Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jisung hates it here.

It reeks of old money and daddy issues.

And yet, here he is, ready to race against them for the glory and a cash prize of 3,000$. No one around needed the cash, except him. He had bills to pay, a shitty apartment rent due and a debt his dead-ass step-dad had left him when he croaked earlier in the year.  

Minho had warned him that he would likely be the only really desperate one in this race. Most of them are there for the thrills, the fun, the socialite of meeting racers and talking all night long, drinking beers and awful vodka shots. He can see some of them, laughing against a beauty of a street-race car, one Jisung couldn’t dream of owning in this life or even the next one.

His car — his baby — is made of scraps and fine-tuned to perfection by Minho’s mechanic boyfriend. He’s a waif of a man, with a sharp silver smile and sharper knowing eyes hidden by a pair of glasses. At first, Seungmin didn’t look like a competent mechanic. Yet, he’s one of the best around (and Jisung had a standing discount with him, so he isn’t looking at a gift horse in the mouth). The beta had assured him that he had thrusters that would leave any of his competitors in the dust. And as much of a liar as he was, Jisung had trusted him on this one.

The bright red paint he has chosen is also a statement, a big fuck you to their soulless chromes and greys — as per Seungmin’s words. And if he side-eyed Jisung for the big ass Gojo Satoru he asked for the sides, well, Jisung had learned to ignore his judgmental stare since day one. Also, Seungmin promised him a new paint job once, and only if he had the money to pay for it.

Thus, the competition tonight.

He wants to prove himself to all those rich kids. He wants the win, like a dog turned mad by hunger. His teeth ache for the victory, to inscribe his name in their memories forever.

Minho has warned him that his biggest competition would be CB97 — black as night car with a feral wolf decal, and any other racer he associates with. He is known to mentor new hopefuls, teaching them the ropes and leaving them to run wild in every race around the city. Rumors have it that his newest protegee, SpearB, can outrace anyone in the last leg of their circuit. When you heard the powerful engine of his car roaring, it was already too late for you.

What a pile of bullshit, Jisung thinks.

It sounds more like an urban legend than anything he really must worry about. And it isn’t his jealousy showing. Nope. He has the best mentor around, the legendary Lee Know, the only true rival known to CB97 during their glory days. He had arrived like a ghost, challenged the reigning champion, won a couple of races, then dipped not even 6 months later.

Nowadays, only CB97 is still active. Jisung can see him surrounded by his followers, who fawn over him like he’s holding court. Disgusting. A tall alpha, by the look of it, is laughing like his king had said the funniest joke ever, his buzzed head thrown backwards. Another one, smaller but much more muscular, glowers at everyone, gaze intense. His teeth and nose are hidden behind a purple bandana, and CB97 has an arm thrown around his shoulders. What a wanker. It must be his new protegee, SpearB.

Jisung hates him on sight.

He doesn’t have the time to approach and exchange barbed words with him, his phone pinging with the start location. It’s showtime.

The race is a blur. His Honda Civic roars beautifully each time he speeds up. He leaves everyone in the dust from the start, taking every angle way too close to be safe. Minho will have his hide for his reckless driving, but it’s an issue for future Jisung. It’s exhilarating until he sees a dark shape on his right.

He knows it’s SpearB, the only one good enough to beat him. Jisung accelerates, feet on the pedal, his hands on the steering wheel in a dead grip. He can feel his heart in his throat and a big smile overtaking his frowning face. The urge to win against the reigning champion is too much to ignore. If he’s even more reckless than before, it’s his problem — he’s the one risking his life in a tuned car in a highly illegal street race. He’s taking corners sharper than ever, tires burning on the asphalt.

They engage in a weird game of hide-and-seek. They weave through the streets that twist and turn, far from the pristine confines of an F1 circuit. The tall buildings loom like sentinels, obstructing the road ahead and keeping them both on their toes. Jisung navigates the curves like a pro, gathering speed and momentum with each turn of his car. Meanwhile, SpearB's alpine, a powerhouse by its own right, roars to life on straight stretches.

Luckily for Jisung, the finish line looms just around the corner. His heart races as adrenaline courses through his veins, urging him to push his car to its absolute limits. The engine roars beneath him, its power reverberates through his arms. As the vibrant purple smoke billows into the air, signaling his triumph, a primal howl escapes his lips. He executes a perfect drift, coming to a smooth stop, the taste of victory fresh in his mouth.

SpearB’s car isn’t far from the finishing line. Jisung can feel his smoldering eyes on him, and in childish glee, he sticks his tongue out. He won. He can hardly believe he won on his first try. Maybe the so-called champion wasn’t that good. His reputation’s made of fumes and created to scare competitors away.

They don’t have the time to rejoice long, police flashing lights already color the streets red and blue. They all know how to disperse and regroup later. The after-party is around the block, some place every contestant is made aware of before the race even begins.

Some go back home to take a shower or change, but Jisung is too vindictively happy to do that. They will have to deal with his alpha pheromones going haywire. His citrusy scent is all over his car like he’s smack in the middle of a mandarin orchard.

Sweat sticks his light blue hair to his forehead and nape. He feels like he has run a marathon, his heart still beating in his ear. Bass thrums under his skin as soon as he enters the venue, the floor already packed with bodies dancing, screaming, and making out. Pheromones are heavy in the air, barely masked by the artificial musk of the club, something sharp and citrusy attacking his sensitive nose.

Jisung wants to bask in his victory, maybe find someone, more likely a pretty omega with big doe eyes, to warm his bed for the night.

But first, he needs the race’s organizer. He doesn’t want to forget about his prize as the night goes on. He looks for his neon green mullet, but the stroboscopic lights paint everything violet and pink. After an eternity – more likely a couple of minutes, he finds him on the balcony, seated on deep burgundy cushions, busy with a strawberry blonde kissing the side of his neck.

As Jisung approaches, he feels eyes on him, making his skin crawl. A sharp smile overtakes Taeyong’s face. His fangs glitter like small disco balls, filled with dozens of tiny diamonds. Uh. Jisung didn’t know that Taeyong was an omega. He resists the urge to posture, bristling. He must behave to get his prize cash and participate in future races.

“Impressive first run, hopefully we’ll see you for the next one?”

Taeyong’s voice is smooth, dripping with gold and ambrosia. Jisung knows instinctively that he’s dangerous and shouldn’t cross him. He nods, forces a smile on his stiff face, and bows when receiving his money.

“Go enjoy your win tonight, the floor is yours,” he dismisses him, going back to his companion, as if Jisung isn’t standing in front of him.

He makes himself scarce, the money slipping inside his leather jacket. Cash in hand and the adrenaline leaving his body, Jisung wonders if he should stay in the club as planned. He’s already sweating buckets, palms uncomfortably wet. 

People congratulate him left and right without really approaching him. He’s an unknown. A new face who had never raced them before. Some of them had bet on SpearB to win and, thus, lost money when he beat their favorite.

Jisung decides to stay as a fuck-you to them. He cracks a beer and stays near the bar for a refill. He looks around, looking for someone to spend the night with, leaning on the railing. He feels the energy in the room shifting as CB97 and his following arrive inside. Jisung glowers when his eyes meet his. He knows he’s posturing, and he shouldn’t. But he hates stepping down from a challenge. 

He doesn’t see his shadow. Maybe SpearB is butthurt from his loss and decided not to show up. The tall alpha and blonde omega from before are both here, looking at CB97 like he had strung the stars in the sky. One has his arms thrown over their leader’s shoulders, the other grabbing his biceps with fascination. Even from afar, Jisung can acknowledge that CB97 is stacked, even if his inner alpha is convinced that he can take him in any fight.

They have a young pup with them, maybe their new pet project, who looks around with big eyes and a bigger smile. The pup seems barely presented and should already be in bed if someone asked for his opinion. Jisung sniffs the air, but the scent of sweat and arousal is hanging too heavily in the club.  

Then, the last of them appears, tucking himself against CB97’s arm, nuzzling his neck, and dislodging the buzz head from his spot.

It must be his bitch-

Oh.

He is also the most beautiful omega Jisung has ever seen.

He is petite — the smallest of the group, but not as omegas usually are. Well not really, he’s buff as fuck. Yet there’s still something delicate about him. He has a stocky build, perfect to protect and care for future pups; his instincts scream. He wears a pink pastel tank top, barely hiding the size of his arms. Jisung feels himself salivating. He wants to drape him in the coziest clothes he owns (everyone would know he was his, and he would smell just like him as well). 

The omega also wears a pair of glasses, with dark, fluffy hair falling into his eyes. Jisung feels the urge to smooth some curls around his pierced ears, to cup his face, and kiss the dimple on his right cheek. From a distance, Jisung can’t distinguish his eyes’ color, but he can see how pink his lips look when he smiles tenderly at the tall alpha.

Sudden jealousy churns in his stomach at the sight. He should be the sole target of such a lovely smile. Chugging his beer and leaving it on a nearby table, he decides to go downstairs to talk to him. With a bit of luck, he’s unhappy with them, and Jisung will appear like a knight with shining armor.

With a red Honda Civic as its horse. 

“Hey there! Congrats on the win. J.One, right?” greets CB97 with a warm smile, waving his hands as he approaches.

It’s difficult to hate such an easygoing person, but Minho has warned him of his rival’s ways. He would portray himself as a benevolent mentor. He gives tips and helps with cars. But then, he would ask a commission with each race, draining any money his mentees would make.

Jisung nods, his eyes never leaving the omega he has his sight on.

“Have you been trained by Lee Know, by any chance?” asks CB97 as if already knowing the answer.

“What about it?” glowers Jisung, defensive. CB97’s smile grows, his eyes turning into crescents.

“Nothing, you just have the same racing style. How’s he doing?”

“Good,” Jisung answers sharply, done with the chit-chat.

“Hey, uh,” he turns to the omega stuck to CB97’s side. “Do you … What’s …” His tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth. If he was salivating before, now his mouth feels as dry as the Sahara. The omega’s eyes are so pretty that Jisung nearly keens. He has the darkest eyes he has ever seen, round and soft like boba pearls. They sparkle with the club’s light as if filled with a galaxy of stars.

“Oh, silly of me, I didn’t think to introduce anyone.” Says CB97 with his charming voice. “Here’s Jinnie” — tall buzz cut alpha, Jisung hates him on sight and the feeling seems mutual, “Felix” — small blonde omega, cute but not as cute as the new love of his life. “Jeongin” — the pup, with a sharp smile, and sharper eyes, “and Binnie.”

The so-called Binnie waves his hand at last, and Jisung feels the tips of his ears darken. He’s so tongue-tied that he only manages to nod in greetings. Cheeks warm, he feels flushed, like he had too many beers instead of the lonely bottle upstairs.

— ◊◊◊ —

Jisung doesn’t know what to bring as a first courting gift.

He knows how to flirt. He has done it enough times to have it down as an art form. He usually smiles, touches a shoulder or a hip, whispers filthy things in their ears, and it’s done. It always ends in his bed, or a seedy bathroom, one-night stands he never meets twice. 

But today, he’s looking for something more like “I find you really pretty, do you want to spend the rest of your life mated with me”, instead of a “I find you really pretty and want you sobbing on my knot.” Both statements are true and not mutually exclusive. In this case, he wants to be more romantic and to do everything right from the start. He can’t afford to leave a bad second impression. His first wasn’t already very glorious.

