Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

t's 2:00 a.m. in London.

Temperature: –2°C.

The kind of cold that doesn't just scrape against your skin but seeps straight into your bones, reminding you that you are small, fragile, breakable. 

I ran anyway. 

Bare feet pounding against the cruel pavement, the sting of asphalt cutting into me, each step rawer than the last. 

Shoes? Abandoned. Sanity? Maybe too.

I've never felt this restless. 

Never felt this helpless. 

And yet, tonight, that helplessness was the only thing propelling me forward. 

The streets were almost empty—London asleep, save for the occasional car hissing past, headlights slashing through the darkness. 

My breath came out in harsh, uneven bursts, ghosting in the air, only to disappear as quickly as it formed. My lungs burned, my chest tight, and still—I couldn't stop.

My wolf cursed inside me, pacing, angry, wounded. He wanted control, wanted to tear out and take over. 

He was furious with me. 

Furious for waiting too long, for letting pride gnaw at what should've been protected, cherished.

 And now, he demanded what I could not give—Jihoon.

I didn't even know where I was running. 

Alleys blurred into streets, streets blurred into bridges. 

I stopped only when my body forced me to—when my breath threatened to choke me, when my vision blurred. Each time, I'd clutch my phone in my trembling hand, stop strangers with desperate eyes.

"Have you seen him? This man—short, black hair, eyes like—" My words always trailed off, my voice breaking before I could finish painting the portrait of the one person I was losing all over again.

No one had answers. Just confused stares. Pity sometimes. Mostly indifference.

There's no way you'd expect to find me or any other alpha like this.

Running through the streets of London like a madman, barefoot, desperate. 

But if you do see an alpha like me like this, then know—he must've failed. 

And not in money, not in work, not in ambition. 

No. 

If you see an alpha broken, it's one of two things: family or mate.

And me? I've conquered career. I've stood on stages, made a name, reached the top. 

My family—God I was blessed with the most beautiful one..

But that wasn't what haunted me most. What clawed me raw was mate. 

Jihoon. Always Jihoon.

By the time my body gave in, I found myself against the bridge near Big Ben. The world loomed over me in silence, that great clock watching with indifferent eyes as time ticked away, merciless, uncaring. 

My palms pressed against the stone, my breath ragged, my feet crammed and stinging.

My wolf howled. Not just from exhaustion, but from grief. From longing. From love I'd buried under years of anger and yet never managed to kill.

I couldn't even tell anymore—was it my lungs burning from the run, or was it my heart ripping itself apart inside my chest?

All I knew was this: I have already messed up more than once.

I couldn't fuck up again.

Chapter Text

It had been a calm night—until five teen wolves pulled up in a beat-down car that wheezed to a stop like it was on its last breath. Steam hissed from the hood, and the headlights flickered once before dying out completely.

Inside the vehicle, chaos buzzed in hushed voices.

"Guys, let's get moving—fast," whispered Min, the lean beta who slipped out first like a shadow.

"Doyoung, the packets—now," someone hissed.

"Here!" Doyoung grunted, tossing a knotted duffel toward Ten, who caught it with a thud.

"Yah! Quiet, idiots," Ten whispered harshly, "you want the whole damn neighborhood to wake up?"

Five boys. Five pairs of feet. All tiptoeing across the cracked pavement toward the towering wrought-iron gates of the school compound. A mansion in size, a prison in spirit.

"Tonight, we make sure that old bastard really has a blast," muttered Chankyun, another beta, his arms full of crude homemade explosives wrapped in duct tape.

"About time," said Joohoen, the only alpha besides their leader. "He's made our lives hell for the past two years. Feels good to return the favor."

At the front of the pack walked Hoshi—face masked, eyes focused, and footsteps deliberate. His fingers tightened around the explosives in his hands.

"This'll be his most memorable night," he muttered.

"Yah, Hoshi! Look!" someone pointed toward the wall outside the mansion.

A large poster hung there, yellowing under the porch light—Hoshi's photo, his academic rank printed in bold black ink, the school's way of flaunting their prize student.

Hoshi scoffed. "Greedy hag couldn't even bother printing it in color," he muttered. "Figures."

Snickers passed between the boys like a secret handshake as they moved again.

"TCs?" Hoshi asked as they neared the compound wall.

"Taken care of this morning," Doyoung confirmed.

"Clothes?"

"Packed and ready," said Ten.

"Train tickets?"

"Booked for tomorrow," Chankyun replied, grinning.

"Security?"

"I bought them whiskey and a fake poker night. They won't be sober until noon," Joohoen said with a wink.

Hoshi smirked. "Good."

They climbed the compound wall with practiced ease, landing like shadows on the other side. Breath held. Steps controlled. Hearts pounding not from fear, but adrenaline.

Doyoung tossed Hoshi his packet. "Here. Let's do this."

They fanned out across the property, placing explosives in discreet places—under flowerpots, behind pipes, by the garage door.

Ten paused near the fountain and whispered, "Hoshi-yah... I'm scared."

Hoshi turned to him, eyes softening just a little.

"Ten," he said lowly, "that bastard tortured us for two years. You think we'll look back and regret this? Or regret not doing anything at all? He treated us like dogs because we were wolves—because he thought he could. I'm not leaving this place with silence in my chest."

Ten blinked at him, stunned by the quiet intensity in Hoshi's voice.

And then—

"Yah!" Joohoen's voice echoed softly from the entrance. "This shit stinks like actual death."

Chankyun cackled beside him, helping him spread the reeking cow dung with a gloved hand. "You were expecting Eau de Chanel?"

Doyoung poured oil by the door, chuckling to himself. "He's going to slide into his karma."

Ten still hovered by Hoshi, looking unsure.

"I'm telling you, Hoshi—if we get caught—"

Hoshi looked him dead in the eye, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Challenge accepted."

Ten groaned. "You're insane."

But he followed anyway.

The final fireworks were in place, ready to be lit. Hoshi crouched near the back garden, striking the lighter with trembling fingers before the fuse caught.

Ffffft—

The fireworks screamed into the sky, exploding in red, green, and gold over the mansion roof.

The boys ducked into the hedges, giggling like children hiding from a bedtime scolding.

Then the front door creaked open.

The principal stumbled out, half-asleep, muttering, "What the—who's there?!"

Right on cue, his foot slid across the oil-slicked marble—sccrraattchh—THUD.

He landed face-first into the fresh cow dung.

A beat of stunned silence.

Then—

"YESSS!"

The boys exploded into a silent celebration, muffled squeals and clenched fists in the air.

Hoshi doubled over laughing, finally pulling down his mask. "That was beautiful."

But the victory was short-lived.

The principal groaned, pushing himself up, his face and hair dripping with filth. His eyes locked onto the boys.

Or more specifically—onto Hoshi.

"YOU!!" he shouted. "Security! Get them! GET THEM!"

"Shit. He saw me," Hoshi hissed.

"RUN!" Joohoen barked, and the group broke into a full sprint.

Back over the wall. Down the alley. Across the street.

The sound of laughter followed them into the cold London night as they vanished into the darkness—reckless, high on vengeance, and as unserious as ever.

But for Hoshi, even as he ran—heart pounding, chest full of satisfaction—something deeper stirred in his gut.

Not guilt.

Just the knowledge that tonight was the start of something new.

And maybe, just maybe, the end of everything he used to be.

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Chapter Text

The Next Day morning at the Railway Station, the platform buzzed with sleepy murmurs, rolling suitcase wheels, and the sharp whistle of a departing train somewhere down the line. Mist hung lazily in the morning air as five wolves—still high on the rush of last night's chaos—walked down the platform with casual swagger.

Hoshi had his hoodie up, backpack slung over one shoulder, face half-hidden behind sunglasses that barely disguised the cocky grin tugging at his lips.

"Yah, you think Mr. Kim would've complained?" Doyoung asked, rubbing the back of his neck, still unsure whether to be proud or worried.

Hoshi just shrugged with that trademark confidence. "Please. That old fossil doesn't have it in him to file a complaint, Doyoungie."

The rest of them chuckled, shaking their heads at their leader's unbothered attitude.

The final boarding call echoed across the station speakers. Passengers hustled toward their compartments as a sleek silver train hummed on the tracks.

"Well," Hoshi exhaled, turning to his friends, "this is it."

A round of tight bro-hugs followed.

"Don't forget us when you become rich and famous," Ten said, ruffling Hoshi's hair.

"I won't. Mostly because I'll still be bailing you all out of trouble," Hoshi teased.

"Yah!" they all shouted, laughing.

He turned toward the train, one foot on the step when—

"WAIT!" Joohoen grabbed him by the sleeve. "Ten went to get you soju."

"What? I can literally buy it anywhere," Hoshi said, glancing toward the station entrance. "Tell him not to bother."

"Yeah, but this isn't just soju..." Chankyun said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Hoshi narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It's somaek," Chankyun grinned, "just the way you like it. Perfect ratio. Hand-mixed. The last gift of love from your dear Ten."

And then, from a distance:

"HOSHI-YAH!!"
Ten came sprinting down the platform, waving a bottle above his head. "I got it! Wait a second!"

"Yah, he's gonna miss the train—relay it!" Hoshi yelled, already stepping aboard.

Ten tossed it to Doyoung. Doyoung passed it to Joohoen. Joohoen to Chankyun—

And as the train slowly began to pull away, Hoshi leapt out, caught the bottle mid-air with one hand, and stumbled back onto the train like a hero in slow motion.

He turned, triumphant, holding it up for his friends to see.

The boys erupted in laughter and cheers from the platform, clapping and whistling.

"You owe me, idiot!" Ten yelled.

"I'll name my first pup after you!" Hoshi called back.

Still smiling, he popped the cap and took a long sip. The cold carbonation bit at his tongue, and he turned to wave again—when he slammed directly into a steel pillar.

"Gkkk—" He choked, sputtering on the drink, almost dropping the bottle.

"Yah, watch—"

A small, firm hand grabbed the strap of his backpack and yanked him backward.

Hoshi stumbled, blinking, vision still blurry from the hit.

And then he turned.

The world—paused.

In front of him stood a boy—shorter, delicate-looking, porcelain pale like winter hadn't quite let go of him. He wore an oversized pink sweater that swallowed his hands and had the faintest golden-blonde hair curling at the ends, brushing his shoulders like spun silk.

But what hit Hoshi the hardest was the scent.

Black tea—deep, smooth, comforting. With the softest trace of citrus... yuzu? No—bergamot. Sharp, quiet elegance wrapped in warmth.

Omega.

Hoshi's breath caught. The train, the platform, even the somaek bottle—all forgotten. His eyes locked onto plush, pink lips moving soundlessly, saying something—

—and without even thinking, he pulled the boy into his arms.

The smaller man stiffened. His breath hitched.

But Hoshi didn't care. His heart felt like it had just remembered how to beat. The scent, the warmth, the weight of him—it was like coming home after a thousand years in exile.

"You're so pretty," Hoshi whispered, stupidly, reverently.

A beat.

And then—SMACK.

The omega shoved him back, face flushed and furious, eyes wide in horror.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he hissed.

Before Hoshi could stammer out a reply, the boy turned on his heel and stormed away down the carriage, curls bouncing angrily with every step.

Hoshi stood frozen, cheek stinging, mouth parted in awe.

His hand slowly rose to touch the spot he'd been slapped. Then he turned back toward the pillar, lips curled into a crooked smile.

"Well Hoshi-yah, you've fallen hard..," he breathed, stunned.

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Chapter Text

Hoshi walked down the aisle of the train carriage like a man possessed. Eyes darting from seat to seat, he scanned every row, every face, hoping—desperately—that the pink-sweatered omega had just taken a seat nearby.

Nothing.

Not a hint of golden hair or rose-petal cheeks. Just strangers. Some sleeping. Some glued to their phones. One couple arguing over sandwiches.

He mentally pouted, dragging his feet toward the far end of the carriage. 

The last compartment. Just before the washroom.

There, with a frustrated sigh, he leaned against the cool metal wall. The train hummed beneath his feet. Outside, the countryside blurred into morning light.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He fished it out and smiled softly. Dokyeom. His packmate. His best friend.

He answered the call.

"Hey, Dokyeom-ah."

"Yah, Soons! Did you board the train safely?"

"Yah, Kyeom-ah," Hoshi began, eyes wide with excitement. "You won't believe what happened to me. Like actually—you won't believe it."

Dokyeom snorted. "Why wouldn't I believe it? You're always dramatic. Lemme guess—you drank somaek and almost died before finishing it, right?"

Hoshi blinked, his jaw dropping.

"...YAH! How the hell did you guess that?!"

"Doyoung called," Dokyeom said through laughter. "Said you nearly knocked yourself out again. Hyung, why do you keep risking your life for the most petty challenges?"

Hoshi huffed, straightening up. "Listen, Kyeom-ah. That petty challenge brought me face-to-face with the hottest omega I've ever seen in my life."

That shut Dokyeom up for a second.

"...Really?" he finally said, voice tinged with curiosity.

"Really," Hoshi confirmed, dreamily. "I swear, I thought I was dying—and then he appeared. Like a literal angel. Saved me."

Dokyeom whistled on the other end. "Wow. Is he really that beautiful?"

"Beautiful?" Hoshi scoffed. "He's divine. Shorter than me. Soft voice. This crazy perfect pink sweater. Long blonde hair that looks like sunlight. I'm telling you—diamond-level. My heart got punched in the face."

He sipped from the somaek again, resting his head back against the wall.

"I don't know who his appa is, but instead of gatekeeping family fortune, he should be gatekeeping his son. Otherwise a wild alpha like me is gonna end up running off with him."

Dokyeom was cracking up now, humming in agreement as Hoshi rambled.

"And my wolf, Kyeom-ah... he went crazy. Actually howled inside. First time I've ever felt that kind of pull."

Just as he was getting to the best part of his monologue, the washroom door beside him creaked open.

And out walked the omega.

The omega.

Same sweater. Same flushed skin. Same unimpressed glare—directed right at him.

Hoshi froze. The phone slipped slightly from his hand as he quickly straightened up like he hadn't just been daydreaming aloud.

The omega passed him slowly. Deliberately. His glare icy.

And Hoshi, like the idiot he was, blurted out:

"Did you hear all that?"

The omega stopped. Looked him up and down.

And kept walking.

No words. Just a perfectly executed expression of: You are the reason I have trust issues.

Hoshi turned to follow—but before he could take two steps, someone tapped his shoulder.

"Ticket, please," said a stern-looking officer in uniform.

"Ah—yes, one second—" Hoshi fumbled for his backpack, nearly dropping his phone. In a panic, he stuffed the bottle of somaek into the officer's hand. "Hold this for a sec—"

The officer raised an eyebrow.

"...Really?"

Hoshi chuckled nervously, snatching it back and finally pulling out his ticket.

The officer examined it. "What's your age?"

"...Old enough?" Hoshi tried.

The officer looked down at the ticket again, then back at him. "You're underage for alcohol."

Hoshi took a deep sip of the drink and huffed. "What proof—"

The officer, with the calm savagery of a man who's seen too many teenage brats in one week, ripped the ticket in half and dropped it to the ground.

"Next station, you're off."

"Wait—WHAT?!"

"Have a good day."

"HYUNG, I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY—!"

Fifteen minutes later, Hoshi stood on a dusty platform at a nameless station in the middle of nowhere, watching the train that had carried his fate disappear into the horizon.

The bottle of somaek was long gone—chucked into the bushes in frustration.

He kicked the ground, groaning loudly. "YAAHH! JUST MY LUCK!"

The memory of the omega's scent still clung to his skin. So faint now it almost hurt to breathe in.

He leaned against the station wall, rubbing his temples.

"Stupid ticket. Stupid officer. Stupid underage laws. Stupid me."

He looked up at the empty tracks, heart twisting.

"...And stupid, perfect omega I may never see again."

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Chapter Text

The train hissed to a stop at a nameless station—a sleepy, barely-functioning outpost with cracked tiles, a flickering bulb overhead, and silence thicker than the fog still clinging to the tracks.

The omega stepped out, sighing heavily as he held up his empty bottle. "Ugh, seriously?"

His throat was dry, his mood worse, and frankly, fate had been pummeling him since morning. Still, water was water, and his scent suppressants were due in two hours—hydration was non-negotiable.

He jogged toward the rusting public tap at the edge of the platform, only to find a barely-there trickle leaking from it.

"Of course," he muttered, bending down to fill his bottle drop by miserable drop. "Why would anything work today? Thank you, universe. Thank you for being useless."

He hiccupped once. Then twice.

Seriously? Now hiccups? Just when—

Woooo-woooo!

The train's final boarding whistle blared behind him.

His heart dropped.

"Shit."

He shut off the tap in panic and bolted—bare feet slapping against cold concrete, his bottle only half-full and still leaking. The train was already beginning to move.

He was twenty steps away. Ten. Five—

And then—

"Hey there, sweetheart."

He skidded to a halt, chest heaving, as three towering silhouettes stepped out of the shadows under the station archway.

Alphas.

Rogue alphas.

His breath caught in his throat as his body instinctively backed away. His wolf recoiled, his instincts screamed.

Of course he recognized the scent: no pack, no anchor, no stability—just stale pheromones and testosterone mixed with booze and ego.

Not now. Not here.

"Please," the omega said, voice steady despite the tremble in his limbs. "Let me through. I—I don't want trouble."

One of them stepped forward, tilting his head. "See, pup, I helped you out. Your hiccups are gone."

He grinned darkly. "But I couldn't save your train."

The omega clutched his water bottle like a weapon, though they all knew it wouldn't help. He looked toward the station booth—empty. Looked down the platform—deserted. No help. No staff. No cameras. Just night.

His wolf was panicking now.

The tallest alpha leaned in close. "Look at you... trembling like a little leaf. That sweet scent's making it real hard for us to be polite, y'know?"

The others laughed, murmuring filth under their breath. His fingers whitened around the bottle. He was counting seconds. Debating whether to scream. Whether it would even matter.

And then—

"MOVE!!"

A voice—loud, sharp, unmistakably alpha—roared across the platform like thunder.

The rogue alphas turned, startled, as a figure dashed down the steps from a cab on the overpass above, leaping onto the platform and sprinting toward them like a man possessed.

Hoshi.

He rammed into the nearest rogue without slowing, shoulder-checking him so hard the man crashed into a bench with a groan.

"Out of the way, assholes—!" he barked, pushing past them, scanning the train already halfway out of the station.

His voice cracked with frustration: "YAHH! It left from here too?!"

He dropped to his knees, panting.

His back faced the omega.

The rogue alphas stared, dumbfounded. The omega stood frozen.

And then—realization struck like lightning.

That voice. That hair. That ridiculous hoodie.

The omega's eyes widened to the size of saucers. His jaw dropped.

It was him.

The train-alpha.

The one with the somaek.

The one who hugged him.

The one who got slapped.

The one who called him—what was it?—"so pretty."

The rogue alphas looked at each other, confused. But before they could react, Hoshi slowly turned around—brows furrowed, scanning for the omega.

And then their eyes met.

Shock.

Recognition.

Silence.

Hoshi blinked.

"...Oh."

His lips parted.

"It's you."

The omega looked like he was about to either cry, faint, or throw the water bottle at his head.

And for once in his life, Hoshi was speechless.

Hoshi blinked once. Then again.

And then his face lit up like a sunbeam breaking through heavy clouds.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" he asked, beaming as he jogged toward the stunned omega, who still hadn't moved an inch.

The smaller man looked frozen in place—eyes wide, fingers clenched tightly around the half-filled bottle. His brain was still buffering, trying to process how this loud, overconfident alpha had found him again, at this station, of all places.

"Yah—are you alright?" Hoshi waved a hand in front of his face, then—more boldly—snapped his fingers beside his cheek.

The omega flinched and blinked, gulping hard.

"You looked like you saw a ghost," Hoshi grinned. "Is it because I'm still handsome even after being kicked off a train?"

Before the omega could say anything, Hoshi reached out and took the bottle from his hand.

"Sorry—I'm dying. Been running around like an idiot."

He looked back at the omega, confused. "Did they throw you off the train too? Were you drinking alcohol?"

The omega watched—absolutely speechless—as Hoshi took a long sip.

Then frowned. Pulled the bottle away from his mouth and stared at it like it had betrayed him.

"Wait—this is just water."

The omega didn't answer.

Hoshi handed the bottle back with a soft, boyish grin, utterly unaware of the raw storm of emotion brewing in the air.

But just then, from the shadows by the pillar, the rogue alpha stepped forward again with a growl. "Are you done?"

Hoshi glanced sideways, completely unbothered. "Still here?"

The rogue alpha's face twitched in irritation. "You here to play hero, little alpha?"

Hoshi turned to face him, smile lazy. "Yah, bro—you're mistaken. I'm not here to play anything. I was chasing a train, and guess what? I missed it."

He rolled his eyes, about to add something sarcastic—when something changed.

A small hand wrapped around his wrist.

Warm. Trembling.

His gaze shot to the omega. Their eyes locked—and in that instant, Hoshi's wolf snarled awake.

The scent.

That calming citrus scent, once light and smooth, had curdled—bitter, sharp with fear.

The omega was terrified.

His mate was scared.

Hoshi didn't think. Didn't breathe.

The alpha took over.

The rogue barely had time to smirk before Hoshi lunged—fist clenched, jaw locked, body moving with violent, instinctual force.

CRACK.

The first punch landed squarely on the rogue's jaw, snapping his head sideways. Blood flew.

The other alphas jumped forward, but it was too late. Hoshi was in full alpha-mode now—rage-powered, mate-protecting, brutal.

He moved like a storm, swift and terrifying. Fists, elbows, knees. No hesitation. No mercy.

One rogue tried to grab him from behind—he slammed the man into a pillar with a sickening thud.

Another swung with a makeshift rod—Hoshi caught it mid-air and twisted it out of his hand before delivering a blow that sent the man sprawling across the platform.

The omega gasped softly, clutching the sleeves of his pink sweater, flinching at the sound of fists meeting flesh. One rogue was already unconscious. Another limped away, holding his side.

The third—a bleeding mess—was barely standing when Hoshi grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, fist pulled back, ready to crush bone.

"STOP!"

The omega's voice cracked through the chaos.

Hoshi froze, breath heaving.

A beat of silence.

Then, slowly, he dropped the rogue. The man hit the ground, whimpered, and scrambled away without a backward glance.

The platform fell silent again—except for Hoshi's panting breath.

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Chapter Text

The omega stepped forward, eyes wide, voice quiet but firm. "You didn't have to hit them that hard, you know. A warning would've been enough."

Hoshi didn't answer at first. His chest still rose and fell with alpha aggression, his knuckles bruised, his jaw tight.

Then—he looked at the omega, gaze dark but honest.

"That's... just how I am."

He exhaled, pulling off his jacket, revealing sweat-dampened skin beneath. He dusted himself off, hands trembling from residual adrenaline.

"When I get angry," he said, voice lower now, raw, "there's no stopping me. No stopping my alpha. It gets dominant fast—too aggressive, too short-tempered."

He didn't say, especially when he thinks his potential mate is in danger.

But the words lingered in the air anyway.

The omega watched him. Quiet. Processing.

And Hoshi, for once, had nothing witty to say.

The tension hadn't yet left the air.

Jihoon stared wide-eyed as the alpha dusted off his hands, walked over to the public tap, and splashed water over his blood-specked face. The early morning light caught the fine mist rising from his skin.

Then, without a word, the alpha unzipped his duffel, pulled out a fresh jacket, and shrugged it on like this was any other Tuesday.

Jihoon didn't know whether to be impressed or alarmed.

The alpha turned and walked back towards him—casual, unrushed, utterly nonchalant—as if he hadn't just turned three rogue alphas into a police report waiting to happen.

He stretched out a hand, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm Choi Soonyoung. Friends call me Hoshi—"

Jihoon didn't take the hand.

Instead, he calmly placed a new train ticket in Hoshi's palm, then turned on his heel and walked to the nearest bench. He sank down and plugged in his AirPods, pointedly turning his head away.

Hoshi blinked down at the ticket in his hand.

Then followed.

He leaned against the lamp post next to Jihoon, hands in his pockets, and muttered just loud enough to be heard, "You don't have to thank me for saving your life or anything, but you could at least tell me your name."

Jihoon popped out one AirPod and shot him a glare. "I saved your life on the train earlier. Did you say thank you?"

Hoshi scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "Ah... right. No. That's fair."

He quietly moved to sit beside him, careful to keep a respectful distance. The silence stretched.

"...Thank you," he said sincerely.

A pause.

Then Jihoon finally spoke, softly. "Lee Jihoon."

Hoshi smiled like he'd been waiting all morning to hear it. "Oh. Jihoon. Nice."

Jihoon said nothing else, pulling out a battered paperback from his backpack. He opened it, tucked himself into the pages, and made it clear the conversation was over.

But Hoshi wasn't built for silence.

"Uhm, Jihoon... you're from Seoul?"

A hum.

"Where in Seoul?"

No response.

Hoshi bounced his knees, then slowly leaned sideways, trying to peer into the book. "Ahhh this one. Yeah, the guy blows up half the city but gets away in the end, right? Wild. So anyway, where exactly in Seoul?"

Jihoon slammed the book shut and turned to him, incredulous.

"...Are you a sadist?"

Hoshi recoiled. "What?! No—I mean—just that... the book's ending was... interesting?"

"Do you even realize how tense I am right now?" Jihoon snapped. "I missed my train. I had a rogue alpha situation. I'm two hours late, my heat suppressants are due, and I tried to distract myself with music and a book—but you've managed to ruin both."

Hoshi opened his mouth. Closed it.

"...Right. Fair."

"I feel like crying," Jihoon muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I just want to go home."

Hoshi sat in silence, watching him with something close to guilt—or maybe helplessness.

After a moment, he fidgeted, then slowly pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out.

"Do you want to call home?" he offered softly.
Jihoon turned his head, eyes tired and rimmed red. "Why? So they can panic too?"

Hoshi sighed, placing the phone on the bench between them.

"I get it," he murmured. "Still... offer stands."

They sat in silence. The platform quiet but not peaceful. Jihoon wrapped his arms around his knees. Hoshi watched a dog cross the tracks in the distance.

Hoshi sighed and dropped his phone on the bench between them, eyes darting across the platform like it might offer a solution to Jihoon's quiet distress.

The phone buzzed.

He glanced down.

Eomma – flashing in bold letters across the screen.

Before he could reach for it, Jihoon's hand moved first.

In a moment of instinct—his inner omega aching for familiarity, for warmth—Jihoon picked up the phone and brought it to his ear.

"Eomma...?" he said softly, without even thinking.

There was a pause.

Then, a confused voice filtered through the receiver, warm and sharp.

"Hoshingi? Wait... who is this?"

Jihoon froze mid-breath and turned to look at Hoshi, panic flickering across his face.

Hoshi's eyes went wide. He lunged forward in a hush, "Yah—that's my phone," he whispered-shouted, snatching it from Jihoon with a wild look.

He cleared his throat, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello, eomma."

"Hoshingi... who was that boy on the phone just now?"

Hoshi rubbed his face. "Uhm... that was Jihoon. He picked it up by mistake, eomma. That's all."

"By mistake? Yah. Give him the phone back."

"What? Eomma, I said it was nothing! He just thought it was his phone—it's not like that—"

"Yah! Hoshi. Give him the phone."

Hoshi ran a hand through his hair in pure defeat, turned to Jihoon, and stretched out the phone toward him.

Jihoon backed up slightly, eyebrows high. "No way."

"Please," Hoshi begged. "Just say something. He won't bite. He's just... scary-sweet."

Jihoon narrowed his eyes. Hoshi gave him an encouraging nod.

Finally, the omega took the phone gingerly and brought it to his ear.

"Hello,... I'm sorry. I thought it was my phone. I didn't mean to—"

"Ahhh, no problem, dear. Really. But... what are you doing with my son?"

Jihoon blinked.

Hoshi bit his thumbnail nervously beside him.

"Um... actually, I missed my train."

"Then my son?"

Jihoon hesitated. "He also missed his train."

Hoshi groaned and covered his face with both hands.

From the phone, Jeonghan's familiar shriek pierced through the speaker.

"WHAT?! He missed his train?!"

And in the background, a deeper voice muttered, "That's why I told him to take the damn flight—"

"Seungcheol-ah, be quiet!"

Hoshi flinched like he'd been slapped by sound.

"So both of you missed your trains together?"
Jeonghan asked, and his tone was just a little too light now. Suspiciously amused.

Jihoon quickly corrected him, flustered. "N-no, aunty! I missed mine at this station. He missed his at the previous one."

Hoshi smacked his own forehead at Jihoon's exactness. Blunt as a cleaver, this one.

He leaned over, snatched the phone back, and said hurriedly, "Eomma. Why are you interrogating him like it's an arranged marriage setup? You're making him uncomfortable."

"Yah, Hoshingiii~ Don't get smart with me."

"Okay, okay! Love you, bye!"

Click.

He dropped the phone back in his bag and turned to Jihoon, exasperated.

"Why did you even pick up my phone?"

Jihoon folded his arms. "I thought it was mine, okay? I thought my papa called. I panicked."

"To my phone?" Hoshi deadpanned.

Jihoon let out a frustrated groan, running his hands through his hair. "I'm this agitated because of you!"

