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The hallways blurred around Sangwon as he stumbled forward, chest tight, breath snagging in his throat. His scent, usually soft and tinged with cedar, had spiked into something jagged and unsettled. Enough that other omegas gave him sympathetic looks as he passed. Normally, he would have gone straight to Leo hyung or Junseo hyung, maybe even Yoonmin hyung if he was desperate. But today, their scents hadn’t touched him at all. Instead of steadying him, they’d slipped through his fingers like water, leaving his skin prickling and his pulse frantic.
He pressed a palm against the wall, willing himself to breathe, when something new threaded through the chaos. A low, grounding warmth. Sandalwood, faintly sweet, curled around him like smoke after rain. His steps faltered. He inhaled again, sharp and desperate, and the scent hit stronger. It was solid, reassuring, like a hand pressed firmly to the small of his back.
Almost without thinking, he followed it. Past the practice rooms, past the vending machine buzzing in the corner, until he stopped in front of a door. Room 204.
His heart hammered as he read the nameplate next to the door. Park Donggyu. Kim Junmin.
He’d never spoken to either beyond polite bows. But right now, hesitation felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford. His knuckles rapped against the wood. One beat, then another, and finally a third, each one thinner, weaker. Just as he lowered his hand, about to flee, the knob rattled.
The door opened, and there he was.
Park Donggyu blinked down at him, broad shoulders filling the frame, expression startled but not unkind. His cold-looking features softened the moment he scented the air, the faint crease between his brows deepening.
“…Sangwon-shi?” His voice was quiet, careful.
Sangwon didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His breath caught, and the smell. The exact warmth he’d been chasing washed over him fully now, knocking the strength from his knees. Before he could second-guess himself, he surged forward, burying his face against Donggyu’s collarbone. A muffled whine escaped him as he clutched at Donggyu’s shirt, nose pressing desperately against the line of his throat.
Donggyu stiffened in shock, but only for a heartbeat. Instinct tugged at him hard, urging him to respond. He wrapped his arms around Sangwon, firm but gentle, one large hand moving instinctively in slow circles over the smaller boy’s back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, words rumbling low. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”
The distressed cedar-and-smoke of Sangwon’s scent began to break, splintering into sobs. Hot tears dampened Donggyu’s shoulder as Sangwon cried quietly, trembling with every shuddering exhale.
Donggyu glanced down the hall, then carefully guided him inside. Sangwon made a small, panicked sound when he felt Donggyu shift away, clutching tighter, but Donggyu quickly soothed him.
“I’m not leaving,” he promised softly. “Just closing the door.”
When the latch clicked, the room fell into quiet. Junmin wasn’t there, thankfully. Moving with surprising gentleness for his size, Donggyu led Sangwon toward the bed. He tugged his hoodie from a chair and draped it over the corner camera before easing down to sit, Sangwon still tucked against him like he belonged there.
Minutes stretched. Slowly, the storm in Sangwon ebbed, his sobs dissolving into hiccups, his scent softening from sharp smoke back into something rounder, greener. He blinked blearily, realizing where he was, what he had done. Throwing himself into the arms of someone he barely knew, clinging like a lifeline. His body stiffened with embarrassment.
But Donggyu didn’t push him away. He was still there, arms steady around him, warmth radiating off his chest. And somehow, that steadiness made Sangwon melt back into him, nuzzling closer as though to hide from the world.
Donggyu exhaled a small laugh, one of half relief, half fondness, and tightened his hold just slightly.
“Better?” he asked.
Sangwon hummed, the sound small and shy, but didn’t let go.
In that moment, Donggyu decided. If this boy needed him, then he’d stay.
The room was quiet except for Sangwon’s soft hiccups. Donggyu held him carefully, almost as though afraid he’d break, his long arms curved protectively around the older boy.
Sangwon’s breath finally began to even out, though his face still burned with embarrassment. He realized he was practically curled in Donggyu’s lap, his nose pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt, his fingers curled tightly in the fabric.
“I…” His voice was hoarse. He pulled back a fraction, big eyes glossy. “I don’t know what—why I—”
Donggyu tilted his head, whisker dimples showing faintly as he offered a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to explain,” he said simply, voice low and warm in that baritone way that wrapped around Sangwon like another blanket.
Sangwon blinked at him, thrown off by how… gentle he was. Donggyu was younger, taller, sharper in every way, yet the moment Sangwon had stumbled into his arms, he’d given nothing but steady patience. No judgment, no questions. Just safety.
Sangwon shifted, about to pull away fully, but Donggyu’s arms instinctively tightened, his watch pressing cool against Sangwon’s wrist where their hands nearly overlapped. “Just… stay a little longer,” Donggyu murmured, almost shyly, his ears faintly pink. “You still smell a little shaken.”
