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1
The studio was quiet except for the low hum of the old aircon unit in the corner and the occasional scratch of pencils on paper. It was past eleven on a Thursday night, and the Visual & Performing Arts Festival Committee had been holed up in the multimedia lab since dinner. The building’s ancient heating system had given up hours ago, leaving the room feeling more like a walk-in freezer than a creative workspace. Juhoon pulled his knees a little closer to his chest under the long table, trying not to let his teeth chatter while he stared at his tablet screen.
His fingers were stiff. The animation timeline mocked him with how many frames he still needed to clean up before tomorrow’s progress review. He was wearing his usual oversized university sweater, but it wasn’t nearly thick enough tonight. Every time the door to the hallway opened, a fresh wave of cold air slipped in and made him shiver harder.
Martin was sitting two seats away, long legs stretched out under the table, sketching building layouts on a large sheet of tracing paper. Even hunched over his work, the alpha took up a lot of space—broad shoulders, steady hands, that calm presence he always carried with him like it was effortless. Juhoon had noticed it from the first committee meeting. Martin Edwards never seemed rushed or rattled, even when everyone else was panicking about deadlines.
Juhoon rubbed his arms discreetly, hoping no one would comment. He hated drawing attention to himself. As an omega in a room full of mostly alphas and betas working late, he tried to stay small and quiet. Easier that way.
A chair scraped softly. Juhoon didn’t look up until something warm and heavy settled over his shoulders.
He startled a little, blinking up.
Martin was leaning over him, carefully draping a huge dark gray hoodie across Juhoon’s back. The fabric was soft, well-worn, and still faintly warm like it had been kept close to someone’s body. Before Juhoon could say anything, Martin tugged the hood up gently, letting it rest against the back of his head, then stepped back with an easy smile.
“You’re freezing,” Martin said, voice low so it wouldn’t carry across the whole table. “Here.”
Juhoon’s hands came up automatically to hold the front of the hoodie closed. It was massive on him—sleeves hanging well past his fingertips, the hem dropping almost to mid-thigh. The scent hit him a second later: warm cedarwood, a touch of sweet vanilla, something clean like fresh laundry and sunlight. Martin’s scent. It wrapped around him like a blanket, sinking straight into his tired body and loosening the tight knot of cold that had settled in his chest.
“I—I’m okay,” Juhoon mumbled, cheeks already warming. “You don’t have to—”
“I always keep extras in my bag,” Martin interrupted gently, sitting back down like it was the most normal thing in the world. He tapped his pencil against his sketch. “Architecture studios are freezing too, especially at night when the seniors take all the good spots near the heaters. Figured I might as well bring one for you.”
He said it so casually, that soft smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. His eyes—warm brown, a little tired from the long day—crinkled at the edges when he looked at Juhoon.
Juhoon hugged the hoodie closer without meaning to. The scent was so comforting it made his shoulders drop. His omega instincts purred at the safety of it, the way it dulled the chill in the room and made the late-night exhaustion feel a little less heavy.
“Thank you, sunbae,” he whispered, ducking his head back to his tablet. His ears felt hot.
Martin hummed in acknowledgment and went back to his own work, but Juhoon caught the way the alpha’s posture relaxed too, like he was satisfied.
The meeting dragged on for another hour. People yawned, stretched, complained about the cold. Someone ordered late-night ramen delivery that arrived smelling greasy and wonderful. Juhoon stayed wrapped in the hoodie the entire time, sleeves bunched up so he could still use his stylus. Every so often he’d catch a fresh wave of Martin’s scent when he moved, and it made his focus sharpen even as his body grew sleepier.
By the time they finally packed up at half past midnight, Juhoon was half-asleep in his chair. His eyes burned from staring at bright screens for so long, and his back ached from hunching.
Martin appeared beside him again, slinging his own bag over one shoulder. “You’re gonna fall over if you stay here any longer.”
Juhoon blinked slowly, then realized he was still wearing the hoodie. “Oh—sorry, I’ll give it back—”
“Keep it tonight,” Martin said before he could finish. He reached out and adjusted the collar where it had twisted, fingers brushing lightly against Juhoon’s shoulder. The touch was brief, casual, but it sent a small spark of warmth down Juhoon’s spine. “It’s too cold to walk back without it. I’ve got another one in my dorm anyway.”
Juhoon looked up at him, uncertain. Martin was so tall this close—broad chest, steady gaze, that gentle expression that always made Juhoon’s stomach do funny little flips even though he told himself it was nothing.
“…Thank you,” he said again, quieter this time. “Really. I’ll wash it and bring it back tomorrow.”
Martin just smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. “No rush. Looks better on you anyway.”
They walked out of the building together with a couple of the other committee members. The night air outside was even colder, biting through the thin leggings Juhoon wore under his shorts. But the hoodie blocked almost all of it. He buried his nose in the collar when he thought no one was looking, breathing in that safe, warm scent until his eyes felt heavy in the best way.
At the fork in the path—one way toward the architecture dorms, the other toward the arts building where Juhoon stayed—Martin paused.
“Get some sleep, yeah?” he said. “You worked hard tonight.”
Juhoon nodded, clutching the sleeves in his fists. “You too, sunbae. Don’t stay up sketching again.”