WikiHow doesn’t help. He’s stuck on step one: make your intentions clear. To do so, he needs a good courting gift, right? This is what the K-dramas he binge-watched all night taught him, at least.

Google hasn’t helped with this one as well. Its AI overview gives bullshit answers like offering used underwear or dueling to death the omega’s guardian. And as much as Jisung wanted to kiss CB97’s perfect teeth with his fist, he knew it wouldn’t impress Binnie.

He is more than his brawl, alright?

He is desperate, which leads him to his worst mistake of date:

“What should I bring to Binnie at the next meeting?”

Seungmin slides from under his car, “Who?”

“Binnie? The love of my life? My future wife and mother of our child?” Jisung could write poetry for hours about him. He had already filled pages of his notebooks about the depth of his eyes, the swell of his hips, or the fluffiness of his hair. Guitar chords jotted down on the margins, and a melody humming in his brain.

“Uh … didn’t know you were with someone. Have you been together long?”

“Met him last night”, Jisung chews around his mouthful of instant noodles, a pensive frown on his face.

He looks over Seungmin, as he said nothing forthcoming. It was amazing how much his mechanic could say with only one arched brow. Heavy judgment and pity battle on his face, the former winning. Jisung feels the need to defend himself, “What?”

Seungmin pinches his brows, “Tell me you at least talked to him-.”

“Um, yeah. Who do you take me for?” scoffs Jisung. The beta presses his lips together, tinkling away.

As the silence stretches, Jisung feels compelled to explain himself. “I asked for his name!” It’s not exactly the truth, but what Seungmin doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and his pride remains intact. 

“I expected nothing, and yet you still manage to impress me.” Deadpan Seungmin with his dry tone. Jisung wants to puff out his chest, but meeting the beta’s sparkly eyes, he realizes he’s mocking him. 

“Just tell me what to get him, dude.”

“I’m not your ‘dude’, Han Jisung.” Seungmin drawls. He gets out from under the car and wipes off the grease stains with a cloth. “Just get him flowers or whatever.” He shrugs.

“But it’s so … lame?” whines Jisung, throwing his head against the chair’s back. He turns once, twice, then a dozen times, losing himself in the spinning. He had taken it out of the small office where Seugmin did all his administrative work. At first, the beta had grumbled, but now he leaves Jisung to his own devices, too tired to argue with him.

“It’s a very suitable first courting gift,” grumbles Seungmin, adjusting his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s your fault for not knowing enough to give a more personal present.”

“What did Minho give you?”

“Dog food.”

“You’re kidding,” says Jisung, stunned. He notices Seungmin snickering behind his hand and feels foolish for having believed him, even for a moment. “Fine if you won’t help-“

“I know a good florist, if you need one.”

“You’re the best, Seungminnie,” Jisung says, standing and pushing back the chair against a wall. He makes a kissy face at a disgusted Seungmin. He puts a car between himself and Jisung, brandishing his wrench as a sword. 

“Never call me that again, and just get out.”

“I know you love me in your cold, dead heart!” Jisung laughs at the beta’s darkening gaze.

“Keep telling yourself that to sleep at night.”  

Contrary to his avoidant attitude, Seungmin directly texts Jisung the florist's address. Jisung smiles over his shoulder and exits his friend’s garage. The flower shop is not in the same neighborhood as his shop — nothing nice could survive here. The rent is too expensive around the block, but the real issue is the thieves. Jisung isn’t an innocent bystander; far from it. Month ends are always tough, and it’s often easier to steal instant noodles from the local store than to pick up another shift at his shitty jobs.

Jisung notices the differences right away when he arrives at the destination. The streets are cleaner, the walls are made from smooth red bricks, and the air doesn’t smell like leftover trash. The flower shop is a quaint little place tucked between a coffee shop and a bakery, with a colorful array of flowers spilling out onto the sidewalk. It looks perfect, too perfect. Jisung hates how everything seems straight out of a romance movie set.

As he pushes open the door, a soft chime announces his entrance. Jisung is immediately hit by a wave of floral scents: sweet and earthy, like freshly cut grass. His mood quickly sours when he spots the clerk behind the counter: a familiar buzz cut attached to a lanky body. It’s CB97’s lackey — Jin, something.

“What can I help you with today, J.One?” the alpha calls, his voice dipped in honey but laced with an undertone of challenge that makes Jisung’s fists clench inside his jacket. What is he doing here? He looks … weird, with his soft yellow apron, eerily different from the race and the club where he was in full leather gear. 

“I need flowers,” Jisung answers, trying to keep his tone even. “For… a friend.”

Jin — Jinnie! His brain suddenly remembers, raises a slitted eyebrow, clearly not buying into Jisung's attempt at nonchalance. “A friend, huh? That sounds suspiciously like it’s for a date.”

“None of your business,” Jisung shot back, his cheeks heating up. “I just want to buy some flowers,” He adds tersely, trying to keep his irritation at bay. After all, he’s here on a mission—even if it meant dealing with another alpha sniffing where he shouldn’t.

Jinnie’s smile widens, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’re trying to impress someone?”

Jisung ignores him and turns to the array of flowers, hoping to find something that reminds him of the omega he wants to impress. He searches for something small, delicate, but with a strong scent. Despite the chaos of pheromones at the club, Jisung had noticed a subtle hint of cherries that belonged to Binnie. Maybe he should also ask for his real name next time they meet.  

“What about some roses? It always works,” says Jinnie, his nasally voice startling him.

“Everyone gets roses! I need something unique!” Jisung grumbles, voice dripping with disdain. The other alpha, unfazed by his sharp tone, raises an eyebrow and suggests vibrant sunflowers instead.

“No, it doesn’t match,” Jisung says, shaking his head as he runs a nervous hand through his blue hair. He glances around the shop, uncertain about what to choose. However, he knows that whatever flowers this stupid florist suggests, it won’t work.

“I want- … small pink flowers, do you have that?” He resigns himself to ask. Jinnie hums thoughtfully under his breath. He goes to the back of the shop and returns with a bouquet of pink “daisies”, he informs him, and round yellow things, “acacia flowers,” Jinnie adds. They have a nice, clean smell, floral without being overwhelming. The yellow fuzzballs remind him of wood and honey, with an undertone of pine leaves. 

It is a modest bouquet, but Jisung’s finances are tight. He doesn’t have much money lying around, despite the cash from last Friday. It had melted like snow in the sun. He had to pay two months’ rent to his landlord and cover the electricity bills to avoid the power being cut off. Moreover, Seungmin had also asked for his share, and Jisung had promised to take Minho out to celebrate his first win.

“I’ll take it, can you add some stuff, I don’t know, leaves? And wrap it up?” Jisung gives a crumpled fifty. “Just make it pretty.”

Jinnie works efficiently. His long fingers carefully select fern leaves to enhance the bouquet's beauty, giving it a more forest-like appearance. Jisung likes the result but says nothing; the only sounds in the shop are the soft music from a small radio hidden behind the counter and the gentle cutting of stems.

The alpha hums a song as he processes the purchase. However, before handing Jisung the bouquet, he smiles teasingly. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic, J.One.”

“You don’t know me.” Jisung bristles. He takes the bouquet, cradling the wildflowers gently in his arms. “It’s not romantic! Just thoughtful … I guess.”

He doesn’t know why he is sharing this with a stranger, but it feels like he is opening something soft inside his chest. He doesn't want this strange alpha to look at him as if he knows all his secrets. All weekend, he has been thinking about Binnie; his face has not left his mind, and the kind smile Binnie has shown to his friends has even crept into his dreams. Jealousy churns in his gut as he recalls how tender Binnie had looked at CB97. Jisung feels he deserves those looks far more than anyone else.

“Thoughtful can be romantic, you know,” Jinnie says, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he grabs a small card and hands it to Jisung. “You should write something sweet.”

“Like what?” Jisung asks, feeling a sudden rush of nervousness. He has never been good at expressing his real feelings. His words are often stuck in his notebooks, once written, forever forgotten.

“Tell them—” Jinnie pauses dramatically, leaning closer. “Tell them they make your heart race, like a car speeding into the sunset.”

Jisung feels as if has has been struck by lightning. He knows Jinnie is mocking him; there’s no other explanation. How does he know what has been running through his head so much that he had to note it down last night? His cheeks flush, and his gaze darkens. 

“Very funny, but screw you. I’m good.” Jisung snaps, furious without really knowing why. He takes back his change and says nothing more as he slams the door behind him, the chime echoing against the glass from the force he used. He should have known that Seugmin’s acquaintance would be despicable, but at least the flowers were pretty.

— ◊◊◊ —

He’s a colossal idiot.

He bought flowers on a Monday, not realizing that the next race — and his next opportunity to see Binnie was on Friday. It wasn’t until he returned home from the flower shop and placed the bouquet inside a glass filled with water — he had no vase in his bachelor pad — that he realized his mistake. He had hoped they would remain fresh and beautiful throughout the week. Unfortunately, as he looks down at the bouquet now, its pink blooms are dropping. The once-bright petals have begun to wilt, the edges browning, as if reflecting his growing anxiety.

He takes a deep breath, trying to suppress the panic rising in him.

The flowers are still pretty, if he squints and doesn’t bring his nose too close, as the smell of rotting plant is slowly overtaking their lovely previous scent.

Minho is texting him, asking how he’s feeling about the looming race. The race? Jisung has nearly forgotten about it because of his botanical issues. Convinced that his mentor has a solution, he video-calls him immediately.

“Minho, big big problem!”

“What, with the car? Let’s me call Seungmin to let him know he’s an incompetent fool, “ Minho replies, raising an eyebrow, and looking towards a closed door behind him.

“No! With my flowers!” Jisung interrupts, gesturing animatedly with his bouquet. Some of the already brown petals detach themselves, and Jisung watches them fall to the ground in horror.

“What flowers? Those sad excuses of one?” The omega looks puzzled, leaning against the kitchen counter. He has an apron with kitty paws tied around his middle section and tomato sauce on his face. Maybe Jisung should stop bothering him during meal prep time.

“Seungmin hasn’t told you?”

“Seungmin tells me nothing, you know he’s like a clam when he wants to be.” Minho shrugs.

“Uh. I don’t have the time for this back-and-forth! Long story short, I met someone and want to court him. Seungmin suggested I get flowers, but … uh …  they’re not as fresh as I’d hoped?” His voice trails off, a hint of bashfulness creeping in. “But it’s still ok to give them, right? I spent nearly fifty dollars on them!”

“Jisung. Do they smell bad?” Minho asks, his tone turning more serious, like a dad with his son.

“… not … not really?” He hesitates, expression wavering, eyes going from Minho’s stern face to the bouquet and his once-white wall. He can see two smears of hot sauce near the middle of it, and a bit of mold in a corner. But he’s pretty sure it was there when he started renting, so totally not his fault!

“Jisung. Do. They. Smell. Bad.” Minho startles him, tone firm.

“… yeah,” Jisung admits, shoulders slightly slumping, pout on his face.

“If you’re serious about your courting, you cannot give them wilted flowers. Has anyone ever taught you how to court properly an omega?” His mentor shakes his head, disbelief etched on his face, wooden spoon in hand as menacing as a teacher’s ruler.  

“NO! And that’s the issue right now!” Jisung groans in frustration, pulling at his blue hair as he starts to pace the room. “I asked WikiHow, Google, and even consulted your insufferable mate! None of it helped!”