"Me??" Hoshi raised both hands. "How is this my fault?"

"Yes!" Jihoon shot back. "You threw me off balance. Ever since you jumped onto that train like some rom-com hero with no brakes."

Hoshi blinked, caught between guilt and a grin. "...I mean, yeah, that does sound like me."

Jihoon gave him a look so sharp it could slice concrete.

Hoshi sighed. "Alright. Fine. I accept it. This is all my fault."

"Good."

"...Now what do you want me to do?"

Jihoon looked him up and down. "Leave me alone for a while. Go away. Sit as far as possible from me."

Hoshi blinked. Then nodded dramatically like an exiled schoolboy.

"Okay. I see how it is," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder not before taking his jacket out and placing it beside, it was night and the waves were colder and let out a small, "Just in case."

He stood up, gave a low whistle, and began strolling toward the other end of the platform, muttering under his breath, "Reckless alphas saving lives get no appreciation these days..."

He plopped down at the farthest bench, arms crossed, but still sneakily keeping Jihoon within line of sight.

And smiles when he sees Jihoon take the jacket up and involuntarily seeking comfort in his deep warm cedarwood with vibrant notes of fresh orange blossom and a hint of wild musk.

His inner alpha jumping in joy.

Jihoon pulled his knees to his chest and finally reopened his book.

A soft breeze passed between them.

And the platform, once again, returned to silence—with only the faint trace of citrus in the air and an alpha humming to himself far down the bench line like the most annoying, stubborn, loyal golden retriever fate had assigned him.

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Chapter Text

Jihoon curled up on the rusted bench, pulling Hoshi's oversized jacket tighter around himself, one AirPod snug in his ear.

The cotton lining still smelled faintly of sandalwood, bergamot, and that wild, maddening scent that could only belong to the alpha sitting at the far end of the platform-currently way too invested in a phone game.

Outside, thunder cracked again, louder this time.

Jihoon winced, his grip tightening around the fabric, but he didn't move.

Not yet.

Then another thunderclap roared through the station, shaking the sky and the silence. This one had his heart skip, his composure slipping.

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and trudged toward the only person who'd made his day marinally worse-but whose scent made the terror in his chest settle, just a little.

Hoshi barely looked up, thumbs tapping the screen. "What happened?" he asked, casually, like Jihoon hadn't just crossed the emotional equator.

Jihoon huffed, clearly irritated. "What are you doing here?"

Hoshi blinked at him. "Didn't you tell me to sit as far away as possible?"

"Yeah-'far' as in a little far," Jihoon snapped, plopping down dramatically on the bench next to Hoshi's. "Like emotionally distant, not geographically exiled."

Hoshi chuckled under his breath and went back to his game.

Jihoon stared at him in disbelief. Then-without warning-he lunged forward, yanked the phone out of Hoshi's hands, and furiously tapped random spots on the screen, sabotaging everything.

"Yah!" Hoshi cried out, horrified. "I was this close to beating the lead score!"

Jihoon smirked as he sat back down. "That's nice. That's exactly how I felt when you ruined my book."

Hoshi grunted. "Are you seriously still mad about that? It was just a joke. I was trying to get you to talk."

Jihoon arched a perfectly unimpressed brow. "To make me talk?"

Hoshi shrugged, nonchalant. "Yeah."

"Oh, sure. Big bad alpha playing social therapist now." Jihoon leaned in with a sly grin. "Let's be real-were you trying to get me to talk... or were you trying to win me over?"

Hoshi scoffed, tossing his head back with a laugh. "Me? Wooing you? Please, get out of your own head, Jihoon-shi."

Jihoon leaned back, face curling into mock-thoughtfulness. "Hmm... what was it again? 'My appa should stop gatekeeping his wealth and start gatekeeping me instead.'"

Hoshi choked on air.

Jihoon smirked, relentless. "You said that. On call. Dramatically. Like a shoujo anime alpha. Don't you want to come over and tell my dad that in person?"

The taller alpha fumbled-eyes wide, neck visibly turning pink.

"You heard that?"

Jihoon hummed, too pleased with himself. "Loud and clear."

Hoshi scratched his head and recovered with a cocky grin. "Well, great. Saves me the trouble of starting all over again."

Jihoon blinked. "...You're such a flirt."

Hoshi chuckled. "What's wrong with flirting?"

"Everything," Jihoon deadpanned.

Hoshi shrugged. "Nah. Teasing is wrong. Flirting? Totally fair game."

Jihoon narrowed his eyes. "What's the difference?"

Hoshi tilted his head with a smirk. "If someone doesn't like it, it's teasing. If they do... it's flirting."
Jihoon stared at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a full-body stretch.

"I don't have the energy to argue with you," he muttered, picking up his bottle and downing the last sip of water.

Thunder rolled again, distant but persistent.

This time, Hoshi quietly reached into his duffel, pulled out a second water bottle, and held it out without saying anything.

Jihoon hesitated for a beat.

Then took it.

Hoshi glanced at Jihoon, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders, and the way he clutched the now-empty water bottle like it might comfort him through the apocalypse.

"Are you hungry?" Hoshi asked softly.

Jihoon sighed, not even trying to lie. "...Yeah."

Then he muttered to himself, sarcasm low and dry, "What, you gonna feed me now?"

He didn't expect Hoshi to actually get up.

"Wait-what are you doing?" Jihoon stood as the alpha dragged his duffel bag over to a bench and flipped it open, spilling its guts in every direction.

"Looking for food," Hoshi said innocently, scratching the back of his head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jihoon's jaw dropped. "You're turning the whole bag inside out like a raccoon!"

"I had something in here... I think."

Jihoon groaned. "It's fine. I'm fine. I took my suppressants earlier. Was trying to push back the deadline." He squeaked that last part out under his breath.

But right on cue, his stomach let out a growl so loud it echoed off the platform roof.

He froze.

Hoshi grinned like he'd just won a prize.

"Just wait here."

"Wait, Hoshi-what are you doing now?"

But the alpha was already walking away with purpose.

Jihoon sighed and crouched beside the duffel bag, meticulously folding everything Hoshi had dumped out-books, shirts, envelopes, some weird keychains, a cracked phone charger. Who even packed like this?

He zipped the bag up and followed.

Hoshi turned from a distance and called back, "Do you like bread?"

Jihoon blinked. "Yeah?"

"Perfect."

And then-without hesitation-the alpha picked the lock on the closed platform snack store and walked right in.

Jihoon's jaw hit the floor. "Are you serious?!"

Hoshi emerged a few moments later with his arms full of packaged breads, crackers, and a few juice boxes like it was completely normal behavior.

He dropped them next to Jihoon on the bench.

"Help yourself," he said, then calmly walked back and locked the store behind him.

Jihoon stared at him like he'd just watched a wolf do calculus. Then, stomach winning the internal argument, he dove into the bread and tore the wrapper open like it owed him money.

Hoshi watched from in front, arms crossed and a small smile tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of Jihoon devouring the food with tiny, determined bites.

"You got a boyfriend?" he asked suddenly.

Jihoon shook his head, mid-chew.

"Mate?"

Another shake, this time with a mouthful of bread.

Hoshi nodded thoughtfully. Then, without warning, he said, "I love you."

Jihoon froze.

"What-?" came out muffled and garbled: "Ehf whayg skjbc-"

Hoshi handed him a juice box like a peace offering. "You didn't hear me clearly?"

Jihoon gulped down a mouthful and wheezed. "What the hell did you just say?!"

Hoshi gave a sheepish shrug. "I said I love you."

Woozi lifted a hand as if to stop time itself. "Wait-wait. I heard that. Don't repeat it like it's casual conversation! You can't just drop that out of nowhere!"

"I mean... it's not 'nowhere' to me," Hoshi said, scratching the back of his neck. "I've felt it since the moment I saw you."

"We met barely an hour ago!" Woozi practically growled.

Hoshi nodded. "Technically... I fell for you the second you saved me from smashing into that train pole. It just took me a while to say it."

Woozi threw his head back and scoffed. "You just blurt out every thought in that head of yours, don't you? No filter whatsoever."

"That's how I've always been." Hoshi shrugged again, unapologetically.

"Well," Woozi said, crossing his arms, "Surprise, Choi Soonyoung-I'm not like that. I don't trust easily. I don't like easily. I'm not wired to just fall for someone in a moment."

Hoshi's expression softened, unfazed. "That's okay. Take your time. I'm pretty sure the more you get used to me, the more you'll like me."

Woozi narrowed his eyes. "Even if I like you... doesn't mean I'll love you. Doesn't mean I'll mate you."

Hoshi gave him a crooked grin and looked away briefly before locking eyes with him again, voice a low, sincere murmur.

"Then just start by liking me, Jihoon. I'll handle the falling in love part."

Jihoon blinked.

"You're impossible," he muttered.

"You're intriguing," Hoshi countered.

Woozi exhaled through his nose, long and tired. "I don't believe in fate. Or destined souls. Or mates chosen by the universe. Love at first sight? It's just chemical imbalance."

Hoshi chuckled, looking at the stormy sky above them. "Neither did I. Until I got on this train... and saw you."

A beat passed.

Then thunder rumbled low and slow above them like the sky had been listening in.

Hoshi tilted his head toward the clouds and smiled faintly. "Even the rain is like you."

Woozi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in the alpha's voice.

"It doesn't fall just because the sky gets dark. It waits. Builds. Holds back," Hoshi said, still staring upward. "But when it does fall... it's beautiful."

Jihoon met his eyes, deadpan. "But sometimes... it doesn't rain at all."

Another thunderclap.

Then, like nature itself had a flair for drama, the sky opened. Rain poured-sharp, fast, undeniable.

Woozi's jaw fell open.

Hoshi turned toward him, water beading off his jacket, that same infuriating smile tugging at his lips. "Guess what?" he said, stepping a little closer. "It rained. And you... you'll fall too."

Jihoon stood there, stunned, chest rising and falling too fast, like the weather had just stolen all his oxygen.

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Chapter Text

They both looked up, blinking through the downpour. Then they scrambled—shuffling beneath the station's narrow shelter, jackets soaked, laughter accidentally shared.

For a moment, the world narrowed to this strange limbo between storm and silence, between declaration and denial.

And under the clatter of rain on metal roof, Jihoon muttered just loud enough for Hoshi to hear—
"...you're still an idiot."

Hoshi beamed.

"I know," he said. "But I might be your idiot someday."

The station buzzed, each drop of rain on the platform a tiny applause for the scene unfolding.

He stood before him, a determined glint in his eye, the city lights reflecting in the puddles around them like scattered gems.

"You know.", Hoshi began, his voice smooth, confident note against the drumming rain, "I've always found that the most unexpected places hold the most magic. A dreary train station, for instance can transform into well whatever you wish to be." He offered Woozi a charming, almost theatrical smile, clearly pleased with his opening line

Woozi arched a delicate eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Is that so? And what grand transformation do you envision for this particular stop?" his tone was light, a challenge in every word.

Hoshi stepped out of the shade, his gaze unwavering, "A ballroom, naturally. And if this is a ballroom," he extended a hand a gesture both hopeful and audacious, "then surely we're meant for the first dance.

Woozi glanced at his out stretched hand, then back at his eager face, a slow small unfurling. "Here? With all of...this? You are certainly ambitious."

"Only when the muse demands it,", the alpha countered, his eyes twinkling. "Imagine: the rain, our symphony; the platforms our stage. One moment we're waltzing through the moonlit sky – perhaps even with a full moon conjured just for us." He paused his expression earnest. "And the next, we're just lost in the vibrant chaos, our steps perfectly in sync."

He leaned in slightly his voice dripping to near whisper.

Woozi chuckled softly.

The Alpha was trying, truly trying and a tiny part of the omega thoroughly enjoyed it. He let her gaze linger on the alpha's hand for another moment then tucked her own hands slowly and deliberately behind her back.

"You do have a way with words.", Woozi lets out, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "But a story, my dear alpha, need more than a good opening line," Woozi took a step back, his smile widening, "It needs audience and perhaps a bit more convincing."

The alpha's grin didn't falter, a grin spreading across his face. "Challenge accepted."

The rain let up like the sky had cried enough for one night. The sharp pattering softened into quiet drips, fading into silence.

The low chug of the approaching train echoed through the platform.

Woozi sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His sweater clung damply to his skin, and the wind bit through it like needles. He turned around and walked toward the train, climbing up the short steps with practiced ease.

Halfway through the doorway, he turned and looked behind him.

"Choi Soonyoung!" he called out, waving.
Hoshi was still sitting on the bench—his duffel bag by his feet, elbows resting on his knees, looking up at Woozi with expectant eyes. Like a golden retriever left behind on the sidewalk.

Woozi frowned. "What are you doing?"

Hoshi blinked slowly. "Waiting."

"For what?"

Hoshi stood up, dusting off his hands. "You said you don't fall in love easily. You need time. So... I'm waiting for your answer."

The omega narrowed his eyes. "My answer?"

Hoshi nodded, motioning lazily between the two of them. "You know—us."

Woozi rolled his eyes and let out a breath.

"Hoshi..."

But the alpha didn't budge. He plopped back down on the bench with that maddeningly calm posture. Like he had all the time in the world. Like the train wasn't right there.

Woozi clenched his fists. The train doors hissed open behind him. He glanced at the conductor and then back at the soaked, stupid alpha being dramatic under the platform lights like this was some K-drama confession scene.

And just to make things worse, the train let out its departure whistle.

"Are you seriously—" Woozi started, voice high with disbelief.

"Dead serious," Hoshi said, folding his arms.

"Hoshi, get on the damn train."

"Not until you say something."

Woozi cursed under his breath, panic starting to rise. The train jolted slightly—its engine coughing to life.

"Don't make me do this, please," Woozi said, softer now, walking to the edge of the doorway.

Hoshi tilted his head, amused. "Do what?"

Woozi closed his eyes, fists clenching again at his sides. "Didn't you tell me just an hour ago—'Take your time, I'll wait'?"

"Yep."

"I said I'd give you an answer in the morning," Woozi snapped. "So wait. Don't you dare miss this train. Again."

That finally did it.

And then he was running—sprinting toward the coach, duffel bouncing behind him. He leapt up just in time, grabbing onto the handle and hauling himself in as the train finally left the station behind.

Jihoon stepped aside, arms crossed, heart racing. 

"Stupid alpha," he muttered.

"Stubborn omega," Hoshi replied, brushing past him with a grin.

Jihoon let out a long sigh, trailing after him to find a seat. The adrenaline still hummed in his veins. His hair was wet, his book was squished, his night had been ruined, and his mate—if the universe really had such twisted humor—was this idiot.

Hoshi flopped down into the seat beside him, still panting slightly.

"You're going to give me a heart attack," Woozi muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Worth it," Hoshi replied, still grinning like he'd won the lottery.

And for a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Just the hum of the train, the faint clatter of steel on steel, and the sound of Woozi trying to calm his too-fast heart.

Finally, Hoshi leaned a little closer, voice low and playful.

"Does this count as progress?"

Woozi sighed and turned away, but not before muttering under his breath, "I didn't say no."
Hoshi beamed.

The morning sun filtered through the train carriage in thin golden slants.

Soonyoung stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open with the warmth on his cheek—and instinctively reached for the body he had fallen asleep beside.

His hand met fabric. Soft. Familiar.

His jacket.

He blinked, rising quickly to find only the jacket folded neatly where Jihoon had been. The faint, comforting scent of black tea with a citrus undertone still lingered—subtle, but enough to pierce right through the center of his chest.

"Jihoon..." he murmured.

Gone.

No footsteps.

No note.

No goodbye.

Just the silence of an empty coach and the crushing weight of absence.

The alpha stood abruptly, heart thundering in his chest as he tore down the aisle, carriage after carriage.

Empty. Vacant. Soulless.

He dashed off the train, eyes scanning the crowd spilling out onto the platform, but the shorter blonde figure was nowhere. He ran up and down all six platforms of the Seoul Central Station like a man possessed—but the scent was fading.

Too faint to follow now.

It was over. The magical night that had cracked something open inside him... was over.

But Soonyoung wasn't the kind to give up. No, if anything—his alpha instincts had rooted deeper.

Jihoon was his mate. He was sure of it. The bond may not have clicked into place, but his soul had chosen—and nothing in this city could bury that fire.

Even if Seoul was 605 square kilometers of noise and anonymity, he'd find him.

He had to.

__

Hoshi was leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through posts with a practiced finger and eyes too tired to be hopeful anymore.

"Still searching?" came Dokyeom's voice, thick with toast and peanut butter.

Hoshi didn't even look up. "Mm-hmm."

Dokyeom shook his head, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him with his cereal. "Yah! Let him go already. It was one night. You're not the first alpha to get swept up by a pretty omega with soft hair and big eyes."

"You didn't see him, Kyeom-ah," Hoshi said, gaze distant. "He wasn't just pretty."

"You're literally living every alpha's dream," Dokyeom muttered, looking around the luxury apartment. "Prestigious university, top of your class, rich parents, and to top it off, omegas drool when you so much as breathe."

Hoshi glanced at him, deadpan. "Drooling omegas don't smell like citrus tea and wear pink sweaters with existential rage."

"Gross. You sound like a poetry major," Dokyeom mumbled.

Before Hoshi could respond, the front door opened with a flourish, and in stepped Jeonghan, in a blazer too stylish for his mid 40s and a bag slung over one shoulder like a high schooler.

"Good morning, my ungrateful children," he called, plucking an apple from the counter. 

"Morning, eomma," Hoshi muttered.

Jeonghan took one bite of the apple, then walked over and ruffled Hoshi's hair. "How's university treating my little punk?"

"It's good."

"Good grades?"

"Top of the class."

"Any trouble?"

"No."

Jeonghan nodded sagely, tossing the apple core into the bin like a basketball dunk. "Well, if anything happens—don't let that temper of yours get you into fights again, hmm? You know your appa's got power. One word from him, and anything can be handled."

"Noted," Hoshi muttered with a small smile.

Jeonghan smiled and ruffled his son's hair like he still was ten. Then he turned to Dokyeom. "And you—how many times has your visa been rejected now?"

Dokyeom straightened like a soldier. "Only four times, eommonim!"

Hoshi laughed. "His UK visa was rejected faster than he could press 'Submit.'"

"Yah!" Dokyeom cried, looking at him with betrayal. "It's pending again! This time's different!"

Jeonghan chuckled softly, walked over, and ruffled both their heads with a fond sigh. "You two take care. And no more explosions, Choi Soonyoung."

"No promises," Hoshi grinned.

As Jeonghan left for work, the two alphas grabbed their bags and walked out toward the campus. The streets buzzed with energy. Everyone had somewhere to be, something to chase.

For Hoshi, it was still a certain omega.

Even now, as they drove under the cherry trees lining the university entrance, his eyes scanned the crowd like instinct. Like hope.

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Chapter Text

When Hoshi entered campus, heads turned like clockwork.

Not every day did an alpha climb out of a jet-black Benz with that kind of aura—the kind that sent tremors down knees and silenced conversations mid-sentence. Charisma wasn't a skill for Hoshi. It was just how he walked.

And he knew it.

His shirt was half-tucked, hair still messy from the morning wind, and that cocky smirk was permanently stitched to his face. He tossed a careless laugh toward Dokyeom, strolling through the courtyard like it was his runway.

But as always—confidence wasn't everyone's cup of tea.

"Yah! You there!"

The voice sliced through the air like a whip. Hoshi paused and turned, only mildly curious.

A senior alpha stood there, arms crossed, attitude heavy.

"Was that you who got down from that Benz?" he asked, tone already laced with condescension.

"Yeah." Hoshi nodded casually, hands in pockets.

The senior raised an eyebrow. "Where's the respect, huh? Aren't you a freshman? Try again—with a 'sunbaenim'."

Hoshi just chuckled, tilting his head. "Sunbaenim," he repeated, like he was tasting the word ironically. Dokyeom beside him let out a snort he couldn't quite contain.

That did it.

The senior growled and reached for Dokyeom's collar. "Which part of this do you find funny, huh?"

"Everything," Hoshi answered before Dokyeom could. The senior's hand froze mid-clench.

And just as fists threatened to fly, a voice rang sharp and clear from across the courtyard.

"Yah! Kim Matthew!"

Everyone turned.

A girl walked over, shoulders squared and gait smooth. The aura around her wasn't loud—but commanding. Alpha. Her musk was distinct but balanced—peppery warmth and sharp mint. She didn't need to raise her voice to be heard.

Matthew and his pack shifted awkwardly.

"Didn't we agree on no more bullying?" she asked, tone dangerously calm.

"We weren't bullying," Matthew grunted. "Just teaching respect."

"By grabbing collars?" She shot him a raised brow.

Silence.

Hoshi, meanwhile, looked amused.

"I'll teach these hoobaes instead," she said suddenly, draping an arm around Hoshi's shoulder like they'd been best friends forever.

Matthew scowled, jaw tightening.

Eric, standing nearby, muttered, "Come on, Ailee. Let us have a little fun."

She turned slowly. "Didn't you say some omega from the freshman batch caught your eye? How about this—go chase your crush and leave these alpha pups to me."

Matthew looked like he wanted to argue, but the offer wasn't a bad trade.

He let go of Dokyeom with a scoff, muttering something under his breath as he backed off Hoshi smirked, brushing off his shoulder where Ailee's arm had landed.

"That was dramatic," Dokyeom whispered.

"Too dramatic," Hoshi grinned.

Ailee stepped back, crossing her arms. "You're lucky I like troublemakers."

"You like me already?" Hoshi teased.

Ailee snorted. "Relax, flirt. I just hate Matthew more."

Hoshi chuckled. "That's good enough for me."

Dokyeom looked between the two and sighed. "It's going to be an interesting year."

Ailee led the way across the sun-drenched courtyard, her drink in one hand, aura unwavering. Behind her, Hoshi and Dokyeom followed obediently—like two oversized puppies caught in a mild scolding.

She pushed open the glass door of the canteen and motioned to the table near the window. "Sit," she said flatly, sliding into her seat.

The boys obeyed, sinking onto the plastic chairs across from her.

"You two look decent enough to know what respect is. I shouldn't have to be teaching you this," she muttered, stirring her iced Americano.

"Aish, we know that, Noona," Hoshi replied, the word coming with a teasing grin. "But that guy? He was too much. Didn't exactly feel like respecting him."

Dokyeom nodded in perfect sync. "Yeah. He grabbed my collar—what were we supposed to do, bow to him while he throttled me?"

Ailee snorted. "Yah, little beta," she said, jabbing her straw in the cup, "this is a university, not your back-alley packhouse. You address people as sunbaes and hoobaes—not hyung or noona, unless they're from your own year. Otherwise, how the hell am I supposed to help you?"

The two of them scratched their heads sheepishly, both muttering a soft "yes, sunbaenim."

She sighed, nodding toward a group of omegas sitting a few tables away, sneaking not-so-subtle glances at Hoshi and giggling behind their hands.

"You say that noona stuff to one of them, especially when they're swooning already? They'll chew you alive for being too familiar."

Dokyeom laughed. "Yah, that's going to be impossible, noon—" He cut himself off quickly under Ailee's withering stare. "I mean—sunbaenim. But seriously, this guy over here? Already hopeless."

Ailee raised an eyebrow. "Hopeless?"

"He's already lost his soul, his alpha's basically mated," Dokyeom said with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head.

Ailee blinked, slowly turning to Hoshi. "You... fell for someone already? A fresher? That's going to break the collective heart of the university."

Hoshi just shrugged with a lopsided pout. "It's not like I planned it."

"Oh, don't tell me it was a 'fated mate' thing," Ailee said, sipping her drink skeptically.

"He gave his heart away," Dokyeom cut in, "but doesn't even know where the omega is."

Now that caught her full attention.

"Wait—what?" Ailee leaned forward. "You don't know where they are?"

Hoshi sighed, pushing his hair back. "Nope. Haven't seen him since that night. Not a number, not a name I can trace. Just a scent."

"And you're telling me this like it's a cute story?" Ailee asked, stunned.

"Let him finish," Dokyeom said, grinning. "It's gold."

So Hoshi told her everything.

The train. The somaek. The slap. The platform. The fight. The rain. The damn thunder. Jihoon's stubborn glare and the jacket left behind. Every detail poured out like a diary entry wrapped in overdramatic alpha energy.

By the time he finished, Ailee was leaning back in her chair, mouth slightly open.

"So that's what happened, noona," Hoshi said softly, eyes still distant.

Ailee exhaled, placing a hand on her chest. "That... was the best tragic romance I've heard in a year."

"Oh, my little alpha," Ailee sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "You lost one omega that night, and now you won't even spare a glance at the ones throwing themselves at you here?"

Hoshi's pout deepened like a kicked puppy.

"Did you at least get his number? A single detail?" she pressed, leaning closer in intrigue while Dokyeom snickered into his latte like the chaotic wingman he was.

Hoshi shook his head, expression guilty. "Nothing. Just... his name and the city he's from."

Ailee raised a brow. "Name?"

"Lee Jihoon."

Ailee froze mid-sip. The Americano stopped just before her lips, her eyes widening in silent shock.

"Noona...? Noona...? Earth to Ailee noona—hello?"
Hoshi waved a hand in front of her and gently shook her arm. She blinked, snapping out of it.

Clearing her throat, she carefully asked, "How does he look?"

"Short. Really short," Hoshi began, face softening like he was describing a painting.

"Pale. Blonde hair—kinda shoulder length. Tied it sometimes. His scent... black tea with citrus."

Ailee stared, processing. "You're serious?"

Dokyeom leaned in, hopeful. "You know him, don't you?"

Ailee slowly nodded. "I think I do know someone who matches that."

Before she could even finish the sentence, Hoshi was already on his knees, clutching her legs like a dramatic K-drama lead, eyes pleading. "Please—take me to him. Please, noona. You're my only hope."

Ailee scoffed, looking down at him with utter disbelief. "Get up. People are staring." She yanked him up by his arm.

Dokyeom sipped his drink unbothered and muttered under his breath, "Desperate bitch."

"I'll take you to him," Ailee finally said, fixing her hair with a sigh.

Hoshi lit up like the moon goddess had just blessed him. "Really?!"

"On one condition."

"Anything."

"Stop calling me noona."

"Okay, noona," Hoshi said instantly with a wide grin.

Ailee slapped her forehead while Dokyeom gave Hoshi a side glance like he was ready to disown him as a friend.

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Chapter Text

She walked ahead, commanding, "Follow me. And don't speak."

Hoshi, practically skipping now, trailed behind her, whispering questions like a kid on a school trip. "Where is he? Is he in our department? Do you know if he has a boyfriend—"

"Shut. Up." Ailee snapped without turning around.

They finally reached the campus grounds—lively, filled with students lazing on the lawn or running to their lectures. Ailee paused at the edge of the walking path and pointed ahead. "There. Is that him?"

Hoshi stopped.

His heart pounded so hard he could hear it.

He closed his eyes, whispering under his breath, Please. Please let it be him.

He slowly turned to look.

Matthew stood to the side, chatting casually with someone much shorter—blonde hair tied back in a neat half-bun. Fair skin. Shoulders slightly tensed like he didn't enjoy too much attention. And then... the soft citrus scent, faint even across the grass.

Hoshi's heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

His breath hitched.

"That's him," he whispered, eyes wide. "That's my omega."

Without thinking, he spun around and hugged Ailee, squeezing her tight.

"You're a goddess. I love you. Seriously. Thank you noona!" he said, and before she could respond, he ran—feet thudding, heart pounding, eyes only on Jihoon.

Behind him, Ailee laughed softly, shaking her head as she crossed her arms.

"This little wolf," she muttered. "Will never learn."

Meanwhile, Jihoon stood stiffly in front of Matthew, fidgeting with the strap of his bag slung over one shoulder, his eyes downcast, refusing to meet the senior alpha's gaze. Pineal smirked hideously beside Matthew, feeding off Jihoon's discomfort.

"I hope you know there are rules when it comes to how you treat your seniors?" Matthew said, his voice saccharine-slick with authority.

Jihoon nodded silently.

"And you know rule number one," Matthew continued. "You never say no to a senior."

Jihoon nodded again, his fists tightening around the strap of his bag.

Matthew turned to his group, grinning. "Yah, toss me that rose."

Pineal chuckled, reaching into his pocket and tossing a single red rose toward Matthew, who caught it with flair. He turned back to Jihoon, a smug gleam in his eyes.

"So now, my dear Jihoonie," he cooed mockingly, "your sunbae is going to give you this rose... and ask you to be his boyfriend. And all you have to do is accept it." His smile widened like a predator.
"You understand?"

Laughter bubbled up from the group behind him as Matthew slowly extended the rose toward Jihoon.

Jihoon clenched his jaw. His breath stilled.

But before the rose could reach him—

A hand shot between them and snatched it away.

Matthew blinked.

Jihoon's head snapped up.

Standing between them now—tall, broad, casual and infuriatingly handsome—was him.

Choi Soonyoung.

The train alpha. The somaek idiot. The reason Jihoon hadn't been able to sleep properly for three months.

Hoshi.

Jihoon's eyes widened, his lips parting in stunned disbelief. His heart stuttered.

Hoshi, now holding the rose casually, turned toward Jihoon and smiled gently.

