Chapter Text
Gao Tu didn’t like to make a big deal out of his birthday. Birthdays never meant much to him.
At least they hadn’t, not in a long time.
And maybe they once had meant something, back when he was a young child. Back when he and his sister would spend weeks whispering about a surprise that their mother had told her, but she couldn’t bear to keep to herself. Back when the smell of his mother’s cooking would fill their small apartment, done in the early mornings before their father drunkenly staggered home. Before his mother’s suitcase was already packed the night and she told him to keep his head down and hide his true nature.
Before he was left behind.
Now, it’s just him and his sister. Or rather, his sister was in the hospital bed while he tried to make ends meet.
No, his birthdays were not a thing he ever paused to think about. It rarely even dared to cross his mind.
Not when he was balancing class schedules with three different shift rosters, visits to the hospital, and figuring out how to balance his checkbook enough to stretch his paychecks across his tuition, rent and the pile of bills that were beginning to be stacked with several marks of ‘overdue.’
His morning starts like any other; a quick shower in his cramped apartment, suppressants swallowed before getting ready for class and patch placed in his abdomen; and his black backpack tossed on his shoulder before heading back to school. Suppressants always. Two pill with tap water that always failed to hide the bitter taste, no matter how fast he swallowed.
His mother had taught him that. Promise me that you’ll never let anyone find out that you’re an Omega. If they do, you’ll be handing your father a knife that he won’t hesitate to use on you. She had said, luggage in hand, already halfway gone, leaving him to fend for his sister and himself.
Suppressants always came first like clockwork.
After two lectures back-to-back, his notes were scribbled coherently enough for one of his classmates to request to borrow them later. He quickly had his lunch before he made his way towards the quiet gingko tree behind the library.
He loved to hide beneath the tree, where the branches splayed out like a canopy, shielding him from the worst of the sun and the cool breeze made the leaves crinkle under its soft touch.
It was quiet there.
Just far enough from the main entrance that nobody would all him over, and if he positioned himself from the right angle, he cold watch Shen Wenlang crossing the greenery toward the library.
At first, it had only been habit, looking up at exactly the same moment every afternoon where he could catch that familiar figure cut through his line of sight.
He never stared long enough for the other to notice, just a quick glance over the edge of his textbook. The kind of look that he could easily explain away if anyone ever caught him.
In truth, it was easier that way.
Gao Tu never made friends easily; not when he had too many shifts to work, too many hospital visits to fit in, too many debts to take care of and far too many secrets that he had to keep hidden.
He wasn’t sure when or how it had happened, when the sharp lines of Shen Wenlang’s face had stopped being a sight he saw in passing but rather became something he sought out.
It wasn’t sudden or like love at first sight.
Wenlang was an S-level Alpha through and through. Blunt. Severe. The kind of person who held his worth as a crown and knew how to keep a distance.
Everything about him should have kept Gao Tu from looking twice.
But some stubborn part of him had kept doing so anyway. His heart that had grown into his awareness without his permission, creeping in each time he caught Wenlang unguarded.
Shen Wenlang was beyond his league. No S-level Alpha would look at a beta, at least not romantically. And Shen Wenlang had no trouble making known his absolute disdain for Omegas.
Two things that Gao Tu had going against him. Aside from the minor detail that there weren’t even in the same class levels.
And yet, for reasons that Gao Tu was unable to quite untangle, he found himself looking and his heart racing.
Maybe because between his endless shifts and the numbers that never seemed to add up no matter how many times he calculated, letting his gaze drift toward Wenlang and daydream for a second what it would have been like to live in a reality where he didn’t have to hide being an Omega and Wenlang didn’t hate Omegas as much felt like a breathing room he didn’t have the luxury for.
It was just a sliver of space made for himself, where his mind wasn’t crowded with bill, deadlines, or secrets that he had to take to the grave.
For months, he had told himself it wasn’t a crush. He didn’t have the time to let something like that take root. But still, his eyes found Wenlang in the hallways, his ears caught the sound of his voice, and somehow Shen Wenlang always seemed to linger in his thoughts.
The rest of his birthday passed like most days. He went to his last lectures of the day, worked at his first part-time, took a quick bus ride to the hospital in the evening. His sister was awake but exhausted, her voice barely an apologetic whisper as they talked. The nurse reminded him about an upcoming payment for her stay. He’d nodded, promised to take care of it before the end of the week, and left before heading to his second job.
By late evening, he was behind the counter at the convenience store once more. His only company were the fluorescent lights that hummed overhead and harmonized with all the refrigerators units along the back wall.