That stopped Sangwon. He inhaled, and there it was again, that sandalwood warmth. Creamy, grounding, threaded with something quietly steadfast. His chest loosened, and without meaning to, he nuzzled closer, chasing that calm.
Donggyu froze. His heart leapt violently in his chest, loud enough that he was sure Sangwon could feel it. He tried to cover it with a soft laugh, resting his chin lightly on Sangwon’s hair. “You’re really trusting me, huh?”
A muffled hum was all he got in reply, followed by the faintest whine when Donggyu shifted to adjust. His instincts screamed at him not to let go, and for once, he didn’t argue with them.
So he stayed.
By the time Sangwon realized how much time had passed, the panic had long since faded. All that was left was warmth, the steady beat of Donggyu’s heart against his ear, and the quiet hum of safety he hadn’t felt in weeks. He stiffened slightly, embarrassed again at how much he’d revealed of himself. But Donggyu just rubbed a slow circle on his back, unbothered.
“You okay now?” Donggyu asked softly.
“…Yeah.” Sangwon hesitated, then curled in just a little tighter. “…Thanks.”
Donggyu’s lips curved into a small, almost helpless smile.
Oh my god, I totally have a crush, he thought faintly, and if Sangwon noticed the way his ears heated or how his scent shifted, he didn’t say anything.
---
The second time it happened, Sangwon told himself it wasn’t really happening.
He wasn’t spiraling. He wasn’t about to burst into tears in the middle of practice. He just… needed a walk. Some air. That was all.
But somehow, his feet carried him down the hall, past the vending machine, to the door he already knew by heart. 204.
He lingered a moment, staring at the numbers until his pulse slowed to something less frantic. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked quick, almost guilty taps.
This time, the door opened faster.
Donggyu’s sharp eyes softened immediately when he saw who it was. His lips parted in surprise, then curved into a smile so quick that Sangwon’s chest squeezed. “Sangwon hyung?” He tilted his head, silver watch catching the hall light. “You okay?”
Sangwon nodded too fast. “I—yeah. I’m fine. I was just… uh…” His brain blanked, and he wished he could sink through the floor. “…walking.”
Donggyu raised a brow but didn’t push. Instead, he stepped aside, gesturing with his whole hand. So polite, Sangwon almost laughed. “Do you wanna… come in?”
Sangwon hesitated for only a breath before slipping inside. The room smelled faintly of Tam Dao again, sandalwood warm in the air. It wrapped around him immediately, and his shoulders loosened without his permission.
Donggyu noticed. He noticed everything, apparently. His ears twitched faintly as he studied Sangwon, then he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. “You can sit, if you want.”
Sangwon sank onto the edge of the bed, eyes darting everywhere but at him. “Sorry for… last time.”
Donggyu sat beside him, close enough that their knees brushed. “Don’t be.” His voice was quiet but steady. “I’m… glad you trusted me, hyung.”
The words hit deeper than Sangwon expected. He ducked his head, cheeks warming, and fiddled with the ring on his finger.
Silence stretched comfortably. Then, out of nowhere, Donggyu leaned down just slightly, peering at the book peeking from Sangwon’s pocket. “What’s that, hyung?”
Sangwon blinked, startled. “Oh. Just a novel.”
“Can I see?”
Before Sangwon could stop him, Donggyu plucked it gently from his hands, flipping it open. He squinted, lips moving as he mouthed the words. His brows furrowed, then relaxed, then furrowed again as though he were acting out every sentence.
Sangwon bit back a laugh. “Do you always react out loud when you read?”
Donggyu glanced up, ears pink, caught. “...Maybe.” His grin broke through anyway, whisker dimples showing. “Why? Is it weird?”
“Not weird.” Sangwon’s smile came unbidden, small but real. “Kinda cute.”
Donggyu froze, stunned silent for half a second before his ears definitely moved this time, betraying him. Sangwon caught it and laughed softly, shaking his head.
And just like that, the air between them shifted. Softer. Easier.
When Sangwon finally leaned against him, just lightly, just enough, Donggyu didn’t even hesitate. He lifted an arm, letting Sangwon tuck himself against his side, and held him there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sangwon breathed in, sandalwood and warmth filling his lungs, and thought, maybe this was more than just a coincidence.
---
Practice ended late, and exhaustion hung over the dorm like a heavy blanket. Most of the boys trudged straight to their rooms, voices low, doors clicking shut one after another.
Sangwon lingered in the hall. His book was in his bag, unread. His mind was once again buzzing too loud for words to stick, and his body was buzzing too restless for sleep. He rubbed at his wrist, exhaling slowly, and before he could stop himself, his feet carried him the familiar way. 204.
He didn’t knock this time. Just eased the door open, careful, like it was already his.
Inside, Donggyu was sitting cross-legged on his bed, journal balanced on his knee. He looked up, startled at first, but when he saw Sangwon framed in the doorway, his entire face softened. “Hyung,” he said, voice bright even though it was midnight. “You’re here.”