"You came into my life like a dream," Hoshi said, eyes locked on the omega. "And then you left—just when I'd started dreaming."

Jihoon blinked rapidly, trying to keep his lips from twitching into a smile. Don't you dare smile, Lee Jihoon.

Hoshi continued, voice softer now, almost a whisper meant just for them, "And now... you're standing here. After three months. I don't even know if this is real—or just another dream."

Jihoon inhaled shakily, heart racing.

Hoshi extended the rose to him with both hands.

"If this is real, take this rose," he said, eyes glowing. "But if it's a dream... then altleast this time, please—wake me up."

Silence. Even the wind seemed to still.

Then Jihoon reached out slowly.

Took the rose.

And Hoshi's grin exploded across his face, his eyes disappearing in that crescent-shaped signature smile that could melt even the coldest ice.

Some of Matthew's friends behind him, charmed despite themselves, started clapping instinctively.

Clap. Clap. Clap—

Matthew turned, glaring. The claps stopped instantly.

But it didn't matter.

Jihoon had taken the rose.

And Choi Soonyoung had taken the moment.
Matthew yanked Hoshi around by the shoulder, his grip rough, voice low with seething authority.

"You're a junior," he growled. "Start acting like one."

Hoshi raised his hands in mock surrender, unfazed. "Chill, bro. I know him already."

"So?" Matthew's brows furrowed. "You start talking to him? Interrupting your sunbae just because you know him?"

"What's wrong with talking?" Hoshi replied, tone cocky, lips tugging into a smirk.

Matthew stepped closer, heat radiating off him. "You're not supposed to."

"I will," Hoshi said, tone steady, a spark in his eyes.

"You won't." Matthew's patience snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing Hoshi by the collar.

Jihoon tensed on instinct, his grip tightening on the rose, anxiety spiking. He'd seen the Alpha's rage once. He wasn't ready to see it again.

But Hoshi only tilted his head, smirk still playing at his lips.

"Challenge accepted."

Matthew blinked, confused. "What?"

Hoshi's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Keep holding my collar for exactly one minute—without letting go—and I'll stop talking to him. Forever."

Jihoon's eyes widened. What the hell is he doing—?!

Matthew scoffed, tightening his grip out of sheer pride. "Easy."

But then... the smirk on Hoshi's face deepened, as if he knew something Matthew didn't.

"Yah, Matts," Eric whispered from behind. "Maybe let go."

Matthew didn't budge. "What?"

Pineal nudged him subtly and gestured toward the far side of the field.

Matthew turned just enough to see the principal walking down the grounds, clipboard in hand, gaze already narrowing in their direction.

"Matts, we'll get suspended," Pineal hissed.

Eric added, "It's not worth it. Let go."

Matthew's jaw clenched, but reality finally caught up. With a final shove, he released Hoshi's collar, pushing him back.

Hoshi stumbled slightly but straightened, brushing off his shoulders with a smirk.

"Too bad," he said, voice smooth and sharp. "You couldn't hold on. That means I can keep talking to him."

Matthew seethed, lips pressed into a thin line. He turned to Jihoon, who flinched slightly at the sudden attention.

"You," he barked. "Stop talking to him. Walk out of here."

Jihoon hesitated, then nodded, slipping the rose into his bag. He turned to leave—

But after a few steps, he stopped.

Turned.

Met Hoshi's eyes across the field.

Then, with the subtlest smirk, he lifted the rose from his bag and held it up, a silent defiance, a message only meant for one Alpha.

Hoshi's face lit up like the damn sun.

Dokyeom groaned beside him, "You're actually insane."

And right there, in the center of the college ground, Choi Soonyoung did a happy little jump like a complete idiot in love.

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Chapter Text

The following few days had been nothing but a nightmare.

Every time Hoshi tried to approach Woozi, Matthew would conveniently appear—like a cursed guardian angel—with his smug face and overpowering scent, pulling the omega away. And Hoshi? He could already feel his inner alpha pacing, growling, begging for release.

His frustration reached its peak as he stomped into the college grounds, slinging his bag onto the bleachers beside a very content-looking Dokyeom, who was leisurely devouring an ice cream cone like nothing in the world mattered.

Hoshi plopped down beside him, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Dokyeom gave a sideways glance, then patted his shoulder with mock sympathy.

Hoshi raised a brow. "Are you consoling me right now?"

Dokyeom only smiled wider, finishing off his ice cream like a traitor to his best friend's suffering.

Hoshi scoffed, shrugged off his hand, and muttered, "Useless."

Before the drama could escalate further, a familiar voice rang through the field.

"Yah, Hoshi-ah! Get your lazy ass to the library and finish these assignments for me!"

Hoshi turned around with a pout. "Noonaaa, I'm not in the mood. I'm emotionally dying here."

Ailee didn't blink. She stomped over, slammed the stack of papers into his chest, and shoved him in the direction of the library. "Yeah? Die quietly in the library. And don't come back without my work done."

As Hoshi dragged himself away dramatically, Dokyeom stood up to follow.

Only to be caught by Ailee mid-step.

"Where are you going?"

Dokyeom blinked, confused. "With him?"

Ailee smiled sweetly, then handed him another stack. "No, you're finishing these."

"Wait—what? That wasn't part of the—"

"Shhh."

She spun around and walked off.

Meanwhile, Hoshi sulked his way across the corridor, dragging his feet like a grounded teenager. That was until—

He saw him.

Through the tall glass windows of the library, bathed in a warm slant of afternoon sunlight, sat Lee Jihoon. Hair tied up into a half-bun, brows furrowed, scribbling something down intently. A single strand of blond hair had escaped, dancing in front of his eyes. His black tea-citrus scent wafted faintly even through the glass, and Hoshi's heart tripped over itself.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.

Then he did what any normal, emotionally unstable, deeply-in-love alpha would do.

He turned and yelled at the top of his lungs:
"NOONA!!"

The entire campus turned to stare.

Ailee, from far away, slapped her palm to her face, letting out the deepest sigh known to mankind.

"THANK YOU!" Hoshi screamed with a grin, before skipping into the library like a golden retriever spotting its favorite human.

____

Hoshi cautiously strides over to the table where Woozi was perched, books spread like a fortress between him and the world. The alpha pauses for a second, heart beating loud enough to be embarrassing, then quietly sits right across from him.

Woozi doesn't look up.

He doesn't need to.

That deep scent laced with wild musk hits his senses, and his omega instinct nearly purrs in recognition.

Still, he keeps his head down, pretending to write.
Hoshi sulks in silence for exactly one minute.

Then, with a sigh, he gets up, shuffles around the table, and drops into the seat right beside Woozi.

The omega freezes mid-sentence. His pen stalls over the page. But he doesn't move, just breathes in deeply and tries to continue like his alpha isn't sitting there fidgeting like a kicked puppy.

"...Yah," Hoshi mutters beside him, his voice low and sulky.

"Why do you keep acting like a stranger? Can't you at least talk to me? Why are you showing so much attitude?"

Woozi finally lifts his gaze—wide, innocent eyes that shimmer with guilt more than defiance.

"If the seniors—" he begins softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck those seniors." Hoshi cuts in sharply.

Woozi blinks.

"You have no idea how I searched for you." Hoshi's voice cracks a little, the frustration and exhaustion curling around every word.

"I looked everywhere. I even went through every social site I could think of."

Woozi shrugs gently, a soft sigh leaving him. "I'm not much on social media. I don't like the noise... or the fake chaos. I just... stay out of it."

"So you think I'm part of that crap too?" Hoshi asks, eyebrows raised in mock offense.

"No! Not you!" Woozi is quick to shake his head, flustered. "Just... the rest."

There's a pause.

Then Hoshi whispers, "So... you didn't like me?"

Woozi exhales and murmurs, "Did I say that?"

"Then... do you?" Hoshi's voice drops, like he's scared to hope.

Woozi smiles softly. "Did I say that either?"

Hoshi groans and looks away dramatically. "You didn't."

They sit in silence for a while. The tension between them isn't uncomfortable—it's charged, delicate, almost fragile.

Then Woozi speaks quietly.

"That day... when I woke up in the train, you were still sleeping. Appa had come to pick me up."

He toys with the cap of his pen. "I wanted to wake you up but..."

"You got scared?" Hoshi cuts in gently.

Woozi nods, gaze dropping to his lap.

Hoshi can't help the grin tugging at his lips. He leans in, voice soft, "If your appa hadn't come... and if I was awake... would you have stayed?"

Woozi just giggles, refusing to answer.

"Yah, Jihoon," Hoshi whines, poking his arm. "Tell me! Please!"

Woozi keeps giggling. It's so rare, so warm, so real that Hoshi feels like his heart could explode.

Then Woozi finally says, "Actually... I got into Yonsei University."

Hoshi stops. "What?"

"With full scholarship," Woozi adds.

Hoshi stares, mouth slightly open. "Then... why are you here?"

Woozi doesn't answer right away. Instead, he gathers his books, stands up calmly, and murmurs, "That day... at the station, while packing your bag, I saw your admission letter for this college."

He walks off quietly.

Hoshi blinks once. Twice.

Then—"Wait. What?"

It hits him like a brick.

He jumps up from his chair, nearly knocking it over. "YAH, JIHOON!" he yells, scrambling out of the library like a madman. "YOU JOINED THIS COLLEGE FOR ME?!"

He catches up to the omega striding calmly down the hallway.

"You really changed your entire future for me?" he gasps beside him, almost stumbling in shock.

The omega doesn't answer. He just looks away, biting back a smile as he keeps walking.

That was enough.

Hoshi does a tiny jump behind him, clapping once in victory. "I knew it! I was right!"

Then, almost instantly—"Okay, then do you love me?"

Woozi halts.

Turns around with a glare.

"Yah! Big Alpha, slow down! What's with all the rushing?" he scolds, brows raised in mock exasperation.

Hoshi grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know... the rush of having your omega want you? It's just—completely different."

Woozi scoffs, rolling his eyes, "I'm not here to stroke your alpha ego, Mister Muscles," he mutters, turning on his heel to keep walking.

"Right. Of course," Hoshi nods quickly, still trailing after him, confusion clouding his face.

"Who said it was for you?" he says coolly, adjusting the strap of his bag.

"You literally just admitted it—"

Woozi throws a look over his shoulder. "They said the academics here were better. That's the only reason I came." He says it coolly, then tosses, "Okay then. Bye," and walks faster.

There's a beat of silence.

Then from behind him—

"I love you too!" Hoshi yells out.

Woozi stops. Turns slowly.

"Huh?"

"I said—I love you too!" Hoshi grins wide, hands cupped around his mouth like a lovesick fool.

Woozi narrows his eyes. "I said bye, idiot."

"Ohhh~" Hoshi gasps theatrically, "Then why did it sound like 'I love you'? Huh? Weird, huh?"

Woozi groans, chuckling despite himself, shaking his head as he turns back and walks away.

"Stupid. Idiot," he mutters under his breath, lips twitching upward uncontrollably.

Hoshi doesn't chase him this time. He stays back on the path, arms thrown in the air, literally bouncing on his feet.

His alpha? Absolutely howling inside.

The chase was over.

The bond had begun.

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Chapter Text

Their run-ins on campus had turned into a rhythm.

Unplanned but perfectly timed—bumping into each other near the music block, library corners, or beside the vending machine that never worked.

They were like magnets, unintentionally orbiting closer with every day.

And today, Hoshi finally brought him in.

“Jihoon, this is Dokyeom—the one I keep blabbering about,” Hoshi said, motioning proudly towards the tall, sunny beta standing beside him.

Dokyeom gave Woozi the kind of dazzling smile that could blind someone on a rainy day. “Hey there. Heard a lot about you,” he grinned.

Woozi looked at him, his eyes squinting in amused recognition. “Wait… were you the one he was talking to on the train that day?” he asked.

Hoshi scratched the back of his neck awkwardly while Dokyeom nodded. “Guilty.”

“Yeah, he’s more than just a friend,” Hoshi added, nudging Dokyeom. “He’s like family. My pack.”

Woozi turned to Dokyeom, extended his hand, and said with the softest sincerity, “Hi, Kyeom-ah.”

Dokyeom froze.

Eyes wide.

Mouth parted in surprise.

Smile creeping up like sunrise.

“Kyeom-ah?” he echoed, disbelief melting into delight.

Woozi blinked innocently and turned to Hoshi, confused by the reaction. “Didn’t you say he’s like your family? Then your family is also like mine, right?” he said nonchalantly, then simply turned and walked away like he hadn’t just caused an emotional landslide.

Hoshi stood there smiling dumbly, his heart already up in the clouds.

But then—

“Yah! You still aren’t gonna reply to ‘I love you’?” he called out after Woozi.

The omega didn’t reply.

Didn’t turn.

Just raised a hand in the air and waved him off silently.

Hoshi let out a breathy sigh, full of fondness and failure.

And then he felt it—Dokyeom shaking him violently from the side.

“What—?”

“He called me 'Kyeom-ah',” Dokyeom said, face glowing like he'd just been knighted.

Hoshi groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is what you’re taking away from that moment?”

“Yes!” Dokyeom beamed.

And Hoshi couldn’t even argue.

Because honestly?

He was feeling just as stupidly happy too.
_____

Another day.

Another Saturday class.

Dokyeom dragged his feet down the corridor beside Hoshi, grumbling, “Who the hell even shows up to class on a Saturday? Like what kind of punishment is this?”

Hoshi wasn’t really listening.

His eyes had already wandered ahead—past the empty desks, beyond the hallway turns—until they landed on the bleachers near the courtyard.

And just like that, his mood shifted.

Because there stood Jihoon, cornered again by one of Matthew’s leftover lackeys—Peniel.

Hoshi’s jaw clenched.

“Yah, Kyeom,” he said, eyes still fixed on the scene, “Give me a divider.”

Dokyeom blinked. “What?”

“A divider. Compass box thing. Just hand me one.”

Still confused, Dokyeom rummaged through his bag and handed it over. “What are you even—?”
But Hoshi was already walking.

On the bleachers, Woozi stood stiff, clutching his books close to his chest.

“Sunbae, it’s time for class,” he said, voice tight but even.

Peniel sneered, stepping into his space. “And I told you, if I see you with that shit alpha again, Matthew’s gonna hear about it. He said don’t talk to him. You got that?”

Woozi nodded carefully, eyes avoiding Peniel’s—but they widened in horror a second later.

Because behind Peniel, walking very casually past the bleachers, was Hoshi.

And in one smooth motion, the alpha bent down and slipped the divider—sharp-end up—right where Peniel was about to sit.

He winked at Jihoon.

And kept walking like nothing happened.

Woozi’s lips parted in alarm.

“Sunbae, wait—don’t sit—”

But Peniel had already dropped onto the bench.
“AARGH!”

A yelp echoed through the courtyard.

Peniel jumped up in pain, clutching his backside while Woozi bolted from the scene, trying hard not to laugh.

__

Later that day, fate threw another bone.

The Physics professor had decided to combine classes for Civil and Computer Science students.

The lecture hall buzzed with confusion, but Hoshi was already grinning ear to ear the moment he saw Woozi walk in with his books.

He elbowed Dokyeom hard.

“What?” Dokyeom frowned.

“Move. Find another seat.”

“You—oh my god. The law of attraction is so real.” Dokyeom rolled his eyes but stood up anyway, moving to the row behind. “Watch me get a girlfriend just by sitting next to a girl accidentally,” he muttered.

Woozi, stone-faced, sat down beside Hoshi without saying a word at first. He pulled out his notebook and pen.

Then, under his breath, just loud enough:
“Thanks.”

Hoshi smirked. “For the divider or the seat?”

Woozi sighed, but there was a twitch at the corner of his lips. “Both.”

A pause.

“And those seniors,” Woozi added after a second, voice lower, “they're not going to stop. They're older. They’ll keep pushing. Can’t you, I don’t know—try not to get into fights every time?”

Hoshi turned to him, eyes sincere but unwavering.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Hoshi said, fingers drumming softly on the desk, “when someone messes with you, it doesn’t go to my head. It goes straight to my alpha.”

He turned back toward the blackboard as the professor walked in.

“You want someone to stop?” he muttered. “Tell them to stop coming at what’s mine.”

Woozi looked at him, not sure if he wanted to roll his eyes, smile, or kiss him.

So he just sighed.

And turned the page.
__

As Hoshi and Dokyeom walked toward the parking lot, the sun dipping behind the city skyline, Hoshi was practically bouncing on his feet—whistling an off-tune melody, cheeks lifted in a permanent grin.

Dokyeom, trailing beside him, sighed dramatically.

“Okay, Romeo. Did you at least get his number?”
Hoshi froze mid-step.

His whistle died. His eyes widened. “Shit.”

Dokyeom stared at him, mouth parted in disbelief. “No. Way.”

Hoshi cursed again, now pacing in circles.

Dokyeom crossed his arms, looking like a tired parent.

“Yah, from which prehistoric wolf clan did you evolve, Soonyoung-ah? Didn’t anyone tell you communication is the foundation of a healthy relationship?!”

“Communication? Basic need? Relationship 101?” Dokyeom kept going, waving his hands. “You think scent bonding’s enough in 2025?! What next, smoke signals?!”

Hoshi muttered under his breath, scanning the area in mild panic. “Maybe… maybe he left something…”

And then—like fate throwing him a bone—he saw it.

There.

On the dusty windshield of his car, written in careful strokes, was a ten-digit number. A heart at the end.

010-48—

A smirk curled at his lips. “Jihoonie, you clever little fox.”

Hoshi lit up. “YES!” he whispered, digging into his pocket to grab his phone.

But before he could key in the number—

Dokyeom leaned casually right against the windshield, slinging his dusty bag onto the glass.

“YAHHH!” Hoshi screamed.

Dokyeom flinched. “WHAT?!”

“YOU ERASED THE NUMBER!”

Dokyeom turned around and blinked at the now smudged mess on the windshield. His mouth formed an awkward little 'o' as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

“OH?!?” Hoshi yelled, his voice high-pitched with betrayal. “That was my omega’s number, you walking disaster!”

Dokyeom held both hands up, already backing away from Hoshi’s deadly glare.

“I—okay okay okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know! You didn’t say it was sacred writing! Who writes on dust these days?!”

Hoshi kicked the gravel and stomped toward his car in dramatic fury.

“I can’t believe I lost him to your backpack.”

“Hey, don’t be so dramatic,” Dokyeom called after him. “You can just ask him tomorrow.”

But Hoshi wasn’t hearing it. He got into his car, sulking harder than a wolf denied his mate’s scent.

____

That night, Hoshi was flat on his bed, glaring at his phone, typing in every possible number combination starting with 010-48.

Wrong.

Wrong again.

Blocked.

“God—FUCK—” he screamed into his pillow.
And just as he prepared to try the 23rd combo—
His phone rang.

Then—his phone lit up.

Unknown Number Calling.

He scrambled upright and answered, “Hello?!”

There was a pause.

And then—

“Well... I was expecting you’d call by now.”

Hoshi nearly dropped the phone.

“Jihoon?! Oh my god—yes! I was going to call but that idiot Dokyeom erased the number you wrote on my car with his dusty bag!”

Woozi giggled from the other end. “Oh.”

“Wait—wait a second,” Hoshi furrowed his brows. “How’d you get my number?”

There was a loaded silence. He could hear the smirk in Jihoon’s voice.

“I have my ways.”

Hoshi grinned. “Sneaky omega.”

And then casually Woozi: “Okay, then. Bye.”

“Okay. I love you too,” Hoshi replied without skipping a beat.

“Huh?!”

“I love you too.”

“I said bye, not—”

Hoshi blinked dramatically. “Oh really? Then why did it sound exactly like 'I love you' again?”

“Stupid. Idiot,” Jihoon muttered before hanging up.

But his voice had the tiniest smile tucked into it.

And Hoshi?

He ruffled his hair and squealed straight into his pillow like a lovesick pup. His alpha purred inside his chest like a wolf who’d just been gifted a mate and a full moon. Hope you guys are enjoying the story.

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Chapter Text

The phone calls became a daily thing after that — no longer just Hoshi and Jihoon. Jihoon soon learned that Hoshi was the name of Soonyoung’s alpha, and decided, with a mischievous smirk, to call him Youngie instead, adamant about not feeding the already swelling alpha ego.

In return, Hoshi discovered that Woozi was Jihoon’s omega name — and fell in love with how well it fit him.

Woozi. A name that sounded like a quiet hum and a wild breeze all at once.

They became inseparable.

Library visits, shared lunch breaks, waiting outside each other's classes, texting during lectures when the professors got too dull — they were growing into each other’s space without even realizing it.

One afternoon, the two were walking down the corridor toward the canteen when Dokyeom came running, practically bouncing on his heels.

“YAH SOONS!” he shouted, breathless and beaming. “I GOT MY UK VISA!”

He jumped straight into Hoshi’s arms, who hugged him tight, laughing, “You did?! Finally?!”

Dokyeom nodded furiously. “Yes yes yes! I’m leaving for London!”

Jihoon smiled at the pure joy on his face and added softly, “Congratulations, Kyeom-ah.”

Dokyeom turned to him with a wide grin. “Thanks, Jihoon hyung.”

“So… when are you leaving?” Hoshi asked, a bittersweet edge creeping into his tone.

“I’ve got my flight tomorrow evening,” said Dokyeom, still breathless with excitement.

Hoshi nodded, then pulled him close again. “Then I’m keeping you all to myself today. Cancel all other plans.”

Jihoon chuckled, watching the two idiots wrap arms around each other like golden retrievers.

“Guess I’ll just follow my wolves then,” he mutters
with a teasing smile.

__

The next evening, a cab pulled up to the curb in front of the dorm gates.

Dokyeom stood with his bag, looking between his two best friends. “I’m really going to miss this chaos,” he muttered.

“You sure you don’t want me to tag along to the airport?” Hoshi asked, visibly struggling to stay casual.

Dokyeom shook his head. “Nah… It’ll be harder to say goodbye there. Besides, I don’t trust myself not to cry if you’re there.”

Hoshi pulled him into one last hug. They stayed there longer than necessary.

“Take care of yourself, Kyeom-ah.”

“You too, Soons.”

Then Dokyeom turned to Jihoon, smiled sincerely, and said, “Take care of him, will you?”

Jihoon nodded. “Don’t worry. He’s loud but manageable.”

“YAH!” Hoshi and Dokyeom said in unison, before breaking into laughter again.

And with that, Dokyeom climbed into the cab, waving till it turned the corner.

As the cab disappeared, Hoshi stood still, hands in his pockets.

Jihoon gently bumped his shoulder with his own
.“He’ll come back with a funnier accent and worse jokes.”

Hoshi chuckled. “Knowing him, definitely.”
___

The evening was quiet as they drove back. Jihoon was at the wheel, deciding to drop Hoshi off before heading home himself.

Soonyoung sat in the passenger seat, unusually silent, his eyes distant and face unreadable. Jihoon noticed, flicking his gaze from the road to the alpha beside him.

Without a word, Woozi reached over and rested his hand atop Hoshi’s — grounding, steady, soft.

The scent of black tea and citrus slowly filled the car, soothing like a late afternoon in autumn.

Hoshi flinched at the sudden contact, but almost immediately sighed and leaned into the comfort of it.

“Already missing Dokyeom?” Jihoon asked, his voice quiet, the words feather-light.

Hoshi shook his head. “I’m fine,” he muttered, but it was the kind of fine that said the opposite.

Jihoon looked at him again — just a second longer than he should have — and missed the two-wheeler swerving across their lane.

Hoshi’s reflexes kicked in. “Woozi! Watch out!”
Woozi snapped forward, jerking the steering wheel hard to the left, tires screeching as he slammed the brakes.

The car halted inches from the bike.

Both Woozi and Hoshi scrambled out. Woozi, already shaken, bowed quickly to the two men — one an alpha, the other a beta — who had now gotten off their bike.

“I’m sorry,” Woozi said breathlessly, “I didn’t see you.”

The alpha, chest puffed and eyes furious, barked, “What the fuck kind of driving was that?”

That was it. Hoshi’s vision flashed red.

Hoshi stepped forward, fists clenched. “Woozi, why are you apologizing? They came from the wrong direction!”

“What sorry, huh?” the alpha sneered, eyeing Woozi up and down. “Who the fuck lets an omega bitch drive anyway?”

And that was the last straw.

Hoshi lunged forward, grabbing the man by the collar with eyes glowing and voice low. “What did you just say?”

His alpha was surfacing, rage pulsing through every vein.

But Woozi was faster.

“Youngie—please.” Woozi stood between them, palms pressed to Hoshi’s chest, gently pushing him back. “It’s not worth it.”

He cupped the alpha’s cheek, forcing Hoshi to look down at him. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth it. Look at me. Please look at me.” His voice was low, pleading, lips trembling as he lightly nosed along the alpha’s jaw — offering calm, offering himself.
His scent poured out, stronger now. Black tea and citrus, grounding and warm, curling into Hoshi’s senses like a balm to the fire raging within him.

“Let’s just go. Please, Youngie.”

“Let it go, please,” he whispered, thumb brushing under his eye.

Hoshi’s breathing slowed.

Woozi turned, bowing again. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly to the two men who scoffed, dusting off their clothes as if the apology hadn’t just diffused a storm.

“Youngie...” Woozi called softly again, pressing their foreheads briefly together, then nosing along Hoshi’s jaw — gentle, grounding, affectionate. His scent flared stronger now, sweet and citrusy and warm. “Let’s go. They’re not worth your anger.”

Hoshi stared down at the omega who was so much stronger than he let on.

Then he sighed, resting his hand over Woozi’s on his cheek. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Without another word, he turned away, walked around, and opened the passenger door for Jihoon. Jihoon slid in quietly.

The two-wheeler sped away behind them, but neither of them looked back.

Hoshi rounded the car, climbed into the driver’s seat, and took the wheel this time — still reeling, but not from rage anymore. From the way Jihoon had anchored him.

____

The next day Woozi sat on the bleachers, arms folded as he watched Hoshi shooting random goals into the net. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pursed.

“You really need to control your anger, Youngie,” he called out. “You’re too impulsive. It’s not healthy.”

Hoshi paused mid-dribble and looked at him, ball in hand.

“You get angry over every small thing,” Woozi added, now tracing random circles on his palm with his finger. “And I’m not liking it.”

Hoshi tilted his head and replied calmly, “Even I’m not liking it.”

Woozi blinked. “Huh?”

“You still not replying to my confession. That’s what I’m not liking,” Hoshi said, resuming his dribbling.

Woozi let out a soft chuckle, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking toward him.

“If an omega asks an alpha to wait,” he said, stopping just a breath away, “it means that the omega has already started wanting.”

Hoshi blinked, startled, but Woozi continued casually, “Otherwise, they wouldn’t even let an alpha close enough to know their scent.”

“Then why not say it?” Hoshi challenged softly.

Woozi smirked, stepping just a little closer, voice low and smug. “Because if having your omega want you boosts your alpha ego…” he tilted his head,”… we omegas find a strange kind of joy making them chase harder.”

He leaned in a bit, voice teasing, “You know how satisfying it is for an omega to have a big, confident alpha wrapped around their finger?”

Hoshi raised a brow as Woozi leaned back with a mischievous grin. “You won’t understand — it’s an omega thing.”

Hoshi huffed, tossing the ball from one hand to the other. “So what?” Hoshi asked, mock-offended.
“You’re gonna make me chase you around forever?”

“Any doubt?” Woozi said with a wink, turning on his heel to walk away.

But before he could take more than two steps, Hoshi gently caught his wrist. “Hey, Woozi,” he said, eyes wide with mock-pleading. “I want you to answer me today. No running. No excuses.”, he said, pouting like a kicked puppy.

Woozi opened his mouth to respond — but the sudden sound of multiple footsteps crunching against gravel interrupted them.

Matthew and his gang had entered the grounds.

Both their eyes shifted to the side.

Matthew. And his gang.

Marching onto the grounds.

Hoshi’s grip unconciously loosened, but Woozi smirked and whispered without looking at him, “Try holding my hand for one full minute… and I’ll tell you.”

Hoshi’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Challenge accepted.”

He tightened his grip on Woozi’s wrist.

Woozi’s heart jumped. “Youngie—I was kidding. Let go,” he muttered, panicking slightly as the group drew closer.

Hoshi didn’t budge.

“Youngie, please,” Woozi whispered again. “Let go—he’s watching.”

“Youngie, please. They’ll see—”

They already had.

Matthew and his friends finally stood in front of them.

“What the fuck are you two doing here like you own the grounds?” Matthew snapped.

Woozi dropped his gaze, trying not to escalate anything.

But Hoshi simply glanced at his watch, unbothered, as he held onto Woozi’s wrist tighter and calmly said, “Four… three… two… one… and one.”

Then he turned to Woozi with a smirk. “Now tell me.”

Woozi glared and yanked his hand free, rubbing his wrist. “I told you I’d tell you,” he said through gritted teeth. “Didn’t say I’d tell you now.” And with a final huff, he turned and walked away.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at the alpha still standing in front of him. He glowered his fists tightening.

Hoshi just grinned.

“If you had grown a pair that day and held my collar for just five seconds longer,” Hoshi said, casually tossing the ball at Matthew’s chest, “I would’ve never spoken to him again.”

