to navigate this new, strange dynamic with Jaehee.
He tried to act unaffected, brushing off Jaehee’s relentless gestures and affection. But it was becoming harder to ignore the way his heart fluttered whenever Jaehee smiled at him, or how his cheeks burned every time their hands brushed.
“Yushi, you’re blushing again,” one of the members teased during a meeting.
“I am not,” Yushi shot back, though the redness on his ears betrayed him.
“You totally are,” another member said, laughing. “Jaehee’s going to kill us all with secondhand embarrassment at this rate.”
“Shut up and get back to work,” Yushi snapped, burying his face in his notes.

Jaehee, sitting across from him, looked far too pleased with himself.

As the weeks went on, Yushi found himself reluctantly softening, letting Jaehee into his carefully guarded world little by little. He still wasn’t sure how to handle the younger alpha’s attention, but one thing was becoming increasingly clear: Jaehee wasn’t going anywhere.

And, to his surprise, Yushi didn’t really want him to.

🌳🐈

Yushi didn’t expect to see him again.
The committee’s workspace buzzed with its usual chaos: papers scattered across tables, conversations overlapping, and laptops humming. Yushi was busy reviewing event plans when a familiar voice stopped him mid-sentence.

“Yushi.”
The voice was smooth, with a warmth that hadn’t changed despite the years. Yushi looked up sharply, his breath catching as he met the gaze of Oh Sion.

“Sion?”
The name came out almost like a whisper, and the other members of the committee immediately picked up on the shift in Yushi’s usually composed demeanor.
Sion smiled, stepping further into the room. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed sharply in business casual, he radiated the confidence of an alpha who had long since found his place in the world.

“Surprised to see me?” Sion asked, tilting his head slightly.
“What are you doing here?” Yushi finally managed, standing up from his chair.
“I’m consulting for the university on one of their partnership projects,” Sion explained. “I thought I’d stop by when I heard you were part of this commitee. It’s been a while.”

Jaehee, sitting nearby and halfway through writing a report, had frozen the moment Sion entered the room. His eyes flicked between Yushi and the stranger, watching their interaction like a hawk.

Something about Sion made Jaehee’s chest tighten. Maybe it was the way Yushi’s usually sharp tone softened slightly when he spoke to him. Or maybe it was the way Sion looked at Yushi—like he already knew every layer of him.
“Who’s this?” one of the members asked, breaking the tension in the room.
“An old friend,” Yushi replied quickly, though his tone betrayed a flicker of hesitation.
Sion raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Just a friend, huh?”
Yushi shot him a warning look, which only seemed to amuse Sion further.

The interaction left Jaehee on edge for the rest of the day. He didn’t say anything at first, trying to rationalize his reaction.
But when he saw Yushi and Sion standing together outside the building later that afternoon, laughing softly over something Sion said, Jaehee’s insecurity boiled over.

That evening, Jaehee cornered Yushi as they walked to the campus library.
“So... that guy,” Jaehee started, trying to sound casual. “You two seem close.”
“Sion? I told you, he’s an old friend,” Yushi replied, not looking up from his phone.
“Old friend, huh?” Jaehee’s voice came out tighter than he intended. “Did you... date him?”
Yushi stopped walking, finally looking at Jaehee with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”
Jaehee shifted uncomfortably under Yushi’s gaze. “Just... curious.”
Yushi sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. “We were close in high school. He was one of the few people who didn’t write me off because of my designation.”
“Right,” Jaehee muttered, though it didn’t ease the knot in his chest. “He seems... impressive.”
Yushi snorted, shaking his head. “You’re being weird.”

Over the next few days, Sion’s presence became a constant shadow. He wasn’t deliberately intrusive, but every time he stopped by to check on the committee’s progress or to talk to Yushi, Jaehee couldn’t help but feel outclassed.
It didn’t help that Sion was charismatic and already well-established in his career. Compared to him, Jaehee felt like an inexperienced kid.
Even worse, Jaehee’s insecurity only grew when he thought about how, despite his repeated confessions, Yushi still hadn’t said anything about how he felt.

Later that evening, as the others left one by one, Jaehee stayed behind under the pretense of finishing up some documents. In reality, he was waiting for Yushi.
When Yushi finally started packing up his things, Jaehee gathered his courage.
“Yushi,” Jaehee called out, standing from his seat.
Yushi looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Jaehee hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Be my boyfriend.”
The words hung in the air, stark and unpolished. Yushi blinked, visibly startled.
“What?” he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.
“I’ve been courting you for weeks,” Jaehee said, stepping closer. “And... I need to know if this is going anywhere. If I should keep trying, or if I should stop.”
Yushi frowned, crossing his arms. “Why are you asking this now?”

Jaehee hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because of Sion,” he admitted quietly. “I know he’s important to you. And I know he’s... better than me in a lot of ways. But I don’t want to waste your time if you’re just being polite, or if you’d rather be with someone like him.”

Yushi stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re an idiot.”
Jaehee’s head shot up, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”
“You think I’d let you hover around me like some oversized puppy if I didn’t care?” Yushi asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Do you know how annoying you are?”

Jaehee flinched, but before he could respond, Yushi continued.
“But somehow, even with all your annoying persistence, you’ve managed to make me...” Yushi trailed off, his face reddening slightly. “...not hate it.”

Jaehee’s heart skipped a beat. “So... does that mean—”
“Don’t make me say it,” Yushi snapped, looking away as if the wall behind Jaehee was suddenly very interesting.
A grin spread across Jaehee’s face, his earlier insecurity melting away. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, stepping closer.
Yushi turned back to him, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

But Jaehee couldn’t stop smiling, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to brush Yushi’s hand with his fingertips. Yushi stiffened for a moment before sighing and letting his hand rest in Jaehee’s.
“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for idiots,” Yushi muttered, his voice barely audible.
“I’ll take my chances,” Jaehee replied, his voice soft but full of warmth.

The next day, word spread quickly among the committee members that Jaehee had “won over” their sharp-tongued vice president.
“Did you hear?” one of them whispered during a break. “Yushi finally agreed to date Jaehee.”
“I thought Yushi hated him at first!”
“Apparently not. Jaehee’s been at it for months, though. Can’t believe it actually worked.”

The whispers made Yushi glare daggers at anyone who dared to snicker in his presence, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks gave him away.
Meanwhile, Jaehee couldn’t stop smiling, even as his classmates bombarded him with questions.

“Seriously, though,” one of his friends asked during lunch. “What do you see in him? I mean, no offense, he is nice to look at but, uh... too intense.”
“That’s what I like about him,” Jaehee replied without hesitation. “He’s strong, smart, and doesn’t let anyone tell him who he’s supposed to be. I admire him.”
His friends exchanged skeptical glances but didn’t press further, leaving Jaehee to his thoughts.

As the days went on, Yushi found himself slowly lowering the walls he’d built around his heart. He wasn’t used to letting someone in, but Jaehee’s unwavering devotion made it harder and harder to keep his guard up.
And while Yushi would never admit it aloud, there was something comforting about having someone who saw past his sharp edges and still wanted to hold on.