Martin chuckled softly. “Can’t make any promises. Night, Juhoon-ah.”
“Night.”
Juhoon watched the alpha’s tall figure disappear down the path for a second before turning toward his own dorm. The walk felt shorter than usual, wrapped in that oversized hoodie. By the time he reached his room, he didn’t even bother taking it off. He brushed his teeth with it on, changed into sleep shorts underneath it, and crawled into bed still wearing the damn thing.
It smelled like Martin everywhere. The collar, the sleeves, the front where it rested against his chest. Juhoon curled onto his side, pressing his face into the fabric and letting out a tiny, contented sigh.
He’s really nice, he thought sleepily as his eyes drifted shut. Just a really considerate senior. That’s all.
The hoodie stayed on all night, warm and safe, carrying Martin’s scent into his dreams.
2
The lecture hall for Digital Design for Non-Majors was always buzzing with low chatter right before class started. It was one of those big, tiered rooms on the third floor of the arts annex, with wide windows that let in streaks of afternoon sunlight and long wooden desks that had seen better days. The projector was already warming up, casting a soft blue glow across the front wall while students trickled in, dropping bags and pulling out laptops and tablets. The air smelled faintly of coffee from the vending machine downstairs, mixed with the usual blend of different scents that came with a mixed class of alphas, betas, and omegas.
Juhoon slipped through the door at 2:03, a little breathless from speed-walking across campus after his morning animation lab ran late. His backpack felt heavier than usual today, stuffed with his tablet, stylus, and the half-finished storyboards he’d been tweaking until 3 a.m. His hair was still a bit messy from the wind outside, and he kept his head down as he scanned for an empty seat, hoping he wouldn’t have to squeeze into one of the middle rows where everyone could see him.
He didn’t even need to look far.
Near the back, in the same spot he’d somehow ended up sitting for the past three weeks, Martin was already there. The tall alpha had claimed the aisle seat like always, his broad frame relaxed in the chair, one arm draped casually over the back of the empty seat beside him. A small strawberry plush keychain—bright red with a little green leaf on top and tiny embroidered eyes—sat neatly in the center of that seat, marking it clearly.
Martin spotted him immediately. His face lit up with that easy, warm smile that always made something in Juhoon’s chest do a quiet little flip. He lifted his hand in a small wave, not too flashy, just enough to catch Juhoon’s eye without drawing the whole class’s attention.
“Juhoon-ah,” Martin called softly, voice carrying just far enough. “Over here.”
Juhoon felt his cheeks warm instantly. He adjusted the strap of his bag and made his way up the steps, weaving between a couple of chatting betas. When he reached the row, Martin was already moving his own bag off the seat and picking up the strawberry keychain, holding it out with gentle fingers.
“You made it,” Martin said, that low, steady tone sounding genuinely pleased. “I was starting to think your morning class ran over again.”
“Yeah… the professor got really into critiquing everyone’s keyframes today,” Juhoon answered quietly, sliding into the seat. He set his bag down between his feet and glanced at the plush keychain as Martin clipped it back onto the zipper of his own backpack. “You saved the seat again. You didn’t have to.”
Martin shrugged, leaning back in his chair so his shoulder brushed lightly against Juhoon’s for a brief second. Even that small contact carried a hint of his scent—warm cedarwood and soft vanilla, like sunlight on wood and fresh-baked cookies. It was comforting in a way that always made Juhoon’s shoulders loosen without him meaning to.
“I wanted to,” Martin replied simply. He nudged a spare notebook he’d placed on the desk toward Juhoon. “You focus better here. The light’s nicer on this side, and the projector glare doesn’t hit the screen as hard. Plus, I know you like having the wall on your other side so no one bumps your drawing arm.”
Juhoon blinked, surprised that Martin had noticed all those little details. His ears grew pink as he pulled out his tablet and stylus, setting them up on the desk. The seat really was perfect. The angle was good, the sunlight didn’t wash out his screen, and being next to Martin made the big, noisy lecture hall feel a little smaller, a little safer.
“Thank you, sunbae,” he murmured, ducking his head as he opened his files. “You’re always doing this. I feel bad… what if someone else wanted to sit here?”
Martin chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. “Then they can find another seat. I’ve got a reputation for saving this one now.” He tilted his head slightly, looking at Juhoon with those gentle brown eyes. “Besides, you’re the only one who actually uses the class for real projects instead of just showing up for attendance. Makes more sense for you to have the better spot.”
The professor started the lecture then, clicking through slides about color theory and digital layering techniques. Juhoon tried to focus, stylus moving across his tablet as he took notes and experimented with the examples on screen. But every so often his attention would drift sideways.
Martin sat with his long legs stretched out comfortably under the desk, one ankle crossed over the other. His handwriting on the notebook was neat and architectural—precise lines, careful labels. When the alpha noticed Juhoon struggling to zoom in on a particularly small menu in the software demo, he leaned over just a bit and quietly pointed out the shortcut without saying a word, his voice a soft murmur only Juhoon could hear.
“Try holding shift and dragging. Makes it smoother.”