Matthew caught the ball, teeth gritting as his fist tightened around it.

“Your bad luck, sunbaenim.”

Hoshi chuckled and strolled off the field without another glance, leaving behind a silent, fuming Matthew and his boys in the dust of their own powerlessness.

.

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Chapter Text

The next day, Hoshi and Woozi strolled down the hallway in their usual rhythm — casual bickering, soft teasing, their dynamic familiar and warm.
But the peace didn't last long.

"Yah! You two — come here!"

The voice thundered from across the campus grounds. Matthew.

Every head turned.

The crowd murmured as the tension crackled in the air. Woozi stood in front of Matthew, his eyes locked with the taller alpha's, while Hoshi loomed behind him, jaw clenched and fists at his side.

Woozi slowed, his spine straightening, face unreadable. Hoshi followed just a step behind, jaw tight, posture protective. He didn't say a word — but the low thrum of his Alpha warning was already brewing under his skin.

They stopped in front of Matthew, Woozi facing him directly.

Matthew took a step forward, stopping just inches from Woozi.

"Do you know what today is?" he asked, voice dripping with mock innocence.

Woozi shook his head calmly.

Matthew leaned in, just a bit too close. "It's the eve of the full moon. You know what couples do today, right?" His voice lowered, intimate and sharp.

"They scent their partners. Give them something—something that helps them keep control when the moon pulls at their instincts,— a jacket, a scarf — to help suppress the primal urge to shift. It's tradition."

He moved in, close enough for his breath to ghost over Woozi's neck — his nose almost brushing the sensitive skin near his scent gland.

The campus collectively held its breath.

From behind, Hoshi let out a low, warning growl, only barely restrained by two of Matthew's lackeys. His eyes burned red, alpha instincts dangerously close to snapping.

The campus watched in stunned silence. Scenting wasn't just symbolic — it was sacred. An act of deep trust, intimacy, and mutual recognition. Not something to be taken, or mocked.

Woozi jerked back violently, putting a firm distance between them, eyes flashing.

Behind him, Hoshi's growl finally rumbled out — low, guttural, and primal. His Alpha was done holding back. Two of Matthew's friends held him by the arms, barely containing the fury.

"Matthew." Hoshi's voice dropped into a warning growl. "Don't touch my omega."

But Matthew only chuckled. "He's not yours. Not officially."

Matthew chuckled, pulling off his leather jacket and casually tossing it into Woozi's hands.

"Here. Scent it for me, sweetheart. Don't forget to wear it."

Hoshi thrashed against the ones holding him back.

"Matthew, if you so much as touch my omega, I swear—!"

Woozi stared at the jacket. His fingers tightened around it for a second. Then — he dropped it.
And stomped.

The leather crumpled under his shoe as the crowd gasped again.

Matthew's smugness evaporated.

The gasp from the crowd was audible.

Woozi stepped on it — slowly, deliberately — eyes never leaving Matthew's stunned face.

"I won't," he said.

Matthew's face twisted. "What did you just say?"

"I said," Woozi repeated, folding his arms across his chest, voice unwavering, "I will not."

He met Matthew's eyes.

"I will not scent it. Not for you. Not for him. Not for anyone..." — he pointed to a few other seniors who had started whispering — "...except for him."

He looked around at the group of alphas. Then turned to look over his shoulder at Hoshi.

"Except him."

Silence.

Hoshi's wolf howled within, ears ringing from the declaration. The chaos in his Alpha was replaced with a rising surge of pride and love.

Woozi turned fully now, facing him.

"And I'll bare my neck willingly for my Alpha," he said, the words cutting through the crowd like lightning.

The crowd erupted in whispers. Some stunned. Some swooning.

And then Woozi turned around, eyes locking with Hoshi's.

"Hoshi," he said, expression softer now, "I love you."

He took a breath.

"So... do you mind?"

Hoshi shook his head instantly — too stunned to speak, a stupid grin plastered on his face.
Woozi smirked and turned, walking off.

Hoshi pulled free from the now-unnecessary grip of the seniors and followed. As he passed Matthew, he deliberately stomped on the jacket one more time and flashed a grin.

He turned to Matthew with a cocky smirk, that same fire in his eyes.

"Bad luck, hyung," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Should've held my collar a bit longer."

"Better luck next lifetime, sunbaenim," he whispered.

Then he jogged off after his omega, the two of them walking side by side, basking in the silence of the entire campus and the raging heartbeat of something real between them.
____

Woozi walked shyly through the corridors, a small smile tugging at his lips, still riding the high of having just confessed in front of the entire campus.

But his steps paused when he heard quick, familiar footsteps behind him.

Before he could turn, a strong hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him inside a nearby empty classroom.

Click.

The door slammed shut behind them, and Woozi found himself pinned against it — warm palms framing his waist, a broad chest close, and that scent...

He didn't need to look up to know.

Cedarwood, wild musk, vibrant orange blossom. 

Hoshi.

Woozi looked up, eyebrows raised, amused at the breathless alpha before him, whose pheromones were now pouring off him in waves of pure euphoria.

Woozi raised a brow, questioning, amused.
Hoshi grinned.

"I love you too," Hoshi breathed, voice low and aching.

Woozi laughed, soft and teasing, flicking a finger at the alpha's forehead. "Idiot. You're late, Youngie.""

"But—" Hoshi straightened, eyes hopeful. "So... will you really let me scent you?"

Woozi tilted his head with a sly smile, as if considering it. Then, he nodded once — deliberately.

Hoshi, eyes lighting up, immediately leaned in with all the energy of a puppy getting his treat—

Thunk.

A palm landed square on his chest, halting him.
"Uh-uh," Woozi smirked, "I didn't say when, stupid alpha."

Hoshi pouted, frustrated. "But the full moon is tomorrow! When else would be better?!"

Instead of replying, Woozi stepped closer, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Hoshi instinctively stepped back confusion flashing in his eyes as Woozi kept advancing—until the back of Hoshi's legs hit the edge of a bench and he plopped down, stunned.

He stared at Woozi, confused — until the omega, graceful as ever, climbed into his lap.

"Wha—what are you—what are you doing?" Hoshi stammered, hands flailing awkwardly in mid-air, unsure of where to place them.

Woozi only chuckled darkly and leaned in, an amused sparkle in his eye.

His breath was warm against Hoshi's jaw as he slowly nosed along the alpha's skin. Hoshi gripped the edge of the bench like his life depended on it.
Hoshi's breath hitched.

His alpha howled inside, mind spiraling into a haze of black tea and citrus. He let out a soft grunt.

"Woozi..."

It was overwhelming. Beautiful. Addictive.

He gently nudged his nose along Hoshi's jaw, slow and unhurried, and the alpha practically melted.

"Woozi..." he gasped.

Then Woozi reached Hoshi's scent gland, hovering for a moment.

Hoshi's head lolled back slightly, wolf purring at the intoxicating scent of black tea and citrus, pouring over him like a drug, filling his head, his instincts, everything.

Just when he thought he might completely lose himself—

The weight vanished.

Hoshi blinked his eyes open, panting, only to see the omega standing in front of him, smirking like the little devil he was.

"You alive?" Woozi teased.

"You..." Hoshi exhaled, speechless, "...you're one wild omega, you know that?" Hoshi exhaled, cheeks flushed, trying to get his lungs to work again.

"There you go then," Woozi said casually, waving him goodbye as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Hoshi called after him. "You scented me — what about you? Don't you need me to scent you?"

Woozi paused at the door, then looked over his shoulder with a smug little grin.

He lifted one hand.

In it was Hoshi's jacket.

The alpha's jaw dropped.

"My—? When did you—?!"

Woozi winked. "Too slow, stupid alpha."

With that, he walked out of the classroom, victorious.

Hoshi stared down at himself, then back at the door, realization dawning.

His jacket was gone. And so was his heart.

He ruffled his hair, neck burning, and let out a giddy squeal, inhaling the lingering citrus in the air.

"Yah, Hoshi-yah," he whispered to himself, grinning, "you've found yourself one sneaky little omega, haven't you?"

He skipped out of the classroom, heart thundering and wolf still humming in absolute bliss.

.

.

.

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Chapter Text

The following days were nothing short of a fairy tale.

Secret hangouts. Public dates. Golden afternoons spent exploring the city. And every free moment, Hoshi was weak—painfully weak—for his omega.

The way Woozi's fingers curled around bubble tea straws, the way his citrusy scent got stronger when he laughed, the way his hand always found Hoshi's sleeve absentmindedly—everything.

One such "date" was technically a study session at Hoshi's house.

But really, it was Woozi trying to study.

And Hoshi trying his very best not to prance on him and devour him whole.

Woozi smacked his arm with a textbook for zoning out the third time.

"Youngie, I swear—one more time and I'll duct tape your nose shut so you stop sniffing me like a damn pup."

But Hoshi wasn't even listening.

He was entranced.

The way those blonde strands framed Woozi's face... how the soft pink of his lips moved as he explained the anatomy diagram... the soothing black-tea scent wrapping around them like incense...

Then—

Click.

The front door opened.

They both jumped, scrambled off the floor, and straightened up like two misbehaving schoolkids caught red-handed.

In walked Jeonghan, elegant as ever, with Seungcheol trailing behind carrying a bag of groceries.

Jeonghan raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"

Hoshi flailed, his mouth working faster than his brain.

"Eomma! Uh—this is Jihoon. My... friend."

"Friend?" Jeonghan echoed, smirking. "Like Dokyeom?"

Hoshi nodded a little too eagerly, but before he could seal the lie, Woozi stepped forward, calm and collected.

"No, eommonim," he said with a polite smile. "Like you and appa."

He motioned between the older couple with a quiet confidence, his tone respectful, but the glint in his eye mischievous.

Hoshi gawked at him.

Like. You. And. Appa???

Jeonghan's eyes widened, and for a second there was absolute silence.

Then Woozi gave a small bow and exited the house casually, as if he hadn't just dropped a nuclear-level love confession in the middle of his alpha's living room.

Hoshi stood there, blinking like a fish, mouth open.

Jeonghan slowly turned to look at his son.

And Hoshi—bright red to the tips of his ears—grabbed the nearest textbook and covered his face with it.

"I—I have to study," he muttered. "Big exam. Huge. Life-changing."

And with that, he sprinted to his room, door slamming shut behind him.

Jeonghan blinked.

Then looked at Seungcheol.

And both burst out laughing.

"Your son just got proposed to in our living room," Jeonghan wheezed, wiping a tear.

Seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head.

"Like mother, like mate."
__

Their casual hangouts had evolved into something richer, deeper. Mischief, playful chaos, and that magnetic pull between them had become part of their daily ritual — a rhythm they danced to effortlessly.

They were so in love.

And Woozi never missed a chance to make Hoshi lose his absolute mind.

Sometimes it was intentional.

Like when Woozi just happened to walk by the basketball court during Hoshi's practice, releasing his pheromones accidentally, forcing the poor alpha to freeze mid-game, pupils dilated and breath caught, while the ball bounced off somewhere forgotten.

"Focus, Hoshi!" the coach would bark.

And Hoshi?

He'd mutter a dazed, "Trying," as he glared murderously in the direction of a smug omega disappearing around the corner.

Other times, Woozi didn't have to do anything at all.

He just had to exist.

One second, he'd be sitting across from Hoshi in the library, talking about something completely harmless.

And the next second, Hoshi's brain was short-circuiting — because Woozi's pink lips were moving way too much for a normal human sentence, and when they dried from all the talking and he licked them?

Yeah.

Hoshi swore that one of these days, he was going to fail all exams and go to jail — not necessarily in that order.

Their late-night walks became routine.

No destination. Just fingers brushing, shoulders bumping, hearts aligned.

They bickered like kids.

Teased each other like best friends.

Loved each other like soulmates who had waited lifetimes to finally find home in each other.

There was no trying anymore.

They were each other's safe place.

And they were already too far gone to even consider turning back.

____

It was supposed to be just another night.

Woozi behind the wheel, Hoshi in the passenger seat, his usual banter replaced by quiet glances and a few concerned frowns. Something felt... off.

The scent of black tea had always calmed Hoshi, always drawn him in. But tonight, it was different.

Richer. Heavier. Almost spilling into the car like it was alive — citrus dancing dangerously close to intoxicating.

Hoshi shifted in his seat. "Jihoon... are you okay?"

The omega's pale skin was too flushed, and his grip on the steering wheel too tight, knuckles bone-white. Woozi didn't answer at first. Just stared ahead, swallowing hard.

"I'm fine," he muttered, but his voice was hoarse.

Hoshi's eyes narrowed, the alpha in him clawing against his chest. "Jihoon—"

"Um, Youngie," Woozi interrupted, finally turning to him, but the moment he opened his mouth to continue, his breath hitched.

A fresh wave of scent burst out of him — so strong, so pure, it hit Hoshi like a punch in the gut.

Hoshi's instincts went feral.

His wolf was no longer growling — it was howling.

Woozi let out a shaky breath, flustered, and whispered through clenched teeth, "If you don't mind then..."

"Then what, Jihoon?" Hoshi asked, voice low, jaw tense, his pupils blown wide.

But Woozi couldn't bring himself to say it. He turned away, embarrassed and overwhelmed, the heat creeping into his bones now impossible to ignore.

He flung the door open.

"Nothing—never mind," he rushed out and ran into his apartment building, slamming the door behind him.

Hoshi sat frozen.

The lingering scent of black tea and citrus filled every inch of the car. It coated his tongue, fogged his brain, and set every nerve on fire. His hands shook.

His omega.

His Jihoon.

Going into heat.

Alone.

And still choosing to walk away.

Hoshi sat for a moment, chest heaving, lungs full of Woozi's scent — dizzying, intoxicating, too much.

His alpha roared within.

Follow him. Claim him. Protect him. Don't leave him alone.

"Fuck it," Hoshi cursed, slamming the car door and running after him.

.

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.

.

Chapter Text

He reached the apartment door. The scent was everywhere — seeping through the cracks, clinging to the air, blooming like wild jasmine in summer.

"Jihoon?" he called gently, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. "It's me."

No reply. Only the sound of soft whimpers from the bedroom.

He approached the door, heart pounding, voice calm. "Can I... come in?"

A pause.

Then a low, fragile purr.

That was all he needed.

Hoshi opened the door carefully.

And then he saw it — the sight that nearly brought him to his knees.

There, curled in a makeshift nest, was Woozi — flushed, trembling, wrapped in the stolen jackets of his alpha. The pile of soft fabric surrounded him like a sanctuary, and in the center, his omega lay vulnerable, glowing, beautiful.

Hoshi didn't move hastily. He dropped to his knees beside the nest, laying a palm gently on the edge, releasing a slow stream of cedarwood, musk, and orange blossom — letting his scent merge with Woozi's, calming, grounding, wrapping around him like silk.

Woozi stirred. And then, with a soft whimper, he pressed his palm over Hoshi's.

Permission.

Hoshi's breath hitched. He carefully removed his shoes and jacket and slid into the nest, inch by inch, until he was beside his omega — cradling him, not touching too much, just being there.

But Woozi didn't wait.

He burrowed in instantly, face pressed into Hoshi's neck, breathing deeply, purring loudly as he took in the rich scent from the alpha's gland.

And Hoshi... Hoshi clutched him tightly, one arm curled around his waist, the other stroking his hair gently — trying desperately to hold on to his self-control.

Then came the kitten licks.

The soft, teasing flicks of Woozi's tongue on the crook of his neck, on his scent gland, driving Hoshi absolutely insane.

His jaw clenched. His breath stuttered.

"Woozi-ah..." he whispered, voice wrecked.

Jihoon only purred louder, rubbing his nose along his jaw, pressing closer, and Hoshi's fingers dug into the soft fabric of the nest.

He would hold on.

He had to.

Because this wasn't just desire.

This was home.

"Woozi-ah," Hoshi breathed again, softer this time, his lips brushing the crown of the omega's head.

The sound of that purr—deep, instinctual, pleased—settled into Hoshi's bones like it belonged there.

Jihoon's fingers curled into his shirt, his breath coming out in short, hot puffs as he buried his nose deeper into the crook of Hoshi's neck. The licks turned slower, more deliberate—claiming.

Calming.

Hoshi held his breath. Every soft flick of Woozi's tongue against his scent gland sent lightning through his spine. His alpha raged beneath the surface, ready to throw control out the window, but he grounded himself in Woozi's heartbeat — fast, fragile, trusting.

He was trusted.

Not as a mate. Not yet.

But as his alpha.

"Jihoon," he whispered again, stroking a hand down the omega's spine, slow and reverent, feeling the way the omega shivered beneath his touch.

"You came," Woozi murmured, voice raspy, vulnerable.

"Of course I came," Hoshi replied, pressing his lips gently to the side of the omega's head. "You called. My heart's been running ever since."

Jihoon trembled slightly, pressing even closer, like he wanted to merge into him. "It hurts less when you're here," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "My scent... it's all over this place. I was scared you'd run away."

Hoshi gently pulled back just enough to see his eyes. Woozi's pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted—beautiful, messy, his.

"Run away?" Hoshi chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over the omega's cheek. "Jihoon, you're the reason I ran towards."

The words hung in the warmth of the room, heavy with truth and scent and silent affection.

"I'll stay," Hoshi added. "As long as you need me. I won't touch you unless you ask. I'll hold you if it helps. I'll stay through the night, through the week, through every moon if that's what you need."

Jihoon's lashes fluttered, and he leaned forward slowly, brushing his lips against Hoshi's—not a kiss, not yet. Just the promise of one. A breath shared between two trembling hearts.

Then he whispered, "Just hold me, Youngie."

And that's what Hoshi did.

He lay back gently into the nest of jackets, one arm securely wrapped around Jihoon's waist, the other curled protectively over his shoulder. Jihoon tucked his face back into his alpha's neck, a contented sound escaping his throat.

Purring again. Safe.

Hoshi closed his eyes, letting the warmth of citrus and black tea blend with the strength of cedar and musk, and the two of them breathed — synced, bonded not yet by ritual, but already by soul.

Hours passed, though neither could tell if time was moving forward or standing still.

The night outside grew darker, the moon inching closer to its fullest form.

Inside the nest, warmth bloomed like fire beneath skin.

Woozi lay still, his head tucked under Hoshi's chin, one leg hooked loosely around his alpha's thigh.

Hoshi had barely moved a muscle, afraid that even breathing too deeply might ignite something they weren't ready for.

But the scent—God, the scent—had only thickened.

The tangy citrus now bled into something sweeter, heavier. Black tea steeped darker, more intoxicating, wrapping Hoshi's senses like silk around his throat.

"Jihoon," Hoshi whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Your scent... it's—"

"I know." Woozi's voice was hushed, nearly a whimper. "It's getting worse."

He pulled back just enough to look up at Hoshi, cheeks flushed scarlet, lips parted. His pupils were blown wide, gaze glassy and laced with desire. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple.

"Youngie... I need something."

Hoshi tensed. "What do you need?"

"I—" Woozi hesitated, swallowing hard. "I need to kiss you. Just... that. Please."

Hoshi's entire body sighed with relief and longing. "God, yes. Please."

Woozi cupped Hoshi's cheek with one shaky hand and leaned in, closing the remaining distance.

Their lips brushed — featherlight, uncertain — until Hoshi tilted his head slightly and kissed him back, softer than air, slower than time.

It was not a hungry kiss.

It was an anchor.

Woozi whimpered against his lips, breathing him in, fingers curling into Hoshi's collar. The heat flared through him, and he gasped softly as he deepened the kiss just a bit, mouth parting, inviting.

Hoshi responded instinctively, his hand cradling Woozi's waist as their lips moved again — this time with aching tenderness. He tasted the salt of skin and citrus, the warmth of tea and trust.

When they finally parted, Woozi's eyes were glossy and unfocused. "That helped... but—" he trailed off, biting his lip.

"You can tell me anything," Hoshi whispered, brushing back a damp strand from Woozi's forehead.

The omega looked like he was burning. His scent was dizzying. And then, in the softest voice:
"Can I... scent you again?"

Hoshi froze. "You want to...?"

"Only if you want to." Woozi looked up shyly. "It helped earlier. I thought maybe... again, this time... more."

The alpha inside Hoshi howled. But he kept his eyes steady, nodding slowly. "I'm yours, Jihoon. Whatever you need."

Woozi pushed himself up, his breath shaking. He climbed into Hoshi's lap again — no teasing this time, just need — and gently tilted Hoshi's head to the side.

This time, the licks were slower. Open-mouthed.

Intimate.

Woozi lapped tenderly at the crook of Hoshi's neck, scenting deeply, nuzzling as his hips unknowingly pressed into Hoshi's. The alpha stilled completely, willing himself not to lose control. The omega purred louder now, scent glands rubbing gently against Hoshi's skin as his body tried to mark.

Hoshi's hand came up, firm but careful, cupping Woozi's cheek. "You're okay?"

Woozi nodded, breathless. "More than okay." He leaned back to rest his forehead against Hoshi's.
"Can you sleep here tonight? Like this?"

"I'll hold you all night long," Hoshi promised, eyes soft but molten.

They lay back down again, this time tangled closer, Woozi curled into his alpha's chest, body humming, heart steady.

And though the moon outside glowed silver and primal, their little nest remained golden and safe.
Neither made a move beyond what was needed.

Because tonight wasn't about mating.

It was about choosing.

About surrendering, without ever giving up control.

About an omega in heat, and the alpha he trusted not to take advantage.

About love, in its purest, fiercest, most restrained form.

And as Woozi finally drifted into sleep, Hoshi pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering just loud enough for the moon to hear: 

"You are everything I ever wanted."

.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

The room had quieted.

Outside, the full moon had reached its zenith — luminous and unblinking, casting a soft, silvery sheen across the wooden floorboards and up the pale walls. It filtered through gauzy curtains, spilling over the bed like a blessing.

Inside, two heartbeats beat in tandem.

An omega in heat, trembling with want.

An alpha clinging to restraint, holding the storm inside him at bay.

Woozi lay nestled against Hoshi's chest, sweat cooling on his skin as the worst of the heat's fevered spikes began to ebb. But what lingered was heavier than pain — it was longing, thick and honeyed, warm and raw. A hollow ache not from biology alone, but from a deeper place. A place only he could fill.

Hoshi's arm was around him, firm and steady, thumb brushing soft circles into Woozi's waist. His other hand rested lightly on Woozi's shoulder, grounding, patient.

Woozi drew in a shaky breath, cheek pressed to the curve of Hoshi's collarbone. He listened to the steady rhythm of the alpha's heart, let it soothe the leftover tremors in his bones. And yet, the ache remained — not desperate, not unhinged. Just... full.

Full of trust.

Full of him.

He tilted his face up slowly, eyes locking with the man beside him — his alpha, his anchor. Hoshi was beautiful in the moonlight. His lashes cast delicate shadows against his cheeks, and his jaw was clenched, as though he were still fighting the instinct to take, to claim. Even now. Even when Woozi's scent was practically pleading.

"Youngie..." Woozi whispered, voice hoarse with emotion and heat.

Hoshi turned to him instantly, concern flooding his features. His touch became gentler, his eyes more open. "What is it, baby?" he asked softly, brushing Woozi's damp fringe away from his face.

There was no hesitation in the touch. Only reverence.

Woozi hesitated — not out of uncertainty, but because the moment felt too big for words. He studied Hoshi's face. The tension in his jaw. The way his nostrils flared every time Woozi's pheromones shifted. The way he hadn't moved — hadn't acted — because he was terrified of causing harm.

It broke something tender inside him.

"I want..." Woozi's voice caught. He swallowed, then pushed up slightly, eyes shining. "I want you to scent me."

Hoshi froze.

"I want to be yours," Woozi continued, firmer now.
"Not just for tonight. Not because I'm in heat. Because I choose you. I want you to scent me. Properly."

His hands moved to the collar of his shirt, pulling it aside to expose the slope of his neck. The scent gland there was flushed, glistening from heat, and throbbing softly — a vulnerable invitation.

Hoshi's breath caught. His hand fell from Woozi's waist, fingers curling into the sheets instead.

"Jihoon..." he said, voice low, strained. "You know what scenting means. If I do this... if I scent you... it won't fade. It's not a passing thing. My alpha--"

"I know exactly what it means," Woozi said, eyes locked with his. "It means I'm yours. And you're mine. I want that. I need that. I trust you, Youngie. More than I've ever trusted anyone."

Those words — I trust you — shattered what was left of Hoshi's restraint.

With a slow, trembling motion, he sat up and leaned in, cupping Woozi's jaw with both hands.

He rested their foreheads together for a moment, breath mingling in the charged silence.

"I'll be gentle," Hoshi whispered. "I swear to you, Jihoon. I'll give you everything I have. Everything I am."

"Just... stay with me," Woozi murmured. "Be with me."

"I never left."

Then he bent forward, lips brushing the sensitive curve of Woozi's neck — not biting, not claiming. Just... touching. Worshipping.

Soft kisses first. Featherlight. A silent reverence passed through touch.

And then, Hoshi opened his mouth and dragged his tongue slowly, reverently, over Woozi's scent gland — warm and wet, the contact electric.

He inhaled deeply as his lips pressed in again, anchoring himself in the storm of Woozi's scent — citrus and summer warmth and something heartbreakingly sweet.

Woozi gasped, arching into him, fingers clutching at Hoshi's shoulders. His body responded instantly — trembling under the touch, the ache in his core igniting again, but this time threaded with something softer.

Not desperation.

Devotion.

His pheromones surged, flooding the room with the scent of want and surrender, heat and belonging. Hoshi moaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Woozi's neck, as he licked again, firmer now, imprinting himself with every pass.

When he finally pulled away, Woozi's neck was damp, flushed— not just by teeth or tongue, but by something more primal. More sacred.

Woozi blinked through the haze, eyes glassy but content. "I feel you," he whispered.  "Around me. It's like I can finally... breathe."

Hoshi kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips — soft, lingering.

"You're mine now," he said against his mouth, voice rough but reverent. "And I'm yours."

The moonlight bathed them both as they curled back into the sheets — tangled limbs, shared breath, one heartbeat between two bodies. The night didn't end there. It lingered, deepened, until pleasure gave way to peace and instinct softened into intimacy.

There was heat, yes. There was fire.

But there was also devotion.

"You smell like mine now," Hoshi murmured into the curve of Woozi's neck, his voice low and hoarse — part awe, part possession, part disbelief.

Woozi's breath caught. His lashes fluttered against flushed cheeks as he exhaled shakily. "I am yours."

That did it.

The words — honest, raw, resolute — undid something inside Hoshi. Something feral.
Something sacred.

He kissed Woozi then, and it wasn't gentle this time. It was desperate, bruising, hungry — a clash of need and reverence, restraint finally giving way.

Woozi responded without hesitation, his hands fisting in Hoshi's hair as their mouths met again and again, heat rising like a second tide.

Their scents spiraled into the air, thick and heavy.

His citrus tangled with Hoshi's darker musk until the room felt like it might catch fire from the chemistry alone.

Clothes were shed between kisses and trembling hands — slowly, reverently, then faster when their restraint cracked. Each discarded piece was a barrier falling away. Every brush of skin on skin was another promise made wordlessly.

Woozi climbed into Hoshi's lap, bare now, flushed to the chest, thighs trembling — not from fear.

From anticipation. From the intensity of what they were about to become.

He leaned in until their foreheads touched, breath mingling.

"Will you take me?" he whispered. "All of me?"

Hoshi didn't answer right away.

His hands cupped Woozi's face, thumbs stroking his cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness. His eyes — dark, glassy, overwhelmed — searched Woozi's face, trying to memorize every line, every flicker of emotion. Then, with a kiss to the tip of his nose, he whispered, "Always. In every way."

What followed wasn't hurried. It wasn't about the heat alone anymore.

It was devotion, written into flesh.

Hoshi took his time — hands moving with trembling care, lips brushing over every inch of Woozi's skin like a prayer. He whispered love into every freckle, every scar, every place Woozi had once learned to hide. He kissed the corners of Woozi's eyes when he moaned. He held his hand when he gasped.

And when he finally slipped inside — slow, deliberate — Woozi arched with a cry that was more relief than pain. There was no shame in the tears that slid down his temples.

Only release.

Only truth.

Because this wasn't just carnal.

It was claiming. It was coming home.

Hoshi stilled, letting Woozi adjust, letting them both feel. And when they began to move together — bodies aligned, breathing staggered, hearts beating louder than the bedframe — it was like the universe had narrowed to that single, holy moment.

"You're perfect," Hoshi groaned into Woozi's neck.

"You're mine," Woozi whispered, eyes locked with his. "You're perfect."

"I love you," Hoshi choked, voice breaking as he thrust deeper, syncing with the omega's rhythm. "I love you, Jihoon."

Their bodies moved as one — pulled by instinct, steadied by choice. Woozi clung to Hoshi's shoulders like a lifeline, head thrown back, every nerve ending alight. His omega instincts surged with every thrust, inner walls fluttering, pulsing around the alpha with need.

Then it built — inevitable, consuming.

The knot.

Hoshi slowed, breath ragged. "Baby, I'm close. Are you sure—?"

Woozi nodded, frantic, nails digging into his arms.
"Yes. Yes. Do it. Knot me. I want to feel you. All of you."