He rang up late-night snack for students, pack of cigarettes for the office workers, and even bottled water for the same old man that would come and count his coins multiple times before exiting.
Between customers, he would stock the shelves, distracting himself from lingering on how he would make ends meet with thee hospital bill that was waiting to be paid.
The door rang open.
“Welcome—” His words trailed off when he looked up.
Shen Wenlang stood at the entrance, his hoodie covering most of his face before he pushed it off, then looking at the time on his watch, the other carrying a small white bakery box tied with red and gold cord.
His expression unreadable, like it always was.
The fluorescent lights usually made people look washed out, but Gao Tu couldn’t help but admire how Wenlang’s sharp features were just as defined under the unflattering lights.
For a moment, Gao Tu wondered if Wenlang had entered by mistake.
He headed back to the back of the counter and as if on cue, Wenlang met him there, box steady in his grip.
“You’re working late, aren’t you? There’s an exam tomorrow. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”
Gao Tu swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady before giving the other a slight shrug, “I usually do.
Wenlang’s gaze flickered over him, as if examining a new species and cataloguing the unfortunate dark circles that plagued Gao Tu’s under eyes and the chronic fatigue that had mad its home on his face.
“I figured you’d still be here, so—” Wenlang placed the white box on the counter in between them, “Here you go.”
Gao Tu just stared at him, then at the box, then back up at Wenlang again, questioning.
“For your birthday,” Wenlang clarified, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The words didn’t make sense at first. Gao Tu’s ran through his week, with all the shifts, classes and bills, before coming up empty. It was only after he though real hard about the date, that he realized.
Oh. Right.
But he didn’t remember ever sharing it with anyone, much less Wenlang,
“How did you even—”
“It’s on your student registration form.” Wenlang said simply, as if that fully explained how he even managed to gain access to it or why he would even care to remember Gao Tu’s.
Gao Tu could only manage to blink, “So this is..?”
“Cake.” Wenlang’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but almost inching into one, “They said it’s fresh. I wasn’t sure what you would actually like, so I got the best looking one.” He paused, glancing at Gao Tu again, “Take it home.”
The words caught in Gao Tu’s chest, settling and warming him up.
Before he could come up with a coherent answer, Wenlang stepped back, “Don’t let it sit too long,” he said over his shoulder, and as a door chime rang again, Gao Tu could swear he heard the other whisper a soft happy birthday before all he was left with was the hum of the refrigerators once more and the box in front of him.
After closing that night, Gao Tu carried the box back to his apartment with both hands.
His fingers kept tracing the string that kept it tied together without meaning to.
The whole walk back, the night kept replaying over and over again in his mind.
Happy birthday.
He could hardly remember the last time he celebrated it. Much less had a happy one.
It had long since been that his birthdays just turned into another day on the calendar, one that got forgotten behind bussing tables, stocking racks, and visiting the hospital.
If not for Wenlang, he never would have thought twice about the day.
His room was quiet when he let himself in during the late hours of the night. He set his bag on the small desk he had in the corner before gently placing the box on his table and pulling the red and gold free.
He was greeted with a small round cake decorated with a variety of fruit. He cut a thin slice with a plastic fork that he had haphazardly thrown into his kitchen drawer, the sponge yielding easily, so light it almost dissolved instantly before he could swallow The frosting just sweet enough to be pleasant.
It was good.
Better than good, it was nice.
It felt nice that someone even cared enough to remember.
Nicer still that it was Wenlang that had gone through the trouble to get it for him at all.
The fork hovered in his hand, the small cake half-gone before he even realized it. He set it down and closed the box up carefully, before placing it in his refrigerator.
He’d save the rest for his sister. She’d like it. And some sweetness would do her well after the weeks of hospital food that she’s been having.
It would make her smile to know that it had been a gift.
He kept the red and gold cord in his hand as he switched the light off and a wave of exhaustion washed over him.
The bed felt colder than usual.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, the faint glow from the street lamps outside his only company.
He didn’t think about the way Wenlang hated Omegas.
He didn’t even think about what Wenlang would say if he knew what Gao Tu really was.
For once he didn’t think about any one of his many, many problems.
He could only think about how, if Wenlang hadn’t walked in to his store that night, it would just have been any other year. A forgettable one.
Another shift at the convenience store.
Another birthday that he wouldn't have remembered until long after it had passed.
But this year was different.
He really did end up having a happy birthday.
Something that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
The thought settled over him like a warm blanket.
Tomorrow, the cake would still be there. Sitting in the fridge, waiting for him.
And maybe, just maybe, so would this feeling.