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Shen Wenlang is hit with a series of waves.
The first is an overwhelming crush of the sea breeze, a hint of brine and a surprising layer of citrus in the undercurrent, filling his lungs until he could almost taste it at the back of his throat, on the tip of his tongue.
The second comes with a roiling shudder throughout his body, beginning with a prickle from the back of his neck and zipping like lightning down his spine, a surging of blood rushing both up to his head and down between his legs.
The third is suffocating panic, born of learned instinct—a constriction in the chest, clammy hands, a shortness of breath. The need to flee, though his feet remain frozen to the spot, unable to. Alarms blaring from all directions, bold red warnings of the danger he’s in.
It takes his mind a moment to catch up to what his body already knows: he recognizes this scent.
He knows the omega these pheromones belong to—no, he doesn’t know this omega at all.
But he definitely knows the beta these omega pheromones belong to.
Shen Wenlang can’t be here.
He can’t be here, but he can’t leave. The omega is in heat, and he’s doing all he can to keep his alpha still. He’s never been interested in an omega he doesn’t even know, but tell that to—
“Gao Tu?” he calls out, because they’re at an official business function, and if Gao Tu’s omega had the blindingly stupid idea to come see him while they were in heat, then at least maybe this is why Gao Tu has disappeared. Shen Wenlang can at least try to find him. “Gao Tu, where are you?”
He tries to step back the way he came, tries to fight the instinct screaming at him to find this omega instead of Gao Tu, but at calling out Gao Tu’s name another strong wave of these damnable pheromones crashes over him again. It tastes of urgency and desperation, a heightened level of want that twists, ugly and bitter, in Shen Wenlang’s gut. Gao Tu’s omega wants him so bad even just the mention of his name can get them this excited? Fuck, they must be so made for each other.
“Gao Tu,” Shen Wenlang growls, teeth gritted and fists clenched as he struggles to steady himself against a metal cabinet, his feet leaden while he takes step after heavy step further into the room.
From the corner of his eye, he catches a blur of movement, and there’s the alpha instinct again, reaching out even before Shen Wenlang can argue himself out of doing anything, hands closing around a skinny arm.
Another wave of the most infuriatingly delicious, unquestionably forbidden scent of the ocean.
Damn it all to hell.
He doesn’t want Gao Tu’s omega. All those years of never finding any omega’s scent even remotely pleasant enough and he has to be drawn to this one? Does he have absolutely no say in this?
“Where are you going?” he grouses, holding tight when the omega tries to struggle. “Where’s Gao Tu?”
No response. Just another attempt to squirm away from his grasp, such a sudden movement that Shen Wenlang grabs him by both arms, pressing him tight to the wall, his back to Shen Wenlang’s chest, the heaving of his breath thrumming with the jackrabbit beat of Shen Wenlang’s heart.
In his daze, he takes a deep breath, his palm slipping down to take this stranger by his hands. “Where’s Gao Tu?”
A whimper. Trembling fingers. “Please—” comes a hoarse plea from a strangely familiar voice.
What the— “Gao Tu?” Shen Wenlang asks. He blinks, and it’s almost like his vision clears. The height of this man, the build of him, even the skinny arm—especially the skinny arm— “Where’s your omega?”
“I’m sorry,” is all Gao Tu says. “Shen Wenlang, I am so sorry.”
Something unfamiliar, uncontrollable flares in Shen Wenlang’s chest. He lets himself breathe Gao Tu in, fully and completely now, and nearly collapses with the totality of it. “You—I can’t—I can’t—”
Gao Tu is shaking, Shen Wenlang dimly realizes, his breathing coming in shudders racking throughout his entire body.
Shen Wenlang swallows hard. Closes his eyes. Bites down on his lower lip. “Gao Tu,” he manages, the last shreds of reason leaving him, “can you run?”
Gao Tu shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says again.
“Then I am too,” Shen Wenlang tells him before he lets the last wave engulf him entirely, crushing his lips to Gao Tu’s.
Gao Tu doesn’t have an omega partner.
He never even had a partner at all.
His apartment may have stank of omega, and he may have kept medication intended for omegas, but there was never any other hint of another person’s presence there—not keepsakes, clothes, not even photos.
When Shen Wenlang thinks back to it, the Omega Protection Regulation only covered omegas who were already cohabiting with their partner for at least two years, and Gao Tu was clearly not cohabiting with anyone.
And if he had been, somehow. If he’d found a partner despite working all those long hours at HS Group and staying practically glued to Shen Wenlang’s side throughout high school, college, their careers—there was no way Shen Wenlang would have never otherwise encountered this omega. Even Gao Qing has mentioned she’s only ever gotten visits from Gao Tu and Shen Wenlang before—what kind of long-term partner wouldn’t even visit their partner’s sister in the hospital?
Shen Wenlang had been convinced Gao Tu’s partner was only using him, that this partner of Gao Tu’s could not possibly mean Gao Tu any good at all.
And Shen Wenlang had been so irritated when it appeared only this specific omega’s scent could elicit a reaction out of his alpha.