And with one final, desperate thrust, Hoshi's knot swelled, locking them together in a pulse of white-hot ecstasy.

Woozi cried out — the sound guttural, shattered — as the knot took root. His whole body trembled as warmth filled him, as his body clenched down around the knot instinctively, greedily.

Hoshi collapsed against him, chest heaving, arms wrapped tight around Woozi like he could never let go again.

They stayed like that — joined, still moving slightly with the aftershocks, bodies quaking from pleasure, from the weight of what they'd just done.

They were no longer just alpha and omega.
It was more than biology.

It was sacred.

Woozi rested his forehead against Hoshi's shoulder, lips brushing his damp skin. For a long moment, neither spoke — too breathless, too full.

Then Hoshi's voice broke through, gentle, raspy.
"Did it... Did it hurt?"

Woozi smiled — slow, sleepy, and deeply content. "No," he whispered. "I felt everything. And it was... beautiful."

Hoshi let out a long, shaky breath and kissed the top of Woozi's head.

But then Woozi chuckled, weakly. "You knotted me so hard, I can't feel my legs."

Hoshi let out a surprised laugh — the sound cracked but warm. "I'll carry you," he said, brushing Woozi's hair back from his damp forehead. "For the rest of your life, if I have to."

Woozi tilted his head, kissed his alpha's chest over his racing heart. "I'll make you. You're stuck with me now."

A silence fell again — not empty, but full. Charged with all the things they didn't need to say aloud.

They had crossed a threshold. Nothing would be the same again — and neither of them wanted it to be.

Outside, the moon hung low and bright, its glow now dimmer in comparison to the light between them.

And in the nest, they'd built — tangled limbs, sweat-slicked skin, and the echo of love still lingering in the air— they drifted into sleep.

Scented.

Loved.

Forever.

.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

The days that followed were a blur of warmth, limbs tangled in sheets, stolen kisses between shared meals, and Hoshi doting on Woozi like a possessive, lovestruck alpha — which he absolutely was.

Even when Woozi insisted he didn't need that third cup of lemon honey tea or the back rub while he was trying to solve past papers, Hoshi had stubbornly stayed beside him in bed, curled around him like a koala with zero concept of personal space.

But all good things, even love-drenched heat, had to end.

On the last day, Woozi had pushed him — quite literally — out of his dorm.

"Go. Study," Woozi had grumbled, wrapped in his hoodie (that Hoshi still hadn't gotten back). "You won't pass your exam by kissing my forehead every ten minutes."

"But it's good luck," Hoshi pouted, arms around Woozi's waist, refusing to let go. "You're my lucky charm."

Woozi raised an eyebrow. "Then take your lucky charm in your heart and get out. You've got an exam, mister 'I'll wing it with muscle memory.'"
Hoshi had groaned, dramatically falling onto the floor like he'd been shot.

"Youngie," Woozi groaned, pushing at Hoshi's chest with a palm that was still far too warm.

"Your exam is in two days. You haven't even looked at your notes."

"I looked," Hoshi grumbled, arms still stubbornly wrapped around Woozi's waist as they stood by the door. "I looked at you. You're the only syllabus I care about."

Woozi rolled his eyes, cheeks blooming red. "You idiot."

"You love this idiot."

"Yeah. I do." Woozi leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to Hoshi's jaw. "Now go. Please. I'm okay now. Go ace your exam. Be the smart, responsible alpha I love."

Hoshi let out a dramatic groan but finally gave in. He kissed Woozi one last time — long, soft, a silent I'll be back — and stepped out.

He didn't get far before his alpha started whining internally. But he obeyed — eventually.

___

The day of the exam dawned bright and quiet.

Hoshi stepped out of the car, his heart thudding faster than it should've for a simple test.

Because tucked safely in the inside compartment of his bag, in a velvet-lined case, was a ring.

Not just any ring. A custom-made, delicately forged ring — silver band with a tiny crescent moon engraved on the inner side, Woozi's birthstone centered on top, subtle but beautiful.

He hadn't told anyone. Not Jeonghan. Not Seungcheol. This was just his. Just theirs.

After what they had shared — after holding Woozi night after night in their nest, after not marking him when instinct screamed otherwise — Hoshi knew it more than ever.

He wanted to make Jihoon his forever.

Not in the haze of heat.

Not when their bodies craved.

But now — when everything was real, clear, and chosen.

His heart thudded.

He wasn't nervous about the exam. He was nervous about what came after.

After they handed in their answer sheets. After the campus gates reopened.

After he would walk up to Jihoon, look him in the eye, and ask:
"Can I be yours? Not just in instinct. But in everything."

He hadn't marked him during the heat.

Though every cell in his alpha body had screamed for it.

Because when Woozi had cried that night — soft, confused — thinking he was being rejected, Hoshi's heart had nearly split.

Flashback, Two Nights Ago

Jihoon lay against his chest, unusually quiet. His fingers gripped the hem of Hoshi's shirt tightly.

"Why didn't you... mark me?" he whispered.
Hoshi froze.

"You don't want to?" Jihoon asked again, voice smaller. "Even after all this?"

"Oh, baby..." Hoshi cupped his cheek and tilted his face up. "No. Never that."

"Then why—?"

"Because," Hoshi kissed his forehead, "I don't want your scent changed in a haze of heat. I want you to remember it. I want you to choose it. I want to make you mine — not because of hormones, but because you want me, even when everything's calm."

Jihoon blinked fast, eyes shimmering.

Hoshi leaned closer and whispered between a series of gentle kisses: on his temple, his eyelids, his cheekbone...

"I love you."

"You're my mate in here," he said, placing Woozi's hand on his own heart. "But when I mark you, I want it to be perfect. You deserve perfect."

Jihoon had sniffled, then smiled. "Okay. But you better not wait too long or I'll just pin you down and do it myself."

"I'm counting on it," Hoshi grinned, nuzzling into his neck.

Back in the present

Hoshi locked his car and walked into the exam hall, the box safe in his bag, his heart full of hope.

Today, he'd pass his test.

And then he'd ask the only question that truly mattered.

It would be the beginning of something beautiful.

Not just instincts — not just biology.

But a decision.

Two souls choosing each other.

__

As Hoshi walked down the corridor, a wide smile already on his face, it only grew when he caught a delicious wisp of citrus and black tea in the air.

He didn't even need to turn.

"Yah! Choi Soonyoung?!" Woozi's voice rang out, sharp and unmistakable.

Hoshi paused, slowly turning around, eyes gleaming. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he kept walking, his textbook open in his hands, casual as ever.

"Don't you what me, Choi Soonyoung!" Woozi grumbled, now striding beside him. "You haven't called or messaged even once since you left the dorm! And now you have the audacity to say what?"

"I was a little busy and forgot," Hoshi said nonchalantly, eyes still scanning the page as they walked.

Woozi gave him a look — flat and done. "You forgot? Already?"

"If it was that important, you could've called," Hoshi replied with a shrug.

"If I keep doing everything, what will you do? Walk around smiling like a clown?" Woozi huffed.

Hoshi just grinned wider and shook his head, eyes returning to the textbook.

"Hmph. What's the use in nagging you..." Woozi muttered. "Everything's my fault anyway. I said yes to your proposal too quickly — should've made you work harder. Made you chase me around a bit."

Hoshi smiled, lips twitching as he tried — and failed — to look serious. "Correct."

"And when you asked me to scent you, I did it immediately," Woozi added, voice rising slightly. "From now on, everything is cut."

"Okay," Hoshi said, shrugging again.

That did it. Woozi stopped walking and grabbed his arm, spinning him around and backing him against the wall.

"I said everything is cut," he repeated firmly, eyes wide.

Hoshi looked down at him, calm and a little amused. "Okay."

Woozi's expression faltered — eyes softening, lips twitching with emotion he was clearly trying to suppress.

"You really want to cut it off?" he asked quietly, almost pouting.

Hoshi smiled and lifted a hand to cup his cheek gently. "Finish your exam quickly," he said, voice lower now, intimate. "Then come behind the canteen. To the basketball court."

Woozi's eyes lit up, though he tried hard to stay composed. "Why?"

"I'll tell you there only," Hoshi said, smirking.

Woozi's blush betrayed him instantly. He swatted at the alpha's arm, face heating up. "Yah, don't you have even a little shame?"

Hoshi chuckled, already turning away. "All of that vanished sometime last week."

Woozi stood there frozen, trying not to grin like an idiot. And failing spectacularly.

Then, cheeks still warm, he turned and headed to his own exam hall — heart pounding louder than any textbook ever could.
___

Hoshi finished his exam nearly an hour early. When he handed in his paper, the invigilator blinked at him, surprised.

"That soon?" the man asked, eyebrows raised.

Hoshi slung his bag over his shoulder and flashed a cheeky grin. "Got some work."

The invigilator narrowed his eyes. "What kind of work?"

With a smirk, Hoshi replied, "I don't think I should be telling you all that, sir," before turning and walking out, leaving the older man flabbergasted behind him.

As he made his way to the basketball court, his hand instinctively slipped into his pocket, fingers nervously brushing over the small velvet ring case. His heart thudded in anticipation.

He spotted Woozi immediately — seated on the bleachers, legs swinging slightly, munching on a chocolate bar like he hadn't just driven his alpha insane a few hours ago.

Jogging over, Hoshi dropped his bag beside him. Woozi stood up, still chewing, eyes twinkling.
"Did you wait long?" Hoshi asked casually.

Woozi shook his head. "Not really. Just got here."
Hoshi nodded, then squinted at the omega's hand. "You always eating chocolate?"

"Yeah," Woozi hummed. "I love chocolate."

"I hate chocolate," Hoshi muttered, looking away.
Woozi raised an eyebrow. "What's your problem with it?"

"I just don't like it," Hoshi shrugged.

Woozi made a mock thoughtful noise, then broke off a small square from the top of his bar. Stepping forward, he held it up to Hoshi's lips. "Okay then. Eat this one. For me."

Hoshi leaned back, eyeing him warily. "Jihoon, don't."

But Woozi just smirked, inching closer, hand still raised. Hoshi flicked his hand away, and the piece of chocolate fell to the ground. Woozi gasped theatrically.

"You flicked it? I was feeding you!" Woozi pouted.

Hoshi gave him a deadpan shrug. "I said I don't like them."

Woozi crossed his arms dramatically, then smirked again — this time, biting down gently on the end of the chocolate bar himself. He moved forward, eyebrows raised teasingly.

"What about now?" he asked, voice low and mischievous.

Hoshi groaned. "Yah, Jihoon. I still don't like them."

But Woozi was already up on his tiptoes, closing in, lips still holding the chocolate, eyes playful and daring.

"Jihoon, leave it," Hoshi muttered again, tone tight — but before either of them could move, a third voice cut through the moment sharply.

"Leave it. Didn't he ask you to?"

.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

"Leave it. Didn't he ask you to?"

Woozi turned quickly, startled, the chocolate slipping from his mouth as he tossed it away like it burned. Hoshi's head snapped toward the source of the voice, eyes already narrowing.

Matthew stood a few steps above them on the bleachers, arms crossed, fake amusement glinting in his eyes.

Woozi stiffened, immediately on alert. "Matthew, don't."

But the alpha ignored him. He walked over and casually picked up the chocolate piece that had been flicked away earlier, eyeing it like a challenge. "Well, if he doesn't want it, shall we try instead?"

Hoshi was already lunging before Woozi could react.

"Youngie, please! This is not the time!" Woozi hissed, stepping in front of him, hands on Hoshi's chest, trying to calm him down, to stop the searing pheromones of fury radiating off his mate.

It was like trying to contain fire with a paper wall.

Woozi grabbed their bags and pulled Hoshi's hand, dragging him down the bleachers, whispering urgent pleas as they walked, trying to cool him down.

But then—

"Wow, omega. You've managed to keep the alpha well in control," Matthew taunted from behind them.

Hoshi halted.

Woozi swallowed thickly, feeling the heat spike again around him, alpha rage coiling tighter.

"Hoshi, please, let's just go—" Woozi pleaded, reaching for him.

But the next words shattered everything.

"I wonder what you're giving him to be so tame. Why don't you give it to me too, Woozi? Maybe then I'll learn to behave."

That was it.

Hoshi was gone.

The next second, he was running back up the bleachers.

"HOSHI, NO!" Woozi screamed, but it was too late — Hoshi's fist collided with Matthew's jaw in a sickening crunch.

He grabbed Matthew by the collar, slamming him backward. Matthew recovered enough to grab Hoshi's shirt in retaliation, snarling as the two alphas wrestled violently.

"Stop it! STOP!" Woozi cried, trying to wedge himself between the two. "Hoshi, please!"

Matthew suddenly used his alpha voice — harsh, commanding — aimed at Woozi.

"Back off!"

Woozi froze.

His body locked up instantly, instinctually obeying even though his heart screamed otherwise. His omega instincts betrayed him — and Matthew pushed him.

Hard.

Woozi stumbled back, tripping. As he fell, Matthew's hand grazed across his neck — his bare skin — too close to his scent gland.

There was a terrible, ripping sound.

The collar of Woozi's shirt tore, exposing his pale throat — and his scent gland.

Then pain.

White-hot, searing pain.

The sharp graze across the delicate skin sent his body into shock. Woozi cried out — a raw, instinctive sound — and collapsed onto the court, hands clutching at the wound, his eyes wide, tear-filled.

"JIHOON!" Hoshi screamed, yanking Matthew off so violently that the other alpha hit the bleachers with a grunt.

The air shifted.

Hoshi dropped to his knees beside Woozi, gently cradling the trembling omega, whispering soft nothings, fingers trembling as he inspected the bruised gland.

Woozi whimpered at the touch, the pain too raw, too close. The soft skin was turning red and purple, already swelling, his whole body flinching from the contact.

Behind them, Matthew stood stunned, hands raised slightly. "I didn't mean to—It was an accident—I didn't—"

But Hoshi didn't hear a word.

He stood up, slowly. His expression blank. His eyes blood-red.

His alpha had taken over completely.

"Hoshi—no—please—stay here—" Woozi croaked from behind him, voice shaking, hand reaching toward him in desperation.

But Hoshi had already turned to face Matthew.

Everything else — reason, exams, restraint, words — disappeared from the alpha's world.

All he saw was an omega crying on the court.

His omega.

Marked or not — Woozi was his.

And someone had dared hurt him.

"I said it was by accident, didn't I?!" Matthew barked, voice cracking as he backed up, eyes wide at the sight of Hoshi — feral, eyes glowing red, chest heaving like a storm about to hit.

But Hoshi had already lunged.

Matthew didn't wait. He turned and ran, shoving past startled students, tearing down the path to the main grounds.

"Hoshi! Please—stop!" Woozi screamed behind him, already limping slightly from his injured shoulder, clutching the torn collar of his shirt as he chased after them, heart thundering in his chest.

But Hoshi didn't hear him.

Didn't see anything.

Didn't feel anything except blood boiling under his skin and his alpha screaming for justice.

Matthew skidded across the field, stumbling toward a group of his friends near the grass by the main building. He collapsed near them, panting.
"YAAH—he's going to kill me—go get him, stop him!"

His friends looked up, alarmed, but frozen.

Then, out of nowhere, Hoshi paused—just outside the cafeteria.

They watched as the alpha stepped inside with eerie calm.

Hoshi grabbed a random empty cloth bag slung over a chair, marched straight to the vending machine, and began feeding it coins.

Click.

Clunk.

One after another, metal cans rolled out—fifteen in total.

The bag slowly filled.

No one inside dared approach.

Then Hoshi pulled the drawstring tight, slinging the makeshift weapon over his shoulder.

And walked out.

Every step toward the field was colder than the last, his rage sharpened into something precise—methodical. Controlled only by vengeance.

Matthew's friends tried to intercept—"Hoshi, calm down!"—but it was too late.

WHACK!

The bag of cans smashed across the first guy's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Another tried to grab him—CRACK!—the can bag knocked the breath from his lungs, dropping him.
Gasps. Screams. The sound of students scrambling away filled the quad.

Matthew backed away in horror. "Wait—WAIT—"

But Hoshi was already on him.

The first punch landed with a sound that echoed.

Then another. And another.

Matthew crumpled to the ground, trying to cover his face as Hoshi straddled him, fists raining down like a storm. "DON'T—EVER—TOUCH—HIM—AGAIN!" Hoshi growled between hits, eyes wild, voice distorted by fury.

People gathered around, horrified. No one knew whether to intervene or run.

Phones were out. Some recording. Some calling the admin.

Woozi pushed his way through the thickening crowd, nearly breathless, holding his bruised neck with one hand. "Hoshi—please! STOP!"

But Hoshi didn't stop.

Not until—

"CHOI SOONYOUNG!" a thunderous voice yelled, slicing through the chaos.

The principal marched across the grass, face red with rage, voice cutting through the madness.

"STOP THIS RIGHT NOW! This is a school, not a battleground!"

Hoshi didn't move. Didn't care.

The principal reached in, forcibly grabbing Hoshi by the arm and yanking him off Matthew.

The alpha resisted at first, but finally blinked—like waking from a trance.

Matthew scrambled away, bloodied, bruised, eyes wide with terror as he clung to his friends who half-dragged him out of the field.

Woozi finally broke through the crowd—and froze.

Hoshi was standing in the principal's grip, chest heaving, fists still clenched, face spattered in red—but his eyes now wide in realization.

Woozi's stomach dropped. His body trembling—not just from the injury, but from the fear of what might happen next.

"Get to the infirmary, now!" the principal barked at Woozi, then turned to Hoshi, voice deadly calm.

"You. My office. Now. Don't make me call campus security."

Hoshi didn't resist this time.

But as he was being pulled away, his eyes finally met Woozi's across the crowd.

And in them—

Wasn't rage.

Wasn't violence.

Just—

Cconcern.

And a shattered, unspoken worry.

__

The room felt like it was holding its breath.

The principal sat behind the desk, staring at the three boys like they had personally spat on his life's work.

Woozi stood near the cabinet — quiet, small, picking at his fingers — while Hoshi and Matthew stood before the desk, two ticking bombs in opposite corners of the room.

Hoshi was barely holding it together. His jaw clenched, fists tighter. Woozi looked over at his alpha, worried, pleading internally for him to just breathe.

Then the principal broke the silence.

"Do you two realize how much damage you've caused?"

Silence.

"I'm not talking about walls or vending machines. I'm talking about the reputation of this college. Even the rogue alphas outside don't fight this viciously. What happened? Who started it?"

Matthew, ever the opportunist, straightened his shoulders and stepped forward.

"Sir, it was Soonyoung who started the fight—"

"I'll take off my shoes and beat the shit out of you if you lie again," Hoshi growled, spinning toward him, voice trembling with barely restrained rage.

Woozi flinched. His throat tightened. "Please," he whispered under his breath, wanting the older to calm down.

Hoshi turned to the principal again, voice rigid. "Sir, he misbehaved with Jihoon. That's why I hit him."

Matthew scoffed. "Do you know what they were doing at the bleachers—?"

And that's when Hoshi grabbed his collar again, eyes burning.

"Say it. I dare you."

Woozi's knees nearly buckled. His heart pounded so violently it hurt.

"Soonyoung—leave him! Behave yourself!" the principal shouted, slamming the desk with his palm.

Hoshi let go — roughly — and Matthew stumbled back, gasping, but triumphant. That smirk was still etched on his face.

The principal turned to Woozi now. "Jihoon. You tell me what happened."

Woozi's gaze darted to Matthew, who looked back with a silent threat behind his smugness.

His hands trembled.

"Jihoon," the principal prompted again, firmer now. "Did Matthew misbehave with you?"

Hoshi looked at him, breath held, pain bleeding into his stare.

Jihoon's lips parted. Then—

"...No, sir," he whispered.

Hoshi's world collapsed in that second.

The truth was just there, within reach — but Jihoon turned away from it.

The principal nodded grimly. "Were you there when the fight started?"

"...Yes, sir."

"What were you and Hoshi doing there at that hour?"

Woozi tried to speak. "That sir—"

"Don't act innocent," the principal snapped. "There are stories about the two of you. Don't forget — this is a college. You're here to study. Any act of indecency on campus is punishable."

Woozi's eyes widened in panic. "There's nothing like that, sir," he said quickly. "Me and Soonyoung are just... friends."

The words dropped like a blade.

Hoshi turned to him slowly. His face — unreadable at first — then morphed into something twisted.

Betrayal.

His lips curved into a sarcastic smile. "Friends," he whispered to himself.

Jihoon continued, stammering now. "We were discussing the exam... and then Matthew came. There was a disagreement about the fresher's party, and then they started fighting."

Hoshi stood there, fists shaking, jaw grinding — his entire body screaming not to lose it again.

Matthew smirked, his shoulders relaxing.

"And what about that," the principal asked, pointing to the bruises blooming across Jihoon's collar and shoulder.

"I... I got between them. I was trying to stop the fight."

"Was Hoshi the one who started it, then?"

"Yes sir," Matthew answered before Woozi could say a word.

The principal sighed, looking directly at Hoshi. "I expected more from you. Now I have innocent students standing here guilty because you couldn't control yourself."

But Hoshi... wasn't listening anymore.

He was staring at Woozi.

Begging him — pleading with his soul — for something. Anything.
Even just a look.

A sign that what they shared was real.

But Jihoon just stared down, fidgeting with his sleeve.

And Hoshi broke.

He stepped back once.

Then again.

And without a word... he turned and walked out.
"CHOI SOONYOUNG, I'M TALKING TO YOU—" the principal's voice thundered behind him.

But Hoshi didn't stop.

Didn't look back.

Didn't need to hear anything else.

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Chapter Text

Hoshi aggressively dribbled the basketball, the sound echoing sharp against the concrete. He threw it toward the hoop-missed.

Picked it up.

Slammed it down.

Again.

And again.

The sun bled low in the sky, casting long orange shadows, but he didn't stop.

A breeze carried a familiar scent across the court, one that made his chest tighten. His eyes shut briefly. Then-he picked up the ball and dribbled harder.

Footsteps approached, but he kept going.

Jihoon finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

"My mood is not nice," Hoshi muttered, not breaking his rhythm.

"Why don't you pick up your phone?"

"Didn't feel like picking up."

Jihoon sighed, voice softer now. "Okay, stop playing for some time. I have to talk with you."

"I don't feel like talking." He still didn't turn around.

"Soonyoung, please," Jihoon said - barely above a whisper, almost begging.

Hoshi exhaled hard through his nose, turned around slowly, ball still in his hands.

"Jihoon, please. I'm not in a nice mood. Again, if I say something bad then you'll be hurt and I'll feel bad. We don't need all of this. Let's talk tomorrow."

"Five minutes. That's all I'm asking," Jihoon pleaded.

Hoshi turned again, scoffing under his breath. Then he walked toward Jihoon, shoved the ball gently into his chest.

"Talk with this," he said flatly, then walked away.

Woozi's eyes flared with frustration as he yelled, "Stop talking to me like that, Soonyoung. I'm your boyfriend."

Hoshi spun around in a flash, voice sharp, "Didn't you just say inside that I was your friend?"

Jihoon threw the ball aside, fists clenching. "Don't blame me for whatever happened inside. That was your mistake."

Hoshi stepped forward, halting just a few feet from the omega, eyes narrowed. "What?" His voice cracked slightly, disbelief crawling in.

Jihoon stood his ground, looking straight into Hoshi's eyes. "Yes, it was your fault. You picked a fight with Matthew. The matter was over until you dragged it to the principal-"

"I hit him because he touched you. Because he misbehaved with you. Because he caused you pain," Hoshi snapped, barely holding himself together. "What I did was wrong-but what he did was right?"

"No. It was wrong. What he did was also wrong," Jihoon replied firmly.

"Then why didn't you say that in front of the principal? Why'd you make a fool out of me in there?" Hoshi yelled, towering over him now.

Jihoon raised his hands, voice firm, "Don't shout, Soonyoung."

Hoshi inhaled sharply, turning his head away as Jihoon continued, quieter but still resolute, "If I told the principal about Matthew, then he would've told them what we were doing there at that time. This would've reached my parents."

Hoshi looked back, frown deepening, voice bitter, "You proposed to me-in front of everyone, right in the middle of college. You've spent your heat-" he stopped himself, jaw tightening, eyes flicking away.

"What's wrong if they know about us?" he asked finally, voice quieter but burning. "What's wrong if the principal and your parents know?"

"That's a different situation, Soonyoung," Jihoon says.

Hoshi scoffs, kicking at the ground.

"If I tell my parents about us, that's a different situation. But if the principal tells them like it's a complaint-how an omega has been all over an alpha in college, seducing alphas-how do you think that's going to sound?" Jihoon's voice cracks as he looks at Hoshi, eyes glossing with tears.

"You don't think about all this, Soonyoung. Because apparently, you don't care about the consequences," he adds, voice trembling.

"Yes," Hoshi snaps, "That's how I am, and that's how I'll be. I do whatever I feel is right. I don't know how to act like you-according to situations. And I definitely don't know how to love calculatedly like you."

Jihoon's eyes widen. Then they turn blank. His voice is low, cold.

"How dare you say that? That my love is calculated?"

He scoffs bitterly.

"Actually, I get it now. Your problem isn't that he touched me. It's that he bruised your ego in the principal's office. That's why you've been blaming me, causing this entire scene."

Hoshi lets out a bitter laugh. "I'm causing a scene, huh?"

He laughs again, looking away-then sharply turns to face Jihoon.

"Then tell me. Matthew touching you like that, grabbing your scent gland, tearing your shoulder-is that okay with you?"

Jihoon's face freezes. His frown deepens. He pleads with his eyes, silently begging Hoshi not to go any further.

But Hoshi doesn't stop. Rage blinds him.

He slowly nods, as if piecing it together.

"Yeah, maybe. Didn't you say your ego feels satisfied when alphas follow you around? Then probably... you like it when they touch you-"

Smack.

Jihoon slaps him. A single tear slips down his cheek.

"I said when you follow me around. Not anyone and everyone," Jihoon mutters, voice breaking, trying desperately not to fall apart.

Hoshi looks away.

"This is the problem with you, Soonyoung," Jihoon says, struggling to breathe through his tears. "You don't think before you speak. When something could be settled by talking, you blow it into a fight. Look where we started, and look where you dragged it to."

He inhales shakily. Tears fall freely now.

"I hate you, Soonyoung. You are the biggest mistake of my life."

Hoshi only chuckles-bitter, broken.

"One fucking word. One wrong fucking word, and you've got so much anger," Hoshi growls. "Then tell me-how do you think my alpha felt when some random-ass alpha came and touched what's mine?"

His voice cracks.

"Do you even understand what kind of pain my alpha went through, hearing you howl like that? Do you even know what it means for a territorial alpha like me to stand there and see you-" he stops, voice trembling, then spits, "-you, in pain because of someone else's touch?"

Jihoon stares at him, tears now streaming, body still.

But Hoshi's not done.

"Yes, I act fast," he seethes, "but I don't act wrong. Today-I tried to stop this conversation before it even started. Because I knew where it was going. I thought ahead for once. But you were the one who pushed it. You were the one who brought it this far."

Jihoon looks at him, silently begging for him to stop, but Soonyoung's rage is rolling, unstoppable.

"Today, I didn't start the fight, Jihoon. I hit him-for you, and I got hurt-because of you," he says, swallowing hard. "What I have isn't ego, Jihoon. It's love."

Jihoon flinches at the weight of those words, lips parting to speak-but Hoshi cuts him off, voice suddenly cold.

"Even though if you understand it now-I don't care. Because I'm done fighting with you... and for you."

The change in his voice makes Jihoon flinch again.

Wide eyes stare at the alpha now empty of warmth.

Then Hoshi pulls something out of his pocket. The ring. The ring that he had happily brought to officiate tevery speck of bond they had. The ring he had been fidgeting with the whole morning his heart fluttering yet nervous. But now the ring burnt his hand.

Jihoon looks at the ring in shock. The moment his eyes landed on the ring all he could think about was to reset time. His heart pounded to all the possibilities of how beautiful that day would have been. Fresh set of tears roll out his eyes.

Lips parted to stop Soonyoung or beg the Alpha to not do what he was about to do. But nothing came out and he could already hear his own heart shattering into a million pieces.

"I'm breaking up with you, Jihoon," he says flatly. "You don't deserve this.", lets out the Alpha as he flings the ring-metal clinking violently as it hits the court.

Jihoon gasps.

His wolf howls inside him-guttural, broken, rejected.

Soonyoung's alpha feels no better. But he's already been hurt too deeply to act on it.

He turns without another word, kicking a ball out of his way as he walks off the court, leaving the smaller omega crumbling behind him. His own vision blurry, as silent tears flow down his cheek.

Not once looking back at the omega he left behind to mourn alone, who stood there now broken, the wolf too pained in rejection and breath held up.

The happiness that erupts when your potential mate says I love you-it's not even close to the pain an alpha feels when his omega says I hate you.

And that pain...

That pain had swept Soonyoung away.

Farther than Jihoon could reach.

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Chapter Text

After six years of breakup.

Sometimes, even the time we set on our alarm clock disturbs us more than the alarm itself. And in moments like that, what do we do? We simply hit reset.

That's exactly what Hoshi did.