“And you didn’t think to ask me, who’s coincidentally also an omega — a mated one, moreover?” Minho replies, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in judgment.

“Now that you say it…” Jisung’s voice trails off.

“Sometimes I wonder what goes inside your head, then I remember.” His mentor sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a faint smirk. “It’s too late to find a flower shop open at this hour, anyway. You’ll have to save the bouquet for another time. It wasn’t such a bad idea, the execution was just a bit … lacking.” 

“I wanted to give him something tonight!” He protests, nearly whining. Not that Jisung would ever admit it.

“Just win the race and get him a drink, it’s a good first step to know someone,” Minho suggests, his tone shifting to one of encouragement, softer, as if speaking to one of his cats.

“Yeah, I just need to win.” Jisung nods to himself. “Thanks, Minho. I should go. I have a race waiting.”

“Break a leg,” The omega waves at the camera, and ends the call right after.

Jisung takes a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. He gives himself a charming smile, full of confidence, his brown eyes shining under the artificial lights of his living room. “I can do it, I won last time. It’s gonna be just as easy today.” He nods with renewed determination, grabs his keys, and leaves his flat.

When he arrives at the track, the energy in the air is electric. Engines roar, and the crowd is sizzling like a hot pan with too much oil poured in it. Pheromones are heavy in the air, excitement filled with trepidation clogs his nose. Jisung scans the area, searching for a familiar figure amidst the crowd. He doesn’t spot Binnie and shakes his disappointment like a dog shakes the wetness from its fur.

He has to win this one, even more than before. The stakes are higher; his pride as an alpha is on the line. The last race was a whirlwind; he barely remembers how it went. Today, he isn’t as certain of his win as before. After all, even if he lost last time, SpearB is a terrific racer, and Jisung hasn’t slept a wink, too worried about his stupid wilting flowers. 

The cars arrive one by one. Jisung looks over at SpearB’s sleek alpine, its dark surface glistening under the streetlights like a panther in the night. SpearB’s face is filled with a renewed determination, even with half of it hidden behind clothes. The intensity of his glare sends a shiver down Jisung’s spine. This time, it is personal for him, too. There’s a confidence in his behavior that sets Jisung’s teeth on edge. He’s not about to let the other alpha get into his head, but the tension in the air is almost palpable.

“Let’s see who the real champion is,” Jisung mumbles in the quietness of his car, his resolve hardening. He knows he can’t let up. He has to defend his title. He has to win to impress the omega he wants to court. He still hasn’t seen him around, but hopes he’ll arrive like last time at the after-party. He has to believe it.

They line up, engines revving. The signal lights flash, and then they’re off — tires screeching, smoke billowing.

Jisung pushes his Civic to the limit, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he takes off like a shot from a gun. The pavement blurs beneath him, but he keeps his focus on the road ahead. He hits each corner perfectly, drifting just enough to gain momentum, barely maintaining control.

In the rearview mirror, he catches a glimpse of SpearB. Fuck, he’s close — much too close for comfort. The gap is narrowing. As they approach the first straightaway, Jisung accelerates, feeling his car respond like an extension of himself. Seungmin is really the best mechanic around. He could kiss him, if he wasn’t deadly afraid of Minho’s wrath.

But just as he glances back at SpearB, he’s met with the roar of the other car gaining speed. He’s momentarily distracted by how good a racer SpearB is. He is not dishonest enough to not recognize it. Even if he has the nicest car around, it’s not an easy feat to control such a beast. His rival’s skills are undeniable. This awareness pushes him further, he won’t let him show him down.  

They weave through the city streets, putting some distance between them and the others. Jisung can feel the heat of competition, and a reluctant respect grows in him as tires scream against the pavement. SpearB is relentless, staying right on his tail, giving chase. Every time Jisung thinks he’s taken a decisive lead, SpearB finds a way to close the gap.

It’s infuriating.

It’s exhilarating.

“Just like last time,” Jisung mutters under his breath, pushing harder, sharpening his focus.

Then comes the moment of truth— the final stretch. Jisung takes a breath, shifting gears and pushing his car to its limit. SpearB is right beside him now, his alpine roaring with ominous power. Suddenly, he surges ahead, leaving Jisung behind in a cloud of disbelief. He grips the wheel tighter, cursing under his breath as he pushes even harder, but it’s no use. SpearB has the lead now, his car slicing through the air like a knife. All Jisung can do is watch as the distance between them widens, a cold knot of reality settling in his stomach. 

“No, no, no, fuck no.” He growls, fangs barred in a feral scowl. But SpearB crosses the finish line first. The sound of cheers echoes in Jisung’s ears like a mocking laugh. As he finally rolls to a stop, the realization sinks in. He lost. He knows that his previous victory looks like a fluke to everyone now. SpearB took back his rightful place as their golden child, victorious.

The roar from the crowd feels distant, a blur of noise in his mind. SpearB hops out of his car, CB97 and his other friends rush toward him, celebrating his victory. The blond omega jumps on him, and SpearB lifts him to spin him around, a burst of laughter as loud as thunder echoing.

Jisung suddenly remembers how lonely his own win was. No mentor, nor friend, came to congratulate him. Minho had warned him he wouldn’t go back to the world of street racing, even as a bystander. Seungmin was the type of person to go to sleep at 9 pm. He was always better left alone. Why is he feeling like he was missing something, now?

Jisung feels frustration swirling within him as he sits rigidly in his car, reluctant to step out. A sharp knock breaks through his thoughts, and he glances over to see CB97 standing outside, an annoying, cheerful grin plastered across his face.

“That was an intense race, one of the best I’ve seen. Congrats, J.One.” He calls out, brimming with pure excitement, like a golden labrador happy to see you, tail wagging.

“Why are you congratulating me on my loss?” Jisung snaps, a hint of bitterness edging his tone.

“Second place is still pretty good, especially with how long you were in the lead,” CB97 replies, his enthusiasm undimmed by Jisung’s surly behaviour. He feels like a child, pouting in his car, arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s useless if I don’t win in the end.” He shoots back, disappointment making his tongue sharper.

“Isn’t it the thrill of the chase you’re after? I’ve never seen SpearB race with such ferocity as he did tonight. It was amazing to watch on the sidelines.”

“If you say so.” Jisung mutters.

As he doesn’t say another word, CB97 smiles and goes back to the crowd, a social butterfly if Jisung has ever seen one. Suddenly, he meets SpearB’s intense gaze, as if he’s challenging him once again. The weight of defeat hangs heavy on him, but he won’t let it crush him. He gives him a sharp smile, full of teeth and arrogance, mouthing “Next time, I’m coming for your crown.”

SpearB must be really good at lip-reading, or he can read thoughts, because he offers Jisung a solemn nod, as if taking his challenge as it is: a declaration of war. Jisung wants to fight back, to reclaim his place. Adrenaline buzzes under his skin, his hunger for victory ravenous. CB97 — as much as he hates to admit it — was somehow right. Jisung has never felt as alive as he did racing against SpearB. He won’t give up. Not now, not ever.

Well. Tonight, he might give up on the after-party.

He has nothing to offer; no flowers, nor money, only his alpha scent acrid with frustration. This loss hurts more than he wants to admit. His pride is in shambles, and his mind is overthinking everything he did during the race. He should have braked harder on the third turn. He should have taken a sharper turn at the bank corner. He cannot compete with the sheer power of SpearB’s luxury car, but he can make a difference with small optimizations in his driving. He wants to better himself next time, leaving no opportunity for his rival to win again.    

As he drives back to his place, he imagines arriving at the club and seeing SpearB with his arm around Binnie, a smug smile on his stupid face, his alpha fangs breathing down his neck — where Jisung’s mark should be. Binnie wouldn’t even look at him, his beautiful eyes sparkling as Jisung’s rival charms his pants off.  

A text from Minho snaps him out of his reverie — a simple ‘How’s the date going?’.

The absolute trust his mentor had in his win is staggering. Jisung wants to weep. He’ll have the time for it later: alone, in his bed. He grips his phone tightly and types out a lackluster response: ‘not happening. lost.’

No smiley, no turd emoji.

‘I didn't raise someone who gives up at the first hurdle,’ comes Minho’s reply with his sharp grammar and punctuation.  

Jisung scowls at the glowing screen, frustration brewing within him. ‘u didn’t raise me,’ he shoots back, the words tinged with childish defiance.

‘Semantics. 🙄’ His mentor fires back without missing a beat.

‘Go get your man,’ he texts again. ‘He won’t wait for you.’ Jisung frowns.

Minho’s not wrong. He usually isn’t, to be fair. After barely introducing himself last Friday, Jisung doesn't want to spend another week wondering how to win Binnie over. Sure, winning the race would have been nice, along with the glory and cash that came with it, but he’s worth more than just that.

Back to square one, he thinks—he needs to find some flowers. He pulls over and hops out of his car, feeling his heart race in his throat as he jogs down the familiar streets. He keeps glancing at his phone, then scanning his surroundings, only to look back at his phone, anxiety churning in his stomach. Jisung knows time is running out. He might not find the perfect bouquet for Binnie tonight, but the last thing he wants is to meet him empty-handed.

He spots a few red poppies swaying on the side of the road, their delicate petals catching the artificial light of the streetlamp nearby. They look out of place, growing despite the concrete and asphalt surrounding them. But they’re pretty in their survival against all odds. It’s much better than the wilted ones waiting for no one in his apartment.

He bends down, carefully plucking a few of the flowers. The bright colors contrast sharply with the night’s hue and his dark thoughts. What if Binnie doesn’t like them? What if he thinks they’re weird? He tries to imagine Binnie’s face lighting up, to push his insecurities aside. It’s not his worst idea of date, so why not try?

He decides to leave his car nearby, parked on a street close by, in front of an unassuming house. He makes his way to the club with a newfound determination. The pulsing beats of music grow louder as he approaches the entrance. The bouncer looks at him from head to toes. He’s still in his racing get-up: a bomber jacket around his shoulders, comfortable jeans, and an old pair of sneakers more brown than white. His hands are also dirty with soil, and usually, people don’t bring flowers to this type of venue.

But the bouncer seems to recognize Jisung and lets him through without a word. As he steps inside, the energy of the crows washes over him, loud, vibrant, and electric. He’s already sweating, the atmosphere too warm for his jacket. He pushes his hair back and then wipes his wet hands on his back pocket.

He nervously scans the room and spots Binnie across the dancefloor, near a lounge area. His heart skips a beat at the sight; the way Binnie moves, fluid and carefree, is beautiful. He surrenders himself to the rhythm of the music and his body. Jisung stares, hypnotized. 

Jisung takes a deep breath, collecting every ounce of courage he possesses. He weaves through the throng of people, the poppies hidden behind his back.

As he reaches Binnie, their eyes meet, and time seems to slow. Binnie’s smile is infectious, and for a moment, Jisung forgets everything else. “Hey, you! Glad you could make it!” Binnie greets, his voice warm and inviting, his breath caressing his ear to make himself heard over the loudness of the room.  

Standing this close, Jisung notices that Binnie isn’t much shorter than him, just a few centimeters. Yet, Binnie still has to look up to make eye contact. An idea crosses Jisung's mind: they’re at the perfect height for a kiss.