Juhoon nodded gratefully, trying the tip. It worked perfectly. “Oh… yeah, that’s better. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Halfway through the lecture, when the room grew a little stuffy and Juhoon absentmindedly rubbed at his wrist from gripping the stylus too tightly, Martin reached over and set a small bottle of strawberry milk on the desk beside his tablet. The cap was already twisted open just a little. No big production, just a quiet gesture.
“You skipped lunch again, didn’t you?” Martin whispered, eyes still on the front of the room like he wasn’t doing anything special.
Juhoon’s blush deepened. “I was in a rush…”
“Drink it slow. The sugar’ll help with your focus.” Martin’s fingers brushed the back of Juhoon’s hand for half a second as he pulled away, leaving behind a faint trace of his calming alpha scent.
Juhoon took the bottle, the cool plastic soothing against his warm palm. He sipped it quietly, the sweet strawberry flavor blooming on his tongue, and felt that familiar floaty calm settle over him. Martin’s scent mixed with the drink made his omega side feel quietly content, like everything was just a little easier with the alpha nearby.
The rest of the class passed in a comfortable rhythm. They worked on a small paired exercise near the end—adjusting layers and effects on a sample image. Martin scooted his chair a tiny bit closer so they could share Juhoon’s tablet screen more easily. Their arms brushed now and then, but Martin never made it weird. He just offered quiet suggestions, praised Juhoon’s clean line work, and laughed softly when Juhoon got embarrassed about a silly filter choice.
When the lecture finally ended and students started packing up, Martin stayed seated a moment longer, watching Juhoon carefully tuck away his things.
“Same time next week?” Martin asked, that soft smile back in place as he clipped the strawberry keychain onto his bag again.
Juhoon nodded, clutching his backpack strap. “Yeah. And… thanks again for saving the seat. You really don’t have to keep doing it.”
Martin stood up, towering over him in that gentle-giant way, but his voice was nothing but warm. “I like doing it. Makes class better when you’re next to me.” He reached out and lightly adjusted the hood of Juhoon’s sweater where it had gotten crooked from his bag. “See you at committee later?”
“Mm. See you.”
Juhoon headed out of the lecture hall with a funny, fluttery feeling in his stomach. He sipped the last of the strawberry milk as he walked down the corridor, the plush keychain image lingering in his mind. Martin was always doing stuff like this—saving spots, noticing little things, making sure he was comfortable.
He’s such a nice sunbae, Juhoon thought, cheeks still faintly pink as he stepped outside into the sunlight. Just really friendly and thoughtful, especially to underclassmen. That’s all it is.
Still, he couldn’t help pressing the sleeve of his sweater to his nose for a second, catching the faint trace of cedarwood that had transferred from sitting so close. It made the walk to his next class feel lighter, warmer somehow.
Just a really good senior. Yeah.
3
The animation studio on the second floor of the arts building was dim and quiet at this hour, the kind of late-evening hush that settled in after most students had already gone back to their dorms. Only a few desk lamps were still on, casting soft pools of warm light across cluttered workstations. The air carried the faint smell of dry-erase markers, instant ramen from earlier, and the low buzz of computer fans. Outside the windows, the campus lights glowed against the dark, and a light drizzle tapped gently on the glass.
Juhoon had been there since right after dinner—nearly six straight hours now. His eyes burned from staring at the bright timeline on his screen, and his shoulders felt like they were carved from stone. The deadline for the festival’s main title animation was creeping up fast, and he’d pulled another all-nighter the night before to fix the timing on the character walk cycles. Now his body was protesting. His wrist ached from gripping the stylus too tightly, and every blink felt heavier than the last.
He sighed softly, leaning back in his chair and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment. The room spun a little when he opened them again. His omega instincts were restless, the kind of tired that made him want to curl up somewhere warm and safe, but he still had twenty more frames to clean up before he could even think about leaving.
The door to the studio creaked open behind him. Juhoon didn’t turn around at first, assuming it was just another committee member grabbing forgotten notes. Then that familiar scent drifted over—warm cedarwood laced with soft vanilla, like a cozy blanket fresh from the dryer on a sunny day. His shoulders dropped a fraction without him meaning to.
“Still at it?” Martin’s voice was low and gentle, not wanting to startle him in the quiet space.
Juhoon turned in his chair, blinking up at the tall alpha. Martin had clearly come straight from his own studio; he was still wearing his black long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a few faint pencil smudges on one forearm. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he carried a small plastic bag in one hand and a familiar white bottle in the other.
“Yeah… I keep finding little mistakes every time I play it back,” Juhoon admitted, rubbing at his tired eyes again. His voice came out quieter than he intended, a little hoarse from not speaking for hours. “I thought I’d be done by nine, but…”
Martin set the bag down on the edge of Juhoon’s desk and pulled up the empty chair from the next station, turning it so he could sit facing him. The alpha’s presence filled the space in that calm, steady way he always did—never overwhelming, just… there. Solid.
“You’ve been here since before I left for my structural engineering review,” Martin said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven now. “That’s too long, Juhoon-ah.”
He reached into the bag and took out a perfectly wrapped melon pan, the kind with the crisp sugar crust on top that Juhoon loved but rarely bought for himself because the bakery line was always so long in the afternoon. Next came the strawberry milk, condensation already beading on the cold bottle. Martin twisted the cap off halfway and set both items right beside Juhoon’s tablet, within easy reach.