Life had shaken him too hard, too deep — so he pressed the reset button. Slept through the pain.

And when he woke up, it was as if he'd decided: This time, things will be different.

From that day onward, he made himself a promise.

Wherever he went, it had to be somewhere he chose.

Whoever surrounded him had to be someone he loved.

And no matter the challenge — he'd win.

That's how he ended up in London, alongside Dokyeom — now his classmate and roommate.

Their house was a strange little collage of past and present. With them lived a few more souls:
Joshua — a gentle, composed omega, son of their house owner and Dokyeom's long-time boyfriend. 

And Boo Seungkwan — their newest roommate. A sassy, sun-drenched omega from Jeju Island, whom they all simply called Boo.

But to truly understand Boo Seungkwan, you'd have to go back... back to Jeju. And that's a story for another time.
__

The sun glinted off convocation gowns and the chatter of graduates echoed through the air.

Dokyeom, his gown tied messily around his shoulders, hurried across the college grounds, eyes scanning. "Shua Hyung! Have you seen Hoshi? Do you think he has any chance for having the first place." he called.

Joshua, making his way through the crowd toward his boyfriend, shook his head. "No clue, Kyeom-ah. All the rankings are sealed till announcement. I haven't heard anything."

Dokyeom sighed, anxious. "This tension is going to kill me."

Joshua chuckled, motioning with his chin. "If we're this stressed, look over there—Boo's already started betting."

They both turned to see Seungkwan enthusiastically negotiating with fellow students in gloriously broken English.

"For 1 pound, I bet 2 pounds Hoshi gets top three!" Boo declared, hands animated, eyes sparkling.

Dokyeom marched over, half-exasperated. "Yah, Boo! Have you lost your mind? If something goes wrong, you'll have to sell that tiny tangerine patch your family owns!"

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, tossing a look over his shoulder. "I didn't come this far to sell it, I came to start new orchards here."

Joshua joined them, amusement evident. "Okay but—where is Hoshi?"

Dokyeom sighed again, pulling out his phone. "Been looking for him the past half an hour."

"Call him," Joshua suggested.

The phone buzzed. But it wasn't answered.

Because at that exact moment — on a road far from the crowd — a black Porsche sliced through the lanes like a blade through silk. The phone lay buzzing on the passenger seat, unanswered, as a hand gripped the gear shift and pushed the engine harder.

Back at campus, Boo, undeterred, shouted, "Who's in?! Come on! He'll make it! Top three! Double your money!"

Dokyeom let out another dramatic sigh, still holding the phone to his ear, praying, "Hyung, where are you?"

The convocation ceremony began.

The crowd slowly hushed as the microphone screeched once. Then came the announcement:
"The third place goes to... Henry Trump."

The audience erupted into applause.

Seungkwan clicked his tongue and bit his nails anxiously.

Joshua, now seated beside Dokyeom with his knee bouncing in restless anticipation, nudged him and whispered, "Call him again."

"I'm trying," Dokyeom muttered, phone still pressed against his ear.

Across the city, the phone continued to ring on the passenger seat of a speeding Porsche — the engine purring like a beast on a leash.

The second announcement followed.

"The second place goes to... Louis George."

Seungkwan let out a shaky exhale, his leg bouncing faster than before.

Dokyeom groaned. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

Suddenly, a soft click — and the call connected.

But before Dokyeom could realize it, Joshua sighed and said, "Leave it. Hang up."

"Why?" frowned Dokyeom, confused — not realizing Hoshi was already listening from the other side.

Joshua crossed his arms, eyes on the stage. "There's never been an instance in this university's history where an Asian student has gotten first place."

And just like that,  the line went dead.

Dokyeom blinked. Huh?

A moment later, his phone pinged with a message.

Hoshi: Challenge accepted. 9:45 a.m.

Dokyeom frowned and blurted, "Yah! What is this punk talking about?! Why did he just text 'Challenge accepted'?"

Joshua shrugged, lips curving into a frown and confusion evidently etched on his face.

Right then — the engine of a sleek Porsche roared through the campus entrance, screeching to a stop near the ceremony venue.

From the driver side, the door flung open.

An alpha stepped out.

Wearing sharp dress pants, his blazer hanging over one shoulder, Hoshi pulled out his convocation gown and threw it over himself in one smooth motion. His movements were confident, practiced, effortless.

He began to jog toward the ceremony just as the professor cleared his throat and spoke:

"And the first place in the Master's of Architecture program... goes to—"

Students turned at the sound of hurried footsteps.
"—CHOI SOONYOUNG!"

Seungkwan screamed in delight, nearly toppling over his chair. "WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, YOU LOSERS? PAY ME!"

Laughter broke out. Students cheered.

And Hoshi —  now sharp-jawed, tall, matured by the weight of time and distance — weaved through the crowd as applause erupted around him.

Gone was the boyish blonde. His hair was now sleek black, eyes calm, powerful. His charisma had crystallized — no longer youthful chaos, but raw, honed confidence.

He made it to the stage, accepting his degree with a deep bow of gratitude. He shook hands with the professors, firm but respectful, then turned to face the crowd — his crowd — and raised the certificate high.

Applause thundered.

Dokyeom let out a loud cheer, bouncing with pride, wrapping his arm around Joshua in excitement. The omega giggled at his boyfriend's ridiculousness, clapping along.

Hoshi bowed again, a flash of something proud — maybe even emotional — flickering in his eyes.

This wasn't just a win.

It was a statement.

He was the first.

And he had arrived — not just on stage.

But back into the story.

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Chapter Text

The café buzzed with post-convocation energy, laughter bouncing off the walls as students celebrated their final moments of university life.

Seungkwan downed a gulp of his iced Americano and slapped Hoshi's shoulder with pride.

"You saved me today," he beamed. "Do you know how much I won off those bets? You made me rich, legend."

Hoshi barely reacted, lazily sipping his beer as his eyes casually drifted around the café — until they landed on a petite omega girl across the room.

She wasn't just beautiful. She was devastatingly sexy — with an effortless kind of charm that pulled attention without asking.

Dokyeom caught the shift in Hoshi's gaze.

He leaned closer and whispered, "You like her?"

Hoshi clicked his tongue and looked away. "No."

Dokyeom wasn't buying it. "Yah, tell me properly. Do. You. Like. Her?"

After a pause, Hoshi gave in with a quiet sigh. "...She's fine."

Dokyeom grinned like he'd won the lottery. "That's more than enough."

Before Hoshi could protest, Dokyeom shot up from his chair and made a beeline toward the girls' table.

"Yah—yah! Stop! You embarrassing idiot—!" Hoshi whisper-yelled behind him.

Joshua watched the scene unfold, rolling his eyes. "Your best friend's an actor. Unfortunately, not a good one."

Seungkwan sipped his drink and shrugged. "The Oscars would file a restraining order on him."

Meanwhile, at the girls' table, Dokyeom approached smoothly. "Hi. You're Rhea, right?"

The girl blinked. "No. I'm Daniela."

"Daniela," he repeated, casually glancing back at Hoshi, who now looked like he wanted the Earth to swallow him.

"You're Hoshi's girlfriend, right?"

Daniela frowned. "No...?"

"Are you sure?"

"Why would I lie? Who even is Hoshi?"

Dokyeom gasped like she'd just insulted the Queen herself. "Did you just say... 'Who the hell is Hoshi?'"

The café fell into a brief silence as Dokyeom turned toward the rest of the tables.

"Guys, did you hear that?! She said she doesn't know Hoshi! The legend! The alpha who just rewrote university history!"

Daniela stared at him like he'd grown two heads.
Dokyeom dramatically clutched his chest. "This is like asking what the London Bridge is while standing in London."

Back at their table, Joshua had his face buried in his hands.

"I swear, if anyone from the Drama Club sees this—"

Seungkwan added, "They'll re-audition every role just to keep him out."

"Yah, Hoshi-yah!" Dokyeom called out. "Come here, my prince!"

Hoshi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before standing up and strolling over with all the nonchalance he could muster.

As he reached Dokyeom, the latter leaned in and whispered, "Don't mess this up," before quickly fleeing the scene back to his table.

Hoshi sighed.

And there she was.

Up close, the omega was even more stunning — petite frame, sharp eyes, her expression already amused by the ridiculous exchange.

"Hey," Hoshi said, voice smooth, offering his hand. "I'm sorry about my friend. I'm Hoshi."

The girl raised an eyebrow, not taking his hand.

"What is this? Some cheap wingman tactic or something?"

Hoshi's jaw ticked slightly as he looked away, exasperated.

She tsks, arms crossing, clearly unimpressed.
"Hmm. I don't fall for these."

Hoshi turned back to her, locking eyes.

"Challenge accepted."

"Huh?" she blinked, momentarily thrown.

Back at the table, Seungkwan let out a slow whistle. "She's falling. I smell it."

Joshua arched a brow. "Wanna bet?"

"Always," Seungkwan smirked.

—

That afternoon blurred into a whirlwind — Hoshi and Daniela strolling along the Thames, bantering in Covent Garden, laughing under the glow of afternoon sun by Big Ben. She teased him, tested him, but Hoshi matched her toe-to-toe.

By the time they reached Tower Bridge, the air between them had turned electric.

As the skyline shimmered in twilight, Daniela looked up at him, eyes gleaming.

"Your place or mine?"

Hoshi chuckled.

He gently nudged her away by the shoulder, making her frown in surprise.

"You said you wouldn't fall," he murmured, slipping his sunglasses back on. "But I made you fall."

Then he leaned in slightly, voice lower, teasing, "And now? I'm not interested."

He turned around casually and walked away.

"Wait—what?!" Daniela blinked, flabbergasted.

Hoshi paused at the edge of the bridge. He lowered his sunglasses just enough to wink at her with that signature smirk.

Then he disappeared into the London crowd — smooth, unbothered, and entirely in control.

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Chapter Text

The next morning at their shared house, Hoshi stood outside in front of his room, near the porch garden, sipping his usual black coffee. Behind him, Dokyeom sulked in annoyance while Seungkwan stretched lazily not too far away.

"I wish our hangovers disappeared as fast as you lose interest, Hoshi-hyung," Seungkwan grumbled, rubbing his temples.

Dokyeom snorted. "Facts."

Hoshi merely smiled behind the rim of his mug.

Their peaceful morning was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps—Mr. Hong and Mrs. Hong making their way down the porch steps, Joshua tagging along behind them with a bouquet in hand.

Mr. Hong, the house's owner and a respected elder who'd migrated to London decades ago, had become somewhat of a father figure to them. Wait scratch them, only to Hoshi.

Having married his British omega, Jamie, and settled down successfully, he was especially fond of Hoshi—not just for his academic success, but because he was a trueblood alpha.

Dokyeom, ever the cheerful one, brightened up.
"Good morning, Uncle! You're up early today—"

Mr. Hong brushed past him like a breeze, headed straight for Hoshi.

He placed the bouquet into Hoshi's hands, eyes beaming with pride. "Congratulations, Hoshi. I'm so proud of you."

Hoshi blinked in surprise as Mr. Hong pulled him into a tight hug. Awkwardly, he let out a soft chuckle. "Thank you, Uncle."

"You have no idea how proud you've made us," Mr. Hong said, puffing his chest out as he patted Hoshi's shoulder affectionately.

Dokyeom, trying to join the moment, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Uncle! Because of Soonyoung, the pride of our Asian community has—"

"Yah! Who said anything about Asians?" Mr. Hong cut in sharply, already frowning. "I'm talking about alphas. Us alphas! Not betas like you, walking around with your unwashed faces first thing in the morning."

Dokyeom deflated instantly while Seungkwan rolled his eyes. "Right. And what exactly do you expect us to do first thing in the morning? Step out with face sheets and cucumber slices on our eyes?"

Dokyeom nudged Seungkwan discreetly, whispering, "Please behave, Kwannie, please..."

But Seungkwan just shrugged. "Yah, you're the one who needs good relations, not me."

Mr. Hong's brows furrowed. "What did you just say now?" he asked, narrowing his eyes as he pointed at the sassy omega.

Seungkwan, ever unbothered, raised an eyebrow and snapped back, "Listen, Mr. Hong, you can only get one—either rent or respect. Choose wisely."

Dokyeom whisper-yelled, "Kwannie!" completely panicked now.

"Yah! Let go of me, hyung!" Seungkwan growled, shrugging Dokyeom's hand off. "I'd rather die than show respect to that discriminating old alpha."

Mr. Hong turned red in the face, flustered and fuming. "I can't deal with these two anymore!" he barked, clearly at his limit.

But Hoshi, smooth as ever, stepped in—cutting tension like butter. "Uncle, come, come," he said quickly, gently guiding Mr. Hong away with an arm around his shoulder. "Look at all this nature. All this greenery. Isn't it peaceful? So calming, right?"

Mr. Hong blinked, distracted by the shift in tone, his rage melting as he followed Hoshi's gaze across the blooming garden.

"You know," Hoshi said with a big, too-innocent grin, "what else is going on with you these days, Uncle?"

Mr. Hong chuckled, patting Hoshi's back. "Ah! That reminds me. Since you asked what else... Why don't you give me your parents' numbers, huh?"

He began fishing out his phone, eyes twinkling.

Hoshi paused, puzzled. "Why do you need their numbers?"

Mr. Hong grinned proudly. "Why? Elders have a lot to discuss, don't we?" He was already opening the contacts app.

Across the garden, Joshua's eyes widened in alarm.

"Wait—wait!" he shouted suddenly, jogging over. 

Hoshi furrowed his brows as Mr. Hong nudged him forward, practically shoving him toward the omega. "Joshua is calling you. Go, go!" he beamed.

Jogging over, Hoshi tilted his head. "What's wrong hyung?"

Joshua scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "So... my father kind of... wants you to be my mate," he mumbled, eyes shifting everywhere but Hoshi's face. "He wants to marry me off. To you."

Hoshi blinked. "Wait—what?"

Joshua nodded sheepishly. "Yeah."

They both turned to see Mr. Hong still watching from afar, grinning like he was already planning the wedding colors. Hoshi let out a long sigh.

"Don't worry," he said, resting a comforting hand on Joshua's shoulder. "I'll manage him."

Joshua smiled gratefully, relaxing a little.
"Thanks... And actually, could you also help convince him about me and Dokyeom?"

"You getting married to Dokyeom is now my personal mission," Hoshi said before Joshua could even finish the sentence.

Joshua's smile grew. He stepped forward and wrapped Hoshi in a grateful hug, which the alpha returned warmly.
____

That afternoon, Seungkwan walked in holding a small tin. "Hoshi hyung, is this sugar or salt?" he asked, inspecting it with a scrunched nose.

Hoshi took the tin from him, brought it close to his nose—and immediately winced. "Yah, Seungkwan-ah, this is detergent."

Seungkwan's eyes widened dramatically. "Detergent?! I thought it was sugar—I drank it with milk!" he cried, already scurrying out of the living room in panic.

Dokyeom, walking past, caught sight of the fleeing omega. "Yah! Where are you going?"

"To take a dump!" Seungkwan shouted without stopping.

Dokyeom called out after him, "The water's not running! Use the paper, you'll survive!"

Just then, Joshua walked in holding a sealed container. Dokyeom's eyes immediately lit up. He bounded over and wrapped an arm around him.
"Hey there. What brings my beautiful omega here?"

Joshua rolled his eyes, but a shy giggle escaped, making Dokyeom grin even wider.

Dokyeom leaned back a little, tapping the container. "What's in here?"

Joshua held it up. "It's kimchi. Came all the way from Korea."

"Wahh! Kimchi? Is the whole thing for me?"

Joshua smacked his forehead gently. "It's for all three of you. Especially for Hoshi."

Dokyeom leaned in with a grin. "Why don't we eat some tonight? Just the two of us."

But before Joshua could respond, Hoshi yelled from the couch, "Yah! Can you two stop with the romance? Eomma's watching!"

He pointed to the laptop screen where Jeonghan's face stared back—now frowning in full disapproval.

Joshua immediately placed the container on the table, flustered. Both he and Dokyeom quietly slid to either side of Hoshi on the couch, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Yah! Hoshingie," Jeonghan drawled from the laptop screen, "why did you even tell them? You could've waited a bit, you know. I was enjoying my free entertainment."

Hoshi chuckled, trying not to look too smug.

"Hi eommonim!" chimed Dokyeom and Joshua together, bowing slightly toward the screen.

Jeonghan smiled warmly, replying with an equally cheerful, "Hello, my lovely sons-in-law."

Joshua quickly added, "There's nothing going on, eommonim. We were just talking... casually."

Jeonghan quirked a brow, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. "Really? Because it didn't look casual at all."

Both Joshua and Dokyeom flushed and looked down while Hoshi stifled another laugh.

"Why don't you two just get married already?" Jeonghan teased.

Dokyeom sighed and patted Hoshi on the shoulder. "That depends on your son, eommonim."

Jeonghan's smile dropped into a dramatic frown. "Yah! Hoshingie—I don't want you helping them anymore."

The three on the couch blinked in confusion. "Eh? Why not?" Dokyeom whined.

Jeonghan crossed his arms. "So Hoshi helps you get married, stands by your side, makes it all happen... and then what? My son stays single forever while his friends all ride into the sunset? How is that fair?"

Hoshi let out a long sigh while the others laughed.

"Aigoo, eommonim, you don't know the half of it," Dokyeom said dramatically. "For the past six years, I've introduced him to countless potential partners, but he always finds some or the other reason to reject them."

Jeonghan's frown deepened. "Really?!"

"Eomma—", Hoshi whines but Dokyeom cuts in.

"Wait till you hear this," Dokyeom continued, clearly enjoying himself. "Just the other day, I introduced him to a beautiful girl—smart, funny, absolutely his type—and what does your son do? He leans in, stares her dead in the eye and says, 'I'm not interested.' That's it. Just like that."

Joshua snorted into his sleeve while Jeonghan stared at Hoshi like he had just committed a war crime.

"Eomma," Hoshi groaned, rubbing his face. "I just didn't feel anything. No connection."

Jeonghan raised a sceptical eyebrow. "No what?"

Right on cue, Seungkwan returned to the living room clutching his stomach. "Yah! Hoshi hyung, stop with that 'connection' excuse. Back in my Jeju village, if someone looked at each other the way you did, they'd already be married with two kids by now!", he finishes and now peeps into the screen cheerfully waving, "Hello eommonim."

"Aigoo, Hello my Boo!", greets back Jeonghan chuckling.

Hoshi let out an exasperated grunt and jumped to his feet. "That's it. All of you—shut up! I need to talk to my eomma alone. The rest of you can sit here and go fuck yourselves."

And with that, he grabbed the laptop and stormed out into the lawn, muttering to himself.

Back on the couch, the trio sighed in sync.

"Why's he like this?" Seungkwan asked.

Dokyeom shrugged. "Terminal romantic immunity."

Joshua giggled. "Hopeless case."
__

That evening, the sun dipped low and golden across the field, casting long shadows as the match raged on. Hoshi was in his element—jersey clinging to his body, sweat glistening along his neck, hair damp, feet lightning-fast as he darted past defenders with ease. His alpha energy was unmistakable—focused, electric, commanding.

Every movement he made was fluid and sharp, a perfect blend of grace and raw power.

On the bleachers sat his trio of loyal spectators.
Dokyeom and Joshua were wrapped up in their usual sugary flirtations—shoulders bumping, hands brushing, laughter low and warm.

Seungkwan, meanwhile, was fully invested in his side hustle, furiously tapping on his phone and loudly whispering bets to a couple of other spectators nearby. "Team Blue's got better defense, trust me. Ten bucks says they hold this lead."

Amidst the casual chaos, a sharply dressed figure cut through the warm air like a blade—dark tailored suit, polished shoes, silver cufflinks glinting under the floodlights. The man looked entirely out of place amidst the laid-back sports energy, too professional, too pristine. A faint, neutral scent lingered near him—subtle but distinct. A beta.

The man approached the three in the bleachers. 

"Where is Choi Soonyoung?" he asked curtly. 

Dokyeom pointed instantly toward the field, mouth full of popcorn. Joshua gestured subtly with his chin. Seungkwan just sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Take a wild guess, Sherlock."

The man ignored their sass, descending the bleachers smoothly and heading straight for the sidelines, where Hoshi now sat cooling off—sweat clinging to his flushed skin, his water bottle half-empty, his breathing still slightly uneven.

The beta sat beside him without invitation.

Hoshi didn't flinch, didn't even glance his way. It was as if he had been expecting this moment.

"Did you think about my offer?" the man asked, voice low and composed.

There was a pause.

Hoshi slowly lifted the bottle, pouring a stream of cold water onto his face, letting it drip down his neck as he breathed deeply, trying to tame the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. Only then did he turn to the man—eyes sharp but calm, a glint of challenge in them.

"I'll take the offer..." he said finally, "only if my friends are on my team."

He jerked his thumb lazily toward the bleachers.

The man followed his gesture and spotted the chaos again: Joshua had pulled Dokyeom into a dramatic arm-lock of affection while Seungkwan was aggressively arguing odds with a new bettor, practically climbing over the bench to prove his point.

The man let out a long, world-weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But when he turned back to Hoshi, he found the alpha staring straight ahead, unbothered, finishing the last of his water with the ease of someone who knew his worth.

The beta studied him for a moment longer... then gave a nod.

"Fine," he said quietly. "Office. Tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

He stood and walked away just as briskly as he'd come.

Hoshi didn't watch him go.

Instead, he tossed the empty bottle behind him, wiped the sweat off his brow, and turned his gaze back to the field—his mind already racing faster than his feet had minutes ago.

Because the game? That was just starting.

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Chapter Text

The next morning, the four of them stepped out of their apartment looking nothing short of a fashion campaign ad—sleek suits, polished shoes, hair gelled to perfection. Each one of them exuded confidence in their own way, heads turning as they walked toward the company’s grand entrance.

Seungkwan all but gasped the moment the towering building of Trein Constructions came into view. “Is this… is this a corporate palace?” he whispered dramatically, eyes wide and awestruck.

Dokyeom chuckled, nudging him. “Relax, we’re just entering the office, not an awards show.”
Joshua smiled gently, amused at the younger’s enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Hoshi remained unmoved. His posture calm, his gait unhurried yet assertive—like he’d walked these halls for years, not for the first time. His crisp charcoal suit hugged his frame perfectly, the only sound accompanying him was the faint echo of his shoes clicking against marble.

It was clear from the moment they entered: Choi Soonyoung didn’t follow energy. He was the energy.

As they crossed the main lobby, a tall man in a sharp grey suit intercepted them.

“Soonyoung?” the man called, accent smooth and unmistakably foreign.

Hoshi gave a short nod. “Yes.”

The man extended a hand. “Johnny. Mark’s personal assistant. Come this way, please.”

His voice was rich and professional, but warm enough to soften the formality. Hoshi shook his hand firmly. The others trailed behind as Johnny led them through the high-ceilinged corridors lined with glass-walled offices.

Seungkwan leaned in and whispered—not quietly enough—“He looks like he belongs on a drama poster. Secretary Kim but hotter.”

Johnny pretended not to hear, though Joshua stifled a chuckle, and Dokyeom smirked, already mentally tallying how many times Seungkwan would embarrass them today.

Finally, they were ushered into a large, sun-drenched boardroom with a long oak table and a digital model spinning on a holographic screen.

Once they settled into their chairs, Johnny began the briefing, handing out sleek folders. “In New Hampton’s residential district, a joint collaboration between Morgan & Trein Constructions is underway. They’re planning a township—across a thousand acres.”

Seungkwan gasped audibly, looking between Dokyeom and Joshua with cartoonish awe.

“A THOUSAND? Not a hundred, not five hundred, a whole thousand?!”

Dokyeom’s jaw dropped, eyes wide as he whispered, “We’re not building houses. We’re building a city.”

Joshua kept his cool, offering his signature professional nod. Hoshi, as always, stayed collected, legs crossed, arms on the armrest, eyes sharp and locked on Johnny.

“The row house project within the township—one of the most crucial residential sections—has been assigned to our company,” Johnny continued.

“And we want you to design the model,” came a new voice from the back of the room.

It was Mark Lee—sleek, sharp-eyed, and already flipping through a digital portfolio as he walked in. He stopped behind Johnny, assessing them all with quiet curiosity.

Hoshi leaned forward slightly, smile tugging at his lips—confident and effortless.

“Don’t worry, Mark. I got it.”

Mark met his gaze, and after a beat, nodded once in approval.

__

Later at a nearby café

Their formal jackets were discarded on chair backs, ties loosened, the group finally breathing. Sunlight streamed in through tall windows as the scent of espresso and pastry filled the air.

Seungkwan and Dokyeom were practically vibrating with joy.

“We’re officially employed! Em! Ployed!”
Seungkwan chanted under his breath, doing a celebratory shimmy in his chair.

Dokyeom raised his smoothie. “To Hoshi. Our one-man genius alpha architect.”

Joshua chuckled, stirring his drink slowly as he glanced at Hoshi, who was leaned back in his seat, scrolling on his phone, a black coffee in hand, looking like he hadn’t even broken a sweat all day.

“You know,” Joshua began, tapping his spoon lightly against the rim of his glass, “I’m not worried about the actual work. You’ll handle the designs perfectly, Hoshi.”

Hoshi looked up, eyebrows raised slightly. “But?”
Joshua smiled. “But if we’re gonna stay on this project long-term… we need to play a little smart.”

“Meaning?” Hoshi asked, resting his chin on his knuckles.

Dokyeom leaned in with a knowing grin. “Meaning… whoever’s going to be our site manager? We need to butter them up a little.”

Seungkwan nodded vigorously. “Exactly. Charm them. Suck up, if needed.”

Joshua smirked. “Not unprofessional, just... strategic.”

Hoshi looked at the three of them with a mixture of fondness and disbelief, twirling his coffee cup between his fingers. Then he shrugged and said casually:

“Do whatever you want. I’m not kissing anyone’s ass.”

Seungkwan gasped in mock scandal. “You don’t have to kiss ass, just maybe… wink once or twice. Offer them your coffee. Wear tight shirts. Seduce the economy, Hoshi hyung.”

Hoshi rolled his eyes with a half-smile, but didn't deny the idea completely.

Joshua just smiled into his latte.

___

It was the inaugural day of the project—the formal function where every major project partner, investor, and of course, the site manager would be present. Hoshi stood in the lobby of the company, perfectly dressed, sharp from head to toe, a picture of calm professionalism… on the outside.

On the inside, he was livid.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Dokyeom.

Inside their apartment, where Dokyeom was sprawled on the living room couch like a corpse, mouth slightly open, snoring like an old tractor.

His phone, resting on his chest, vibrated against his sternum with Hoshi’s call.

Startled, he jolted awake, swiping his phone clumsily.

“Hello?” he rasped, voice thick with sleep.

“Yah, Dokyeom-ah, where the hell are you all?”
Hoshi’s voice came sharp through the line.

Dokyeom blinked, disoriented, then mumbled, “Hoshi-yah… we can’t do all that formal shit. Me and Joshua are already busy with...uh… public relations. You go ahead and enjoy the party.”

“Public what now?!” Hoshi barked, but Dokyeom had already started dozing off mid-sentence.

Hoshi let out a curse that could curdle milk and ended the call, muttering under his breath as he slipped his phone back into his blazer pocket.

Back at the apartment, Dokyeom stretched like a sleepy cat and finally rolled off the couch, dragging his legs toward the TV where Seungkwan sat, eyes laser-focused, the controller in one hand, a betting app open on his phone in the other.

“Yah, Kwan-ah… what are you even doing?”
Dokyeom asked, leaning over, voice still scratchy with sleep.

“It’s the match of the year, hyung,” Seungkwan announced dramatically, pointing at the screen.
“Daejeon KJC versus Cheonan Hyundai Skywalkers. I bet 500 pounds on Daejeon’s win.”
Dokyeom blinked. “You bet how much?”

“Five hundred. I have a good feeling—Daejeon is aggressive this season,” Seungkwan explained with complete confidence.

Dokyeom rubbed his face. “Yah, Kwan-ah... I didn’t know people were out here betting on replay matches now.”

There was a sudden pause.

Seungkwan slowly turned his head, his eyes growing comically wide. “This is a... replay match?”

Dokyeom stared back, equally done. “This aired last week, dumbass.”

Seungkwan looked utterly betrayed by the universe. “No. No. NO. Don’t lie to me. They just scored! The crowd was so real!”

“That’s the problem. It was real. Last Friday,” Dokyeom deadpanned, walking away.

Still in shock, Seungkwan dropped the controller, muttering to himself, “500 pounds… I could’ve bought a new mic setup…”

Dokyeom, already halfway down the hall, muttered, “Where’s Joshua? I need my omega before I kill someone.”

And as he disappeared into the corridor, Seungkwan dramatically slumped over the couch, still whispering, “Replay match…?”

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Chapter Text

He was immaculately dressed—sleek dark slacks, a tailored navy blazer that hugged his frame just right, a crisp shirt with the top two buttons undone to reveal just the edge of his collarbone.

A silver ring gleamed on his finger, and a watch that cost more than a month's rent in central London wrapped his wrist.

He looked untouchable. And he intended to stay that way.