“Hey! I, um...” Jisung stutters, nerves fluttering. Binnie’s brow furrows, probably unable to hear him over the thumping bass. With a shy smile, Jisung presents the poppies, holding them out in the small space between their bodies as if they were the most valuable treasure. “I thought you might like these.”

Binnie’s eyes widen in surprise, a soft gasp escaping his lips. “For me?” he asks. Jisung nods, tongue-tied. He sees wonder, joy, and something akin to sadness flicker in his eyes. His fingers are smudged with soil, and Jisung quickly hides a frown — he should have washed the flowers before giving them. He’s so stupid-

“I love poppies!” Binnie’s voice is loud, like an uppercut, and a strong cherry perfume blossoms in the air between them. Jisung takes a big whiff, as inconspicuously as he can. He cannot sense anything else between the sweat of thousands of bodies dancing, the club’s cleaning products, and his own nervous scent. There’s some comforting undertone, hidden behind its sharpness, something like ground almond, maybe?

“They remind me of my grandparents’ garden.” Binnie’s expression shifts to something deeper, nostalgia bleeding into his tone. “They loved these flowers.”

Jisung’s heart swells. It feels too intimate for a club, where people are screaming all around. And yet, he feels like only the two of them exist in their own little bubble. The world around them fades away, leaving just the two of them connected by something more powerful than words.

He feels a rush of relief and joy as Binnie takes the flowers, cradling them gently.

For such a big guy, he’s very tender with his touch, he thinks.  

“They’re beautiful,” Binnie adds, his gaze softening as he inhales the fragrant scent. “Thank you, J.One.”

His nickname has the effect of a cold shower. Jisung realizes he never managed to introduce himself properly last time. He feels his cheeks flush as he runs a nervous hand over the back of his neck. “You can call me Jisung, o-or Sungie, or-“ he trails off, not knowing what to add to his disastrous blabbering speech.

Binnie giggles, his nose still hidden in his flowers. He looks so cute like that, like a fairy emerging from a bouquet. “Then, thank you, Jisung.” There’s a pause between them, filled with unspoken words and shared glances. A chorus of laughter erupts nearby, pulling Binnie’s attention from him. And the moment passes.

— ◊◊◊ —

Jisung stands behind the counter of his local ice cream shop. The monotonous routine grates on him, each second feeling like hours. Children are screaming their hearts out all around him. If he weren’t this tired, he might find them cute. Who is he kidding? He doesn’t know who he hates more; them or their parents, scrolling on their phones, undisturbed by the noise their Satan spawns make. He wants to snap at them to shut up for once, but he can’t, not if he wants to keep his job.

He knows his smile is forced, sweat beading on his forehead, as he thanks them. The summer heat seeps through the walls, and the constant jingle of the door aggravates his headache each time it echoes. His hellos are a monotonous thing, and he scoops each flavor with the energy of a sloth. 

But then, through the chaos, he hears the voice of angels. Looking up, he realizes that Binnie is here. He is in his little shop, his soft curls are matted by a dark cap with a Prada logo on the front. He wears a simple black shirt and jorts, but he’s as beautiful as ever. Even if he paraded in the most awful clothes, Jisung would still find something redeemable about it.

Binnie’s scent is, for once, sharp and clear. Jisung catches the familiar notes of cherries and almonds he perceived last time, but also something more floral. Not as recognizable as roses or lilies, it is soft yet musky, crisp and sunny, like a breeze on the beach. His own combination of grapefruit, mixed with fresh mint and sandalwood, rises to meet him. It is not polite; the owner would have his hide if he ever learned about Jisung’s behavior, but he cannot resist Binnie’s call. He’s nothing more than a sailor, bewitched by a siren. 

Their eyes meet, and Binnie flashes his bright smile, causing Jisung’s insides to churn. “Sungie! I didn’t know you worked here!” His voice is so loud in the small deserted shop, but Jisung loves it. All his senses are focused on Binnie, making him forget how hot and sticky he feels, how his throat hurts because of the air conditioning, and how suddenly thirsty he is. Binnie is like a balm, soothing his aches with his mere presence.

Then, Jisung realizes that Binnie is here. Here, not as here in his delusional thoughts, but physically in front of him. Jisung cringes as he remembers he’s wearing the shop’s apron in his beige glory, with small bear tracks, which may look like chocolate sauce spots or … other things. He hasn’t washed his hair in … days, and he can already feel his stubble growing above his upper lip.

But he isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He musters all his courage and offers what he hopes is a charming smile.

“Binnie! What are you doing here?”

As soon as Jisung asks the question, he glances down at the handful of shopping bags Binnie’s holding. His smile fades with each luxury brand name he sees. At the same time, he notices that Binnie isn’t alone; he is accompanied by a stunning woman, who towers a head taller than both of them in her high heels. Are those Louboutins? She bares her teeth in a sharp grin, and Jisung knows without a doubt she’s an alpha challenging him.

“A bit of a shopping spree with my sister. Noona, it’s Jisung.” He hesitates, “I’ve told you about him.”

“Ah, yes, the poppies guy.” She nods.

Jisung resents the fact that he’s only known by this moniker. But the slight blush he sees on Binnie’s ear erases any negative feelings he might have had. He almost puffs out his chest. His first gift was well received, after all, screams his hind brain. 

“Nice to meet you, but we have places to be.” She drawls in the pompous tone that rich people use with him. “Are you planning to take our order?”

Jisung hides a scowl behind his customer service smile. “Of course, what can I get you?”

“Surprise us.” The challenge is clear in her sly grin. She expects him to fail. 

He hates clients like her. What do they think he is? Charles Xavier? He cannot read their thoughts, and doesn’t know what allergies they may have. To be sure, he’s going to stay far away from almonds and other nuts. He doesn’t want his future sister-in-law to die on his floors. Or maybe he does. No, it would be a bad second—third?—impression on Binnie.

Jisung scoops blood orange sorbet into a cup for her. It has a sharp, tangy taste but is very refreshing in the mouth. It’s perfect for today’s weather, and he’s sure she’ll like it. For Binnie, it’s more difficult. He wants to prove to the omega that he can provide for him, even if it’s only stupid ice cream.

Binnie is sweet, like chocolate fudge, but Jisung feels it’s too heavy to enjoy on a hot day. He considers mint-chocolate, but it’s a dangerous gamble; not everyone likes it, and he’s unsure if he wants to take that chance. He takes a deep breath to soothe his nerves — why is he more nervous for this than any street race he’s ever been in? Then, inspiration strikes. He has the perfect idea: one scoop of cherry, and another of grapefruit. It’s a mix-match of their scent, fruity, sweet, and sharp at the same time.

“Here you go,” he says, handing over the cups with pride coloring his voice.

Binnie accepts his with careful movements, as if Jisung has given him a precious gift. Without hesitation, he takes a small spoon and samples his treat. His eyes widen comically as the sharpness of the sorbet hits his taste buds. If they weren’t standing in the coldest building on the block, Jisung might melt at Binnie’s cute reaction. Butterflies flutter in his stomach at the sight, and he has to resist the urge to offer Binnie the entire ice cream shop to enjoy as he pleases.

Binnie’s sister seems satisfied with hers, too, as she nods in his direction. She starts to dig in her handbag, looking for her credit card. 

“It’s on the house,” Jisung adds quickly, feeling a bit silly about offering something as simple as three scoops of sorbet.

She looks at him like he’s a bug under a microscope. She raises an eyebrow, and something like a small, smug smile blooms on her blood-red lips. She seems satisfied to say nothing and returns to savor her treat. Jisung wants to talk more with Binnie, but other clients step through the door. The pair of siblings moves to get out of the shop.

Jisung leans over the counter, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Come back anytime,” he urges, heart lodged in his throat. 

Binnie turns around, a shy smile lighting up his face. “I will.”

— ◊◊◊ —

Jisung is fidgeting.

He feels a mix of anticipation born from the looming race and the small gift tucked away in the glove box. It’s nothing fancy — not that he can afford anything on Binnie’s level of wealth. It’s just a little something that reminded him of Binnie when he saw it.

As he arrives at the meeting location, he sees even more cars than usual. The whole atmosphere is more friendly than before; people are chatting outside of their vehicles, some are drinking beer, and others are tinkering under their hoods. He drives by the familiar purple alpine and SpearB waves, then jogs over as Jisung stops his car.    

“Hey, J.One! Didn’t think you’d show up,” he calls out with a gravelly voice as Jisung opens his door.

“Think I’m scared?” Jisung bristles, spine stiffening, but SpearB’s laugh cuts him off. It’s oddly airy and high-pitched for someone his size.

“No, but it’s a rally night,” SpearB replies, tone casual. Jisung swears under his breath. It means no race for tonight. “And you don’t seem like a team player,” his rival adds like an afterthought.  

Jisung wants to argue, but SpearB is spot on. The truth is, Jisung has never participated in a rally in his life; he’s never had friends to do so. Jisung is more of a lone wolf. It’s a matter of trust; the cops often raid the areas used for these events, and it’s usually tight-knit groups that ride together to avoid them. They fiercely guard their secret spots, and only a few people know when and where the rally races take place.

“Wanna join?” SpearB asks out of nowhere.

“Uh?”

SpearB grins, eyes filled with a mix of childish enthusiasm and defiance. “You race well, it’s always fun to share a rally with fresh drivers.” He shrugs one of his impressive shoulders. “Besides, you‘ll love today’s location. It’s up in the mountains, and the curves are insanely sharp. Your car already has a good set-up for drifting, anyway.”

SpearB’s observations are spot-on, again, and Jisung feels like a bug under a scientist’s microscope. In two races, his rival has already pegged his style and how his car is modified to suit his needs. Jisung has done the same, but he’s a self-proclaimed genius, so it’s nothing unusual.

A curious feeling settles deep in his chest, stirring something within him. For what seems like the first time, he truly feels acknowledged. There’s a weight in his rival’s gaze that he has never experienced before. As soon as he arrives at a race, he’s perceived as too young and brash to be a serious contender. Time and time again, he has to prove his worth. But here, SpearB looks at him and understands. Something warm curls inside his stomach, a flush coloring his full cheeks.

“Sure, when are we leaving?” Jisung decides on to distract himself from these newfound feelings. He has nothing better to do, really. And deep down, he’s hungry to experience a rally, at least once in his life.

“In about half an hour, give or take,” SpearB answers, looking over his shoulder. “I should give the guys a head-up.” And then, leaves.

Jisung glances around, feeling a bit lost. With his evening plans completely thrown off, he’s unsure what to do with himself in the meantime. As he watches SpearB walk away, he notices how much broader his back appears than he had previously realized. Maybe it’s because of his jacket, no one has shoulders this wide. Also, those leather pants do leave little to the imagination.

He’s startled to find himself staring at SpearB’s backside. Wait- Is he really mentally ch-cheating on his beloved at the first chance he gets? With an alpha, no less? He’s only looking, sure. But it doesn’t nullify that he wasn’t faithful to the sanctity of his future mate-ship. The thought makes him nauseous, and Jisung shakes his head like a badly behaved dog to dispel these thoughts. Ew.

Jisung keeps himself occupied by watching the crowd. Some faces are unfamiliar, with cars even more beat-up than his own. A Toyota AE86 stands out, its interior completely stripped down, with only the driver’s seat left inside. Its tires gleam a shiny chrome under the headlights.