Juhoon’s stomach gave a quiet rumble at the sight. He hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was until the sweet scent of the fresh bread hit him.
“I… didn’t even notice I skipped dinner,” he mumbled, cheeks warming with embarrassment. He reached for the melon pan carefully, breaking off a piece of the soft inside. The first bite melted on his tongue—sweet, buttery, with that perfect slight crunch on top. A tiny contented sound slipped out before he could stop it.
Martin smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that soft way that always made Juhoon’s heart do a little skip. “Figured you might have. You get that focused look and forget everything else. Eat slowly, okay?”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while Juhoon ate. Martin didn’t pull out his own work or check his phone. He just stayed there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching Juhoon with quiet concern. Every so often he’d say something small and encouraging—like how the color grading on the last scene Juhoon showed him looked really nice, or that the way the character’s hair moved in the wind was smooth now.
When Juhoon finished half the melon pan and took a long sip of the strawberry milk, the sweetness spread through him, cutting through some of the fog in his head. But his right wrist was still throbbing dully from overuse. He flexed it with a small wince, trying to hide it by turning back toward his screen.
Martin noticed anyway.
Without a word, the alpha reached over and gently took Juhoon’s hand. His fingers were warm, much larger than Juhoon’s, the skin slightly rough from all the drafting and model-building he did. Martin cradled Juhoon’s wrist carefully, thumb pressing into the sore spot with just the right amount of pressure—firm but never painful.
“You’re working too hard,” Martin murmured, voice low and soothing as he started rubbing slow, careful circles. The motion was steady, almost rhythmic, working the tension out of the tight muscles. With every pass of his thumb, a fresh wave of Martin’s alpha scent drifted over—stronger now that they were so close, wrapping around Juhoon like a gentle embrace.
Juhoon’s breath caught for a second. The touch felt incredibly good, sending little sparks of relief up his arm and straight into his tired body. His omega side melted into the sensation, that floaty, safe feeling spreading through his chest and making his eyelids feel even heavier. The scent made it better—cedarwood and vanilla sinking deep, calming the restless edges of his mind until the studio noise faded into the background.
“I’m fine, really,” Juhoon whispered, but he didn’t pull his hand away. He couldn’t. It felt too nice. His cheeks were definitely pink now. “You don’t have to do this, sunbae…”
“I want to,” Martin said simply. He kept rubbing, switching to gentle squeezes along the sides of Juhoon’s wrist and then back to the slow circles. “Alphas are supposed to help when omegas push themselves like this. Especially ones on our committee who are carrying half the animation load on their own shoulders.”
He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. No big declaration, just quiet care. Martin’s free hand stayed resting on the edge of the desk, close enough that Juhoon could feel the warmth radiating from him.
After a few more minutes, Martin finally let go, but the scent lingered on Juhoon’s skin where he’d touched. Juhoon flexed his wrist again and found the ache had dulled to almost nothing. That calm, floaty feeling stayed with him, making the remaining frames on his screen look a little less daunting.
“Feel any better?” Martin asked, leaning back but not moving his chair away.
Juhoon nodded shyly, finishing the last of the strawberry milk. “A lot better. Thank you… for the snacks and… everything.” He gestured vaguely at his wrist. “I always feel more awake after you show up like this.”
Martin’s smile widened just a fraction, soft and pleased. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” He stood up slowly, stretching his long arms over his head before gathering the empty wrappers. “I’ll let you finish up, but don’t stay past midnight, okay? Promise me you’ll at least try to sleep tonight.”
“I will,” Juhoon said, meaning it more than he had earlier. The combination of the food, the milk, and Martin’s calming scent had eased the worst of his exhaustion.
Martin lingered for a second longer, reaching out to lightly ruffle Juhoon’s hair in that big-brother kind of way—except it didn’t feel quite like that to Juhoon. It felt warmer. Safer. Then the alpha headed for the door, pausing once to glance back.
“Text me when you get back to your dorm?”
Juhoon nodded again, clutching his stylus a little tighter. “I will. Night, sunbae.”
“Night, Juhoon-ah. Get home safe.”
The door clicked shut behind Martin, leaving the studio quiet once more. Juhoon sat there for a long moment, staring at his wrist where the alpha’s touch still tingled faintly. He brought it up to his nose without thinking and caught the lingering trace of cedarwood and vanilla. The scent made him feel loose and content all over again, like he could actually finish these frames without crashing.
He really is thoughtful, Juhoon thought, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to his animation. Always showing up exactly when I need it. Just a really caring senior who knows how to help stressed omegas… that’s all.
Even so, he worked with lighter hands for the rest of the night, Martin’s scent wrapped around him like a quiet promise that someone was looking out for him.
4
The committee room lights flickered off one by one as everyone finally started packing up. It was well past ten-thirty, and the long meeting had stretched longer than usual—finalizing the layout for the festival booths, arguing over the order of performances, and triple-checking the tech requirements for the animation projections. Juhoon rubbed his eyes, his bag already slung over one shoulder, feeling the familiar drag of tiredness settling into his bones after another full day of classes and then this.
Most of the other members were already heading out in small groups, laughing tiredly and complaining about early morning lectures tomorrow. Juhoon lingered near the door, zipping up his thin jacket against the chill that always seemed to creep in at night.