Sangwon hummed quietly and toed off his shoes. “Is Junmin hyung around?”
“He’s showering,” Donggyu answered automatically, already scooting to make space. “You can—”
Before he could finish, Sangwon crossed the room and slid onto the bed beside him, leaning into his side with a sigh like it was the most natural thing. His hair was still damp from his own shower, cool against Donggyu’s neck.
Donggyu blinked down at him, completely caught off guard, pencil hovering uselessly in the air. His heart kicked hard in his chest. He didn’t even hesitate this time.
“You’re warm,” Sangwon mumbled, closing his eyes.
Donggyu’s ears burned, betraying him, and he scrambled to cover it by setting the journal aside. “You, uh—so are you.” His laugh came out too breathy, too giddy. He cursed himself for sounding like a lovestruck fool, but when Sangwon shifted closer, tucking his nose against Donggyu’s collarbone, all his self-consciousness dissolved.
The sandalwood of his scent wrapped around them both, steady and grounding, and Sangwon’s distress ebbed like waves pulling back from shore.
Donggyu hesitated only a moment before sliding an arm around Sangwon’s waist, pulling him in properly. “Rough day?” he asked gently.
Sangwon hummed again, the sound more a vibration than a word. “Just… loud. In my head.”
That was all. No over-explaining, no apologies like last time. Just honesty, simple and raw.
Donggyu’s chest ached. He rested his chin lightly on top of Sangwon’s hair, letting the silence stretch. Every instinct in him screamed to hold on tighter, to never let go.
And maybe it wasn’t just instinct anymore.
---
It was supposed to be just another quiet night.
Junmin was out late, which meant Room 204 was dim and hushed, just the hum of the desk lamp and the rustle of pages as Sangwon read with his knees pulled up on the bed. Donggyu sat beside him, absent-mindedly jotting down notes of his practice that day, too distracted to finish anything properly.
Every so often, Sangwon’s shoulder brushed his. Or his hair tickled against Donggyu’s jaw when he leaned in closer to the page. And every time, Donggyu’s heart did a graceless leap, so obvious he was sure Sangwon could hear it.
Sangwon finally closed the book with a soft thump, tucking it against his chest. “I think I’ve read the same sentence five times,” he murmured, frustrated.
Donggyu tilted his head, grin tugging at his mouth. “Want me to read it to you?”
Sangwon gave him a look that was half skeptical, half fond, and then, with a quiet huff of laughter, handed it over.
Donggyu cleared his throat dramatically, exaggerating the narration until Sangwon bit back giggles, shoulders shaking against his. But when he looked up, Sangwon’s eyes lingered on him a moment too long. Big and round, reflecting the lamplight, soft in a way that made Donggyu’s chest ache.
The air shifted.
Neither moved at first. Donggyu’s hand hovered over the book, suddenly aware of how close Sangwon’s fingers were, how their knees touched, how Sangwon’s scent, warm, green, and cedar-like, wrapped around him just as tightly as his own sandalwood cradled Sangwon.
Sangwon blinked slowly, lashes lowering. His voice was quieter than before. “You’re… really comforting, you know that?”
Donggyu swallowed hard. “Hyung…” His throat felt too tight, but the word came out steady. “I don’t think it’s just instinct anymore.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Charged. Sangwon’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted just slightly forward. Small and tentative. Enough that Donggyu could feel his breath.
Donggyu’s hand, almost without permission, found Sangwon’s wrist. He curled his fingers around it, gentle but sure, and let out a shaky laugh. “If I kiss you right now, will you run?”
Sangwon’s lips curved, soft and a little shy, but he leaned in closer until their foreheads brushed. “…No.”
Donggyu’s heart stuttered. Then, slowly, carefully, he closed the gap.
The kiss wasn’t fiery or rushed. It was warm and grounding, like every night Sangwon had come to him for safety, distilled into a single touch.
Donggyu’s hand moved to the small of Sangwon’s back, pulling him closer until Sangwon was sitting in his lap, letting the older boy mold into him. Sangwon’s arms curled around Donggyu’s neck, clutching lightly, his breath hitching as the warmth of Donggyu’s body, his steady pulse, and the sandalwood enveloped him completely.
When they parted, Sangwon pressed his face into Donggyu’s chest, hiding his red cheeks, and Donggyu’s arms folded around him instantly, instinct and feeling indistinguishable now.
Sangwon’s heart was pounding so fast he was sure Donggyu could hear it. Catching his breath, he shifted closer once more and pressed his forehead lightly against Donggyu’s.
Donggyu froze for a heartbeat, ears twitching, whisker dimples deepening as his heart tripped over itself. Then he leaned forward, capturing Sangwon’s lips again, slow and deliberate. This time, neither was holding back. Not out of panic, but choice.