But it makes sense now, doesn’t it, in the light of post-rut clarity, when Shen Wenlang wakes up alone in a hotel room the next day.
Why Gao Tu takes time off to take care of someone’s heat.
Why Gao Tu’s asthma only acts up when he’s exposed to alpha pheromones.
Why that doctor had looked at Shen Wenlang with so much disdain and judgment for hating omegas.
Gao Tu never had an omega partner—Gao Tu is the omega partner he’s been taking care of all along.
And Gao Tu—
Gao Tu is the omega who’s been driving Shen Wenlang’s alpha wild with irrepressible desire this whole time.
“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but my brother asked me not to tell you where he is,” Gao Qing says with a firm nod. “And I hope you’re not thinking of camping out here to wait for him to visit, because he made me promise to tell him when you’ve left, too.”
“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Shen Wenlang protests. “I brought you flowers.”
“I won’t be bribed so easily,” Gao Qing says, though she gestures to an empty vase. “You can put them there, though.”
“I also got you some pineapple custard buns and lemon juice.”
Gao Qing stares at him. She watches him set the food on her tray, eyeing them thoughtfully. “You know those are ge’s favorite snacks, not mine, right?”
“I just picked the first things I saw, it means nothing,” Shen Wenlang says immediately. “I meant—”
“If you were as nice to him as you try to be with me when you want something,” she says, her tone even and steady, “maybe you wouldn’t be trying to find him right now.”
“I just want to apologize,” Shen Wenlang tells her. It’s a private matter and he doesn’t want to bring Gao Tu’s sister into it, but— “He didn’t even show up to work; he just sent his resignation by email. To the general secretary too, who didn’t tell me until I asked where he’s been. Please, can you tell him I just—”
“If he wants to leave, isn’t that his decision?”
“I know, but I just—” Shen Wenlang doesn’t want him to. It occurs to him, too late, that just because he’s figured out his alpha has been craving Gao Tu’s omega this entire time after all, doesn’t mean that Gao Tu ever felt the same way. That just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he wants alphas, the same way Shen Wenlang never thought he wanted to be with an omega.
What bitter irony.
“I just want to clear things between us,” he says. “So we can go back to the way things were. He’s—he needs to come back. That’s all I want. I’m not asking for anything else.”
“That’s not up to me to decide,” Gao Qing says, and there’s something that looks like pity in her eyes when she looks at him. “That’s not up to either of us.”
“Gao Qing, please—”
“Visiting hours are almost over,” she says, her lips pursing tight. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she’s bracing herself for something. “I’ll tell him you came by, though. I’ll tell him what you said. But I can’t promise anything else.”
“Why on earth would I be hiding Gao Tu?” Hua Yong asks, the corner of his lips curling up with condescending amusement. He holds his arms out, waving around the general vicinity of his hospital room. “Where would I even be keeping him? Under my bed? By all means, you’re welcome to look.”
Shen Wenlang resists the urge to punch him in the face. All the stupid things he’s done to help Hua Yong in his absurd bid for Sheng Shaoyou’s attention and he has the gall to mock Shen Wenlang for a completely reasonable question. “I’ve asked everyone else I could think of,” he admits. “And he—for some reason, he thinks highly of you. He might think you’re, I don’t know, in the same boat or something.”
“‘Thinks highly of me’?” Hua Yong echoes, and the grin threatening around the edges of his lips turns into a full-on smirk. “He thinks you’re trying to steal me from Sheng Shaoyou.”
“Are you insane?” Shen Wenlang asks, eyes wide. “Why would I even—he’s the one who keeps asking after you—what the hell—”
Hua Yong laughs. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless,” he says. “You think only Sheng Shaoyou’s fooled by our act?”
“Gao Tu’s not an idiot,” Shen Wenlang points out. “He wouldn’t—he knows I hate omegas, and he clearly believes you’re one too. Why would I—with you?”
Hua Yong raises an eyebrow at ‘too’. “Ah, so you’ve figured out his secret, have you?”
“You knew?”
“Like I said, you’re hopeless. And Gao Tu is certainly competent in his job, but in matters of the heart, we do tend to be blinded by what we fear the most,” Hua Yong muses. “Don’t you think?”
Shen Wenlang frowns. “Why would he—what does that even mean? Stop speaking in riddles.”
“Then I’ll tell you plainly,” Hua Yong says with a deep, begrudging sigh. “I’m not hiding him from you because he wouldn’t have come to me. He wouldn’t have approached the omega he thinks you want. And I’m not the one he wants.”
Shen Wenlang swallows hard. “Then why—”
Hua Yong shakes his head. “Don’t ask yourself why he thinks you want me. Ask yourself why an omega would stay by your side this entire time pretending to be a beta.”
“Well. He knows I hate omegas.”
“Then why didn’t he just leave? Or tell you he was one?”
“He—” Shen Wenlang doesn’t know. It’s a stupid thing—they were still kids when they met, but Shen Wenlang’s dislike of omegas was well known even back then. Gao Tu never needed to pretend to be anything he wasn’t. He could have just said, and then they’d have simply—
Oh.