In the distance, he spots SpearB as he joins his usual crew. Felix gives him a cheerful wave as their eyes meet, but that’s it. CB97 crawls out from under a car he’s been working on, motor oil smeared on his hands and hair, looking tousled. The rest of them aren’t around tonight, which might be why SpearB asked Jisung to join them; they’re a bit short-handed.

He sees them laughing and suddenly longs for such camaraderie.

Soon enough, Jisung notices everyone returning to their cars. SpearB drives up to him, signaling for Jisung to follow him through the windshield. They cruise along for about twenty minutes before the familiar urban landscape changes. Mountains and greenery rise around them, bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun. After a while, they all pull over at a viewpoint’s parking lot.

SpearB hops out of his car, soon joined by a few others. They start to mingle, some checking tires or fine-tuning their engines, all while sharing a laugh. They look like a pack, and Jisung feels like an interloper. He should turn tail. He has nothing to do here. Too late. SpearB is knocking on his window.

“We’re just waiting for the night to fall, and then we’re in,” he says, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around half his face. Without waiting for Jisung’s answers, he shoves his phone at him. “We’re gonna follow this road, right here.”

Jisung’s eyes cross over to see the screen. The road starts relatively straight, but he quickly notices a series of sharp turns following each other, and then one final straight stretch to wind down. Anticipation bubbles; it’s not an easy feat to navigate this road, Jisung knows. More likely, all riders here know every twist and turn by the back of their hands, while this is Jisung’s first time. The now familiar urge to prove himself surges in him, alpha instincts roaring to life.

“Pff, easy,” Jisung boasts with bravado. However, SpearB seems to see right through him, raising one eyebrow in challenge. “You’ll follow my lead, newbie.”

His tone is teasing, but Jisung still bristles at the other alpha’s order. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Any goodwill from his rival vanishes in one second. SpearB growls back, “It’s not about your personal pride.” Jisung becomes acutely aware that he’s smaller than his rival, yet somehow SpearB’s stance makes him appear so much bigger.

“Our safety depends on everyone. I brought you in, which means that you’re my responsibility. Don’t make me regret it.”

SpearB’s gaze darkens, silently waiting until Jisung offers a timid nod before he moves on. Jisung has never folded this quickly in the face of another alpha. A mix of shame and something he doesn’t want to name battles inside him. He doesn’t have the time to mull the interaction over; he sees CB97 clapping his hands, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Stick together, keep your distances wide, and let’s make it a night to remember!”

They all cheer, their voices and the sound of their engines revving echo through the chilly night air. Jisung pulls up behind SpearB as they wait for the first in line, CB97, to kick off the rally. They stand at the edge, headlights flickering on to light up the sharp curves of the mountain road ahead.  

Soon, tires screech against the asphalt as everyone takes off. They all take the first corner with practiced precision, Jisung following purely on instinct. Exhilaration burns his chest as he lets out a screech made of pure joy. He forgets all the previous posturing, reveling in the thrill of driving.

In front of him, SpearB alpine drifts smoothly, navigating the winding road with familiarity. He’s an excellent driver, Jisung can’t help thinking. The scenery becomes a blur. Jisung only manages to catch glints of red headlights before his car takes the next turn. Once or twice, the cars nearly touch, but it only makes him more determined to take the next corner better, sharper.

He feels his competitive side roaring, and at the next hairpin turn, he inches closer. For a moment, he’s side by side with SpearB. Adrenaline surges, and he believes he sees his rival laughing in the darkness of his car. Laughter spills from Jisung’s mouth as well, as he lets SpearB retake his rightful place. They’re not racing tonight, only driving, and pushing everything else aside.

The rally continues, each turn, each tackle feels more like a well-choreographed dance as the road unveils. And just like that, it’s over. Adrenaline rushes in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices SpearB signaling they’re going back up the mountains. It’s not the end; it’s just the beginning of their night.

— ◊◊◊ —

“Do you think it’s too early?” Jisung asks, fidgeting with his phone on Minho’s and Seungmin’s beaten-up sofa.

“Yes.”

Minho answers without looking, too busy feeding his three cats. They’re turning around and meowing like they’re famished. Jisung knows for a fact that Minho is always on time to feed them, three times a day, like a Swiss clock. They eat better than Jisung most days, their meal prepped by Minho with a healthy balance of vegetables and meat. Sometimes, Minho invites Jisung for their scraps, which he always eats gratefully.

“You don’t even know what for!” Jisung whines from his spot.

Minho sighs, rolling his eyes. “Knowing you, it’s for something highly inappropriate,” he adds. “Am I wrong?”

“…”

“Your silence speaks louder than anything you’ve ever said.”

Minho scoffs. If he had a pair of glasses, he would be looking at him above it, all judgmental. Jisung sighs, abandoning his phone and turning toward his mentor. His hands now free, they start to play with one light blue hair lock, curling it around his index finger, thinking on how to broach the subject with Minho. 

“It’s just that I had a weird dream about Binnie-“ Jisung starts before being interrupted by Minho’s disgusted face. “I don’t want to know about your wet dreams.”

Jisung feels his cheeks burn. He blurts out, “It wasn’t a…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and Minho smiles this smug smirk he does every time he knows he’s right. “That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up,” Jisung hisses. “We- We-we were racing, neck to neck as usual. I mean SpearB and I.”

Silence meets him. Jisung turns towards his mentor, who looks at him like he has grown two heads, the cat’s food abandoned on the kitchen counter. He raises an eyebrow and drawls, “You had a wet dream about your so-called arch nemesis? I thought we were talking about Binnie.”

“That’s the weird thing! At the end of it, he took off his usual stupid scarf, and it was Binnie’s face!” Jisung tries to explain, his voice going higher at each word. When he woke up from this dream, sweating and uncomfortably tight in his pajamas, Jisung wished for the ground to swallow him up. Then, he tried to rationalize that he always sees SpearB and Binnie in a similar setting, and his subconscious must have mixed up the two.

“Uh,” is Minho’s only answer, but Jisung runs with it. “Super weird, right? They’re nothing alike! One is all like ‘grrrr I’m an alpha and better than thou’ and the other is the softest, kindest omega I’ve ever met.”

Jisung’s eyes go out of focus, daydreaming of Binnie’s kind smile. He replays how his dark eyes light up every time Jisung gives him a little trinket. Last time it was a small plush, a pink-haired rabbit thing — a Labubu, his internet search history tells him. He may, or may not, have snatched it from an old lady’s purse. But all is fair in love and war.

Nowadays, Binnie smiles directly when spotting him in the crowd. His body language opens up like a flower to the sun. Jisung feels his insides churn every time, his knees grow weak, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. Each night, he goes back to his notebook to write mushy sentences about his kind eyes, sweet scent, or the dimple in his cheeks. One day, he’ll give Binnie this serenade, but not yet.  

“You’ve talked to the guy three times, if your first meeting even counts as one.”

“Five-“

Minho ignores Jisung’s attempt to correct him. “Also, way to fall headfirst into subgenders’ stereotypes.”

It’s not stereotypes if they’re true, Jisung thinks. Binnie is soft, delicate, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. On the other hand, SpearB is a force to be reckoned with. He could crush anything in the swell of his biceps: a fly, a watermelon, or even Jisung’s face. Not a bad thought, tho. Binnie has swell arms as well, maybe if he asks nicely-. Jisung startles. Here he goes again, his brain crossing wires between the two.

Jisung decides to go back to the subject at hand. “And I realized that Binnie has such a lovely smile.”

“You’ve told us already a dozen times.” Minho sighs, going back to feeding his meowing children.

“ -Which would be even prettier with fangs’ jewels.”

A loud crash echoes in the room, startling the cats who hiss and scamper under the sofa. Minho looks like a ruffled owl, head turned toward Jisung at an odd angle, and his eyes growing bigger than usual.  “Have you lost your mind?” he screeches.

“I’m thinking gold 24k, or maybe rose gold? With quartz! Or diamonds perhaps…” Jisung continues, unperturbed, excitement bubbling in his speech.

“Jisung. You’re not together, you’re barely courting. You cannot- even Seungmin hasn’t gifted me any!” His voice goes one octave higher at the end of his sentence. Minho’s hands look like they want to strangle him, grasping at nothing. His usual fair complexion has gone deadly pale, like he had seen a ghost — or an idiot.

“Well, it’s his fault for moving slow,” Jisung counters with a raised brow.

“It costs more than a down payment for a house! None are even remotely in our budget, and even less in yours!” Minho spits, rage and scorn mixed in his tone.

“… It’s that expensive?” Jisung asks, realizing that Minho is dead serious. He likes to joke around, but Jisung has known him for long enough to detect when he’s really pissed off. Which he is, right now.

“Yes, it is!” He nearly growls, raking a frustrated hand in his brown locks.

“But I’ve seen some at, like, fifty bucks.” Jisung wonders, his attention going back to his phone. He wants to display some screenshots he took earlier this morning, when sleep escaped him as his heart raced in his chest, thinking of his beautiful omega.  

“See!” Jisung proudly turns his phone towards Minho. On his screen, there are fangs’ jewels with small cherry flowers embedded in pink quartz, something shiny in their center. Squinting, it can look like small diamonds, but for the price, Jisung should know it isn’t.

“Those are for children! Play-pretend! You cannot give it to an omega you seriously want to court and mate!”

Minho looks one step away from a full-blown nervous breakdown: hands shaking, tuft of hair going up because of the same hands, and a distinctive exasperated tone in his voice. He takes Jisung’s phone from his hand and types furiously on it. Then, one minute later, he shoves it in front of him, “Those are the real deal! Look at the price tag!”

“Both are pretty!” Jisung tries to defend himself.

“You stupid knothead alpha! Any omega worth its salt could tell the two apart!” Minho spits, furious. “It’s like-like eating fast food for an anniversary date! It’s disrespectful! Stupid! Dumb!”

As Minho continues his venture in the multiple synonyms of idiocy, Jisung wonders what’s wrong with a fast-food date. It’s greasy and fulfilling, and also cheap. Sure, the places are usually a bit skanky, but what isn’t in his neighborhood? And if they want, they can eat at home! Win-win situation in his eyes.

He wonders if Binnie would be disappointed with a burger and cold fries. Deep down, he wants to take him out to those fancy restaurants, those with their pasta name in Italian. He wants the soft light of candles to reflect in the infinity of Binnie’s eyes. Maybe they would share a bottle of wine, while Jisung would give one of his meatballs, like in Lady and the Tramp! It’s the most romantic movie he’s ever seen and his only reference, sue him.

Minho’s hands on his shoulders bring him back to the situation at hand. “Promise me you won’t court this omega with this type of fangs’ jewelry.” Minho seems feverish, eyes wide but laser-focused on him. “Promise me!”

“Sheesh, calm down. Yeah, sure … I promise.” Jisung blurts out.

— ◊◊◊ —

Jisung is a bad friend.

After his discussion with Minho, Jisung decided not to heed his advice at all. Even a cheap fang jewel was better than none, he decided. And it would be pretty, and make Binnie smile, and everyone would know he was his.

He had taken the time to wrap it in a shiny silver paper. He even added a cute pink ribbon for effect! The jewelry he had found in Claire’s was a cheap plastic pair, an eyesore violet color with green tear drops painted on it. In the right light, squinting and forgetting glasses, you could take the fake strass for real diamonds. It was just- it was a promise, a statement. ‘I’ll give you better ones later, but until then, will you show the world that you’re mine?’ It asks. 