“Juhoon-ah, wait up.”
Martin’s voice came from behind him, calm and easy like always. The tall alpha was slipping his sketchbook into his bag, his long coat already on. Even after hours of work, he still looked put-together—sleeves rolled once at the wrists, hair a little messy from running his fingers through it during the meeting.
Juhoon paused, turning with a small smile. “You don’t have to wait for me every time, sunbae. I know the way back.”
Martin fell into step beside him as they left the building, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. The campus paths stretched out ahead, lined with old lampposts that cast soft golden circles on the pavement. Beyond the lights, the trees and open lawns disappeared into deeper shadows. Night on campus always felt bigger somehow, quieter except for the occasional distant laughter from dorm parties or the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
“I know you do,” Martin said, voice low in the quiet night. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his broad shoulder. “But campus is big and dark after ten. I’d feel better if I made sure you got home safe. Humor me?”
He said it the same way he always did—gentle, almost casual, but with that steady undertone that made it hard for Juhoon to argue. Juhoon nodded, cheeks warming a little as they started walking. Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, Martin naturally slowing his longer strides to match Juhoon’s shorter ones.
The path wound past the main quad, then along the edge of the science buildings where the lights were fewer. A cool breeze picked up, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the small garden nearby. Juhoon pulled his jacket tighter, but it didn’t do much. Martin noticed, of course.
“Cold?” the alpha asked.
“A little. I should’ve worn something thicker.”
Without missing a beat, Martin shifted closer on Juhoon’s right side, using his bigger frame to block the breeze. Their arms brushed lightly, and that familiar warmth of cedarwood and soft vanilla drifted over, subtle but comforting. Juhoon’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately.
They talked quietly as they walked—nothing heavy, just the easy flow of conversation that had become normal between them. Martin asked about the animation progress, listening carefully when Juhoon explained the tricky lighting pass he was stuck on. In return, Martin shared a funny story about a senior in architecture studio who had accidentally glued his own sleeve to a model board earlier that day. Juhoon laughed softly, the sound carrying in the quiet night.
“You always make these walks feel shorter,” Juhoon said without thinking, then immediately felt shy about it.
Martin glanced down at him, that warm smile tugging at his lips. “Good. That’s the point.”
They passed the fountain plaza, water gently splashing even at this hour. A couple of other students hurried by in the opposite direction, but mostly it felt like just the two of them in their own little bubble. Martin kept himself between Juhoon and the darker parts of the path—the side with the thicker trees or the unlit stretches near the old gymnasium. It was such a small thing, but it made Juhoon feel quietly protected.
About halfway to the arts dorms, the sky opened up without much warning. Light rain started falling, soft at first, then steadier. Juhoon pulled his hood up, but the drops were already soaking through his shoulders.
Martin made a small disapproving sound. “Here.” He stopped under one of the bigger trees for a second, pulling out a large black umbrella from his bag. It was one of those sturdy ones that looked like it could shelter three people. He opened it with a quick flick and held it high, then gently guided Juhoon closer with a hand on his back. “Come on, stay under.”
Juhoon stepped in, suddenly very aware of how close they were. The umbrella kept the rain off, but it meant they had to walk tucked together, Martin’s arm occasionally brushing Juhoon’s as he adjusted his grip. The alpha’s coat carried that same comforting scent, stronger now in the enclosed space under the umbrella. Juhoon could feel the warmth radiating from Martin’s side, chasing away the damp chill.
“Sorry about the rain,” Martin murmured. “I should’ve checked the weather before we left.”
“It’s okay,” Juhoon replied softly. “I don’t mind walking with you. Makes it less… spooky out here.”
Martin chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. “Spooky, huh? Yeah, some of these paths could use better lighting. Especially the shortcut past the old theater building.” He shifted the umbrella slightly to keep a particularly heavy drop from hitting Juhoon’s shoulder, tucking the omega even closer to his side. Their steps synced perfectly under the shelter.
They continued like that the rest of the way—slow, unhurried, even though the rain was picking up. Martin asked about Juhoon’s classes tomorrow, reminded him to drink water before sleeping, and quietly offered to look over his storyboards if he wanted a second opinion. Every so often his hand would rest lightly on Juhoon’s shoulder or back when they crossed a uneven part of the path, steadying him without making a big deal of it.
When they finally reached the entrance to Juhoon’s dorm building, the rain had turned into a proper downpour. They stopped under the small overhang by the doors, the umbrella still open and dripping.
“Thanks for walking me again,” Juhoon said, looking up at the taller alpha. Raindrops clung to Martin’s hair and eyelashes, but he didn’t seem to mind. “You really don’t have to do this every time. My dorm’s not that far.”
Martin lowered the umbrella, shaking it out gently. His eyes were soft in the glow of the dorm entrance light. “I know. But I like making sure you get back okay. Makes me sleep better too.” He reached out and brushed a stray raindrop from Juhoon’s cheek with the back of his fingers, the touch light and warm. “Get inside before you catch a cold. Text me when you’re in your room?”
Juhoon nodded, that familiar floaty feeling settling in his chest from the alpha’s closeness and scent. “I will. Goodnight, sunbae.”
“Night, Juhoon-ah. Sweet dreams.”
