Chapter Text
Qin hated alphas.
No—correction.
Qin hated this kind of alpha.
The calm kind.
The quiet kind.
The kind that didn’t react when he clearly wanted them to.
“Move,” Qin snapped, shoulder-checking past him.
The alpha barely stumbled.
Annoying.
“Sorry,” the guy said, voice low and steady. Not defensive. Not irritated. Just… gentle.
Qin turned sharply. “You should be.”
The alpha blinked once, like he was processing whether that had been sarcasm or not.
It hadn’t.
Qin crossed his arms. “You’re blocking the hallway.”
“I was standing to the side.”
“You’re still in the way.”
A pause.
Then—unbelievably—the alpha stepped back even further, pressing himself closer to the wall.
“There,” he said simply.
Qin stared at him.
What?
That was it?
No attitude? No bite? No “watch it, omega”? No smug alpha ego?
“Wow,” Qin muttered. “You’re just going to listen like that?”
The alpha tilted his head slightly. “You wanted me to move.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Qin opened his mouth—and then shut it again.
God, he hated this.
“Forget it,” he scoffed, turning on his heel. “You’re weird.”
Behind him, he heard a soft, almost amused exhale.
Not mocking.
Just… warm.
That irritated him more.
⸻
They crossed paths again that same day.
Of course they did.
Because the universe clearly had it out for Qin.
He walked into the campus café, already in a bad mood, only to spot that same alpha sitting by the window—sunlight spilling across his face like something out of a romance drama.
Disgusting.
Qin made a face and turned toward the counter.
“Americano,” he said.
“No sugar,” the barista confirmed.
“Obviously.”
“Someone woke up grumpy.”
Qin shot them a glare. “Someone’s about to lose a tip.”
“Okay, okay.”
He tapped his fingers impatiently against the counter, then—
“Hey.”
That voice again.
Qin stiffened.
He turned slowly.
The alpha was standing there now, holding out… a napkin?
“You dropped this earlier,” he said.
Qin frowned. “That’s not mine.”
“It fell from your notebook.”
“…No, it didn’t.”
The alpha glanced down at it, then back up. “Your name’s on it.”
Qin snatched it from his hand.
It did have his name on it.
Damn it.
“Whatever,” Qin muttered, crumpling it slightly. “Still doesn’t mean you had to bring it back.”
“You looked like you needed it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay.”
Again.
Okay.
That was all.
No argument. No pushback.
Qin felt something twitch under his skin—something uncomfortable.
“Why are you like this?” he demanded.
“Like what?”
“So…” Qin gestured vaguely. “Calm.”
The alpha considered that.
“I don’t see a reason not to be.”
“That’s not normal.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met many people like me.”
“Good,” Qin shot back. “I’d like to keep it that way.”
The alpha smiled.
Actually smiled.
Soft. Small. Not offended in the slightest.
“I’m Duang, by the way.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I know.”
“…Then why are you telling me?”
“In case you want to complain about me later.”
Qin blinked.
That—was not the response he’d expected.
“You’re assuming I’d care enough to remember you.”
Duang shrugged lightly. “You already do.”
Qin’s grip tightened on the napkin.
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
There it was again.
That okay.
Like nothing Qin said could shake him.
Like he wasn’t even trying to win.
It made Qin’s chest feel… strange.
He hated it.
⸻
They ended up sitting at the same table.
Not because Qin wanted to.
Obviously.
It was just that the café was full, and the only open seat was across from Duang.
And Qin wasn’t about to leave just because of him.
That would be ridiculous.
So he sat.
Hard.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Duang looked up from his book.
“Hi again.”
Qin ignored him.
Took a loud sip of his coffee.
Opened his laptop with unnecessary force.
Silence stretched between them.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
Duang turned a page.
Calm. Unbothered. Existing like Qin wasn’t radiating hostility right in front of him.
“Are you going to say something?” Qin snapped finally.
Duang looked up. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
“…What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Qin huffed. “Something normal.”
Duang thought about that.
Then—
“Your typing is very aggressive.”
Qin froze.
“What?”
“You look like you’re fighting your keyboard.”
“I am not.”
“Okay.”
Qin slammed his laptop shut.
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Being annoying.”
Duang’s brows lifted slightly. “I thought I was being normal.”
“You’re not.”
“…Okay.”
Qin dragged a hand through his hair.
Why was this so frustrating?
Why wasn’t Duang reacting the way alphas were supposed to?
He should’ve been irritated by now.
Should’ve snapped back.
Should’ve tried to assert dominance or put Qin in his place.
Instead, he was just sitting there. Calm. Steady.
Safe.
Qin’s chest tightened.
Nope.
Didn’t like that.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Qin muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re—” he stopped himself.
Like you’re soft.
Like you’re patient.
Like you’re not going to hurt me.
“…Never mind.”
Duang didn’t push.
Of course he didn’t.
Instead, he simply turned his book around and slid it slightly toward Qin.
“What are you studying?” he asked.
Qin stared at the page.
Then at him.
“…Why do you care?”
“Just making conversation.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
A beat.
Then—
“You can still look if you want.”
Qin huffed.
But he looked anyway.
Because of course he did.
And just like that, something shifted—small, quiet, almost unnoticeable.
But it was there.
And Qin… didn’t know what to do with it.