The club is now a familiar sight, with its colorful lights, pulsating bass, and pungent scents. Like a hound, Jisung searches Binnie’s silhouette through the crowd, like a lost sailor in the sea looking for a beacon. His heart skips a beat when he finally spots him.

Binnie stands near the bar, laughing with his downturned smile. He looks more beautiful each time Jisung sees him. He wants to grab his childbearing hips in his hands, caressing the hint of skin he can guess between his pants and top. With every flicker of the strobe lights, Jisung watches new emotions bloom on Binnie’s face: glee, humor, irritation, delight, infuriation, wonder. Binnie is the kind of person who seems effortlessly magnetic, drawing people to him like moths to a flame.

Jisung undeniably feels drawn to this omega. Others as well, he notices. He nearly growls when he sees CB97’s hands around his waist, fingers splayed on skin he shouldn’t be allowed to touch. As he prepares to march forward on a war path, their eyes meet across the distance. Binnie’s brow furrows slightly in surprise, but then his face lights up in recognition.

He wants to pepper this smile with kisses.

Faking confidence, Jisung approaches with his shaking hands hidden in his pocket.

“Hey Binnie,” Jisung manages to call out over the pulsing music, trying to keep his voice steady.

Binnie shakes CB97’s hold to face him, and Jisung feels a vindicated sense of victory growing. “Sungie! I thought you wouldn’t show up tonight!” His tone is warm, inviting, yet a bit cautious, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” Jisung replies, a somewhat cocky grin slowly spreading across his face.

Binnie cocks an eyebrow, exchanges a glance with his friends, and nods. CB97’s hand lingers on his nape, and Jisung bristles at this possessive move. He has to swallow bile when he sees Binnie’s nuzzling back. This is too intimate for simple friends, his hind brain screams.

Leading them to a quieter corner of the club, Jisung cannot help himself and asks, “Are you and CB97 a thing?”

He’s had his suspicions for a while, since the beginning, if he’s honest. But at the same time, Binnie has accepted every one of his courting gifts, as lame as they were, so he must be interested, right? Jisung feels his confidence wavers as the reality of Binnie being in a committed relationship looms closer.

“We tried, but it didn’t work out.” Binnie shrugs casually. “We’re still best friends. Omegas who stick together are stronger, am I right?”

Binnie nudges him, and his gaze is as clear as glass, no lie hidden under its dark intensity.

“CB97’s an omega?” Jisung blurts out, flabbergasted.

“Uh? Yeah? Chris has never hidden his second gender.”

“It’s just his-“ Jisung hesitates. He doesn’t want to come across as a bigoted alpha. After all, if CB97 wants to race and posture all alpha-like, it’s his choice. “Uh … scent,” he finishes lamely.

Binnie laughs. “Ah, yes. Jinnie and Lix rub their scent on him so much, it’s not easy to differentiate them anymore.”

Jisung fills in for later that the ‘cute and blonde omega’ is, in fact, an alpha. And he’s in a relationship with the alpha, turned omega, he thought was interested in Binnie. His mind is blown, his world shaken, but he is still here on a mission. Gripping the wrapped box in his pocket, he holds it to Binnie’s face.

“This is for you.”

Binnie’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback. Maybe Jisung should revise his timing, but what is done is done. Something soft and delicate quickly replaces the surprise. “For me? Oh, Sungie, you’re spoiling me.”

He should get used to it. In the six weeks they’ve known each other, Jisung has always brought a gift to the club.

A gasp escapes Binnie’s parted lips as he opens his present. “Sungie, are you serious?”

“Yes,” Jisung replies, his voice unwavering despite his nerves. “I want you to understand that I’m serious about this … this courting.” He finally names what he’s been doing for weeks. “I want to get to know you better, not just in these wild circumstances,” Jisung means the club, the noise, the lights. “But beyond them.”

“Like, really get to know each other?” Binnie’s voice dips slightly, his expressive eyes misted. His hands reverently stroke the jewels’ box Jisung has given him.

“I want to take you on a date. How does next week sound?”

Jisung may look confident, but his stomach twists into knots as anxiety claws at him. Maybe he has misread the situation, and Binnie will shoot him down. Minho was right, fangs’ jewels were a way too serious step to take when he doesn’t even know his real name.

A glimmer of hope flares as Binnie’s lips curl upward, his smile blossoming more beautiful than ever. “Okay, I think I’d like that.”

Relief floods Jisung, his knees going so weak he has to take a step back. “Really? Uh … I mean. Awesome! Here—” he pulls out his phone, thrusting it toward Binnie.” Put your number in, so I can text you the details.”

“We’re doing everything in the wrong order.” A wet laugh escapes from Binnie’s pink lips.

Their fingers brush together as Binnie takes the phone. Jisung watches breathlessly as he types, the slight furrow of concentration on his brow making him even more endearing. Jisung’s heart swells. He wants to watch and remember every micro-expression Binnie can make. What his face does in any situation, how he’ll look well-kissed, or if he’s a crier during movies. (Jisung is).

He gives back Jisung’s phone, and they say nothing for a hot minute, lost in their respective thoughts.

“I can’t believe you bought me fangs’ jewels,” Binnie comments, fingers caressing the eyesore violet paint.

“I’ll give you a better pair later, once I’ve won a race or two.” Or a dozen, he doesn’t say. Minho was right, good fangs’ jewels were pricey.

“I like those,” Binnie murmurs. “And you would have to beat SpearB to win.” He adds with an impish smile.

“I can do it! I’ve done it! Last week even!” Jisung whines.

“And yet, he beat you this week.” Binnie teases him.

“It just shows he’s a good racer. Nearly as good as me!” Jisung tries to boast, puffing up his chest and winking a cocky smile at Binnie.

Binnie laughs, high and free. Jisung feels something gushy grow inside him, a mix of satisfaction and elation. He wants to see Binnie laugh every day, all day, especially if Jisung’s shenanigans make him do so.

“I… I appreciate it, really,” Binnie says suddenly, his previous good mood gone. He seems pensive, eyes fixated on the jewels.

“Uh?” Jisung replies hesitantly. 

“In our world … alphas don’t take me seriously, or they think they can skip the gifts and courting stuff because … because I’m me.” Binnie shrugs a shoulder, self-deprecation shining through his body language.

Jisung wants to take him away, wrap him in a warm blanket, and never let go. He does not understand how people could take this beautiful omega for granted. Jisung seethes against the world. How badly did they treat him, for Binnie to be this insecure with a body crafted by the gods? Jisung is aware that his attempts at courting are dog-shit, and yet, they seem better than anything Binnie ever experienced before.

“Their loss.” Jisung spits, then adds to soften his simmering anger. “My win.”

Binnie mulls over his words, then a shy smile overtakes his face, a small dimple showing. “Yeah, we can see it like that. But seriously, thank you.” His gaze is steady, sincere, and Jisung falls for him a bit harder.

“Can I hug you?” Jisung asks suddenly, reveling in the delighted surprise lighting up Binnie’s eyes.

With a smile and a nod, Binnie inches closer, opening his arms. Jisung takes it as it is, and slowly narrows the space between them. His hand hovers over the small of his back, hesitating. Binnie huffs, the sound louder than ever with how close they are to each other. Finally, their bodies meet.

Jisung is supposed to be the one comforting, yet he’s engulfed in the warmest hug he has ever experienced. He feels small between Binnie’s arms, like he’s protected from how cruel the world has been since forever.

Amidst the far-away buzzing crowd and loudness of the club, Jisung’s senses are fully focused on Binnie: how soft his dark hair is, tickling his nose as he breathes. His scent is a mix of cherry and ground almond, like a childhood cake Jisung never had the chance to taste. He feels his own obnoxious fresh and citrusy scent pouring out to envelop both of them. The thrumming basses echo with Binnie’s heartbeat, like rumbling drums — loud and unapologizing.

Then, the moment is gone. They separate, both their cheeks flushed from staying hugging this long.

“Better?” Jisung asks after clearing his throat. He won’t say he needed this hug as much as Binnie.

After one second of silence, Binnie nods. “Yeah. Shall we rejoin our friends?”

He doesn’t wait for Jisung’s reply. He takes his hand and takes them back to the throng of the crowd. Jisung doesn’t have the brain power to process the ‘our’ used, as he realizes how small Binnie’s hands are in his. They’re not as soft as he thought; they have calluses, just as his hands have those because of the hours spent gripping the wheel. Binnie’s hands are not what he expected, but they’re perfect nonetheless. He grips harder and is rewarded with Binnie’s smile over his shoulder.

— ◊◊◊ —

They haven’t texted as much as he’d hoped since last Friday.

Changbin — as Jisung learned this week — had warned him he wasn’t really tech-savvy and preferred to call rather than to text. Jisung, however, works most days and can only text during those hours.

Nonetheless, they still managed to work around it, with Changbin answering dutifully every dumb text Jisung sends him. It’s usually about the weird stray cat he saw on his way to the ice cream parlor, or the awful entitled children he served during his shift.

Changbin is a dry texter, giving back only emojis as answers sometimes. But Jisung unexpectedly likes this as well. He cannot find any fault with Binnie these days. They even managed to find the time to call on Wednesday, Binnie falling asleep not ten minutes after they started. His soft breaths at the other end of the phone had lulled Jisung to sleep as well.

Their last exchange was just five minutes ago, when Changbin texted him, ‘Good luck with the race 😈😘.’ Jisung responded with a flurry of heart emojis, but now anxiety is creeping in. It’s not even about the race itself; he’s accustomed to the thrill and the surge of anticipation that builds up before it begins. Even the overwhelming excitement that washes over him as the race kicks off is old news now.

No, it’s the date after it that makes his stomach churn and sweat pour down his neck. What if Changbin doesn’t like it or finds it lame and then leaves in the middle of it? Or what if Jisung makes a fool of himself, trips on his feet, or messes up his order? He had made reservations at a nice Italian place — yes, he dropped the fast-food idea after all. What if the menu were in Italian? Or were the wine bottles too expensive for him to invite Changbin?

A knock on his window startles him. SpearB is right outside his car, waving his hand, eyes smiling above his mask — no scarf today. It’s obnoxious. Why is he so determined to hide his identity away? He seems to know half of the participants already, and if the cops raid the place, he would be long gone, anyway. Maybe Jisung is so pissed about it because he wants him to show his face to stop his brain from mixing him and Binnie in his dreams.

“You look like you’re about to hurl, you’re that frightened of little old me?” SpearB teases him, his playful voice muffled as usual.

“As if.” Jisung mumbles. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Got a hot date after the race?” SpearB asks, as if he can read Jisung’s mind.

“The hottest one.” Jisung brags a bit, despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach. Sue him. Changbin is hot as coal, and Jisung still can’t fathom how he managed to pull him with his awkward attempt at courting.

SpearB chuckles, the sound warm and infectious, his usual dark gaze brightening with joy. “Well, watch out, if you’re too distracted, I might just win again.”

“Like I’d ever let you win that easily.” Jisung shoots back, meeting SpearB’s teasing gaze with a confident smirk of his own.

SpearB shakes his head, a chuckle still on his lips. “See ya around, then.” He returns to his car with a wave of his hand that Jisung answers to. Something bubbles inside his chest with this exchange. Maybe the unaltered elation to have found something akin to friendship with SpearB. Or is it the way he sees him, seizes him, and finds him deserving of his rivalry? Jisung wants to bask in this feeling, but he has to line up; the other cars are already moving.