Martin waited until Juhoon had swiped his card and stepped inside the warm, brightly lit lobby before turning to leave. Juhoon paused at the stairs, watching the alpha’s tall figure disappear back into the rainy night, umbrella open once more.
He really is protective, Juhoon thought as he climbed the stairs to his floor, still carrying traces of Martin’s scent on his jacket. Just a really nice guy who looks out for people. Especially younger omegas on the committee. That’s all it is.
Still, the walk home always left him feeling safer and warmer than he had any right to, like the whole dark campus felt a little less intimidating when Martin was beside him. He smiled to himself as he unlocked his room door, already looking forward to the next late committee night.
5
The committee lounge on the ground floor of the arts annex had become their unofficial gathering spot over the past few weeks. Soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows, catching on scattered papers, half-empty coffee cups, and the colorful mood boards pinned to the walls. The space smelled like fresh printer ink, someone’s vanilla latte, and the faint trace of dry snacks. A few committee members were sprawled on the couches, reviewing printouts, while others typed away on laptops at the long wooden tables.
Juhoon sat near the end of one table, stylus moving gently across his tablet as he added final touches to a poster design for the festival. His focus was soft but steady, the kind that made the world around him fade just a little. He didn’t notice Martin approaching until the alpha set a small paper bag beside his tablet with a quiet rustle.
“For you,” Martin said casually, sliding into the chair across from him. His voice was low, warm, the way it always got when the room wasn’t too crowded. He leaned back, stretching his long legs under the table. “Saw them at the stationery store near the architecture building and thought of you.”
Juhoon blinked, setting his stylus down. He peeked into the bag and pulled out a small pack of cute animal stickers—tiny illustrated creatures in soft pastel colors. There was a sleepy panda holding a paintbrush, a fox curled around a camera, a bunny with round glasses sketching on a tiny easel. They were perfect for decorating his digital files or the back of his tablet case.
“These are adorable…” Juhoon murmured, turning the pack over in his hands. His cheeks warmed slightly as he traced one finger over the panda’s little brush. “You didn’t have to get me anything, sunbae.”
Martin shrugged, that gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “They were on sale, and I figured your tablet could use some personality. You’re always making such pretty stuff. These might make the boring parts more fun.”
He said it so easily, like it was nothing. Juhoon felt that familiar flutter in his chest, the one that came whenever Martin did something thoughtful. The alpha’s scent—warm cedarwood with that underlying sweet vanilla—drifted across the table, mixing with the new gift and making Juhoon feel quietly happy.
“Thank you,” Juhoon said softly, already peeling one sticker free and pressing it carefully onto the corner of his tablet case. “I’ll use them a lot.”
Martin watched him for a second, eyes crinkling with quiet satisfaction, before turning back to his own notes. No big deal, just another small kindness.
A few days later, they crossed paths after Juhoon’s afternoon digital painting elective. The hallway outside the labs was busy with students rushing between classes, bags bumping, voices echoing off the tiled floors. Juhoon was adjusting his earphones when Martin appeared from the opposite direction, his tall frame easy to spot even in the crowd.
“Perfect timing,” Martin said, falling into step beside him. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small wrapped item. “Here. This one reminded me of you too.”
Juhoon accepted it curiously, unwrapping the simple brown paper to reveal a custom phone strap. The strap itself was soft black fabric, sturdy but pretty, and attached to it was a tiny silver easel charm with a miniature canvas that had a painted sunset scene. It was delicate, clearly handmade or carefully chosen.
Juhoon’s eyes widened. “This is so detailed… Did you have this made?”
Martin rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little pleased but trying to play it cool. “There’s a small craft shop off-campus that does custom charms. I saw the easel one and thought it would look nice on your phone since you’re always drawing. Figured it might survive better than the old strap you’ve been using—the one that’s starting to fray.”
Juhoon glanced down at his phone. The old strap really was wearing thin. He swapped it out right there in the hallway, fingers careful with the new one. The tiny easel charm dangled cutely against his hand, catching the light.
“It’s perfect,” he said, voice warm with genuine appreciation. He held his phone up, watching the charm spin. “I love it. Thank you again, sunbae. You keep spoiling me like this.”
Martin chuckled softly, the sound low and fond. “It’s not spoiling. Just saw something that made sense for you. Glad you like it.”
They walked together toward the main path, the new phone strap bouncing lightly with each step. Juhoon kept glancing at it, a small smile lingering on his face. Martin’s scent lingered in the air between them, comforting and steady.
Later that same week, during a quick break in one of their evening committee sessions, Martin found him again. The room had mostly emptied out for a ten-minute stretch, and Juhoon was sitting by the window, absently fixing his slightly messy hair after it had gotten flattened under his beanie all day.
Martin approached with two hair clips in his palm—delicate ones shaped like little golden stars, each with tiny sparkling centers that caught the light beautifully.
“Your hair keeps falling in your eyes when you’re drawing,” Martin observed gently, holding them out. “These might help. They looked like they’d suit you.”
Juhoon took them carefully, turning the star clips over. They were light, pretty without being too flashy. “These are really nice… You noticed that?”
“Hard not to when you’re always brushing it back during meetings,” Martin replied with a soft laugh. He leaned against the window sill beside Juhoon, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Try them. I think they’ll stay put better than the ones you usually wear.”