As he stepped into the grand function hall, he was immediately greeted by Johnny, who offered him a smile and a firm handshake. “Hoshi,” he said smoothly. “Glad you could make it. Mark’s inside, he’s been waiting.”

Hoshi nodded. “Lead the way.”

Inside, everything gleamed—crystal chandeliers bathed the room in soft gold light, the scent of expensive cologne and aged wine lingered in the air, the sound of polished laughter and clinking glasses layered the room with an artificial charm.

But Hoshi wore his professionalism like armor.

The charming, confident smile never left his lips as he weaved through the event, exchanging pleasantries with investors, project heads, and executives.

London’s best architecture office.

A boss who believed in him.

A massive challenge he was born to complete.

A team, a position, a life he’d carved out with blood, sweat, and a ruthless sense of control.

It was all in place. His world was clean, sharp-edged, and no longer haunted. Just as an alpha like him demanded.

Life was back in his control.

For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like he had to look back. The chaos of his past was finally silent.

But fate had a twisted sense of timing.

He’d just turned toward the bar to pour himself another drink when Mark’s voice called out behind him. “Hoshi! Come, I want you to meet your site manager.”

Hoshi nodded, the corner of his lips twitching upward in a polite smile as he lifted his glass and turned—

And then it hit him.

That scent.

Sharp black tea, mellowed with citrus. A scent that had once anchored his raging alpha, soothed his instincts, and marked every corner of his youth with quiet warmth.

For six years, he’d locked it away. Repressed it. Starved it out of his system.

His fingers froze mid-step.

It slammed into him like a memory ripped from a dream—unwelcome, uninvited, and so achingly familiar it physically hurt.

He turned his head slowly. And standing exactly where Mark had motioned, was him.

Lee Jihoon.

The omega who had once been his entire world.

The omega who once had Hoshi's heart cradled in his hands.

The one his alpha had chosen—bonded to, even if it was never formalized. The one who had shattered him.

Jihoon stood there, leaner, paler than before. His features had sharpened, cheekbones higher, eyes colder. Gone was the soft blond hair Hoshi used to bury his face into; now it was dyed jet black, falling loosely around his face, brushing against the collar of a sleek slate-blue suit.

The omega’s lips parted ever so slightly, his voice barely a breath.

"Hoshi..."

Time stopped.

For one perfect, terrible second, it was just the two of them again.

Two souls whose bodies still remembered, even if everything else had been stripped away.

Hoshi stared back, a million things screaming behind his eyes—but none of them made it to his lips. Jihoon’s scent clung to his skin like a ghost, sending his alpha into chaos. But it was no longer a soothing tide.

It was agony.

Then—

CRACK.

Gasps rose around the room. Shards of glass splintered onto the floor, slicing into the skin of his palm. Blood dripped, painting crimson arcs on the marble tiles.

“Hoshi!” Johnny called, stepping toward him.

The champagne glass in his hand exploded, glass shards slicing into his palm. Red bloomed down his fingers, vivid against his pale skin.

Jihoon flinched. His omega responded instinctively, panic surging, breath hitching.

But Hoshi didn’t even blink. Didn’t look at him again.

He took the napkin a startled waiter handed him, wrapped his bleeding hand with precise indifference, and walked—coldly—past Jihoon without saying a word. His shoulder barely missed brushing against him.

No acknowledgement.

No nod.

Not even a ghost of recognition.

And Jihoon stood frozen, eyes on the trail of blood on the floor, the shattered glass glinting like fragments of an old love.

Hoshi’s blood stained the shards like petals in snow.

One breath. Then another.

And finally—his lips trembled as a single tear escaped down his cheek, as he closed his eyes.
Because the scent that passed him as Hoshi walked by… was no longer the warm storm he remembered.

Rage. Hurt. Bitterness.

And there was something that dominated all of the above…It was fury.

Fury and heartbreak.

Six years apart.

And still, it hurt like the first goodbye.

__

The city buzzed in the distance—cars, lights, laughter. Life moved on, as if nothing had happened.

Hoshi stood alone on the pedestrian edge of London Bridge, one hand resting on the cold metal rail, the other wrapped around a bottle of beer. He took a slow pull from it, the bitterness grounding him.

The bandage on his other hand was already soaked red.

He didn’t care.

He just stared ahead, eyes on nothing, jaw tight.

He was supposed to be over this.

Six years.

Six long, punishing, bone-deep years.

The cold breeze tangled through his hair, but he didn't feel it. He was too far gone into the storm inside his chest.

Why now?

Why him?

He had buried Jihoon.

No—he had willed himself to forget him.

He had erased every note of their songs, every lazy morning in bed, every quiet scent of contentment in their shared nest. It had taken years to silence the omega’s voice in his head. Six years of sheer willpower to kill that part of him.

But tonight, one glance, one scent, and it had all come flooding back—ravenous, cruel, beautiful.

The way Jihoon used to whisper his name at night.

The way his fingers fit so perfectly against Hoshi’s jaw.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles twitching. His alpha instincts were a mess. His rut wasn’t even near, but every inch of him had reacted to Jihoon like it was yesterday.

Like he still belonged to him.

Like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

He gripped the bottle tighter.

The past had no place in his present.

He wouldn’t let it.

He’d worked too hard to become the man he was today.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Lee Jihoon undo it all.

But as he closed his eyes, Jihoon’s voice echoed again in his memory, soft and broken.

“Hoshi…”

He took a deep breath and whispered to the wind, “You’re not supposed to matter anymore.”

But the ache in his chest told a different story.

And deep inside him, his alpha stirred restlessly.

Still bonded.

Still broken.

Still his.

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Chapter Text

The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon when the front door opened with a tired creak.

Hoshi stepped in, his frame slack with exhaustion.
His shirt was wrinkled, half untucked, collar buttons undone. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and lazily tossed his coat over one shoulder. His shoes landed with soft thuds as he kicked them off, not bothering to arrange them properly.

"Yah! Soons, you're home already?" Dokyeom called from the couch, eyebrows raised as he got up and made his way toward him.

Hoshi gave him a long, silent glare.

Dokyeom blinked, half-worried, half-curious.
"Soo..Did you like the site manager?"

Hoshi's eyes narrowed instantly. "You knew?"

Dokyeom let out a proud chuckle, chest puffed. "Of course I knew. I'm the one who set it up."

Hoshi's jaw tensed. He continued walking into the living room, heading straight for the wall-mounted rack where they kept the badminton gear.

Dokyeom trailed behind him. "Look, I didn't tell you on purpose. I figured if I did, you wouldn't go."

Hoshi picked up a racket, spinning it in his hand like a weapon rather than a sports tool.

Dokyeom, oblivious to the danger, kept talking. "I mean, you're single, and I heard the omega's single too. What's the harm in a little union? I was just trying to help—imagine a happy ending for once?"

That was the last straw.

Hoshi turned slowly.

Dokyeom immediately sensed death in the air.

Seungkwan, who'd been sprawled on the couch with his phone, looked up just in time to see Hoshi advancing.

"Hyung... are we playing badminton?" he asked, confused.

Dokyeom scoffed, nervously backing away. "Yah, he doesn't even have a shuttlecock—he can't play."

Hoshi tilted his head. "But you're here, aren't you?"

Dokyeom blinked. "What—?"

WHACK!

"Aaagh—HYUNG!" Dokyeom yelped, stumbling back as Hoshi swatted his thigh with the racket.
"SOONYOUNG! THAT HURT!"

Hoshi didn't answer—he was already charging after him.

"YAHHH I'M SORRY, OKAY?! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'D HATE HIM!" Dokyeom shrieked, sprinting around the living room.

Seungkwan jumped up, wide-eyed, trying to hold Hoshi back.

"Hyung! Stop! Put the racket down!"

Hoshi raised an eyebrow.

Seungkwan gulped and instantly stepped aside. "Or not. I mean... you do you."

Dokyeom gasped, betrayed. "You traitor!"

"What did you say?," Hoshi growled, chasing after him. "You thought this was matchmaking?!"

"I THOUGHT IT'D BE CUTE!" Dokyeom howled, ducking behind the dining table.

Just then, Mr. Hong peeked from the upper floor railing, squinting at the ruckus. "Hoshi! Don't hold back—beat the crap outta him! I'll cover for you!"

"HYUNG!" Dokyeom shrieked again, this time running out onto the porch, flailing. "I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'D COME BACK WITH BLOOD IN YOUR EYES!"

"You will feel what my eyes saw today," Hoshi muttered under his breath, storming after him.

Seungkwan sighed and flopped back onto the couch. "This is why I lock my door when hyung comes home looking like that..."

Dokyeom darted across the porch in blind panic— skids to a halt the moment he sees a familiar figure walk through the front door.

"Joshua hyung!" he yells, and before Joshua can even react, Dokyeom ducks behind him, using him like a human shield. "Save me, hyung, he's gone feral!"

Joshua frowns, confused, blinked at the chaos in front of him: Hoshi holding a racket like a weapon, Seungkwan dramatically crumpled against the couch, and Dokyeom clutching his waist like a shield.

"What the—Hoshi, stop!" Joshua exclaimed, holding a hand out instinctively.

Hoshi stared past him, his chest rising and falling in fury. "Hyung, just move," he said lowly, voice sharp like a knife in a velvet sheath.

But just as he takes a step forward—

That scent hits him again.

Black tea. Citrus. Warmth. Regret.

And then, that voice.

"Joshua hyung, where's my room—" came the familiar lilt, right behind Dokyeom and Joshua.

Hoshi froze.

Everyone turns.

Dragging a suitcase behind him, standing just a few steps behind Joshua and Dokyeom, is Lee Jihoon.

He freezes mid-step, eyes going wide as they land on the racket, the chaos, and most of all—the alpha standing with clenched fists and trembling breath.

Dokyeom turned around slowly, color draining from his face like he'd seen a ghost. "Ji—Jihoon?"

Jihoon blinked, surprised. "Kyeom-ah? You're here too?"

Dokyeom backed away, legs suddenly unsure beneath him. He stumbled toward Hoshi and urgently tapped his shoulder. "Yah, Soons... That's Jihoon," he whispered like it was top-secret intel.

Hoshi shrugged him off, the racket clattering to the floor as he shouts, jaw clenched, voice bitter. "Yah, stop playing dumb. He's our site manager," he snapped, looking away, his tone sharp enough to cut steel.

Dokyeom gawked. "What—no! Yah! Soonyoung, I promise on everything I own, I didn't know!" he rushed, hands flailing. "I didn't know it was him. I just heard it was some omega, that's all—I didn't know it was Jihoon!"

Hoshi let out a sharp huff, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

Finally, Joshua stepped forward, expression completely baffled. "Wait—wait a second." He looked at the three of them. "You guys... already know each other?"

Seungkwan's jaw drops open in pure, unfiltered drama.

Dokyeom ruffled his hair in distress. "YAH! Can everyone just stop for a second! Yes! I didn't connect the dots, okay? The Jihoon from Seoul was... this one."

"What?!" Joshua practically yelled, eyes wide.

Seungkwan's jaw dropped so low it could scrape the floor. He slaps a hand over his mouth in horror, eyes darting from Jihoon to Hoshi. "No. Freaking. Way."

And in the middle of the wreckage stood Hoshi, quiet now. Silent rage simmering under his skin.

Jihoon's wide eyes locked onto his.

And in that small silence that followed the chaos, something in the room shifted—heavy, old, unfinished.

The past had officially walked in through the front door.

A thick silence settles for half a second.

"Why is he here now?" Hoshi snaps, arms crossed, glaring at Jihoon like he's the reason for global warming.

Joshua winces. "About that..."

"About that?" Hoshi raises an eyebrow sharply.
Joshua gulps. "If the... site manager—"

"Site manager?" Hoshi's voice pitches slightly higher.

"...stays in our home as a paying guest..." Joshua gulps. "Our jobs would be secure."

Hoshi slowly raises one brow. Joshua points toward Dokyeom. "That's what Dokyeom said."

In the next second, Hoshi's already got Dokyeom by the collar.

"Yah! Soons!" Dokyeom squeaks, holding his hands up like a desperate monk. "Please! I'm tired, I've been running from you for ten minutes! My soul's gone, leave my body alone!"

Hoshi exhales heavily and shoves him away, muttering, "I don't approve of him staying here."

"Hoshi—" Joshua begins.

But before he can say more, Jihoon speaks up, his voice as calm as ever despite the storm around him.

"What is this, Joshua hyung? I comfortably checked into a hotel. You insisted I vacate the hotel and stay here. And now—this nuisance?"

He gestures subtly toward Hoshi, expression unreadable.

Joshua flounders. "Jihoon-ah, I—I'm really sorry—"

But Hoshi cuts him off again, raising his voice, "Joshua hyung, I'm telling you with all due respect—if he doesn't leave— this house right now—"

Joshua lifts his brow. "If he doesn't leave?"

Hoshi hesitates for a split second, then blurts, "I'll go tell your father I'm ready to marry you. That should satisfy your madness!"

Joshua gasps, his face dropping in horror. "Yah! Hoshi-yah!"

Dokyeom, who was nodding rapidly in support a second ago, spins toward Hoshi, betrayal written all over his face.

"Yah! What happened to supporting our love story, huh?! Weren't you the one who swore to officiate our wedding?! Now you're threatening to take my spot?!"

He dramatically falls to his knees, clasping Hoshi's hands.

"You're my best man! My only man!"

Before anyone can stop this circus, Mr. Hong strolls into the living room, half-asleep but already amused.

He pauses, squinting at the scene.

"Finally," he says, pointing at Dokyeom with a laugh. "You've found your true place, you beta."

Dokyeom glares up at him. "Sir, please..."

But Mr. Hong's attention shifts. His eyes land on Jihoon, who stands there, dignified and quiet.

"And who's this fine young man?"

"Uh—" Joshua starts to explain, but Jihoon offers a small, respectful bow.

"Lee Jihoon, sir. I'll be working on the renovation project. I'm the new site manager."

In under thirty seconds, Jihoon somehow charms the elder completely.

Mr. Hong beams, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
"Ah, Hoshi! This omega belongs to a pure bloodline, can't you smell it? He's one of the real ones."

Hoshi forces the fakest smile he's ever given in his life. "I can smell something alright."

Mr. Hong throws an approving arm around Jihoon's shoulders and starts ushering him deeper into the house. "Come, come! We'll prepare the guest room upstairs. You'll feel at home in no time!"

Hoshi glares after them, his fingers twitching.

He kicks at the floor with the bitterness of someone losing control of the narrative. "I'm gonna lose my damn mind."

Seungkwan, who's been frozen in place the whole time, finally whispers under his breath, "I thought I came to a guest house, not a live drama taping."

.

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Chapter Text

Next day lunch had barely begun when it hit him.

That scent — soft, bitter, warm in a way that twisted memory and instinct together like a knot in his gut.

Hoshi was already on his feet before his mind caught up with his body, the chair scraping behind him.

Mr. Hong, cheerfully oblivious to the brewing storm, looked up as Jihoon entered the room holding a neatly packed container.

"Hey Jihoon!" he called. "You brought something for us?"

Jihoon offered a warm smile — the kind that made people believe nothing had ever gone wrong in his world. "Yes, Uncle. I made chocolate cake. As a thank-you for letting me stay."

"Oh-ho!" Mr. Hong chuckled, already helping himself to a slice. "This is the good stuff."

One by one, the others followed, sounds of approval filling the room.

"Delicious," said Seungkwan, licking frosting from his thumb.

"Jihoon-ssi, you've outdone yourself," added Joshua with genuine delight.

Mr. Hong turned to where Hoshi stood stiffly by the window, fork in hand. "Soonyoung-ah, come have a bite. You'll regret missing this."

But Hoshi stepped back like he was being offered poison.

"Uncle," he said quickly, voice taut. "I don't want any. I... I don't like chocolate."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out, ignoring everyone calling after him.

Jihoon stood there frozen for a second, the smile on his lips slowly dissolving. His hands tightened around the now-empty box.

Without another word, he excused himself and slipped out the door.

The summer light outside was harsh, almost too clean for the heaviness sitting in his chest. Jihoon scanned the street until he saw him — across the road, walking fast, back tense and fists clenched at his sides.

"Hoshi!" Jihoon called.

No response.

He started across the street without thinking — just as a car came hurtling around the corner.

Hoshi turned at the sound of screeching tires, his body jerking toward Jihoon on instinct — but he stopped short when the car halted just in time, the driver swearing from inside.

Jihoon stood there, breath stolen, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He looked up to see Hoshi already walking away again.

"Hoshi, please!" he shouted, running to catch up. "Just stop for a second. Let's talk."

Hoshi's steps slowed. He didn't turn around, but he didn't walk away either.

Jihoon exhaled and came closer. "We broke up a long time ago. We fought. It ended. I'm not pretending that didn't happen. But this... this setup is hard for both of us."

Hoshi clenched his jaw.

"In the best interest of everyone," Jihoon continued, softer now, "why don't we forget whatever happened and just... try being friends? We're adults. There are people who break up and still stay friends, right?"

There was a pause. And then, Hoshi turned — slowly, sharply.

His voice came low, laced with something jagged and unforgiving.

"Listen to me, Jihoon."

Jihoon held his breath.

"There are only two things I genuinely hate in this entire world," Hoshi said. "Chocolate... and you."
The words landed heavy, brutal in their simplicity.

Jihoon didn't flinch — but something in his eyes dulled, like a light flickering behind tinted glass.

For a moment, neither said anything. The wind picked up, tugging lightly at their clothes. Far in the distance, a car horn echoed. It was the only thing moving.

Then Jihoon straightened.

His expression was calm. But his voice was colder than before — precise, almost cutting.

"You don't have a choice anymore, Hoshi."

Hoshi blinked.

"Inside the house, around your friends —  ahead. Act however you like. Pretend I'm invisible. Pretend I'm nothing. That's your freedom," Jihoon said. "But starting tomorrow, it's the office. And I'm your superior. You'll be reporting to me."

Hoshi's eyes darkened.

"What will you do then, team leader?" Jihoon added, almost mockingly, before turning and walking away.

Left alone on the sidewalk, Hoshi stood there breathing hard, fists trembling. The old wound had split open again, deeper this time — something raw and angry spilling out under the skin.

He turned toward the nearest wall and slammed his fist into the brick with a guttural grunt.
The pain didn't help. Nothing helped.

___

The next morning, Jihoon had barely gotten through his first round of emails when something crumpled and heavy landed on his desk.

He didn't need to look up. That scent — crisp citrus with a rough, wild musk — was unmistakable. It used to make his knees weak. Now, it just made his chest ache.

Jihoon stared at the ball of paper. Then, slowly, he looked up.

Soonyoung stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, gaze flitting casually around the office like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on the table.

"What is this?" Jihoon asked flatly.

Hoshi shrugged. "My resignation letter."

Jihoon's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Hoshi didn't hesitate. "I don't like working under you."

The omega clenched his jaw, jaw muscles ticking as frustration slowly bloomed beneath his composed exterior.

"You still haven't changed a bit, Hoshi," Jihoon said, voice quiet but sharp.

Hoshi didn't meet his eyes. He stared out the window instead, jaw tense.

"Even now, you're making impulsive decisions out of spite," Jihoon continued, trying to keep his voice level, trying not to sound tired.

Hurt.

Disappointed.

"So what?" Hoshi said, laughing bitterly. "I never really mastered the art of thinking things through, did I? Or adapting to situations and taking calculated decisions like you."

Jihoon inhaled sharply, but his face betrayed nothing. His walls rose like clockwork — the cool, professional façade he'd perfected over the years.

"Fine," he said after a beat. "I'll process your resignation."

He stood from his chair, smoothing the front of his blazer with slow, deliberate hands. "Did you at least tell your friends?"

Hoshi scoffed. "They do whatever I ask them to." 

The arrogance in his tone was real. But beneath it, Jihoon could hear the brittle edge — the kind people only use when they're bluffing their own strength.

Jihoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You think they'll follow you just because you say so?"

There was no reply, but a smug face.

"Leaving this job won't fix whatever's eating you, Soonyoung," Jihoon said, quieter now. Not gentle — just honest. "You'll just be running. Again."

Hoshi's fingers twitched in his pockets.

"And for what it's worth," Jihoon added, eyes now fixed on the alpha's face, "you weren't under me. You were beside me."

Those words landed heavier than they sounded.
Hoshi's throat worked, and for a second — just a second — Jihoon thought he might say something.

Apologize.

Ask him not to sign it.

Tell the truth.

But Hoshi just gave a tight smile. "Thanks for the clarity, sir," he said, his voice laced with venom, and turned to walk out of the office.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Jihoon sat down slowly. He didn't touch the crumpled letter again.

Instead, he let his eyes linger on the empty space Hoshi left behind.

Then, without expression, he opened a drawer, dropped the letter inside, and closed it.

Not everything needed to be read to be understood.

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Chapter Text

Inside the shared team room, papers had quite literally flown.

Dokyeom was on the floor, mid-collapse like someone had unplugged his spine. Seungkwan was wheezing, clutching his chest and coughing violently on the last sip of his iced Americano.

And in the center of the room stood Hoshi — perfectly still, perfectly calm — like he hadn’t just detonated a grenade.

“Alright,” Soonyoung said casually, pointing around the room, “hurry up. Pack your things. We’re done here.”

“Hyung—!” Dokyeom gasped, still crawling on his knees like a man begging for mercy. “Hyung, please. Let’s discuss this—”

“No discussions,” Hoshi said firmly, eyes narrowed, the usual glint of playfulness absent. “Pack. Up. Now.”

Joshua blinked as if waking from a daze, paper fluttering down from his stunned hands.

“Hoshi-yah,” he said cautiously, as if he was approaching a wild tiger, “come on. Sit down for a second.”

He gently pulled out a chair and motioned toward it with the careful calm of someone trying to defuse a bomb.

Dokyeom and Seungkwan scrambled upright too, positioning themselves like an emergency response unit.

Seungkwan even made room beside him on the couch. Hoshi exhaled sharply through his nose… but relented. He sat, arms folded, jaw tight.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan began dramatically, holding his chest like he was acting in a makjang drama, “if we lose these jobs, we have nothing left. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“We’d be unemployed omegas in a cutthroat economy,” Joshua added with a dramatic sigh, “and you — an impulsive, jobless alpha. Where would that even get us?”

Hoshi scoffed and looked at Dokyeom. “Yah, what nonsense are they spewing now?”

Dokyeom plastered on his best calm-and-loving face, the one he used when trying to get toddlers or alphas to behave. “They’re not wrong, hyung. Right now, if you go job hunting, it’s going to be… rough.”

Joshua and Seungkwan both nodded solemnly, their faces the picture of grave truth.

“And let’s not forget,” Joshua added, his voice a little softer now, “my father already can’t stand this pabo, Hoshi. If he shows up without a job, he’d rather I marry a cement wall. At least the wall doesn’t talk back.”

Dokyeom made a soft noise of offense, sulking. “I talk back once, and now I’m the enemy.”

But Hoshi wasn’t listening to them anymore. He was frowning, brows drawn together, clearly still battling something internal.

“I just don’t want to work under him,” he muttered, voice low and stubborn.

“Yah hyung!” Seungkwan immediately stood and marched over. “Who said anything about working under him?”

He gestured wildly. “You’re on the second floor! He’s on the first floor! Technically, he’s working under us!”

Hoshi looked up at him with a grimace. “I can’t think like that, Kwannie.”

Seungkwan dropped to his knees in front of the alpha, dramatic as ever. “Then learn to think like that, hyung! You don’t stop swinging the bat because you don’t like the umpire. And you don’t quit the exam just because you hate the invigilator.”

Hoshi let out a frustrated groan and leaned back.
“But I can’t talk to him, Kwannie. I can’t even look at him right now.”

Seungkwan grabbed his hand like this was a medical emergency. “You don’t have to! I’ll talk. I’ll even breathe for you if you want. Just don’t quit and ruin our whole life plan!”

Joshua nodded. “We just got matching mugs for the office kitchen. You think I’m giving that up now?”

Dokyeom clutched the armrest beside him like a lifeline. “Hyung, we like this job. We like you in this job. Don’t make us suffer just because you and your ex have unresolved mating issues.”

Hoshi blinked, caught off guard. “Yah, Dokyeom—”

But Seungkwan cut in again, eyes glimmering. “Hyung… please. For us.”

There was silence for a beat.

Then another.

Hoshi let his head drop into his hands, sighing deeply — somewhere between exhausted and surrendering.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

Cheers erupted. Joshua clapped like a relieved parent. Dokyeom collapsed back onto the sofa in boneless relief. Seungkwan, still kneeling, bowed dramatically like he’d just saved the nation.

But Hoshi raised a hand, warning clear.

“I’ll stay,” he said, eyes serious. “But I’m not doing the talking with him.”

“Done,” said Seungkwan.

“And I want the coffee machine moved closer to our end of the floor.”

“Consider it relocated,” said Joshua, already pulling out his phone.

“And I swear if Jihoon breathes in my direction—”

“He won’t,” Seungkwan said. “We’ll put up scent blockers.”

“Industrial ones,” added Dokyeom.

Hoshi exhaled again and leaned back into the couch.

“…Idiots,” he muttered.

But his voice sounded warmer.

And maybe — just maybe — a little grateful.
____

Cafeteria, 3:15 PM — the team stands quietly in formation, shielding behind Seungkwan, who alone steps forward like a soldier approaching the executioner.

Jihoon stood tall, arms folded over his chest, one brow cocked as his gaze swept over the omega before him. Seungkwan, fingers nervously twitching by his sides, cleared his throat and attempted a smile.

“Hoshi-hyung has decided to take back his resignation,” he announced brightly, as if reading from a carefully rehearsed script.

Jihoon didn’t blink. “Oh? Really?” he asked, eyes narrowing with slow intrigue. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Aah… Why means,” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, “we conducted an elite-level emergency intervention—top-tier convincing operation. Psychological warfare. Emotional manipulation. You know, the usual.”

Jihoon’s lips twitched at the corners. “Will he work without throwing another tantrum?”

Seungkwan grinned wide enough to fake optimism. “Absolutely! He’s a model employee—highly skilled, emotionally… challenged, yes—but still very valuable.”

Jihoon hummed. “And his temper?”

“Ahh… that will... pass,” Seungkwan nodded vigorously, “with time. With lots of patience. And sedation, maybe.”

Before Jihoon could reply, Hoshi’s voice rang across the cafeteria like a thunderclap.

“YAH, KWAN-AH! How much longer are we going to entertain this crap? Can we leave already?”

Dokyeom lunged, dragging Hoshi back by the elbow with a whispered, “Hyung please, shut up for one second before you destroy everything.”

Seungkwan winced and turned back to Jihoon with a mortified grin, lifting a polite finger. “One minute, just one—please ignore the caveman noises.”

He turned around and yelled, “Yah! Who the fuck is pleading?!” Then swiveled on his heel, faced Jihoon, and whispered softly, “I’m begging you.”

He spun again, stomping toward Hoshi. “What do you mean we’re wasting time? If not for this job—”

He pivoted sharply again, facing Jihoon with wide, desperate eyes. “—we’d starve. We’re desperate, sir. Capital D.”

He spun again to Hoshi. “They should be worshipping you for your range and talent!”

Then back to Jihoon, voice cracking. “But even hidden gems need food and rent.”

Back to Hoshi: “This world is not ready for your brilliance.”

Back to Jihoon: “And we’re not ready to sell our souls—or my tangerine patch back in Jeju.”

Jihoon couldn’t help the smirk that bloomed on his face. Arms crossed, he watched the performance like a mildly amused judge at a chaotic talent show. The sight of Seungkwan sprinting back and forth was something between tragic theatre and a sitcom meltdown.

Seungkwan stopped, panting. “If he doesn’t listen now,” he muttered dramatically, walking toward the window, “I’ll jump off this building.”

Jihoon sighed and finally relented. “Fine. Since you’re asking so nicely—” he glanced past Seungkwan toward Hoshi “—I’ll reject Hoshi’s resignation. Tell your team to pack for the site visit tomorrow.”

Seungkwan sagged in relief. “Thank god,” he whispered, and spun around to the rest of the team with his chest puffed out like a hero returning from war. “He said yes,” he beamed.

Dokyeom clapped in awe. “Wow, Kwan-ah. I always believed in your inner manipulative omega.”

Seungkwan gave him a death glare and chased him off, yelling obscenities, Joshua chuckling behind them as he followed.

Only Hoshi and Jihoon remained—still, quiet, staring at each other across a cafeteria that had suddenly gone too loud, too empty, too full of things unsaid.

Jihoon’s voice was calm, almost a murmur. “Well, that’s something. At least you chose your friends this time.”

Hoshi’s jaw clenched. The citrus of his scent flared. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know how to think as selfishly as you do.”

Jihoon flinched. The smirk fell away like broken glass. His hands fell to his sides, fingers curling into fists. Hoshi didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked out, leaving Jihoon behind in the echoing stillness.

For a moment, Jihoon simply stood there, eyes lingering on the space the alpha had just occupied.

Then quietly, barely above a whisper, he muttered to himself:

“…Neither do I.”

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Chapter Text

The sun dipped low as the team finally arrived at the construction site, the golden light catching on the metal beams and scaffolding, casting long shadows across the clearing. Their site camps had already been set up — modest temporary cabins lined up in a semi-circle against the vast, dusty landscape.