As the lights blink down, Jisung shifts his focus, pushing everything aside except the race. The last light flashes, and they’re off.

His heart pounds with the roar of engines. He accelerates and leaves the others in the dust. Only SpearB manages to get in front of him. They’re neck to neck at the second corner, then he overtakes him. Their world shrinks to them both against the road ahead, its next turn, and the rush of competition.

But then, a sharp screech of tires broke through his concentration. Jisung’s heart drops as he catches sight of SpearB’s alpine spiraling out of control in his rearview mirror. Time seems to slow down as he watches his rival’s vehicle spin wildly before crashing into an abandoned building. Windows explode on impact, the building shivers, and Jisung is afraid he’s going to collapse.

Instincts kick in immediately. Jisung slams on the brakes, heart racing, as he leaps from his car before it even comes to a complete stop, sprinting toward the wreckage. The roar of the other participants fades into the distance as they continue to race.

“SpearB! Can you hear me?” Jisung calls out, voice and hands shaking with urgency. He peers inside the car, hoping, praying that the gas tank is intact and won’t blow on their face.

He finds his rival slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. Blood oozes from a gash on his forehead. Remarkably, he’s still alive; his safety belt — who thinks to wear one while street racing? — has kept him from being thrown through the windshield.

Panic wells up inside him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jisung yanks the door open. His frantic need to save his rival, turned friend, gives him the strength to push the twisted metal away.

“Wake up! SpearB?” Jisung asks, crawling over him to unbuckle his seatbelt. He has no time to waste, as the engine starts to make ominous sounds, smoke filling the air around them. He pats him down, and his hands come back bloody. Shit. He doesn’t have the time to panic.

He lets out a grunt as he yanks SpearB free, pulling him away from the car just as flames erupt from beneath the hood. Moments later, the entire vehicle explodes, sending both of them tumbling to the ground from the force of the blast.

Ears ringging, Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. If he had been one minute slower, they would be gone.

Looking down at SpearB’s pale face, panic rises again. All thoughts of the race, his date with Changbin, everything else fade away, eclipsed by one priority: he has to save him. He looks for his phone, which lies abandoned in his car. He swears, he doesn’t want to leave SpearB alone on the road to get it. But moving him too much could worsen his wounds.

The screeching of tires jolts him out of his panic-induced frozen state. He turns to see the CB97 car speeding toward them, coming to a sudden halt as the omega jumps out in a frenzy, quickly joined by his friends.

“We’re here! I—I have no idea what—how,” Jisung stammered, tears threatening to spill over as he feared that he was too late and that SpearB lay lifeless in his arms. CB97 places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and crouches down beside him. “Is he still alive?”

“I—I-I think so. I didn’t check. I just—when the car was about to explode—” Jisung gasps, struggling to catch his breath.

CB97 nods, solemn. His hand goes to SpearB’s pulse point, and after some dreadful seconds, he smiles a thin thing at Jisung. “He’s alive.”

Jisung wants to weep, all the fear and adrenaline brewing in him since the crash coming out. His strength leaves him as he slumps forward, his forehead knocking against SpearB’s. “Thank god.” He whispers.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Jinnie announces, his voice steady, phone in hand, grim-faced.

“J.One, you should go.” CB97 urges, his gaze darting around the dimly lit street. They can already hear the mix of firefighters’ and paramedics’ sirens echo far away. 

“What? No! He’s bleeding out- Why?” Jisung argues, his palms clammy with blood and sweat, white knuckles gripping SpearB’s unconscious form.

“One tuned sports car is hard enough to explain, but two? Officials will be on our tails in no time.” CB97 points out, eyes flickering between the still-burning wreckage, then Jisung’s Honda.

Jisung doesn’t want to let go, but CB97’s logic is spot on. “Don’t you dare fucking die,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, pleading with SpearB’s still body.

With a shaky sigh, he slowly manages to detach himself, his knees wobbling like jelly beneath him. For a moment, he sways dangerously close to the ground, the world tilting as dizziness hits him. It’s only Lix’s quick reflexes that keep him from kissing the asphalt. He thanks him and, with one last glance towards SpearB, now cradled by CB97, he goes back to his car.

“You’re not hurt, right?” Lix’s deep voice stops him in his tracks. He manages to shake his head and sees the small alpha nod, letting him go.

Everything else is a blur. He knows that he starts his car and goes back to Minho’s and Seungmin’s flat. He doesn’t go up, looking at the light in their living room window going black after a while. Someone calls him, and he answers without thinking, hoping to have news from CB97.

It’s the Italian restaurant.

They’re asking if they’ll make it or should they cancel his reservation. Shit, he had forgotten about the date. In a shaky voice, he apologizes, saying something came up. They use their retail voice to assure him that they understand, but also that they’ll give his table to other clients waiting. Jisung nods, numbs, and then he’s left with the ringing tone of a call ended.

Shit. He has to warn Binnie. They can go somewhere else, but the thought of enjoying a nice date when SpearB could die on his way to the hospital makes him sick.

He tries to call him, but it sends him straight to voicemail.

He sends a short text, ‘Sorry, couldn’t make it. Something happened to the race. Raincheck on the date?’ He adds a heart to soften the blow, even if his own isn’t in it.

Maybe Changbin already knows what happened. He has the same friend group as SpearB; they must be friends as well, even if Jisung hasn’t ever seen them in the same place. With a sigh, he turns his engine back up and goes back home.

Jisung had cleaned up his flat in the foolish hope that they would finish the date at his. It looks weird now. His usually comfy blankets are all in the closet, old pizza and beer cans are in the trash. He sits on his sofa and waits, eyeing the emptiness of the room.

Hours later, his phone chimes.

‘He’s stable,’ from an unknown number, but Jisung knows who it is about.

He laughs, then cries from relief, like a bubble finally popping off his chest.

Finally, sleep meets him, as his body is exhausted.

This night, Jisung sleeps on his sofa, his mind plagued by nightmares. Sometimes he’s too late. He sees SpearB’s body going up in flames, and he’s powerless, on his knees, watching in horror. Other times, he doesn’t stop and continues the race, eager to be on time for his date. He meets with Binnie, shares kisses, but then the scene shifts —blood pours out of his mouth as dead eyes look at him, accusing him of killing SpearB. He also sees Changbin, his mouth set in a frown, tears filling his beautiful, dark eyes as he asks why Jisung left him, standing him up for their first date.

What was so much more important than them?

Jisung doesn’t know how to answer.

— ◊◊◊ —

Changbin doesn’t get in contact with him the next day, nor the day after.

Jisung tries to ignore the sick feeling in his throat. If he can meet him, maybe he can explain why he didn’t show up for their date. He doesn’t know where he lives, or even what he does for work. He only knows he goes to the club after every race, each Friday.

But there’s no race this Friday.

They had to stay low for a time, or so they told him.

Jisung understands, but he has to find a way to meet up with Changbin. That’s why he’s back in the little flower shop where Jinnie works at. It’s as lovely as before, with its bright yellow façade and a dozen flowers spilling onto the sidewalks. The bakery nearby fills the air with a freshly-baked bread scent. Birds are singing, and people say hello to each other when crossing paths. It’s disgustingly perfect, and Jisung feels once again out of place.

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside, and Jinnie glances up, his usual smile morphing into a look of genuine surprise. “Hello, how can I help you- J.One?” He stumbles over his nickname.  

An uncomfortable silence stretches between them. Jisung shifts on his feet, while Jinnie stands poised, expectant, as if waiting for him to break the stillness.

“What are you doing here?” Jinnie finally asks, his voice cautious, probing.  

“I’m just-“ Jisung swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. “I’m just looking for Binnie. He hasn’t answered his phone since our- since last Friday, and I’m worried.”

Jinnie studies him intently with a solemn expression. Then, with a subtle nod toward the back of the shop, he gestures for Jisung to follow. Without another word, Jisung trails behind him, his fingers anxiously twisting a loose thread inside his jacket pocket.

“Binnie’s lost his phone, and with everything happening, he hasn’t had the time to get a new one,” Jinnie explains with a shrug, hands busy tying some leftover leaves.

“Oh… I get it. He isn’t …” Jisung replies, his voice trailing off. “He isn’t angry, right?”

“Why would he be?” Jinnie asks, and Jisung feels a slight flush creep up his cheeks. His gaze drops to the floor. “We … had a date planned last Friday, but SpearB crashed and well …” He finishes with a shrug.

Jinnie nods, a flicker of understanding crossing his face.  

“How is he doing?” Jisung asks, concern creasing his forehead.

“Why are you asking me. Don’t you have Chan’s phone?” Jinnie gets back to work, sweeping the floor of the littered stems.

“Chan?” Jisung furrows his brow in confusion, and Jinnie looks at him like he’s an ant. “CB97? Ring any bells?”

“Oh.” Jisung sighs, “Yeah. I have it, but I didn’t want to bother him.” His voice trails off, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

“But you come to annoy me, instead,” Jinnie comments, raising a slitted eyebrow, incredulous.

After a moment, he seems to take pity on Jisung as his expression softens with sympathy. “He’s doing as well as you’d expect. Broken and bruised ribs, punctured lung, a fractured wrist, and a nasty concussion,” he explains, lowering his voice as they lock eyes. “But he’s alive, thanks to you.”

“I couldn’t let him die,” Jisung murmurs solemnly.

“This is why I haven’t hanged you by your balls as you started courting him.” Jinnie offers him a feral smile, full of teeth. Jisung shudders, then his words sink in. He looks at him, confused, “But I’m not-”

He suddenly comes to a stop, a chilling realization washing over him. Has he really been pursuing SpearB all this time, without even being aware of it? Memories swirl in his mind, yet none reveal how Jinnie could have misunderstood the situation this badly.

Dread settles in his chest as he faces the undeniable truth: he has, in fact, been drawn to SpearB since the start. And they’ve been courting, in the most primal way: chasing. 

For weeks now, they have been locked in a Chase. They’re both alpha, and their instincts spark a fierce will to win. Each time one of them wins, it brings a brief thrill, but neither feels genuinely satisfied until one emerges as the true victor — the alpha, the provider of their future mating. Which hasn’t happened, yet. 

A wave of guilt crashes over him as he grapples with another unsettling realization: he has been two-timing Binnie all this time. He should be disgusted with himself and his basic instincts. He has never chased an alpha in his life, never felt the need to. He should stop it, at once, now that he knows. But the thought of bringing it to an end makes his stomach churn.

Giving Binnie his gifts brought joy and butterflies in his chest, but never this pure, unadulterated elation he got each race. Even when they weren’t racing against each other, Jisung felt weightless, like nothing in the world could touch them as they drove in the mountains for the rally.

He cannot fathom going back to a life where SpearB won’t wait for him every Friday to race to their heart’s content. It came way too close to home with the crash, Jisung realizes. Maybe that’s why his dreams were filled with SpearB and Binnie taking each other’s places. He has been confused from the start. He doesn’t want to make Binnie suffer, but he has to know the truth.

“Where can I find him?” Jisung blurts out, out of breath with the weight of his realization. Jinnie startles as he has gone back to tend his flowers.

“He should be back for the next race, not competing but spectating.” Jinnie slowly answers, and Jisung nods, not noticing Jinnie’s slip-up, lost in his thoughts

“Perfect, I’ll see him then! Thanks, Jinnie!”