Juhoon clipped them in right there, one on each side to hold back the front pieces of his hair. He checked his reflection in the dark window glass and felt his ears grow warm. They looked cute. Really cute.
“They’re perfect,” he admitted quietly. “I’ll use them a lot when I’m working late.”
Martin’s eyes softened as he looked at him. “Good. They suit you.”
The biggest one came on a random Thursday afternoon. Juhoon had mentioned in passing during their shared elective class that he was running low on certain marker colors for his traditional sketchbook backups. He hadn’t thought much of it—just a casual comment while they were packing up.
But when Martin showed up at the studio later that evening, he was carrying a neat rectangular box. He set it down in front of Juhoon without ceremony, right next to the half-finished storyboard pages.
“Saw these at the art supply store,” Martin explained, opening the box to reveal a beautiful set of colored markers—professional grade, with smooth tips and a wide range of hues that would make Juhoon’s drawings pop. “The colors looked like they’d work well with your style. Thought your drawings would look pretty with these.”
Juhoon stared at the set, heart doing that familiar little flip again. The markers were expensive-looking, clearly chosen with care. He picked one up, testing the color on a scrap piece of paper. The ink flowed perfectly, vibrant and smooth.
“Sunbae… this is too much,” he protested weakly, though his fingers were already itching to use them. “You keep giving me things. I don’t know how to repay you for all this.”
Martin shook his head, settling into the chair beside him like he planned to stay for a while. “You don’t need to repay anything. I just like seeing you happy with your work. When I saw the set, I pictured how nice your character designs would look with fresh colors. That’s all.”
They spent the next hour working side by side. Martin sketched quietly on his own pad while Juhoon tested the new markers, adding details to his storyboards with growing excitement. Every so often Martin would glance over, offer a soft comment on a particular shade that looked especially good, or just sit in comfortable silence. His presence, combined with the thoughtful gifts, left Juhoon feeling warm and supported in a way that went deeper than simple friendship.
Over the following days, Juhoon found himself surrounded by the little collection. The animal stickers decorated the edges of his most-used apps on his tablet. The phone strap with the easel charm dangled from his hand constantly, a tiny reminder throughout the day. The star hair clips became his go-to when he needed his hair out of his face during long drawing sessions. And the colored markers lived in a special spot in his bag, brought out whenever he wanted to add that extra touch of life to his sketches.
He treasured every single one.
Sometimes, late at night in his dorm, Juhoon would lay them all out on his desk—small, thoughtful tokens that had appeared one by one. He’d run his fingers over the charms, smell the faint trace of Martin’s scent that sometimes lingered on the packaging if the alpha had carried them in his bag, and feel that quiet, floaty sense of comfort.
Martin was always like this, he thought. Generous. Attentive. The kind of senior who noticed the small things and acted on them without expecting anything back. Just a really warm, thoughtful alpha who enjoyed making people’s days a little brighter.
Nothing more than that.
Juhoon smiled softly to himself as he clipped the star pins into his hair for the night, already looking forward to whatever small surprise Martin might bring next. The gifts made the long festival preparations feel lighter, warmer, and a lot less lonely.
+1
The library was nearly empty at this hour, the night before the big Visual & Performing Arts Festival. Only a handful of desperate students remained, scattered across the long wooden tables under the warm glow of individual reading lamps. Outside, the rain had come out of nowhere—an aggressive late-spring storm that hammered against the tall windows in steady sheets. Thunder rumbled low in the distance every few minutes, and the wind howled around the building’s old corners.
Juhoon sat hunched in a quiet corner on the second floor, his tablet propped up on a stack of books, stylus flying across the screen as he made one final pass on the title animation sequence. His eyes were dry and gritty from staring at the bright display for hours. The deadline was first thing in the morning, and he still needed to render the last few transitions properly. His back ached, his neck was stiff, and the half-empty cup of now-cold coffee beside him had done nothing to help in the last two hours.
His phone buzzed softly against the table. He glanced at it, expecting another worried message from a committee member.
Martin: Stay there. I’m coming.
Juhoon stared at the simple text for a second, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion. He typed back quickly.
Juhoon: It’s pouring. You don’t have to.
Martin: I’m already on my way.
That was Martin. Always showing up. Always making sure.
Juhoon tried to focus again, but the rain was louder now, and his thoughts kept drifting. He rubbed at his tired eyes, thinking about how many times Martin had done little things like this over the past months. The hoodies, the saved seats, the snacks, the walks home, all those small gifts that still made him smile every time he saw them on his desk. Just a really good senior. A thoughtful one.
The minutes stretched. Twenty minutes passed. Then his phone lit up again with a single word.
Martin: Here.
Juhoon looked up just as the heavy library doors on the ground floor burst open with a gust of wind and rain. Even from the second floor balcony, he could see him—Martin, soaked to the bone despite the big umbrella clutched in one hand. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his coat, but he was moving fast, long legs carrying him up the stairs two at a time.
Juhoon stood up without thinking, heart picking up speed. “Sunbae, you’re drenched—”
Martin didn’t stop until he was right in front of him. Without a word, he shrugged off his dry inner coat—the one he must have kept protected under the outer layer—and wrapped it around Juhoon’s shoulders in one smooth motion. The fabric was warm from Martin’s body heat, carrying that deep, comforting scent of cedarwood and sweet vanilla, stronger than usual after a long day.