Sangwon’s hands found Donggyu’s shoulders, gripping lightly as he pressed closer. Donggyu responded instinctively, wrapping an arm around Sangwon’s waist, pulling him flush against his taller frame. Their breaths mingled. Sandalwood and Sangwon’s cedar-tinged scent wrapped them in a warmth that made the world outside disappear.
The kiss deepened gradually. Sangwon tilted his head, letting Donggyu explore gently, lips brushing and teasing with careful patience. Donggyu’s free hand threaded into Sangwon’s hair, holding him steady as Sangwon pressed in closer, melting against him.
They pulled back just slightly, foreheads resting together, breaths ragged but soft. Sangwon’s eyes were wide, glistening, and Donggyu’s gaze softened as he whispered, “Could I be yours, hyung?”
Sangwon let out a quiet laugh, nuzzling into Donggyu’s jawline. “I don’t think I want to go anywhere else,” he admitted.
Donggyu’s hands tightened around him, holding him close as if the world could try to take him, and he would fight to keep him there. Their noses brushed, and their lips found each other again in a gentle, lingering rhythm.
Hours could have passed. Or minutes. They didn’t care. When they finally settled, Sangwon’s head rested on Donggyu’s chest, arms curled around his waist, and Donggyu pressed a forehead kiss to Sangwon’s temple, murmuring softly, “I’ve got you.”
And for the first time in a long while, Sangwon believed it.
“Guess you really are my safe space,” Sangwon murmured.
Donggyu’s laugh was soft, helpless, lovestruck. “Good. Because I don’t think I could let you go even if I tried.”
The morning came too soon.
Donggyu blinked awake to the pale light sneaking in through the curtains, his body heavy with the kind of rest he never got in the dorms. Sangwon was still curled against him, hair mussed, lips parted in the softest little pout. For a moment, Donggyu just watched, the memory of last night replaying like a dream he was terrified to disturb.
But reality barged in quickly.
The dorm door creaked open, and a voice called, “Sangwon-ah?”
Sangwon stirred, eyes fluttering open. He sat up too quickly, nearly bumping foreheads with Donggyu in the process. His ears went red when the door clicked shut again, Junseo’s voice fading down the hall with a muttered, “Found him.”
Donggyu snorted, rubbing at his eyes. “Guess hyung was looking for you.”
Sangwon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “He’s going to ask questions. He always does.”
Donggyu gently patted Sangwon on the shoulder.
Sure enough, later that morning, Junseo caught him on the way to practice. “Yah, Sangwon. Where were you last night? I woke up and your bed was empty.” His tone was casual but laced with curiosity.
Sangwon froze, words fumbling on his tongue. Before he could stammer out an excuse, Junseo smirked knowingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend already? You smell different now, you know. Suspiciously like a certain all-star here.”
The tips of Sangwon’s ears burned. He mumbled something about “just crashing in another room,” and hurried off, but his steps quickened when Donggyu fell into stride beside him.
“You didn’t deny it very well, hyung,” Donggyu teased under his breath, leaning close enough that only Sangwon could hear.
“Shut up,” Sangwon whispered back, but there was no real bite to it. His lips twitched, threatening a smile.
And when their hands brushed, just for a second, it felt like their secret was theirs alone, tucked safe beneath the teasing and questions.
That night, after practice, Sangwon found himself standing in front of Room 204 again. He hesitated, hand hovering before he knocked. He told himself he was just tired, just needed rest, but when the door opened and Donggyu’s warm scent spilled out, his chest loosened in a way no amount of sleep ever could.
“Rough day?” Donggyu asked gently, like he’d been expecting him.
Sangwon nodded. No excuses, no explanations. Donggyu just stepped aside, letting him in.
It was quieter than usual, Junmin out somewhere else. Donggyu guided him to sit, then crouched down in front of him, searching his face. “You keep coming here when it’s too much.” His voice was careful, but not unkind. “Why me?”
The question cracked something open inside Sangwon. He tried to look away, but Donggyu’s steady gaze held him in place. “Because… you make it stop,” Sangwon whispered, cheeks pink. “The noise. The panic. Everything.”
For a beat, silence. Then Donggyu smiled. Soft, almost shy despite his size. “Good. Because I don’t want you to go anywhere else.”
Sangwon’s heart stuttered. Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned forward, arms wrapping around Donggyu’s shoulders. This time it wasn’t desperation. It was a choice. Donggyu hugged him back immediately, solid and steady, resting his chin lightly against Sangwon’s hair.
“Stay tonight,” Donggyu murmured, pressing a gentle kiss onto the crown of his head.
Sangwon only nodded, relief settling into his bones.
And maybe it wasn’t the kind of confession people wrote songs about, but for Sangwon, pressed against the one person who made him feel safe in a world full of cameras and expectations, it was enough. More than enough.