— ◊◊◊ —

Jisung is a bundle of nerves as he arrives at the race location, reminiscent of the first time he came by.

He had spent the last two weeks mulling his decision over.

Some days, he thinks he should stick with Binnie. It’s the safe bet. He’s a lovely omega, and he hasn’t spent enough time with him to say they don’t match. He has daydreamed about him enough to know that he’s attracted to him physically, and Jisung knows deep down that it wouldn’t take long to fall for him all the way. 

Other days, he can only think of SpearB: the intensity of his gaze when racing, the light-hearted humor in them when he came by to tease Jisung. He imagines them driving for hours under the stars, until one of them would stop because they would want to exchange kisses. SpearB’s lower face is still a mystery to him.  His unconscious is way too happy to fill it for him with Binnie’s smile.

He never dreams of the two of them at the same time. They usually morph into the other, intense alpha voice, turning into a soft omega pleading one. Both their hair is dark and curly.  Both their silhouettes are small yet muscled. Sometimes he’s on top, trailing kisses on Binnie’s belly. Others, he’s under SpearB’s impressive stature, feeling small but deeply aroused.

Jisung hasn’t talked about it to Minho or Seungmin. He feels too tender about this. He knows his friends won’t judge him, or only his uncanny obliviousness, but his head is too full to hear their advice.

As he sees CB97’s usual car, he nearly turns tail.

Maybe it’s not the right time, or he’s way over his head to try to court SpearB. Maybe he doesn’t even like alphas, like Jisung before? Does Jisung even like alphas? Is it in his criteria for attraction? Two months ago, he would have denied, until his last breath, finding any alpha attractive. Now, he realizes he doesn’t mind. More than that, he finds SpearB’s assertiveness madly attractive.   

He nearly bashes his head on his wheel as he stops suddenly, seeing a silhouette leaning on CB97’s car, previously hidden by this tall-ass pup they keep around. Binnie — is it Binnie, or SpearB? His lack of sleep and his dreams are playing tricks on him. To his defense, he has a cap obscuring his face and a medical eyepatch on his right eye. But he could recognize this smile from anywhere: it’s Binnie.  

Jisung leaves his car and waves his hand to bring attention to himself. The whole group snaps towards him, and he feels the weight of their gaze on him.

“Hey guys, good to see you since last time.” Jisung offers them a wobbly smile, and Lix comes forward to hug him, surprising him so much that he gives one back reflexively.

“You worried us! No news from you in two weeks! It’s a good thing Jinnie told us he saw you at his shop!”

“Sorry?” Jisung wonders, not knowing how to answer the blonde alpha who frets over him. He didn’t think they were this close — he doesn’t know the name of half the group, only their nicknames for fuck’s sake!

“I had some thinking to do.” He mumbles, then turns to Binnie. “Can I speak with you … privately?” he adds.

Binnie gives him a small smile, and Jisung feels sick again. What is he doing, courting this sweet omega, then leaving him for his so-called rival? They go back to Jisung’s car, tucked away far from prying eyes and ears.

“I’m sorry-“

“Thanks-“

They both speak at the same time, stop, and then look at each other before a laugh cracks their face. Binnie shakes his hand and makes a move for Jisung to go first.

“I’m sorry for our date. That night- ...” Jisung hesitates, his words stumbling. “I tried to reach out to you, but Jinnie told me your phone was dead.”

Changbin shrugs nonchalantly, “Well, it went up in flames with everything else.”

Only those born into privilege could be this unfazed by the loss of their phone. Jisung knows he would panic, maybe even cry, if he ever lost his. Stealing another would be his only option, as buying a new one would send his finances spiraling out of control.

Suddenly, what Changbin said sinks in. 

“What? You were in a fire? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Jisung steps closer, concern etched across his face, his hand instinctively hovering over Binnie’s hidden eye. Changbin’s expression shifts, his brows furrowing as he scrutinizes his face.

“Well. I wasn’t. Not really,” Binnie replies slowly. Jisung feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him, and he sighs in relief.  “Thanks to you,” Changbin adds, the weight of his words hanging between them.

“Uh? What did I do?” Jisung wonders, his brain on overdrive.

“I wasn’t conscious at the time, but Chris told me you risked your life to save mine,” Changbin says, brows furrowing as he sees no recognition in Jisung’s eyes. “When my car crashed.”

“I-I-I don’t understand.” Jisung stammers, his voice quavering. “It’s. SpearB’s car that crashed. You weren’t even there — not even close—” He rakes an anxious hand through his tousled light blue hair, his brow furrowing with confusion.

“Jisung,” Changbin replies slowly, his words measured, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Who do you think I am?”

“Is it a trick question?” Jisung chuckles nervously. “You’re Changbin! Binnie! Uh- I don’t know your last name, sorry.” His heart races, lodged in his throat. He feels like he’s going to hurl.

Changbin’s gaze softens. He looks at him with the saddest eyes Jisung has ever seen. With deliberate movements, Changbin removes his black scarf and wraps it around the lower half of his face. Dressed entirely in dark leather, he carries an eerie resemblance to SpearB.

Changbin crosses his arms in front of him, his posture defensive. He seems smaller than usual, even fragile, as he tucks in his shoulders. Jisung feels like a fish out of water, his breath weak and his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“So? You didn’t know.” Changbin says softly, the hurt in his voice unmistakable. A short hollow laugh escapes him, something sad and ugly. “It was too good to be true, of course.”

Jisung stands frozen, his heart racing and his tongue tied in knots. He can sense the storm brewing within Changbin, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Changbin scoffs, his face darkening with disappointment. Jisung doesn’t know how he has never realized they were the same person, given how intense both their gaze is.

“So what, you decided to court the first omega you spotted at the club?” Changbin’s voice is low, filled with rage, each word laced with hurt. “Did you think I’d be an easy pick? Desperate enough to settle for whatever scraps you tossed my way? And yet, I accepted all of your shitty gift with a smile on my face!”

“Hey! You liked those!” Jisung retorts, his voice rising defensively.

Changbin shuts him up with a glare, eyes blazing with betrayal. “I thought they meant something! That you respected me and… and my passion for racing!” His voice falters, weighed down by dawning sadness. “What a fool I was.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jisung interrupts hurriedly, a flicker of fear sparking in his chest at the thought of Changbin simply walking away from them.

“I think we’re done, here.” Changbin spits, doing exactly that. The finality settles in the air, as he turns on his heels, ready to leave.

“No, please,” Jisung pleads, one hand grabbing Changbin’s wrist in a firm grip, unwilling to let go.

“Get off!” He hisses, trying to break free, without much success.  

“I wanted to speak with Binnie today to break off our courtship.” Jisung rushes out, his words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to make sense to the seething omega in front of him.

“Oh, perfect! You’re breaking up with me on top of everything else. Thank you for that, J.One.” Changbin drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he hides how much his words hurt him.

“No! Let me finish! I’ve realized that I’ve been chasing SpearB all this time. And it wasn’t fair to court Binnie, and pursue him — you! — at the same time! I wanted to break our courtship to court you!”

Jisung’s word-vomit is met with silence as Changbin looks at him as if he was babbling nonsense — which, to be fair, he was. “What are you on?”

“Nothing!” Jisung’s voice wobbles, close to tears. “I just really like you! As SpearB! And as Binnie too! But as SpearB more because we share racing and it’s exhilarating, and I thought you were an alpha, and I had a sexuality crisis on my hands on top of everything!”

“You thought I was an alpha, really?” Changbin scoffs, disbelief etched on his face.

Jisung feels his cheeks flush. “Yes!” he exclaims, his voice rising with its conviction.

Changbin arches an eyebrow, curiosity threading through his previous anger. “And you still wanted to court me?” He wonders as he leans in slightly, his tone softening.

“Yes!” Jisung bursts out.  “And I can prove it!” With frantic motions, he pats down his pockets, searching for the special courting gift he has prepared with SpearB in mind. When he finds it, he lets out a small triumphant sound. He holds it toward Binnie, like a trophy of his affections.

In his hand is a small car air freshener, the kind you can easily find in gas stations. Jisung has spent way too long to find the perfect one, choosing the scent of grapefruit and mint — a reminder of his pheromones. It’s stupid alpha behavior, but as he didn’t know of SpearB’s scent at the time, he had to improvise.

“You and your stupid gifts.” Changbin growls, but still takes the air freshener from his hands. He turns it over, smells it, then pockets it, adding. “I don’t have a car anymore.”

Jisung blinks. “I didn’t think of that,” he admits sheepishly.

They look at each other in silence for a tense moment. Then, Changbin deflates like an overdue balloon. Jisung goes along with him as he crouches, his hands pressing on his brows to alleviate a growing headache; the scarf, messily tied around his face, drops to the ground.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Changbin mumbles, looking over Jisung and his pleading eyes. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Jisung crows as joy fills his chest, the previous despair forgotten.

Changbin replies with a sigh, “Why do you think I kept on accepting your gifts?”

Jisung preens like a peacock, but then realizes they have come to be really close to each other, crouching. His heart beats loudly in his ear, a flush taking over his cheeks.

It would be the perfect moment for a kiss, right?

Jisung leans in and sees Changbin’s eyes soften.

“No kiss before the first date, it’s not proper.” Mirth dances in his eyes as his hand pushes Jisung’s lips away with such force that he topples backward. Changbin gets up, looking over Jisung with a satisfied smirk.

Jisung moves his hand and grabs Changbin’s, lacing their fingers together. “After all of what we’ve been through! We’ve been courting for weeks! And Chasing! And I saved your life!” 

Changbin helps Jisung back on his feet. “Hmm, I don’t know …” he hums, thoughtfully, trying to hide his smile behind their hands. “Do you deserve it …”

“Please!” Jisung whines.

Suddenly, the distance between them closes. Changbin cups Jisung’s cheek with his hand, thumb brushing gently against his skin. Then, he tilts his head for their lips to meet in a soft kiss.

It’s nothing more than a peck at first, a shy hello between two unknown entities. But when Changbin appears to leave, Jisung grabs his neck to pull him back. His eyes flutter shut as they melt into the kiss, the world around them fading away.

It’s sweet, electric, and nothing like he’s ever experienced before. Changbin tastes like mint, and Jisung thinks they’re made for each other. He knows his lips are cherry-flavored — all because of the chapstick he stole; the scent had reminded him of Binnie at the time.

Just as quickly as it has begun, it ends.

Changbin pulls back, his cheeks as flushed as Jisung’s, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “Considers this a little preview of our next date,” he teases with his downturned smile. Jisung wants to kiss him again, right this instant.

“Wait? A date?” Jisung’s voice rises, flabbergasted. “Really? You’re giving me another chance? You’re not messing with me, right?”

“Not if you keep pestering me,” Changbin warns, though it’s warm and soft. Jisung can’t help but beam, his smile bright as a thousand suns. “Oooh, you like-like me,” he singsong teasingly.  

“What gave you this ridiculous idea?” Changbin mumbles, half-embarrassed, the other half rolling his eyes in mild annoyance. Jisung simply bursts into laughter, too giddy to answer.

He presses his lips to their still joined hands and can’t get enough of Changbin’s bashfulness. The omega mumbles something about getting back to their friends, but Jisung is too busy looking at him in wonder to understand a word he said.

Maybe Jisung got a knack for courting, he muses to himself.

After all, he managed to win over the hottest omega around.