“There it is,” Hua Yong murmurs.
“About time you showed up.” The doctor at No. 7 Hospital does not look remotely impressed to see him. He does not look surprised either. “Some alpha you are.”
“Gao Tu is here then?”
Shen Wenlang isn’t Gao Tu’s emergency contact, nor is he Gao Tu’s kin, but the doctor agrees, whether he likes it or not, that Shen Wenlang’s pheromones are what Gao Tu needs.
“Sometimes we must overrule the patient’s wishes so we can save their life,” he says solemnly, and Shen Wenlang doesn’t even question the ethical implications of that before he’s rushing to Gao Tu’s room.
“This is a terrible hospital,” he declares when he steps in, pausing at the door when Gao Tu startles. “Please don’t run away. I remembered—last time you needed help, you told me to take you here.”
Gao Tu groans, tipping his head back with a sigh. “I forgot about that.”
“I didn’t,” Shen Wenlang says. He remembers everything about Gao Tu. “Your doctor told me you’re at high risk for pheromone disorders.”
Gao Tu raises his eyebrows. “Is he supposed to tell you that?”
“That’s why I told you this hospital is terrible. We should move you to Heci right away.”
“I don’t want to—”
“I’ll pay for it. You’re here because of me, aren’t you?”
Gao Tu shakes his head. He looks away. “I should not have put you in a position where—you weren’t supposed to have a rut, and now I’ve—”
“Why did you lie to me?” Shen Wenlang wants to know. “From the beginning. Why did you lie to me?”
“Shen Wenlang.”
“Gao Tu. Why did you lie?”
Gao Tu purses his lips. “You hate omegas.”
“But I don’t hate you.”
The laugh that comes out of Gao Tu is dry and bitter. “You should hate me. I lied to you about what I am.”
“Why did you? All omegas want is to use me, all they see is an alpha that will get them a leg up in the world. Is that—don’t tell me you—”
“I don’t want anything from you,” Gao Tu says. “I’ve quit, haven’t I? You don’t have to see me again. You don’t have to take any responsibility. I didn’t want anything from you, I just—”
“But are you keeping the baby?”
Gao Tu’s eyes fly wide open, his entire body tensing in response. “He told you that too?”
“It’s a terrible hospital,” Shen Wenlang reminds him. “You should let me move you to Heci. But he said without an alpha, you’ll have a difficult pregnancy.”
Gao Tu’s eyes harden into steel. “I can figure it out on my own. You’re not paying me to get rid of him.”
“What? Of course not—I just meant. I mean,” Shen Wenlang stammers. “I’m an alpha. So. That is. Your pregnancy doesn’t have to be difficult.”
Gao Tu takes a deep, shaky breath. “Shen Wenlang,” he pleads. “I can’t. I can’t be an obligation. I don’t want to do this to you. Isn’t this exactly what you never wanted to happen?”
Shen Wenlang takes a tentative step toward Gao Tu’s bed, careful and slow, like he doesn’t want to spook a cornered animal. Gao Tu blinks away the wetness in his eyes, but he doesn’t try to move away, nor does he try to shake Shen Wenlang off, not even when Shen Wenlang takes the seat next to his bed. Not even when he reaches, hesitantly, for Gao Tu’s hand. It’s so small in his palms, even more fragile than it felt the night Gao Tu had been sick on his birthday and he’d asked Shen Wenlang to stay.
“What I didn’t want was to be overruled by my alpha instincts and be obligated to some opportunistic, gold-digging omega I don’t even know,” Shen Wenlang says, squeezing Gao Tu’s hand gently. “What I didn’t want was to want an omega only for the pheromones they gave out. What I didn’t want was to be with anyone else, just because we were alpha and omega. Gao Tu. You were a beta. I never thought this could ever happen with you.”
Gao Tu’s lower lip trembles. It’s the prettiest thing Shen Wenlang has ever seen.
Shen Wenlang holds himself still, even though all he wants to do is taste the sweetness on those lips again. To hold Gao Tu close and never let him go. “Gao Tu,” he says again, as tender as he can muster. Hua Yong better be right about this, damn him, because Shen Wenlang isn’t sure he believes it just yet. “It wouldn’t be an obligation to me. Would it—would it be one for you?”
Gao Tu doesn’t reply. He can’t speak, tears spilling unbidden like a dam that’s broken open. But he shakes his head no, emphatically, and when Shen Wenlang moves to put his arms around him Gao Tu curls his fingers against the crisp fabric of Shen Wenlang’s suit and tugs him closer.
“Okay,” Shen Wenlang sighs, rubbing Gao Tu’s back to soothe him. “Okay.” He turns his head slightly and he breathes in the crisp, familiar scent of Gao Tu’s pheromones, lets waves of it wash over him until he’s submerged in it completely. “Then it’ll be okay.”
It smells like a beach in the middle of summer, water crashing onto shore, sand slipping over bare feet.
It smells like coming home.