Dokyeom surveyed the cabins with childlike excitement, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Okay! One for me and Joshua hyung, Hoshi can take his own—oh! And Seungkwan can share his with Jihoon-hyung!” he declared with a wide grin, clearly thrilled with his matchmaking skills.

But the moment was cut short when Hoshi threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him aside with a low voice.

“You got one part right,” Hoshi said. “You and I will share that one.” He pointed to the cabin farthest from the others. “Joshua and Seungkwan can have the other. I don’t give a damn where the site manager sleeps. He can lie on the grass if he wants to.”

“Wait—what?” Dokyeom blinked, caught off-guard as he was dragged away, half-protesting, half-laughing.

Joshua sighed and turned to Jihoon, offering a half-apologetic smile. “You can have the single one, Jihoon. You’re the site manager — and the boss. Makes sense.”

Seungkwan nodded quickly. “Yeah, I snore anyway. Ask Joshua-hyung.”

Jihoon said nothing, only nodded curtly, concealing the ache blooming quietly in his chest.

He didn’t let it show, didn’t let it break through his composed façade.

Once the camps were set and gear unpacked, the group assembled at the site entrance. Jihoon stood before them in his bright yellow hi-vis vest and safety helmet — sharp, professional, every inch the site manager. The others were similarly dressed — all but Hoshi.

The alpha strolled up with his helmet in one hand and his vest slung lazily over his shoulder. He wore dark aviators and a disinterested scowl, exuding a quiet defiance that set Jihoon on edge.

Jihoon cleared his throat and began, his tone crisp. “Listen carefully. These are non-negotiables. First—no one enters the site without their high-visibility gear on.”

Without a second of hesitation, Hoshi tossed his vest into Seungkwan’s arms with a muttered, “You hold it. I’m allergic to yellow.”

Seungkwan caught it with a yelp, glancing between the alpha and omega like he was standing between two ticking bombs.

Jihoon’s jaw tightened, but he continued. “Helmets are mandatory on site.”

Again, Hoshi shoved the helmet into Seungkwan’s already full arms, sunglasses still on. “I like to feel the wind in my hair,” he said, smirking.

Jihoon didn’t take the bait. He pressed on. “And lastly—no one leaves the site perimeter without informing me.”

Hoshi scoffed as he walked past him, removing his glasses just long enough to shoot Jihoon a look filled with disdain. “And I still don’t understand why software brats are let near blueprints. It’s like letting an omega do an alpha’s job,” he muttered darkly.

The words sliced deeper than Jihoon expected. He stood frozen for a second, the bite of old wounds reopening inside him. But again, he didn’t rise to it. Couldn’t afford to.

Behind him, Joshua let out a breath. “That went well,” he whispered to Seungkwan.

“I give it two more days before someone buries someone else under the cement,” Seungkwan replied.

__

In the days that followed, work on the site began in full swing. The project was demanding, chaotic, a constant shuffle of blueprints, material estimates, and soil tests. The team moved like a machine—functional, yet barely held together.
Despite everything, the build progressed. Designs were approved. Supplies delivered. Site markers laid.

But there was no mistaking the invisible line drawn in the sand.

Hoshi refused to communicate directly with Jihoon. He worked alone — sometimes beside the others, often in complete silence. He shared nothing of his designs, offered no heads-up on alterations, ignored Jihoon’s instructions as if they were background noise.

More than once, Jihoon would discover that scale markings had changed without his knowledge, or that Hoshi had overruled a decision without even discussing it.

Still, Jihoon said nothing.

He swallowed the frustration, the humiliation. He poured himself into the logistics, into the paperwork, the regulations, the meetings. While Hoshi got his hands dirty with the cement and steel, Jihoon built invisible structures — timelines, safety checklists, cost projections.

They were both building — but never together.

At night, the camp was quiet except for the murmurs of late conversations and the occasional clang of tools left behind. Jihoon sat alone in his cabin, fingers buried in reports, the soft hum of his laptop the only companion.

Once, he heard laughter from the farthest tent — Hoshi and Dokyeom, probably. And then, quieter… a voice. Low. Familiar. A sound that once belonged to home.

He looked up from his screen, staring at the wall for a long time.

Sometimes, even in the silence, the ache roared louder than any scream.

_____

It was a clear, tranquil morning.

The kind where the wind was gentle, the sky a pale watercolor blue, and the world felt like it had taken a soft inhale — holding it.

Hoshi sat on one of the worn armchairs outside his cabin, a steaming mug of black coffee cradled in his hands, legs crossed loosely. His gaze lingered on the horizon, somewhere far and nowhere in particular, eyes shaded by the light above.

Across from him, Jihoon emerged from his own camp — wrapped in a grey hoodie, arms tucked close to his chest, the sleeves pulled halfway over his hands. The cold kissed his cheeks pink. He noticed Hoshi immediately — how could he not — but the alpha didn’t even glance up, and so Jihoon quietly looked away, pressing his lips into a thin line.

He was used to this now — the ignoring. The invisibility.

But before the heaviness could settle in, a warm presence slipped in from behind, wrapping him in a back hug that made him flinch — then laugh.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon-ah,” Joshua whispered into his ear, voice soft with affection, arms snug around his middle.

Jihoon relaxed into the hug, smiling as he reached up to hold Joshua’s hands gently. “Thank you, hyung.”

Joshua stepped around to face him, ruffling his hair with a fond grin. “Woke up thinking about cake, and then I remembered it’s your day.”

He glanced across the way. “Hoshi-yah,” he called out, “Did you wish him?”

Hoshi didn’t even look their way. He merely sipped his coffee, eyes still on the distance. “No,” he said flatly.

Jihoon’s smile faltered just for a second, but he recovered quickly, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Guess he forgot,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

But of course, Hoshi heard.

He always heard, even when he pretended not to.

“It’s not some national holiday,” Hoshi replied coldly, not even bothering to look at him. “Why would I remember?”

The comment landed with a thud in Jihoon’s chest, like a weight pressed right over his heart. His throat tightened, but he gave nothing away — not even a blink. He simply nodded once, as if he’d expected it.

Joshua exhaled sharply, displeasure flickering briefly in his features.

A moment later, the tent flap rustled open behind Hoshi, and Dokyeom stumbled out, stretching his arms high above his head like a lazy cat, yawning wide.

“Ahhh, what a gorgeous morning,” he groaned, squinting at the sunlight — and then his eyes landed on Jihoon. He immediately perked up and waved.

“Happy birthday, Jihoon!”

Jihoon offered him a soft smile, thankful for the lightheartedness. “Thank you Kyeom-ah.”

Joshua chuckled beside him. “Yah, Min-ah. You forget my birthday every year — and I’ve been your boyfriend for what, four years? But you remember Jihoon’s?”

Dokyeom laughed, eyes crinkling. “Exactly! That’s what makes this even more amazing, hyung. I don’t even remember your birthday, and yet—here I am.”

“Then how the hell did you remember mine?” Jihoon asked, genuinely curious, a small laugh playing on his lips.

“Hyung was going on about it all last night,” Dokyeom said without a hint of guile, gesturing lazily toward Hoshi. “Wouldn’t shut up about what to do, what to say, what not to say—”

The coffee cup froze halfway to Hoshi’s mouth.
Dokyeom, oblivious, kept talking. “I mean, I think he rehearsed it three times—"

Before he could finish, a splash of hot, bitter coffee hit his cheek and shirt, making him jolt and hiss. “Ah! Shibal—hot, hot!”

He turned, wide-eyed, toward Hoshi — who now stood, stiff and tense, mug empty, eyes dark with warning.

“Hyung…?” Dokyeom said slowly, stunned. “What the hell—”

“Shut up,” Hoshi snapped, voice low but laced with venom.

The camp fell silent.

Jihoon’s breath hitched, his fingers curled slightly into the hem of his hoodie. His eyes met Hoshi’s for the briefest of moments — and what he saw there wasn’t hatred.

It was panic.

Panic… and guilt.

But just as fast, Hoshi turned away, storming off down the gravel path without another word, his empty mug dangling from his hand like a weapon.

Dokyeom blinked, still wiping coffee from his cheek. “Did I say something wrong…?”

Joshua sighed, long and weary. “You were just too honest for his comfort.”

Jihoon said nothing.

His hoodie suddenly felt too warm.

His birthday, too cold.

Not long after the coffee-splashed tension had thinned into awkward silence, the flap of another tent fluttered open.

Seungkwan emerged dramatically from the one he shared with Joshua, his face lit up like it was a musical number and he’d just gotten the cue. In his hands: a cake — barely frosted, slightly off-center, but charming in its handmade warmth.

He immediately broke into song, holding the cake up high like a prize.

“🎵 Haaappy birthday to youuuu~ 🎵” he sang with full chest, spinning once before landing right in front of Jihoon like an idol on stage. “Hyung! Happy birthday!”

Jihoon couldn’t help but chuckle, heart softening despite the morning’s rough start. “Thank you, Kwan-ah,” he said, ruffling the younger’s hair fondly.

Seungkwan grinned proudly. “See? Everyone else just wished you. But I brought a cake. Who’s the favorite now, huh?” He gave a theatrical bow.
Jihoon tilted his head with a curious squint. “Wait—how did you even know today’s my birthday?”

Joshua blinked beside them. “Yeah, Kwan-ah, I didn’t tell you. Dokyeom must’ve texted you?”
But Seungkwan immediately shook his head. “Why would he—he didn’t—uh…” His eyes flicked toward Hoshi, then caught Dokyeom behind him gesturing wildly — making an X with his arms, pointing at Hoshi, and then doing the X again like a traffic officer having a meltdown.

Seungkwan’s mouth opened—and shut.

He turned slightly, eyes meeting Hoshi’s across the campsite.

The alpha stood still, arms crossed over his chest, his stare sharp as a blade — a clear say one more word and you die today kind of look.

Seungkwan gulped, spun around quickly, and pointed vaguely to the sky. “Uh—it was… Facebook! Yeah, I saw it on Facebook.”

Jihoon raised a brow, arms crossing over his chest. “I don’t have Facebook, Seungkwan.”

Joshua snorted.

Seungkwan blinked. “Oh. Right. Then—Twitter?”

Jihoon smiled slowly. “Not on that either. I don’t do social media. Never did.”

Seungkwan froze like a deer caught in headlights, then laughed nervously, turning toward Joshua. “Hyung, can you—uh—hold this cake for me? Just for a second?”

Joshua took it, bemused.

Seungkwan turned back to Jihoon, clearing his throat. “Okay but like—why are you not online, hyung? Even G-Dragon is on Twitter. You could at least hve one to follow him for aesthetics—”

He leaned in and whispered through clenched teeth, “Hyung, look at him. Look at how he’s staring at me like he’s planning my funeral. Can we just settle this before I die?”

But before Jihoon could even respond, they both sensed it — Hoshi was approaching. Silently. Swiftly.

The alpha was moving with the quiet rage of a storm, and Seungkwan jumped a full step back before spinning on his heel and bolting.

“Hyung, I don’t know about your birthday,” he called out dramatically over his shoulder, “but it sure feels like my death day! I want a gravestone shaped like a microphone!”

Hoshi chased him, shouting, “YAH SEUNGKWAN COME BACK HERE—!”

Dokyeom, seeing an opportunity, didn’t hesitate to make his escape too, slipping off in the opposite direction, laughing as he went, “Live to tell the tale, Kwan-ah!”

Joshua and Jihoon stood back, watching the chaos unfold, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Every day with them is a sitcom,” Joshua said, wiping at his eyes. “You’re the main character though, Jihoon.”

Jihoon chuckled, cheeks slightly pink, the weight in his chest easing for a moment.

But as Hoshi huffed back toward camp, breathless and irritated, his gaze accidentally met Jihoon’s.
And this time, Jihoon didn’t look away.

He held it. A faint smile playing on his lips. A glint in his eyes — not just amusement, but something that looked a lot like hope.

For a split second, something in Hoshi’s face cracked.

But then the walls came crashing back up.
He scoffed and looked away, muttering as he passed by, “Memories, good or bad… they stay with us. Nothing you can do but carry them. Alone.”
The bitterness in his voice cut through the air like a lash.

Jihoon’s smile faltered — just slightly.

Hoshi disappeared inside the tent.

Joshua, who’d been quietly observing, turned to Jihoon. “He didn’t forget,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

Jihoon looked down at the cake now resting in Joshua’s hands.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”

But knowing didn’t make the ache any less.

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Chapter Text

Later that evening, Hoshi was deep in concentration, hunched over his large drawing board spread across a makeshift table, his pencil scratching precise adjustments onto the blueprint. The sun beat down gently, and the only sound was the rustle of papers and distant hum of machinery—until the thud of approaching footsteps broke the silence.

He turned around to find Joshua, Dokyeom, and Seungkwan standing in casual clothes, duffel bags slung over their shoulders.

Hoshi raised a brow. "What's all this?"

Dokyeom hesitated, but Joshua answered easily, "It's a long weekend. My heat's coming in early, so I figured we'd take some time off. Why don't you come too?"

"I'm good," Hoshi replied curtly, already turning back to his blueprint.

Joshua tried again, his voice hopeful, "Come on. Take the week. You've been working nonstop."

Hoshi ignored him. Instead, his eyes flicked toward Seungkwan. "Weren't you on suppressants until Vernon returns from NYC?"

Seungkwan scratched his head. "Yeah, but it's a long weekend and Jihoon said he'd throw his birthday party—"

The glare Hoshi shot him made him stop mid-sentence.

A construction worker stumbled past them, and Hoshi barked, "Yah! Can't you see what a mess you're making? Architecture shouldn't be handed to every clown on the street!"

Joshua muttered, "He doesn't even understand Korean..."

Seungkwan deadpanned, "We do though, hyung."

Joshua turned to Hoshi again, more serious this time. "Hoshi-yah. You really won't come?"

Hoshi didn't even look up. "I have work. You all can go fuck yourselves."

The trio sighed in defeat and walked away.
Jihoon stood nearby and watched them go. "All set?" he asked.

Joshua nodded, but when Jihoon's eyes flicked toward Hoshi's tent, he added, "He's not coming. Apparently too busy."

Jihoon's lips thinned into a resigned line. "Alright. You all go ahead."

"You're not coming?" Joshua asked, surprised.

Jihoon shook his head. "As the site manager, if there's work happening on the site, I have to stay."

Seungkwan grumbled, "Great. Another party flushed down the drain."

Jihoon ruffled the younger's hair affectionately. "Go on. You'll still have fun."

As they left, Hoshi briefly looked up, catching the image of Jihoon settling into a foldable chair with a water bottle in hand, the wind tousling his hair, eyes closed under the dusky sky. But the alpha said nothing, simply turned away and headed to his own camp.

Not long after, the sun began to dip into the horizon, orange spilling across the site. Hoshi finally finished packing his things. He glanced once more at Jihoon—dozing gently now, his arms folded, hoodie zipped up halfway—before walking to his own tent and zipping it shut with finality.

Then came the sound of the tent closing, and the unmistakable metallic clack of the suitcase wheels against the road.

Jihoon stirred, rubbing his eyes as he spotted Hoshi walking toward his black Porsche. He shot up, scrambling for his bag, calling out, "Hoshi—wait!"

But Hoshi didn't even turn.

Jihoon jogged, stumbling a bit in his haste until he reached the alpha just before he climbed in. "Can you drop me home?" Jihoon asked softly, trying to catch his breath.

Hoshi didn't meet his eyes. Instead, he reached into his car, pulled out two business cards, and placed them in Jihoon's hand.

"This is the local cab service," he said flatly.
"They'll pick you up. Anywhere."

He climbed into the car and started it up, pulling out of the gravel lot without another word.

Jihoon stood frozen, fingers clenched around the cards, his chest tightening as the taillights disappeared down the road.

He didn't move.

The cards crumpled silently in his fist, tear tracks already streaking down his face.

The wind tugged at his hoodie, but he felt no chill—only the weight of being left behind.
____

The sun had just slipped behind the hills, bleeding gold into navy, when Jihoon stood frozen in the middle of the gravel path, his fingers curled tightly around the cab service cards, eyes watching Hoshi's Porsche disappear around the curve of the exit lane.

The loneliness was thick in the air, a silent scream beneath his ribs.

But before he could even turn around, rough hands grabbed at him.

"What—!?" Jihoon gasped, stumbling as he was yanked backward by a group of rogue wolves—foreign, heavy-built men with the smell of burnt musk and stale aggression.

"Let go of me!" Jihoon snarled, struggling, kicking one in the shin, but he was easily overpowered.

One shoved him hard against the side of a rusty van, his wrists pinned behind his back.

"Feisty little omega," one sneered.

"We were just looking for a good time," another smirked, gripping his jaw.

"Back off! Don't you know who I—" Jihoon's voice broke as one pressed closer, their intentions now terrifyingly clear.

His heart pounded, instincts screaming, eyes darting toward the road—empty.

Hoshi was gone.

Of course he was.

Jihoon shut his eyes, swallowing back the hopelessness clawing at his throat—until—

HOOOOONK.

The deafening blare cut through the chaos like lightning.

The rogues paused, startled. All heads turned toward the front of the alley, where Hoshi's black Porsche now stood, blocking the exit completely, headlights glowing like predator eyes in the dark.

Jihoon's eyes widened, breath catching. Hoshi... had come back?

Jihoon looked ruined—hair disheveled, face flushed, lips trembling—but he was still upright, wrists bound tightly behind him. Just that sight was enough.

Hoshi laid into the horn again, refusing to move.

"Fuck off!" one of the rogues shouted toward the car, trying to assert dominance. But the alpha didn't flinch.

Instead, Hoshi slowly stepped out of the car.
He said nothing. His eyes burned like wildfire. His fists clenched at his sides.

The rogue swaggered forward, cocky. "What, you deaf?" he spat, grabbing Hoshi by the collar.

Snap.

In the next instant, Hoshi's fist connected with the rogue's jaw with a sickening crunch.

Then chaos.

Hoshi lunged into them, a flurry of raw strength and unleashed fury. Punches landed one after another, bones cracked, knees buckled. He fought like an unshackled god—no restraint, no mercy.

Jihoon, pinned against the van, could only stare, heart pounding, throat dry.

It was déjà vu.

Platform. Blood. Alpha. His alpha.

A rogue grabbed a rod and charged—only for Hoshi to snatch it mid-swing and reverse it on them with terrifying precision. Metal clanged against bone, screams filled the night air.

"You touched what's mine," Hoshi growled, breath ragged, hitting harder.

"You ruined my collar," he hissed, smashing another to the ground.

"I should kill you for that."

Jihoon watched in horror as the fight escalated. Blood stained the gravel. A man crawled away, groaning. Another lay unconscious.

"Hoshi, stop!" Jihoon shouted, but the alpha didn't hear him.

"Stop, goddammit—this is going to be a problem!"
Hoshi didn't stop.

Until—

"STOP!" Jihoon's voice finally cracked through the haze.

Everything froze.

Hoshi's chest heaved, the rod trembling in his hand. He looked at Jihoon — bloodied, shaken, beautiful — and then down at his own hands, soaked in rage and red.

A beat passed.

And then another.

Memories swirled like smoke in his mind—the train platform years ago, his fist protecting Jihoon's trembling body, the exact same voice yelling at him to stop.

He growled in frustration and finally dropped the rod with a loud clang.

Silence.

The alley now buzzed with the flashing blue lights of police cruisers. Jihoon stood beside Hoshi, heart pounding as two officers questioned them, one already pulling Hoshi's arms behind his back to cuff him.

"Sir, you need to calm down—put your hands behind—"

Click.

The sound of metal cuffs made Jihoon snap out of his daze.

"Wait! Stop—he didn't do anything wrong!" Jihoon cried, stepping forward.

The officer paused. "You were being attacked?"

"Yes," Jihoon said quickly, voice firmer. "Those guys tried to—misbehave with me. He saved me from them."

Before Jihoon could say more, Hoshi scoffed in Korean, looking away. "I didn't hit them for you. I hit them because they ruined my shirt."

Jihoon blinked at him in disbelief. "Can you not throw a tantrum right now? Shut up before they do lock you up."

The officer turned to Jihoon again, suspicious. "Sir, do you know this guy?"

Jihoon met the officer's gaze dead-on and nodded. "Yes. He's my boyfriend."

Hoshi stiffened. His eyes didn't move, but his silence was thunderous.

The officer looked between them, then finally relaxed and nodded. "Alright, sorry for the confusion. Please stay right here," he said before walking off to deal with the groaning rogues now being cuffed and packed into a van. Some pointed at Jihoon, yelling she was lying, but the officer ignored them.

Moments later, the officer returned, uncuffed Hoshi, and said, "You're free to go, sir."

Hoshi muttered a cold thank you, turning away. Jihoon followed close behind.

"Hoshi," Jihoon murmured, stepping closer. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to tell the officer to make them believe you were innocent without starting a bigger mess."

Hoshi didn't look at him, just hummed noncommittally and walked toward the car.

"And... thank you. For saving me."

Another hum.

Jihoon sighed and followed him, sliding into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive was quiet.

Too quiet.

The silence buzzed louder than the tires on asphalt. Their scents—familiar, raw, bittersweet—coiled thickly in the small space, stirring everything they'd tried so hard to bury. Jihoon swallowed, glancing over.

"Hoshi..." he said gently, "If you don't mind... can we talk?"

Hoshi didn't respond.

Jihoon hesitated, then took the silence as a yes.

"That day... after the fight in college..." he began slowly.

At once, he saw Hoshi's hands tighten around the steering wheel. His jaw clenched, but he didn't speak.

"I—" Jihoon exhaled shakily. "I tried to put myself in your place. I realized I'd been unfair. That I didn't see how deeply I hurt you. So... I'm sorry. Truly."

A tense hum from Hoshi. Nothing more.

Jihoon waited. Then softly asked, "Did you... ever try to stand in my place? Even once?"

There was a pause.

Then: "No."

"What?" Jihoon blinked, turning to him.

"I didn't," Hoshi repeated, blunt and emotionless.
"You just said it was your fault. So why would I stand in your place?"

The car filled with a beat of stunned silence.

Jihoon stared at him. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm honest."

"No, you're stubborn," Jihoon snapped, voice tightening. "Do you really think I was the only one who made mistakes that day?"

Hoshi didn't reply. His knuckles had gone white on the wheel.

Jihoon looked away, folding his arms. "Fine. Forget I said anything."

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Chapter Text

The sky was already bruised dark by the time they reached home.

As Jihoon and Hoshi stepped out of the car, the former hesitated, glancing at the alpha beside him as if wanting to speak—but the distant sound of shouting from inside the house cut through the silence.

Their eyes widened.

"Is that Mr. Jeon?" Jihoon muttered.

They didn't wait. Instinct drove them as they sprinted into the house.

Inside, chaos reigned.

Furniture lay overturned. A shattered vase crunched beneath Jihoon's shoes. Mr. Hong was lunging at Dokyeom, who was trying to shield himself while desperately pleading, "Please, uncle—just listen for a second—"

On the other side, Joshua looked pale and trembling, his body weakened from heat, barely upright as Seungkwan supported him. "Appa, stop!" he cried out, voice thin and pained.

But Mr. Hong wasn't listening. Another slap landed across Dokyeom's cheek.

"Uncle!" Hoshi yelled, rushing forward to intercept.

In a practiced motion, Hoshi grabbed Mr. Hong by the shoulders and dragged him back, firm but respectful. "Uncle, that's enough!"

Dokyeom staggered to the side, face swollen and bruised, and immediately collapsed beside Joshua. The omega curled into him instantly, pressing his face into Dokyeom's chest, their bond a quiet testament of comfort amidst the storm.

"Uncle, calm down," Hoshi said gently, breathing hard.

But Mr. Hong only shook with more rage, eyes wild. "Yah! Soonyoung-ah, do you even know what that bastard was doing with my son? In my house?!"

Hoshi lowered his gaze, lips pursed. "I know, Uncle."

Joshua, still leaning weakly into Dokyeom, added with a strained breath, "Eomma... already knows."

All eyes turned to Mrs. Hong, who stood silently in the corner, head bowed in guilt.

Mr. Hong stared around the room, betrayed. "So everyone knew. You all just... stood by. Letting my son be corrupted in my own home."

"No one betrayed you," Hoshi replied calmly.

"Hyung and Dokyeom love each other. With everything they have."

"And you think love is enough?" Mr. Hong roared.
"Do you expect me to give my son's hand in marriage to a beta?"

Hoshi frowned, frustration bubbling. "What's wrong with Dokyeom, Uncle? He works hard, earns well, loves Joshua hyung like he breathes. What more do you want?"

"Rank!" Mr. Hong thundered. "I want my son with a responsible alpha—not a weak beta."

There was a long pause.

Hoshi let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Even now, when the world is changing, this is what you hold on to? Ranks?"

He stepped closer, voice steady. "Don't you find it ironic, Uncle? You had an omega son. And now you want an alpha son-in-law. But what about love? What about the person who's been standing beside your son during his worst days, never once leaving his side?"

Mr. Hong scoffed. "The world may have changed. I haven't. I can't. You're trying to rewrite my beliefs."

Hoshi nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "Let's do this. Let's remove the wolf part. No scents. No heats. No ranks. Just people."

Mr. Hong blinked, thrown.

"If we were only human... no alpha, beta, omega... what's your rank, Uncle?" Hoshi asked.

Mr. Hong frowned. "What kind of question is that?"

"A real one," Hoshi said, firm now. "Without the wolf in us—how do you rank a man's worth? His power? His love?"

Silence.

"You can't," Hoshi added. "Because human beings aren't ranked. We're not defined by instinct. We're more. We choose. We feel. We love."

Joshua looked up from Dokyeom's chest, teary-eyed. Dokyeom gently stroked his hair.

"We are more than biology, Uncle," Hoshi finished.
"And the sooner we start loving like humans instead of mating like wolves, the happier our children will be."

Mr. Hong looked away, lips trembling. Something in him shook—but pride held it back. Still, his silence was louder than anything.

Hoshi slowly walked over to Mr. Hong, crouching beside the older man where he sat rigid in a chair.

Gently, he motioned to Dokyeom and Joshua with a nod.

They moved without hesitation, huddling closer, Joshua's trembling hand still clenched in Dokyeom's.

Hoshi gestured to them softly.

"Look at them, Uncle," he murmured. "Just look how they fit. How they hold each other like they're already family. Let them get married. They'll be happy. I believe that with all my heart."

But Mr. Hong turned sharply to him, face set with emotion.

"And what if they don't end up happy?" he asked.
Hoshi's brows furrowed as he opened his mouth to reply, but the older man didn't let him.

"What if those two... become like the two of you?" he asked flatly, flicking his hand between Hoshi and Jihoon.

Both froze.

"You two loved each other too, didn't you? Anyone can say. " Mr. Hong went on, standing now, voice laced with accusation and bitterness. "But now look. You can't even look him in the eyes. You stand on opposite ends of the room like strangers."

Hoshi looked away, guilt slicing through him, unable to deny the truth. The words hit like a gut punch. His jaw clenched, pain flickering behind his eyes.

"And what if these two," Mr. Hong continued, gesturing at Joshua and Dokyeom again, "end up in that same place one day? If two lovers fall apart, only they suffer. But if they marry and fall apart... the whole family mourns with them."

Silence thickened the air. But Jihoon stepped forward quietly, his voice low but cutting.

"Out of fear of a hypothetical heartbreak in the future, Uncle... you want to make them mourn right now?"

Mr. Hong blinked at him.

Jihoon tilted his head slightly, his voice carrying bitter sarcasm.

"What are you going to do uncle? Send Dokyeom away? Force Joshua to marry someone you approve? Maybe the guy you choose will be great. Rich. Polite."

"If the person's nice—sure. Joshua might even smile again in a few weeks," Jihoon said with a bitter laugh. "Might even forget Dokyeom's name in a little while."

"But," he continued, voice lower now, "there's one thing he'll never forget."

Everyone watched as Jihoon stepped closer.

"He'll never forget that the person who rejected his love. Because deep in his heart, he'll always remember that the person who rejected his love... was his own father."

Mr. Hong's expression faltered. His shoulders tensed.

"You could give him everything else in the world, Uncle—comfort, safety, wealth," Jihoon said. "But the one thing he truly wanted? You'll have taken it away."

He looked directly at the older man.

"All he'll remember is the one thing you didn't give him."

Joshua lowered his head, tears brimming at the edge of his lashes.

"In spite of being werewolves," Jihoon said, gaze flicking briefly to Hoshi, who sat watching him like he was seeing him for the first time in years, "a part of us is still human."

He smiled sadly. "And humans... we don't remember the love we received."

His eyes met Hoshi's. Pain. Memory. Longing. All flashing in an instant.

"We only remember the mistakes."

Hoshi looked down, hands curling into fists.

The words hit deeper than any accusation could.

Jihoon inhaled shakily, blinking back tears. "That kind of regret... is a terrible thing to live with, Uncle. And I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I don't want you to end up there."

His voice cracked just slightly as he finished.

He gave Mr. Hong one last look, the kind that holds both challenge and compassion, and turned away—his eyes glistening, jaw set.

Hoshi sat frozen, breath caught, a hundred things unsaid in his throat, something crumbling inside him.

And then—he followed.

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