Before Juhoon could protest, Martin pulled him close, arms wrapping firmly around his smaller frame. One big hand settled on the back of his head, gently pressing Juhoon’s face into his chest. Then came the scenting—slow, deliberate, and impossibly tender.
Martin’s nose brushed first against Juhoon’s temple, breathing him in before leaving a warm press of his own scent there. Then his forehead, lingering for a long second. Finally, he dipped lower, nose tracing along the side of Juhoon’s neck, lips grazing the sensitive skin just under his ear as he released more of that calming alpha scent.
Juhoon’s breath hitched. His whole body melted into the hold, the exhaustion of the night fading under the weight of safety and warmth. The rain continued pounding against the windows, but in Martin’s arms it felt far away.
“Juhoon-ah…” Martin’s voice was low, rough from running across campus, but incredibly fond. He pulled back just enough to look at him, hands still holding Juhoon close. “You really didn’t notice anything?”
Juhoon blinked up at him, heart hammering hard now. Martin’s brown eyes were soft but intense in the lamplight, raindrops still clinging to his lashes. “Notice… what?”
Martin let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, and cupped Juhoon’s face with both large hands. His thumbs brushed gently over Juhoon’s flushed cheeks, wiping away nothing but lingering tension.
“I’ve been courting you since the first day you smiled at me in the committee room,” Martin said softly, voice steady and warm. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Juhoon’s forehead. “I brought you my hoodies because I wanted my scent on you.”
Another kiss, this time on Juhoon’s left cheek, slow and deliberate. “I saved that seat every time because I wanted you close.”
Right cheek next, the touch feather-light but full of meaning. “I rubbed your wrist because I wanted to soothe my omega.”
He kissed the tip of Juhoon’s nose, making the smaller boy’s breath catch again. “I walked you home every night because I wanted to protect what’s mine.”
Juhoon’s eyes were wide, lips parted in stunned silence. His ears burned bright red, and he could feel the heat spreading across his entire face. His mind was spinning, replaying every moment from the past months—the hoodie draped over his shoulders, the strawberry keychain on the saved seat, the gentle wrist rubs, the shared umbrellas in the rain, all the tiny thoughtful gifts that now sat treasured in his dorm room.
Martin smiled, that soft, loving smile that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. He rested their foreheads together for a moment, breathing the same air.
“I thought I was being obvious…” he murmured, voice dropping even lower, “but if you didn’t know, then let me say it clearly now.”
He closed the distance and kissed Juhoon on the lips—slow, sweet, and achingly tender. The kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting for months. Juhoon’s eyes fluttered shut, hands coming up to clutch at Martin’s damp shirt as warmth bloomed in his chest. When Martin finally pulled back, he kept their foreheads touching.
“I like you so much, Juhoon,” he whispered against his lips. “I’ve been courting you for months. Be mine?”
Juhoon could only nod shyly, too overwhelmed to speak at first. His heart felt too big for his chest. He buried his burning face into the crook of Martin’s neck, hiding against the warm skin there, breathing in that safe, familiar scent that had been comforting him for so long.
“I thought you were just being nice…” he mumbled into Martin’s collar, voice muffled and embarrassed. “All this time… I thought you were just a really good sunbae.”
Martin laughed warmly, the sound vibrating through his chest. His arms tightened around Juhoon’s waist, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back while the other cradled the back of his head. He pressed a kiss to Juhoon’s hair, then another to his temple, then his cheek again, scenting him gently between each one.
“You are so cute,” Martin murmured, voice full of affection. He kissed the shell of Juhoon’s ear, making him shiver. “My sweet omega. How could I not fall for you?”
He kept going—soft kisses scattered across Juhoon’s hair, his temples, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth. Every time Juhoon tried to lift his head or say something, Martin would catch him with another kiss, deeper this time, arms never loosening their hold. The rain kept falling outside, but inside their little corner of the library, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.
Juhoon’s blushing didn’t fade. If anything, it got worse with every affectionate touch, every whispered word of “mine” and “beautiful” and “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Martin didn’t seem to mind. He simply held him closer, scenting him thoroughly until Juhoon’s entire body felt heavy and floaty with contentment, the stress of the deadline melting away completely.
Eventually, Juhoon managed a tiny, shy laugh against Martin’s neck. “You’re going to make me stay red forever at this rate.”
“Good,” Martin said, pressing one last slow kiss to his lips. “I like you like this. In my arms. Wearing my scent.” He nuzzled into Juhoon’s hair again. “We should get you home soon. But I’m not letting go until you stop hiding that pretty face.”
Juhoon stayed tucked against him a while longer, listening to the rain and Martin’s steady heartbeat, feeling safer and more loved than he ever had. All those moments that had felt like simple kindness suddenly glowed with new meaning, and his heart felt full to bursting.
Martin was still gently kissing his hair when Juhoon finally whispered, barely audible, “I’d like that… being yours.”
Martin’s arms squeezed him tighter, and the alpha’s happy scent bloomed warm and sweet around them both, wrapping Juhoon in the kind of comfort he never wanted to leave.